Shakespeare, William: Sonet 66 (LXVI. Sonnet in Czech)

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,

And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,

And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:

   Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
   Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

Po smrti kricím tím vsím unaven,
hle, zásluha se na zebrotu rodí
a pozlátkem tret prázdnŭ ovesen
a ryzí vernost v nevere se brodí.

A zlatá cest na míste nestydu
a cudná ctnost v hampejzy pohrobena
a dokonalost stvána v neklidu
a síla trpaslíky seslabena;

ctná snaha blbosti v plen vydána
a umení jho moci musí nést
a prostota jak hloupost vysmána,
zlo zalárníkem, dobro veznem jest:

Vsím unaven rád umrel bych, ví Buh,
mou smrtí jen by sám tu nezbyl druh.

1904