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četvrtak, 06.01.2005.

DREAM

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wondering bark,
Whose worth is unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lip's and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of the doom.
If this be erorr and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Shakespeare, sonnet 116
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