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Monday, January 25, 2010 - ore 15:52
giusto perche non vogliamo mai smettere di sognare! beccatevi questa!
(categoria: " Vita Quotidiana ")
BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou sawst yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."
Shes all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honours mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the worlds contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, thats done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.
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