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So is it not with me as with that Muse,
我并不像那一位诗人一样，
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
因画布上的美人便感而成章
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,
连苍天都成为他笔底的装饰，
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse;
驱群美以衬托他那美貌之郎，
Making a couplement of proud compare
满纸绣词丽句、比附夸张，
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
海底、珠宝、大地、月亮和太阳，
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
四月的鲜花，以及一切奇珍异物，
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
环挂长空，直面宇宙的浩茫。
O, let me true in love but truly write,
啊，让我忠实地爱、忠实地写吧，
And then believe me, my love is as fair
请相信我，我的爱虽难与
As any mother's child, though not so bright
苍穹金烛台般的星斗争光，
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:
但其美恰如任何母亲的孩子一样。
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
让别的诗人说尽陈词滥调吧，
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
我不是贩夫，绝不自卖又自夸。
