Sonnet 115 (William Shakespeare) | Σονέτο 115 (Ουίλλιαμ Σαίξπηρ) [Those lines that I before have writ do lie: Οι στίχοι που έχω γράψει πριν, λεν ψέματα, ως κι αυτοί]
Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;
Alas! why, fearing of Time's tyranny,
Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best,'
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
Love is a babe, then might I not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow?
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Οι στίχοι που έχω γράψει πριν, λεν ψέματα, ως κι αυτοί
που λεν πως δε μπορούσα πιο πολύ να σ’ αγαπούσα·
μα τότε η κρίση μου δε γνώριζεν αιτία, γιατί
μετά η πιο πλήθια φλόγα μου θελά ’καιγε πιο πλούσια.
Μα ο χρόνος έχει ο μετρητής αμέτρητα συμβάντα
που ανάμεσα όρκους σέρνονται, διατάγματα τ’ αλλάζουν,
σκορπάν γερά μυαλά στη ροή που αλλάζει όλα τα πάντα,
στομώνουν πρόθεσες αγνές, το άγιο Ωραίο τ’ αργάζουν.
Ωιμέ, γιατί του χρόνου την τυράννια να φοβάμαι,
αφού μπορώ να ειπώ «πιο ωραία τώρα σ’ αγαπώ»,
για την αβεβαιότητα όλο πιο βέβαιος να ’μαι,
να στεφανώνω το παρόν, γι’ άλλα ν’ αδιαφορώ;
Η αγάπη είναι μωρό, γι’ αυτό ποιος τέτοια βεβαιώνει,
να ειπεί πως εμεγάλωσε, αφού όλο μεγαλώνει;
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Μετάφραση: Βασίλης Ρώτας
Comparisons are often made between this sonnet and the love poem by John Donne, Love's Growth, part of which is given below. Lovers Infiniteness by the same poet is also relevant. These poems by John Donne are probably of a similar date to this sonnet, so we may be assured that metaphysical speculations of this sort were current among the literary fraternity of the time.
The poet marvels how his love can still seem to increase, even though in times past he claimed that it was impossible to love with any greater love than he knew at the time. Yet, on looking back, he finds that his love has grown miraculously even beyond that complete measure which he thought was the limit of its fulfilment. He concludes that, since love is a babe, (Cupid), he cannot know how to define himself, or acknowledge any limitations to his growth, even though, as a full and perfect God he can in theory not be any better than he is already.
http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/115