Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes (perfiums) is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: (graound)
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied (bilaid) with false compare.

Sonnet 130
My mis/tress' eyes/ are no/thing like/ the sun;
Coral/ is far/ more red/ than her/ lips' red;
If snow/ be white,/ why then/ her breasts/ are dun;
If hairs/ be wires,/ black wires/ grow on/ her head.
I have/ seen roses/ damask'/d, red /and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in/ some per/fumes is/ there more/ delight
Than in/ the breath/ that from/ my mis/tress reeks.
I love/ to hear/ her speak,/ yet well/ I know
That mu/sic hath/ a far/ more plea/sing sound;
I grant/ I ne/ver saw/ a god/dess go;
My mis/tress, when/ she walks,/ treads on/ the ground:
And yet,/ by hea/ven, I think/ my love/ as rare
As a/ny she/ belied/ with false/ compare.


Sonnet 130 Soneto 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Los ojos de mi amante no son como el sol;
Coral es mucho mas rojo que sus labios rojos;
Si la nieve es blanca,por que entonces sus pechos son pard;
Si los cabellos son alambres, alambres negros que creecen en su cabe
He visto rosas damasco rojas y blancas,
Pero no parecidas en sus mejillas;
Y en algunos perfumes hay mas deleite
Que en la respiracion que de mi amante hiede.
Amo escucharla hablar, aunque bueno yo se
Que la musica tiene un sonido mucho mas agradable ;
admito nunca vi una diosa ir;
Mi amante, cuando camina, pisa sobre el suelo:
Y todavia, por el cielo, pienso que mi amor es raro
Como cualquiera ella desmentia con falso comparar.