Das große Thema »Liebe« ist in William Shakespeares Werken allgegenwärtig. Der Dichter, der die berühmtesten Liebespaare der Literatur erfunden hat, hat auch die Liebesgedichte geschrieben, die seit 400 Jahren jede Generation von Lesern neu in den Bann ziehen. In ihnen lässt er alle Gefühle und Stimmungen der schönsten, glücklichsten, traurigsten und leidvollsten Nebensache der Welt lebendig werden Verliebtheit und Verlassenwerden, erotische Anziehung, Lust, Eifersucht und Betrug, Schönheit, Vergänglichkeit und ihr Überleben in der Zeitlosigkeit des Gedichts. Dieser Band enthält eine Auswahl der berühmtesten und schönsten Sonette, Liebesgedichte und -lieder.

• Englische Ausgabe

  Autorentext
  William Shakespeare wurde vermutlich am 23. April 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon geboren. Seine schöpferische Sprachkraft und die meisterhafte psychologische Gestaltung seiner Charaktere begründen seine Bedeutung und seinen Ruhm als Dramatiker und Dichter. Werke wie König Johann, Ein Sommernachtstraum, Der Kaufmann von Venedig, oder seine Tragödien Hamlet, Romeo und Julia, Othello oder König Lear markieren Höhepunkte der Weltliteratur und sind von den großen internationalen Bühnen nicht mehr wegzudenken. William Shakespeare verstarb am 23. April 1616 in Stratford-upon-Avon.

  Inhalt
  "It was a lover and his lass
  Under the greenwood tree
  How should I your true love know
  Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day
  O mistress mine, where are you roaming
  Take, O take those lips away
  The Willow Song (The poor soul sat sighing)
  Blow, blow, thou winter wind
  Sigh no more, ladies
  From fairest creatures we desire increase
  When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
  For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any
  When I consider everything that grows
  Who will believe my verse in time to come
  Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
  Devouring time, blunt thou the lion's paws
  A woman's face with nature's own hand painted
  So is it not with me as with that muse
  My glass shall not persuade me I am old
  As an unperfect actor on the stage
  Mine eye hath played the painter, and hath steeled
  Let those who are in favour with their stars
  Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed
  When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
  Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts
  If thou survive my well-contented day
  Full many a glorious morning have I seen
  No more be grieved at that which thou hast done
  Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits
  That thou hast her it is not all my grief
  When most I wink then do mine eyes best see
  Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
  Against that time, if ever that time come
  How heavy do I journey on the way
  What is your substance, whereof are you made
  O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
  Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
  Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
  Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
  Is it thy will thy image should keep open
  Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
  Against my love shall be as I am now
  When I have seen by time's fell hand defaced
  Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
  That time of year thou mayst in me behold
  Why is my verse so barren of new pride
  So oft have I invoked thee for my muse
  Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid
  O how I faint when I of you do write
  Or I shall live, your epitaph to make
  I never saw that you did painting need
  Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing
  When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
  Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault
  But do thy worst to steal thyself away
  They that have power to hurt, and will do none
  How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
  Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness
  How like a winter hath my absence been
  The forward violet thus did I chide
  My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming
  Alack, what poverty my muse brings forth
  To me fair friend you never can be old
  When in the chronicle of wasted time
  Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
  O never say that I was false of heart
  Alas, 'tis true, I have gone here and there
  Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind
  Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you
  Those lines that I before have writ do lie
  Let me not to the marriage of true minds
  That you were once unkind befriends me now
  'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
  If my dear love were but the child of state
  O thou my lovely boy, who in thy power
  In the old age black was not counted fair
  How oft when thou, my music, music play'st
  Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
  My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
  Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art
  Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
  So now I have confessed that he is thine
  Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will
  If thy soul check thee that I come so near
  When my love swears that she is made of truth
  O call not me to justify the wrong
  In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes
  Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate
  Two loves I have, of comfort and despair
  Those lips that love's own hand did make
  My love is as a fever, longing still
  Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not
  O from what power hast thou this powerful might
  Love is too young to know what conscience is
  In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn
  Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep
  The little love-god lying once asleep
  The Phoenix and the Turtle"