Asenna Steam
kirjaudu sisään
|
kieli
简体中文 (yksinkertaistettu kiina)
繁體中文 (perinteinen kiina)
日本語 (japani)
한국어 (korea)
ไทย (thai)
български (bulgaria)
Čeština (tšekki)
Dansk (tanska)
Deutsch (saksa)
English (englanti)
Español – España (espanja – Espanja)
Español – Latinoamérica (espanja – Lat. Am.)
Ελληνικά (kreikka)
Français (ranska)
Italiano (italia)
Bahasa Indonesia (indonesia)
Magyar (unkari)
Nederlands (hollanti)
Norsk (norja)
Polski (puola)
Português (portugali – Portugali)
Português – Brasil (portugali – Brasilia)
Română (romania)
Русский (venäjä)
Svenska (ruotsi)
Türkçe (turkki)
Tiếng Việt (vietnam)
Українська (ukraina)
Ilmoita käännösongelmasta
Gaming*
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.