But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time,
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessèd than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
To give away your self keeps your self still,
And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill.
Such words may neither time, nor reasoning distill Writ by an Englishman, called Will
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This seems to take its cue from the preceding sonnet, and the two together are in the form of a continuous meditation. Here the poet takes a step backwards from the declaration of promised immortality, for he has second thoughts and his verse (his pupil pen) is found to be inadequate to represent the young man as he really is, or to give a true account of his inner and outer beauty. Therefore the boy is urged once more to give himself away, in marriage, and thus to recreate himself. Lines 9-12 present difficulties of meaning which probably can never be fully resolved. shakespeares-sonnets.com/