莎士比亚十四行诗全集：Sonnet 17(mp3+双语)

Who will believe my verse in time to come
将来，谁会相信我诗中的话来着，
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
假如其中写满了你至高的美德？
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
可是，天知道，我的诗是坟呵，它埋着
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
你的一生，显不出你一半的本色。
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
如果我能够写出你明眸的流光，
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
用清新的诗章勾出你全部的仪容，
The age to come would say 'This poet lies,
将来的人们就要说，这诗人在扯谎，
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'
上天的笔触触不到凡人的面孔。
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
于是，我那些古旧得发黄的稿纸，
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,
会被人看轻，被当做嚼舌的老人；
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
你应得的赞扬被称做诗人的狂思，
And stretched meter of an antique song:
称做一篇过甚其辞的古韵文：
 But were some child of yours alive that time,
但如果你有个孩子能活到那时期，
 You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme.
你就双重地活在——他身上，我诗里。