when my love swears that is made of truth,
i do believe her, though i know she lies,
that she might think me some untutor'd youth,
unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
although she knows my days are past the best.
simply i credit her false-speaking tongue;
on both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
but wherefore says she not she is unjust?
and wherefore say not i that i am old?
o, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
and age in love loves not to have years told.
therefore i lie with her, and she with me,
and in our faults by lies we flattered be.

Когда моя любовь клянется в правде
Я верю ей, хоть знаю, что та лжет
И пусть считает хоть наивным парнем,
Не обученным искусству фальшивых слов

Напрасно полагая, что видит молодость во мне
Ведь знает, что дни мои подходят к сердцевине
Хвалю я хитро говорящий язычок ее
Ведь две неправды правду тянут нитью

Да и для чего указывать на несправедливость?
Зачем я буду убеждатьчто стар?
любви привычка - доверия нам милость
И возраст в разоблачении не скор

В обмен на все я лгу лишь для нее
Она же - для меня придумывает факты
И общий лживый недостаток
Тешит нас двоих неправдой

зы. с Маршаком не тягаюсь, но себя перебарола!

Soft love, spontaneous tree, its parted root
Must from two hearts with equal vigour shoot;
Whilst each delighted and delighting gives
The pleasing ecstasy which each receives:
Cherished with hope, and fed with joy, it grows,
Its cheerful buds their op’ning bloom disclose
And round the happy soil diffusive odour flows.
If angry fate that mutual care denies,
The fading plant bewails its due supplies;
Wild with despair, or sick with grief, it dies.
_______Matthew Prior________

Quondam was I in my lady’s grace,
I think as well as now be you:
And when that you have trod the trace,
Then shall you know my words be true.

Quondam was I. She said, ‘for ever’.
That ‘ever’ lasted but a short while,
A promise made not to dissever;
I thought she laughed, she did but smile.

Quondam was I that full oft lay
In her arms with kisses many a one.
It is enough that I may say,
Though ‘mong the moe now I be gone.

Quondam was I: she will you tell
That since the hour she was first born
She never loved none half so well
As you. But what though she had sworn,
Sure quondam was I.

___________Sir Thomas Wyatt___________