von Fitzgerald Kusz
solli di miderm summädooch vägleing?
du bisd viel schennä und su zoärd
dä wind wäihd alle bläihdn widdä wech
sugoä dä summä gäihd ämall vobei
di sunnä maands ofd viel zu goud
und scho werd allers widdä drüb
wos schäi woä is dann nimmä schäi
däi naduä machd immä des wos will
dei summä deä derf nie meä vägäih
du bisd und bleibsd fiä immä schäi
dä doud soll mid seim schaddn gäih
in meine vers wersd weidä lehm
sulang nu laid lehm wou des säing
häld des fiä miich diich am lehm
© Fitzgerald Kusz, Nürnberg
Sonnet 18
von William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
