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Mine eye hath played the painter and hath steeled, |
Můj zrak, toť malíř, který zachytil |
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Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; |
na plátno mého srdce krásu tvou; |
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My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, |
na mně pak nechal, abych rámem byl |
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And perspective that is best painter's art. |
i perspektivou rafinovanou. |
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For through the painter must you see his skill, |
Skrze ni spatříš svoje pravé rysy, |
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To find where your true image pictured lies, |
když pohled tvůj se na tu malbu stočí, |
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Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, |
v mé hrudi jako v galerii visí, |
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That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. |
jediným oknem tam jsou tvoje oči. |
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Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: |
Hle, kolik toho oči očím daly: |
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Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me |
mé přenesly tvé křivky na obraz, |
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Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun |
tvé pak se oknem do mých prsou staly, |
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Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; |
kam za tvou krásou vchází slunce jas. |
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Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, |
Jak štětec vést, si oči rychle zvykly, |
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They draw but what they see, know not the heart. |
jenže co naplat – k srdci nepronikly. |
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