Coral is far more 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 damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Sonnet 130, from Shakespeare's sonnets
कधी न दिसली तुझ्या लोचनीं
रविकिरणांची चमक जरी
शुभ्र हिमासम उजळ कांतिची
न भासशी तू हिमगौरी
ओठावरती कधी न दिसली
चुटुक पोवळ्याची लाली
गालावरच्या हसूत कधी ना
गुलाबपुष्पें फुललेली
कुपीतल्या त्या अत्तरापरी
न भासला गंधित श्वास
वीणेसम मधु नसति जरी,
तव बोल ऐकण्याची आस
माथ्यावरले केश तुझे ना
साद घालती घन तिमिरा
चालीमध्ये तुझ्या न दिसला
रंभेचा मोहक नखरा
कशास देऊन खोट्या उपमा
स्तुती कोरडी गाऊं मुखें
उथळ कल्पनांना नच बांधिल
तुजवरली मम प्रीत सखे
-माधुरी