To Shakespeare on 66-th sonnet

I'm tir'd with all of these...
Shakespeare sonnet № 66

Oh, dear Will, I'm tir'd with all of these,
Like you were tir'd four centuries ago,
I see they bring a human to his knees,
I see they treat a human like a foe.

They trample behold desert into dirt,
And wisdom like before is not in honor,
And any scoundrel, any vile pervert
Can put innocent man into a corner.

Who is to service us - that lives like lord,
That ruins us to whom for aid we plea,
They cast away a talent into ward,
And genius - so better not to be.

And spongers jubilate in friendly way
When the unjust verdict strikes with dismay.

Шрейбер Б., 2005

Сертификат Поэзия.ру: серия 670 № 35910 от 13.07.2005

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