Is it that I must compare thee with the day of the summer?
More beautiful one and more kept at a moderate temperature thoukunst:
Those of May shake the rough hoist and hath
the lease of the summer whole to short date loved buds:
In former times hotter too much shines eye sky
and is often its colluded gold colouring,
and each fair fair goes in former times back
by coincidence or untrimmed course, changes of nature,:
however eternal summers wither itself thy not,
neither lose possession this ow ' sters just of thou,
still death praise move ' more thouster to its nuance,
if in the eternal lines grow ' more thouster on the condition
that the men can breathe or to measure, can see the eyes
with the stop watch, it wishes in such a way sehnlichst
the lives this, and this gives the thee life.
More at Sonnet XVIII, a new blog, Shakespeare + Babel Fish
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