domingo, 27 de septiembre de 2009

CAMPILLO


Hoy leía un soneto de Shakespeare y me vino a la mente mi querido Campi. Es como si el viejo continente le escribiera a un hombre como él en este poema: Un artista brillante y sobre todo una persona íntegra y de buen corazón. Mi Campi, más guapa que cualquiera; amigos como él les deseo.

SONNET 20

A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling,
Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.

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