S.Marshak, Back Translation Of Translated Shakespeare, Son.141 Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

My eyes are not in love with you -
They see all of your vices clearly.
But my heart - doesn't feel the truth,
No any guilt, nor fault in your behaviour.

My ears are not fond of your nice speech,
Your voice for me, your look, your touch - are equal
And couldn't tempt me to a holiday
Of hearing, of touching and of vision.

Yet the external feelings can't persuade,
All five of them, or every feel alone,
My poor heart, that the captivity is bad,
That slavery may cause a death end further!

In my unhappiness I'm usually consoled,
That you're - my sin, and you're my hell, although!