Should I compare you to a summer day?
They are more beautiful and more moderate:
violent winds disrupt the tender buds of May,
and summer does not last long enough.
Sometimes the sun is too hot,
and clouds often dim her golden face.
All beautiful things eventually become less beautiful,
either through the experiences of life or through the passage of time.
But your eternal beauty will not fade or lose any of its quality.
And you will never die as you will live on in my enduring poetry.
As long as there are people still alive to read poetry,
this sonnet will live and you will live in it.
