莎士比亚十四行诗第三十八、三十九、四十首
庇佑着我的诗神从来不乏诗情，
只要你一息尚存，便就将你融入我的诗句；
你的存在本就合乎诗旨，超凡出尘，
岂是那拙劣庸俗的笔墨所能祗叙。
你的感激或将归于你自己，
倘我诗中有什么能入你眼；
谁会蠢到不为你写诗，
何况这诗正来自你赐予的灵感。
做第十个缪斯吧，你的神力，
十倍于那九个被众人祈求过的诗仙；
现在有人已向你呼唤，请助他写出，
那亘古不朽的诗篇。
倘我的拙句还能愉悦当世，
我来承受苦累，一切赞美属你。
Sonnet 38
How can my Muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe,that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument,too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse? 4
O give thyself the thanks if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light? 8
Be thou the tenth Muse,ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date. 12
If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine,but thine shall be the praise.
我怎样才能给你最恰当的赞美，
为你是我身体那更好的一半？
而自赞自夸于己又有何益？
对你的称赞不就是对自己的称赞？ 4
故此我要与你分离，
不再因爱而与你担一体之名，
如此分离后我便可给你，
你应尽享的那份荣名。 8
哦别离，你将予我怎样的折磨，
若非这苦涩的暇日中我还能
让时光在相思中销磨，
用甜蜜谎言来欺骗思念与光阴。 12
你且教我如何将人分成两份，
让我能在这诗中继续称赞那远方的人。
Sonnet 39
Oh how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee? 4
Even for this,let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone. 8
Oh absence,what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, 12
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain.
带走我情人，我爱的人啊，你将她们全部带走；
而后你就能比之前得到更多？
没有了情人，我爱的人啊，那可称之为真爱的；
早已属于你了，不等你将她们占有。 4
若你因我爱你而接收了我的情人们，
我不会怪你连她一起享用；
但若你是错的，你便是在自欺欺人，
故意玩弄那些你不爱的女人。 8
我可以原谅你夺我爱，你这偷心的强盗，
尽管你偷走我仅有的欢爱；
然而欢场中人都会知晓，
忍受委屈的爱比直截了当的恨更易受伤害。 12
放荡的人啊，为何你的恶行都表现得如此的美
即便你将我毒杀，我也不会视你为仇敌。
Sonnet 40
Take all my love,my love,yea,take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love,my love,that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine,before thou hadst this more. 4
Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee,for my love thou usest,
But yet be blamed,if thou this self deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. 8
I do forgive thy robbery,gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury. 12
Lascivious grace,in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites;yet we must not be foes.
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