55. Szonett (Cover)

Márvány, se síremlék, mit herceg kap, rímemnél nem lehet hatalmasabb! Sem fényesebb nála a kődarab, mit idő szennyez, s nem tisztítanak. Tékozló harcokban szobor ledől, kőműves munkáját irtják porig, de Mars kardja, s ágyú, mi tüzet lő, sem pusztítja el feljegyzéseid... Halál, felejtő elmúlás sora, kilépsz előre, s kapsz rivaldafényt s elér majd minden utódod bókja, míg fel nem élik e "világ-regényt". Míg művészeteddel beleszólhatsz, vers-kedvelőid szívében maradsz. transleted by AI: Marble, no tomb such as princes are given, is mightier than the rhyme my hand has striven. No stone more shining, however it may gleam, that time will stain, and none will cleanse to redeem. In wasteful wars the statues fall apart, the mason’s toil is razed down to the heart, yet Mars’s sword, nor cannon’s fiery breath, can blot the lines your verse preserves from death. Death comes, and with it, Lethe’s dark decay, yet you step forth, and win your brief display, and all descendants sing their praise of you, till this world’s tale itself is quite used through. For while through art your voice is heard at last, you live in hearts of those who love the past. original: LV. - Shakespeare Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmear’d with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. ’Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lover’s eyes.