Shakespeare: XC. - műfordítás

Ha valaha gyűlölsz, hát most akard,

mikor egy világ harcol ellenem.

Társulj kárhozattal, szóljon szavad,

nagy veszteségem, ne később legyen!

Ne akkor, mikor már túljutottam,

bánatom múlt, - s ne hátulról gyere!

Szeles éjek után esőt ne fakassz!

Várt bukásom ne húzd el, csak törj le.

Ha el akarsz hagyni, ne késlekedj,

előzd meg terhét bánatomnak;

megízlelhessem, előre tedd,

az aprók közül E legnagyobbat.

Más csapás eztán, bármit lásson ég,

elvesztésed mellett mind semmiség...

word for word:

If ever you hate, then will it now;

when a world fights against me.

Join with damnation, let your word speak,

my great loss, do not let it be later!

Not then, when I have already passed through,

my sorrow gone — and do not come from the rear!

Do not make a rainy morn after windy nights!

Do not prolong my awaited fall, only break it.

If you will leave me, do not hesitate.

Anticipate the burden of my sorrow;

so that I may taste it, put it forward,

this greatest among the small.

Any other blow, thereafter, whatever heaven may show,

beside the loss of you will all be nothing...

original W. Shakespeare XC. Sonnet:

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;

Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,

Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,

And do not drop in for an after-loss:

Ah, do not, when my heart hath ’scoped this sorrow,

Come in the rearward of a conquer’d woe;

Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,

To linger out a purposed overthrow.

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,

When other petty griefs have done their spite

But in the onset come; so shall I taste

At first the very worst of fortune’s might,

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,

Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.