Translation of Marshak Translation of Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 56

 

Shakespeare Sonnet No. 56

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allay’d,
To-morrow sharpened in his former might:
So, love, be thou, although to-day thou fill
Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness,
To-morrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
As call it winter, which being full of care,
Makes summer’s welcome, thrice more wished, more rare.

d

Line glosses:

Line 1: love, here meaning the spirit of love, not the beloved person

Line 2: edge: keenness; appetite: lust

Line 6: wink: shut in sleep

Line 9: sad interim: period of estrangement, or period of being apart

Line 10: two contracted new: two lovers newly betrothed

d

 

 

У. Шекспир
Sonnet No. 56

Samuil Marshak translation

Проснись, любовь! Твое ли острие
Тупей, чем жало голода и жажды?
Как ни обильны яства и питье,
Нельзя навек насытиться однажды.

Так и любовь. Ее голодный взгляд
Сегодня утолен до утомленья,
А завтра снова ты огнем объят,
Рожденным для горенья, а не тленья!

Чтобы любовь была нам дорога,
Пусть океаном станет час разлуки,
Пусть двое, выходя на берега,
Один к другому простирают руки.

Пусть зимней стужей будет этот час,
Чтобы весна теплей согрела нас.

(Перевод сонета )
Самуил Маршак

 

d

Literal Translation of Marshak Translation

Awaken, love! Is your blade

Duller than the sting of hunger and thirst?

No matter how bountiful the spread of food and drink,

It’s impossible to eat enough at one sitting to fill you up for all time.

 

So too is love. Its hungering gaze

May today be sated to the point of languishment,

But tomorrow you’ll be enveloped once more in fire,

Born to burn, and not to rot!

 

So that love might be dear to us,

Let the hour of our parting be vast as an ocean,

Let the two us, going out onto the shore,

Stretch hands out to one another.

 

Let that hour be like unto the winter chill,

So that the spring warm us even warmer.

 

d

Literary Translation/Adaptation of Marshak Translation by U.R. Bowie

Awaken, love! Could be thy sharpened blade

Is duller than the sting of thirst or hunger?

Though bountiful be food and drink purveyed,

At just one meal all wants one can’t discumber.

 

So too is love. Its ravening fey gaze

Today may sate itself and fade away,

Tomorrow, though, you’ll writhe in fiery blaze,

You’re born, you see, to burn and not decay!

 

So that love be precious, ever dear,

Let vast as seascapes be our parting hour,

Let each of us stretch hands till hands cohere,

Pledge troth, the air with fervent love embower.

 

That hour let be like as winter chill,

Still warmer then will be spring’s bloom and trill.

d

From Website “No Sweat Shakespeare”

 

Sonnet 56 in modern English

Sweet Love, renew the strength you once had. Don’t let it be said that your love is blunter than lust, which can be only temporarily allayed by satisfaction and comes back the next day, even stronger and sharper. Be like that, Love. Although you see so much of your love today that you want to shut your eyes with satiety, open them again tomorrow and don’t kill the love you have in you by blunting it. Let this sad separation be like the ocean between two shores, where two newly betrothed lovers come daily to the banks, and when they catch the occasional sight of each other, feel more blessed. Or call this period of separation winter, which being so miserable, makes the beginning of summer, so longed for, so much more special.

The 1609 Quarto Sonnet 56 version

SWeet loue renew thy force, be it not ſaid
Thy edge ſhould blunter be then apetite,
Which but too daie by feeding is alaied,
To morrow ſharpned in his former might.
So loue be thou, although too daie thou fill
Thy hungry eies, euen till they winck with fulneſſe,
Too morrow ſee againe, and doe not kill
The ſpirit of Loue, with a perpetual dulneſſe:
Let this ſad Intrim like the Ocean be
Which parts the ſhore, where two contracted new,
Come daily to the banckes, that when they ſee:
Returne of loue, more bleſt may be the view.
As cal it Winter, which being ful of care,
Makes Somers welcome, thrice more wiſh’d, more rare.