When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.

當(dāng)四十個冬天圍攻你的朱顏，
在你美的園地挖下深的戰(zhàn)壕，
你青春的華服，那么被人艷羨，
將成襤褸的敗絮，誰也不要瞧：
那時人若問起你的美在何處，
哪里是你那少壯年華的寶藏，
你說，"在我這雙深陷的眼眶里，
是貪婪的羞恥，和無益的頌揚(yáng)。"
你的美的用途會更值得贊美，
如果你能夠說，"我這寧馨小童
將總結(jié)我的賬，寬恕我的老邁，"
證實(shí)他的美在繼承你的血統(tǒng)！
這將使你在衰老的暮年更生，
并使你垂冷的血液感到重溫。