When forty winters shall besiege¹ thy brow,

四十个冬天将围攻你的额角，

And dig deep trenches² in thy beauty's field,

将在你美的田地里挖浅沟深渠，

Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now,

你青春的锦袍，如今教多少人倾倒，

Will be a tottered³ weed of small worth held:

将变成一堆破烂，值一片空虚。

Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,

那时候有人会问：“你的美质——

Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,

你少壮时代的宝贝，如今在何方？”

To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes,

回答是：在你那双深陷的眼睛里，

Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.

只有贪欲的耻辱，浪费的赞赏。

How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,

要是你回答说：“我这美丽的小孩

If thou couldst answer, 'This fair child of mine

将会完成我，我老了可以交账——”

Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,'

从而让后代把美继承下来，

Proving his beauty by succession thine.

那你就活用了美，该大受赞扬！

This were to be new made when thou art old,

你老了，你的美应当恢复青春，

And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.

你的血一度冷了，该再度升温。