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.

　　为什么我的诗那么缺新光彩，

　　赶不上现代善变多姿的风尚?

　　为什么我不学时人旁征博采

　　那竞奇斗艳，穷妍极巧的新腔?

　　为什么我写的始终别无二致，

　　寓情思旨趣于一些老调陈言，

　　几乎每一句都说出我的名字，

　　透露它们的身世，它们的来源?

　　哦，须知道，我爱呵，我只把你描，

　　你和爱情就是我唯一的主题;

　　推陈出新是我的无上的诀窍，

　　我把开支过的，不断重新开支：

　　因为，正如太阳天天新天天旧，

　　我的爱把说过的事絮絮不休。