No longer mourn for me when I am dead

Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell

Give warning to the world that I am fled

From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it; for I love you so

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot

If thinking on me then should make you woe.

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse

When I perhaps compounded am with clay,

Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.

But let your love even with my life decay,

Lest the wise world should look into your moan

And mock you with me after I am gone.

我死去的时候别再为我悲哀，

当你听见那沉重凄惨的葬钟

普告给全世界说我已经离开

这龌龊世界去伴最龌龊的虫：

不呀，当你读到这诗，别再记起

那写它的手；因为我爱到这样，

宁愿被遗忘在你甜蜜的心里，

如果想起我会使你不胜哀伤。

如果呀，我说，如果你看见这诗，

那时候或许我已经化作泥土，

连我这可怜的名字也别提起，

但愿你的爱与我的生命同腐。

　　免得这聪明世界猜透你的心，

　　在我死去后把你也当作笑柄。