Why is my verse so barren of new pride,

So far from variation or quick change?

Why with the time do I not glance aside

To new-found methods and to compounds strange?

Why write I still all one, ever the same,

And keep invention in a noted weed,

That every word doth almost tell my name,

Showing their birth and where they did proceed?

O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,

And you and love are still my argument;

So all my best is dressing old words new,

Spending again what is already spent:

For as the sun is daily new and old,

So is my love still telling what is told.

為什么我的詩那么缺新光彩，

趕不上現代善變多姿的風尚？

為什么我不學時人旁征博采

那競奇斗艷，窮妍極巧的新腔？

為什么我寫的始終別無二致，

寓情思旨趣于一些老調陳言，

幾乎每一句都說出我的名字，

透露它們的身世，它們的來源？

哦，須知道，我愛呵，我只把你描，

你和愛情就是我唯一的主題；

推陳出新是我的無上的訣竅，

我把開支過的，不斷重新開支：

　　因為，正如太陽天天新天天舊，

　　我的愛把說過的事絮絮不休。