EVENT 18 Poetry
Sonnet 116
Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBYBFqsKchQ
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds - "Sense and Sensibility" - Kate Winslet:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yn9vS_ZPwO8
A paraphrasis of Shakespeare's sonnet by João Victor Dutra, Kamila Magalhães , Lara Carvalho. Letras, Universidade de Brasília, 2021.
Sonnet 116
Shakespeare
Do not let me to the union of the genuine souls
Admit obstacles. Love isn't love.
That changes when it changes finds,
Or curve with the extractor to extract.
No way! It is an eternal set mark
That looks on storms and is never unsteady;
It is the star to every lost ship
Whose worth’s unexplored, although his height be taken
Love’s not foolish either susceptible to time, though red lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s circles come
Love does not change with its abrupt hours and weeks
but handles until the boundary of the disaster
If this is a mistake and in front of me be demonstrated
I had never written, neither any man had never loved.
Shakespeare's sonnet by Mylena, Lizandra and Lethicia. Letras, Universidade de Brasília, 2021. An adaptation
Soneto 116
Shakespeare
Não deixará a união de verdadeiras mentes
Admitir impedimentos. Amor não é amor
Que se curva quando encontra motivos,
Ou se submete a afastar para retirar
Oh não! É uma marca fixada eternamente.
Que olha para a tempestade e não se abala;
É a estrela para todo barco errante,
cujo valor é desconhecido, apesar de sua altura.
Amor não é "brinquedo" do tempo, apesar dos lábios e bochechas rosados
Entre a vinda de sua bússola de foice
O amor não altera em poucas horas e semanas
Mas, sustenta-se, mesmo à beira da destruição
Se isso for errado e provar-se um engano,
Eu nunca escrevi, ou nenhum homem sequer já amou.
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