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Paraphrasing
14
Poetry
This
time,
however,
the
Sonnet CXVI
William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove;
O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark;
Whose worths unknown, also his height be taken.
Loves not Times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickles compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks;
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ nor no man ever loved
So it is, too, with true love. Even if there are material ways to
measure or demonstrate it, a price cannot be put on love. It
remains largely a mystery. Love does not fall under the power
of time. If time is the ruler of king, then love is not the kings
jester or subject whose main job is to provide the king with
amusement. Even if the physical attributes of the beloved,
such as youth and beauty, fade with age, true love does not
fade. Even if the beloved is claimed by death, at the moment
when time reaps lives with deaths sickle, true love does not
die, true love does not change through the years but even
remains until the end of time.
If all that I have said is proven to be wrong, you might as
well consider that I never did write. If you prove me wrong,