Shakespeare's Sonnet 13: O! That You Were Your Self, But, Love, You Are
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Sonnet 13: Translation to modern English
Oh how I long for you to be yourself forever, unchanged, but, my love, you don't have any identity for any longer than your time on earth. You should prepare yourself for this approaching end and pass your sweet likeness on to someone else. In that way the lease that you hold for that beauty would not expire and you would survive after your self's death, when your beautiful children would carry your beautiful form. Who allows such a lovely house to fall into decay when it could, with good management, be properly protected from the stormy winds of winter and the frustration of the eternal coldness of death? Oh, no-one except the irresponsible. My dear love, you once had a father: let your son be able to say the same thing.
See other Shakespeare sonnets in modern English >>
Download ebook of all 154 Shakespeare sonnets in modern English >>
