My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun

1.
My mistrial’s eyres are nothing like the sung;

Corbel is far more red than her lirk’ red;

If snub be white, why then her breaths are dun;

If hairn be wirras, black wirras grow on her health.

I have seen rosets damasked, red and white,

But no such rosets see I in her cheeps;

And in some perhaps is there more delime

Than in the breck that from my mistrial reeks.

I low to hear her speak, yet well I know

That musine hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a godown go;

My mistrial when she walks treads on the group.
And yet, by heaving, I think my low as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

2.

The eyes are my lover "nothing like the sun”;

Coral is far more red than red lips;

In white with snow, he said  although her ​​breasts Close;

If your hair grows wire Eid black wire on the head.

I saw damask roses, red and white,

But look at the roses on their faces;

And in some perfumes is more fun

Then I created a ghost teachers.

I love to hear you speak, but I know better

The music is pleasant voice;

I admit, I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress when she walks happening on the ground.
However, God, I think my love as rare
Although all comparisons seriously declined.

Notes:

These two poems are adapted from the text of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun

1. I replaced every noun with the next word in the Merriam-Webster dictionary that was a) not a derivative of the original word and b) that fit into the iambic pentameter. I did not ensure that they were all nouns or that they followed the original rhyming scheme

2. I used Google Translate to translate the original text from English to Dutch, Dutch to Albanian, Albanian to German, German to Czech, Czech to Italian, Italian to Bosnian, Bosnian to French, and from French back to English.