My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;     
Coral is far もっと見る red than her lips' red;     
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;     
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.     

I have seen バラ damask'd, red and white,     
But no such バラ see I in her cheeks;     
And in some perfumes is there もっと見る delight     
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I 愛 to hear her speak, yet well I know
That 音楽 hath a far もっと見る pleasing sound;     
I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:     
And yet, によって heaven, I think my 愛 as rare
As any she belied with false compare.