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Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain,
Have put on black and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O! let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Sonnets, no. 132 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by David Passmore (b. 1954), "Thine eyes I love" [ mezzo-soprano and piano ], from Seven Dark Lady Sonnets , no. 5 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Richard Simpson (1820 - 1876), "Sonnet CXXXII", 1864 [ medium voice or high voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (François-Victor Hugo) , no title, appears in Sonnets de Shakespeare, no. 132, first published 1857
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , copyright © 2025, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-08-13
Line count: 14
Word count: 114
Amo il tuo sguardo quando, di me pietoso, sapendo che il tuo cuore sdegnoso mi tormenta, si vela di nero in lutto amoroso guardando con compassione alla mia pena. E a dire il vero, come il primo raggio del sole non rende migliore il grigio volto d’oriente, come la fulgida stella che la sera annuncia non dà maggior splendore al declinante occidente, così, al risveglio, i tuoi luttuosi occhi non mutano il tuo viso in nulla. Oh, concedi solo al tuo cuore, di piangere per me perché il lutto basta a conservarti bella e di pietà riveste ogni parte di te. Potrò giurare allora che la bellezza sta nel colore nero stesso E sono tutte brutte le donne che hanno un colore diverso.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2025 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in English by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Sonnets, no. 132
This text was added to the website: 2025-07-16
Line count: 14
Word count: 123