But wherefore do not you a mightier way

Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time?

And fortify your self in your decay

With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?

Now stand you on the top of happy hours,

And many maiden gardens yet unset,

With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,

Much liker than your painted counterfeit:

So should the lines of life that life repair

Which this (Time's pencil) or my pupil pen

Neither in inward worth nor outward fair

Can make you live your self in eyes of men.

   To give away your self, keeps your self still,

   And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill.

但是為什么不用更兇的法子

去抵抗這血淋淋的魔王--時(shí)光？

不用比我的枯筆吉利的武器，

去防御你的衰朽，把自己加強(qiáng)？

你現(xiàn)在站在黃金時(shí)辰的絕頂，

許多少女的花園，還未經(jīng)播種，

貞潔地切盼你那絢爛的群英，

比你的畫像更酷肖你的真容：

只有生命的線能把生命重描；

時(shí)光的畫筆，或者我這枝弱管，

無論內(nèi)心的美或外貌的姣好，

都不能使你在人們眼前活現(xiàn)。

獻(xiàn)出你自己依然保有你自己，

而你得活著，靠你自己的妙筆。