No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings¹ of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist² upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wondering at the present nor the past,
For thy records and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste.
  This I do vow³ and this shall ever be;
  I will be true, despite thy scythe⁴ and thee.

不，时光，你断不能夸说我在变：
你新建的金字塔，不管多雄壮，
对我一点不稀奇，一点不新鲜；
它们只是旧景象披上了新装。
我们的生命太短促，所以羡慕
你拿来蒙骗我们的那些旧货；
幻想它们是我们心愿的产物，
不肯信从前曾经有人谈起过。
对你和你的纪录我同样不卖账，
过去和现在都不能使我惊奇，
因为你的记载和我所见都扯谎，
都多少是你疾驰中造下的孽迹。
　　我敢这样发誓：我将万古不渝，
　　不管你和你的镰刀多么锋利。