My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far zaidi red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there zaidi delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I upendo to hear her speak, yet well I know
That muziki hath a far zaidi pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, kwa heaven, I think my upendo as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Coral is far zaidi red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there zaidi delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I upendo to hear her speak, yet well I know
That muziki hath a far zaidi pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, kwa heaven, I think my upendo as rare
As any she belied with false compare.