John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

Она мертва; а так как, умирая,
Все возвращается к первооснове,
А мы основой друг для друга были
И друг из друга состояли,

Whoever loves, if he do not
The right true end of love, he's one that
To sea for nothing but to make him sick
Love is a bear-whelp born : if we

Death be not proud, though some have called
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me

Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labor,
I in labor lie
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,

Here take my picture; though I bid
Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell
'Tis like me now, but I dead, 'twill be
When we are shadows both, than 'twas before

'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be
O wilt thou therefore rise from me
Why should we rise, because 'tis light
Did we lie down, because 'twas night

By our first strange and fatal interview,
By all desires which thereof did ensue,
By our long starving hopes, by that
Which my words masculine persuasive

As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say
The breath goes now, and some say, No:

CE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that...

Although thy hand and faith, and good works too,
Have seal'd thy love which nothing should undo,
Yea though thou fall back, that
Confirm thy love; yet much, much I fear thee

In what torn ship soever I embark,
That ship shall be my emblem of thy Ark;
What sea soever swallow me, that
Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood;