評論
打印
So is it not with me as with that Muse,
我并不像那一位詩人一樣，
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
因畫布上的美人便感而成章
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,
連蒼天都成為他筆底的裝飾，
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse;
驅群美以襯托他那美貌之郎，
Making a couplement of proud compare
滿紙繡詞麗句、比附夸張，
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
海底、珠寶、大地、月亮和太陽，
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
四月的鮮花，以及一切奇珍異物，
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
環掛長空，直面宇宙的浩茫。
O, let me true in love but truly write,
啊，讓我忠實地愛、忠實地寫吧，
And then believe me, my love is as fair
請相信我，我的愛雖難與
As any mother's child, though not so bright
蒼穹金燭臺般的星斗爭光，
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:
但其美恰如任何母親的孩子一樣。
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
讓別的詩人說盡陳詞濫調吧，
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
我不是販夫，絕不自賣又自夸。
