BUT wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessèd than my barren rime?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear your 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 yourself in eyes of men.
To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

你为何不用更有力的方式，
来挑战这血腥的暴君--时间？
你为何不用比我的诗更为神圣的武器，
来抵御你的老迈衰枯？
你如今正处于金色年华的顶峰，
那许多为被开垦的处女地，
贞洁的企盼着你把鲜花来播种，
孕育出的花朵比画像更似你的真容：
只有生命之线才能将生命绵绵延传，
我笨拙的墨迹和时间之笔，
怎么描绘出你秀雅的内心和脱俗的外表？
怎能让你世人眼前再现？
献出自己，你便能在世上永葆青春，
你必须用你绝妙的天赋，让自己在天地间永存。