Презентація до уроку англійської мови на тему: "Син Вічності і Слави. Вільям Шекспір. Сонети."за підручником О.Карпюк 8 клас..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Сонет 130Її очей до сонця не рівняли,Корал ніжніший за її уста,Не білосніжні пліч овали,Мов з дроту чорного коса густа. Троянд багато зустрічав я всюди,Та на її обличчі не стрічав,І дише так вона, як дишуть люди,А не конвалії між диких трав.І голосу її рівнять не треба. До музики, милішої мені,Не знаю про ходу богинь із неба,А кроки милої — цілком земні.І все ж вона — найкраща поміж тими,Що славлені похвалами пустими. Вільям Шекспір
My mistress' eyes are nothing like …Coral is far more red than her …If snow be white, why then her breasts are …If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her …I have seen roses damask’s, red and …But no such roses see I in her …And in some perfumes is there more …Than in the breath that from my mistress …I love to hear her speak, yet well I …That music hath a far more pleasing …I grant I never saw a goddess …My mistress, when she walks, treads on the … And yet, by heaven, I think my love as … As any she belied with false …
And in some perfumes is there more delight But no such roses see I in her cheeks; I have seen roses damask’s, red and white,As any she belied with false compare. Coral is far more red than her lips' red;My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare That music hath a far more pleasing sound;I grant I never saw a goddess go;My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
SONNET 130 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;Coral is far more red than her lips' red;If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask’s, red and white,But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight. Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know. That music hath a far more pleasing sound;I grant I never saw a goddess go;My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.