Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May;
And summer's lease hath all too short a date;
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines
By chance or Nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'est;
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Mi pote qe kompar tu ad estiva di?
Tu es ma kali, e ma modera.
Rugo venti seis plu dulce Mai gema
E sola-tem hab fo fo brevi fru.
Plu kron tro term u ciela oku noc,
E freqe gen an kriso facia teg.
E pan kali ex kali mo-kron mei
Per fortun alo Natur muta ge-nok.
Sed tu fo dur estive ne fu mor,
Ni lose habe de tu auto kali;
Ni fu Morta dic; tu vaga in an skot
Kron in plu dura lin a tem tu kresc,
Tem plu Homi spir e vid oku
Tem viv u-ci; qi dona vit a tu.
Sleep. Henry IV, Part 2
O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why, rather, sleep liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hushed by buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lulled with sound of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch
A watch case or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly Death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king. Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Somni, dulce somni
Natura moli kura-fe, kom mi pa sti tu anti
ke tu pa sto kata mi oku-teg
e los mi este in oblivio.
Qo-ka, Somni, tu kumbe in plu fumi do,
Epi no-gluko kli prolongi tu,
Ge-lula per plu buzi mosk a somn,
De in plu fragra-do de grandi-pe,
Infra plu kanapi de pluto stat,
Ge-lula per son de dulce melodi?
O tu xeno deo, qo-ka tu kumbe ko vulgu
in plu putri kli; e linqi u regi kli
un horo-me alo komuni vigi kodo?
Tu qe fu epi vertigi masta
Klude plu oku de navi-ju, e lul an psik
in babi-kli de rug imperi undu;
E in vista de plu venti;
Qi rap plu rugo undu a plu krest,
Kurva mu plu mega kef, e pende mu
ko kako fono in plu glisa nef
e in plu mega soni Morta auto gene vig?
Qe tu pote, o no-justi Somn, don tu relax
ad aqa navi-ju in ta rugo horo;
E in maxi paci e no-soni nokt
Ko panto auxi-ra e ru
Ne don id ad u rex? So hedo bas kumbe!
Non-hedo kumb u kef; infra koron.
from "PLU GLOSA NOTA" n. 69, Novembra/Decembra 1994
ISSN 0265-6892
Wendy Ashby and Ron Clark
GLOSA
P. O. Box 18
Richmond
Surrey TW9 2AU
England
Reg. charity 298237