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William Shakespeare
La poesía debe ser gratuita, para que nunca deje de ser poesía.
Sonetos
Soneto 1
Sonnet 1
Soneto 2
Sonnet 2
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery so gaz'd on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held:
Soneto 3
Soneto 4
Sonnet 4
Soneto 5
Sonnet 5
Sonnet 6
Soneto 7
Sonnet 7
Soneto 8
Sonnet 8
Soneto 9
Soneto 10
Sonnet 10
Soneto 11
Sonnet 11
Let those whom nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: 10
Look whom she best endow'd she gave the more;
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.
She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby,
Thou shouldts print more, not let that copy die.
Soneto 12
Sonnet 12
Soneto 13
¡Oh! ¡Si vos, fuerais vuestro! Pero, amor, voz seréis,
de voz tan solamente, mientras viváis aquí.
Contra el final cercano ya debéis prepararos,
plasmando en algún otro, vuestro dulce semblante.
Sonnet 13
Soneto 14
Sonnet 14
Soneto 15
Soneto 16
Sonnet 16
Soneto 17
Sonnet 17
Sonnet 18
Soneto 19
Sonnet 19
Soneto 20
Sonnet 20
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.
Soneto 21
Que digan más aquellos, que usan las frases vanas,
que yo no alabo aquello, que nunca he de vender.
Sonnet 21
Soneto 22
Sonnet 22
Soneto 23
Sonnet 23
Sonnet 24
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart,
My body is the frame wherein 't is held,
And perspective it is best Painter's art.
For through the Painter must you see his skill, 5
To find where your true Imagen pictur'd lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes:
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done,
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me 10
Are windows to my breast, where-through the Sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee.
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
Soneto 25
Sonnet 25
Soneto 26
Sonnet 26
Soneto 27
Soneto 28
Sonnet 28
Soneto 29
Sonnet 29
Sonnet 30
Soneto 31
Sonnet 31
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, 10
Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
That due of many, now is thine alone.
Soneto 32
Sonnet 32
Soneto 33
Soneto 34
Sonnet 34
'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, 5
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace:
Ah but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.
Soneto 35
Sonnet 35
Soneto 36
Sonnet 36
Sonnet 37
Soneto 38
Sonnet 38
Soneto 39
Soneto 40
Sonnet 40
Soneto 41
Sonnet 41
Soneto 42
Sonnet 42
Los días son cual noches, para mí, hasta no verte,
y las noches son días, cuando en sueños te veo.
Sonnet 43
Soneto 44
Sonnet 44
Soneto 45
Soneto 46
Sonnet 46
Soneto 47
Sonnet 47
Soneto 48
Sonnet 48
Sonnet 49
Soneto 50
Sonnet 50
Soneto 51
Soneto 52
Sonnet 52
Soneto 53
Sonnet 53
Soneto 54
Sonnet 54
Sonnet 55
Soneto 56
Sonnet 56
Soneto 57
Soneto 58
Sonnet 58
Soneto 59
Sonnet 59
That I might see what the old world could say,
To this composed wonder of your frame, 10
Whether we are mended, or where better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
Soneto 60
Sonnet 60
Sonnet 61
Soneto 62
Sonnet 62
Soneto 63
Soneto 64
Sonnet 64
Soneto 65
Sonnet 65
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
Soneto 66
Sonnet 66
Sonnet 67
Soneto 68
Sonnet 68
Soneto 69
Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view,
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend:
All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee that due,
Utt'ring bare truth, even so as foes commend.
Soneto 70
Sonnet 70
Soneto 71
Sonnet 71
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.
Soneto 72
Sonnet 72
Sonnet 73
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more stong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
Soneto 74
Sonnet 74
Soneto 75
Soneto 76
Sonnet 76
Soneto 77
Sonnet 77
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste,
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste.
Soneto 78
Sonnet 78
Sonnet 79
Then thank him not for that which he doth say,
Since what he owes thee, thou thyself dost pay.
