Parallel Text of Shakespeare in English and Glosa
(Prepared for the Web by Paul O. Bartlett, 1996)

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
 P. O. Box 18
 Surrey  TW9 2AU

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