Shakespeare's Sonnets Translation Sonnet 60
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end, Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow; Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Like the waves that move towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hurry to their death,
Each taking the place of the one that went before,
All of them in a sequence, striving forwards.
A newborn thing, which was once in the wide sea of life,
Crawls to maturity, where once it is crowned,
Is fought against by sinister eclipses,
And time ruins the gift that it gave to him.
Time pierces the beauty that adorns youth
And digs wrinkles into beauty's forehead;
It feeds on the rare treasures of nature's truth,
And nothing stands that his scythe can't mow down.
And yet until future times I hope my poetry will stand,
Praising your value, despite time's cruel hand.
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