Unquenchable thirst of love…

The jealous one himself is cause of torment
And even crown will not keep him still
Desdemona with no guilt was killed,
Though she was faithful to the great extent.

She closes the vicious circle of the love
Her name is written as the love's true sister.
But as her brother iron there glistered —
So many hands that love has stained with blood!

But no, of love I have another vision:
The one I love, I trust with no excision!

Sonnet 136

Love can't be jealous, as the passion can:
The passions puts the hidden traps
To which fall even those experienced
With words of Iago, don't lie, don't condemn!

Oh jealousy, you choose your prey from us
And our hearts are painful and so hurt,
You play the drum in rage, but now stop,
Don't hurt the feeling by absurd mistrust

The passion is the despot, so merciless
No tyranny, which can be more wayward
But love is balm, the therapy and ward
Of all the soul's wounds, of all the turbulence,

The Love is graceful, kind, but the most upheaval
Brings jealousy, much envy and much evil.

Sonnet 137

The love is free, such is its essence
When flows, even stones break:
The wall destroys and the defences:
No shield is left for me to take!

I wanted to erase her features
And to forget… But then my heart
Will ache and will cry out loud
Nostalgia, the ghostly creature!

I can't find help in the oblivion,
By which I tried (while it was trifle)
To hide the feeling, to forget… —
But I give up and here's my chest:

Well. Love is just a worthy rival
To end my life, so sad, so trivial.

Sonnet 138

Oh, can my affection be a sin
When deep in love I lose myself
No sinner is who duff and dumb
Who cannot love and cannot feel

Who laughs at highest words of love
Who dear lady's eyes dislikes
And lips of hers is not enjoying
Who doesn't know the love's folly

That one just lives in vain his life.
And I recall now and again
The Romeo and Juliette story
These children's love was so involving
And even death had brought them fame

I drink a toast to loving souls
Indifference is the greatest fault…

Sonnet 139

Yes. Cupid shoots so randomly, but sure
Defeating, dazzling everyone,
Love potion's easy to be done:
For youngster and for someone mature,

For nun, for gigolo, no matter
They all will suffer passion's pricks
But the love's suit… Here's nothing better:
And haute couture's extremely cheap!

Cupid, your genre is operetta.
You shoot the movies bright and splendid,
You are the favourite of all ladies:
Life's grey with you, and I don't flatter!

And I'm subject to passion too
I fell in love, so now I do…

Sonnet 144

To you, oh, ladies, whom I loved
All songs and sonnets're dedicated
You're muses who inspire all created
And Lord had sent me blessing from above.