Soneto 80
Sonnet 80
Soneto 81
Sonnet 81
Or I shall live your Epitaph to make,
Or you survive when Y in eart am rotten,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Soneto 82
Soneto 83
Sonnet 83
Soneto 84
Sonnet 84
Sonnet 85
Soneto 86
Sonnet 86
Soneto 87
Sonnet 87
Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking, 10
So thy great gift upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Soneto 88
Soneto 89
Sonnet 89
Soneto 90
Sonnet 90
Sonnet 91
Soneto 92
¿Mas qué hay tan venturoso qué no tema una mancha?
Podrías ser infiel y yo ignorar tu engaño.
Sonnet 92
Soneto 93
Sonnet 93
Soneto 94
Que las cosas más dulces, se agrian por sus actos,
y un lirio corrompido, huele cual mala hierba.
Sonnet 94
Soneto 95
Sonnet 95
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame,
Which like a canker in the fragant rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding neme!
Oh in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose!
Soneto 96
Sonnet 96
Sonnet 97
Soneto 98
Sonnet 98
Yet nor the lays birds, nor the swwet smell 5
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell:
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Soneto 991
otra sin estas gamas, robó los dos colores, 10
y a su robo, tu aliento, también pudo añadir,
pero por este robo en su esplendor florido,
un gusano, sañudo, la convirtió en carcoma.
Sonnet 99
The forward violet thus did I chide,
Sweet thief whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? the purple pride,
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd. 5
Soneto 100
Soneto 101
Sonnet 101
Soneto 102
Sonnet 102
Our love was new, and then but in the spring, 5
When I was wont to greet in with my lays,
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:
Sonnet 103
Soneto 104
Sonnet 104
Soneto 105
Sonnet 105
Soneto 106
Soneto 107
Sonnet 107
Soneto 108
Sonnet 108
Sonnet 109
Soneto 110
Sonnet 110
Soneto 111
Sonnet 111
Soneto 112
Soneto 113
Sonnet 113
Soneto 114
Sonnet 114
Soneto 115
Los versos que escribí y que escribo, han mentido,
incluso los que dicen, amarte tiernamente,
por entonces mi juicio, ignoraba las causas,
porqué mi intensa llama, aún más se inflamaría.
Sonnet 115
Sonnet 116
Soneto 117
Sonnet 117
Soneto 118
Soneto 119
¡Oh, bien qué del mal vienes! Hoy ya sé que es verdad,
que a través de lo malo, lo bueno se mejora, 10
y el amor abatido, al izarlo de nuevo,
es más fuerte y hermoso que en un principio fuera.
Castigado, retorno, a mi alegría y gano,
por el mal, triplicado, aquello que gasté.
Sonnet 119
Soneto 120
Sonnet 120
Soneto 121
Sonnet 121
Sonnet 122
Soneto 123
Sonnet 123
Soneto 124
Soneto 125
Sonnet 125
Soneto 1262
Sonnet 126
Sonnet 127
Soneto 128
Sonnet 128
Soneto 129
Sonnet 129
All this world well knows yet none knows well,
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
Soneto 130
Soneto 131
Sonnet 131
Soneto 132
Sonnet 132
Sonnet 133
Soneto 134
Sonnet 134
Him have I lost, thou hast both him and me,
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
Soneto 135
Sonnet 135
Soneto 136
Make but my name thy love, and love that still
And then thou lov'st me for my name is Will.
Soneto 137
¿Tú, ciego y tonto, Amor, qué haces con mis ojos,
que miran y remiran y no ven lo que ven?
Saben que es la belleza y saben donde hallarla,
mas toman, sin embargo, por lo mejor lo pésimo.
Sonnet 137
Thou blind fool Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold and see not what they see:
They know what beauty is, se where it lies,
Yet what the best is, take the worst to be.
Soneto 1383
Sonnet 138
Sonnet 139
Soneto 140
Sonnet 140
Soneto 141
Sonnet 141
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, 5
Nor tender feeling to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
Soneto 142
Soneto 143
Sonnet 143
Soneto 1444
Sonnet 144
Sonnet 145
Soneto 146
Sonnet 146
Soneto 147
Sonnet 147
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Soneto 148
Soneto 149
Sonnet 149
Soneto 150
Sonnet 150
Sonnet 151
Soneto 152
Sonnet 152
Soneto 153
Sonnet 153
Soneto 154