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 dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist 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 vow and this shall ever be.
I will be true, despite thy scythe 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。
