Sonnets from the Portuguese (no.6) / Elizabeth Barrett Browning
ืขืืืื: 17 ืืกืคืืณ 2023
Sonnets from the Portuguese Sonnet 6
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore -
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
ืกืื ืืืช ืื ืืคืืจืืืืืืช ืฉืืจ ืืก. 6 / ืืืืืืช ืืืจื-ืืจืืื ืื ื
ืึตืึฐ ืึฐืฉืึธืืึนื ืจึตืขึดื, ืึทืฃ ืฉืึถืืึนืึถื ืึผึฐืฆึทืขึทืจ
ืึธืขึทื ืชึผึดืจึฐืึผึนืฃ ืืึนืชึดื ืึผึฐืืึผืชึฐืึธ ืึผืึฐืฆึดืึผึฐืึธ ืึธืึดืื.
ืึฐืึทื ืึฐืึทื ืึถืช ืึผึทืฃ ืจึทืึฐืึดื ืึทืฆึผึดืื ืึผึฐืฉืึทืขึทืจ
ืกึทืฃ ืงึดืึผืึผืึดื ืึธืขึทืฆึฐืึธืึดื, ืึฒื ึดื ืขึทืฆึฐืึดื ืึทืึฐืึดืื
ืึตืืึธื ืชึผึดืคึฐืขึทื ื ึทืคึฐืฉืึดื, ืึทืึฐ ืึถืึฐืจึนืขึดื ืึนื ืึทืขึทื
ืึฐืืึนืจ ืึทืึผึธื ืึผึฐืึดื ืฉืึถืึผึฐืชืึนืึฐ ืึดืึผึดื ืึธืึดืื
ืขึทื ืึถื ืึธืกึทืจึฐืชึผึดื ืึถืช ืึทืึผึทืข ืึธืึฐืึธ ืึผึฐืึทืฃ ืึธืึดื. ืึผึธื ืฉืึทืขึทื
ืึผึธืึธืจึถืฅ ืึธืจึฐืึธืึธื ืึทืึผึนืืช ืึผึธืึทืจ ืฉืึถืึผึฐืึธืึดื
ืึผืึฐืึธืึฐืึธ ืึฐืคึธืขึฒืืึผ ืึทืึฐืึผึธื, ืึฒืึทื ืฉืึถืคึผึทืขึทื
ืึผึฐืจึธืึตืื ืึผ ื ึดืคึฐืจึฐืืึผ, ืึทืขึฒืฉืึทื ืขืึนื ืึฐืึดืืึดืื
ืืึนืชึฐืึผ ืึฐืึถืช ืึผึฐืืึผืชึฐืึธ, ืืึนืึฐืจึดืื ืึผึทืึผึทืึดื ืึทืึผึฐืฉืึทืึผึตืจ ืึถืช ืึทืขึทื
ืึถืฉืึฐืึผืึนื ืึผึฐืจึธืึดืื. ืึธืึตื ืฉืึถืึผึทืึผึฐืจืึนืึดืื ืึผึฐืึธืจึทื ืึฐืคึทืึผึฐืึดืื.
ืืึผื ืึฐืึทืึผึถื ืฉืึดืึฐืึธ ืึผืฉืึฐืึดื ืึผึฐืจืึผืึดืื ืึทืึฐืึผึธื ืึผึฐืกึตืชึถืจ ืจึทืขึทื,
ืึผึฐืขึทืคึฐืขึทืคึผึทื ืึดืจึฐืึถื ืืึผื ืจึฐืกึดืืกึตื ืึผึดืึฐืขึธื ืึผึฐืคืึผืึดืื.
ืชืจืืื: ืืืื ืฉืืืจ