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 noted¹ 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 dressing² 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。