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已有 274 次阅读  2020-09-26 18:50


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Sonnet 116
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 wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come,
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears out even to the edge of doom.
    If this be error, and upon me prov'd
    I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
好久没登陆,快忘记了这里还有一方天地。最近搬家收拾屋子,翻出了中学时抄在纸上的诗,读了好久,忍不住写在这里。

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