從未見(jiàn)你涂脂抹粉，
你的完美無(wú)需妝飾；
我發(fā)覺(jué)，或是感覺(jué)，你遠(yuǎn)勝，
那詩(shī)人能寫(xiě)給你的蹩腳諛辭；
故對(duì)你我只能放下筆墨，
讓你自己現(xiàn)身來(lái)說(shuō)明；
當(dāng)下的文筆是多么笨拙，
全然不能說(shuō)出你的美行；
你因我沉默而將我歸罪，
我卻說(shuō)沉默反是我最大的功勛；
我之不言保存了你最真的美，
他人欲令你永生，反將你送入墳塋；
你一雙眼所蘊(yùn)藏的靈氣，
便超過(guò)了兩個(gè)詩(shī)人給你的頌詩(shī)。
Sonnet 83
I never saw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt:
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself, being extant, well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
When others would give life, and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
