¼ÎÀͽºÇÇ¾î ¼Ò³×Æ® Áß¿¡¼­

William Shakespeare (1564?-1616)

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 12(SONNET XII)

 

½Ã°£À» ¾Ë¸®´Â º®½Ã°èÀÇ ±¥Á¾¼Ò¸®¸¦ µè°í
When I do count the clock that tells the time
¸ÚÁø ÇÏ·ç°¡ ¹«¼­¿î ¹ã ¼ÓÀ¸·Î »ç¶óÁö°í,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
¿À¶ûij ²ÉÀÌ ½Ãµå´Â °ÍÀ» ¹Ù¶óº¸°í
When I behold the violet past prime,
°ËÀº ¸Ó¸®°¡ ¹é¹ß·Î º¯ÇÏ°í,
And sable curls, all silver¡¯d o¡¯er with white;
¸ñÀÚµéÀ» ÇÞºµÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ °¡¸®¿öÁÖ´ø
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
°Å¸ñÀÇ ÀÙ»ç±Í°¡ ¶³¾îÁ® ³ª°¡°í
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
¿©¸§ ³¯ÀÇ ÃʸñÀÌ ¸»¶ó ¤´ÜÀ¸·Î ¹­ÀÌ°í
And summer¡¯s green all girded up in sheaves,
±ò²ô·± Èò ¹Ð ±ò²ô¶ó±â°¡ ¼Õ¼ö·¹¿¡ ½Ç·Á°¡¸é
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
³» ±×´ëÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ» »ý°¢Çϳë´Ï
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
³¶ºñµÇ´Â ½Ã°£ ¼Ó¿¡ ±×´ë ¶ÇÇÑ °¡¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
°¨¹Ì·Î¿ò°ú ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀº ½º½º·Î¸¦ Æ÷±âÇÏ°í
ince sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
´ÙÀ½ ¼¼´ë°¡ ÀÚ¶ó´Â °ÍÀ» º¸´Â ¼ø°£ Á×´Â °Í.
And die as fast as they see others grow;
½Ã°£ÀÇ ³´¿¡ °ßµô ¼ö ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀº ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ¾øÀ¸´Ï
And nothing ¡¯gainst Time¡¯s scythe can make defence
½Ã°£ÀÌ ±×´ë¸¦ ÀâÀ¸¸é Èļո¸ÀÌ ±×¸¦ ¸·´Â ±æÀÏ »Ó.
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

 

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 18(SONNET XVIII)

 

±×´ë¸¦ ¿©¸§³¯¿¡ ºñÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖÀ»±î¿ä?
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
±×´ë´Â ÈξÀ ´õ »ó³ÉÇÏ°í ¿ÂÈ­ÇÕ´Ï´Ù.
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
°ÅÄ£ ¹Ù¶÷ÀÌ ¿À´º¿ùÀÇ ±Í¿©¿î ²ÉºÀ¿À¸± Èçµé°í
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
¿©¸§ÀÌ ´©¸®´Â ±â°£Àº ³Ê¹«µµ ª¾Æ
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
ÇÏ´ÃÀÇ ´«Àº ³Ê¹« µû°©°Ô ºû³¯ ¶§µµ ÀÖ°í
Sometime too hot the eyes of heaven shines,
±× Ȳ±Ýºû ¾ó±¼ÀÌ Èå·ÁÁú ¶§µµ ¸¹½À´Ï´Ù.
And often is his gold complexion dimmed.
¿ì¿¬À̳ª ¶Ç´Â ÀÚ¿¬ÀÇ ¹«»óÇÑ ÀÌÄ¡·Î
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
°í¿òµµ »óÇÏ°í ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òµµ »ç¶óÁö°Ô µÇÁö¸¸
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed
±×´ë°¡ Áö´Ñ ¿µ¿øÇÑ ¿©¸§Àº »ç¶óÁöÁö ¾Ê°í
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
±×´ëÀÇ °í¿î ºûµµ ÀÒÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸ç
Nor lose prossession of that fair thou owest,
Á×À½Á¶Â÷ Á¦ ±×´Ã ¼Ó¿¡¼­ ±×´ë°¡ ¹æȲÇÑ´Ù°í »Ë³»Áö ¸øÇØ¿ä.
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade
±×´ë°¡ ¿µ¿øÇÑ ½Ã ¼Ó¿¡¼­ ½Ã°£°ú Çѵ¢¾î¸® µÉ ¶§¿¡´Â
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
»ç¶÷ÀÌ ¼û½¬°í ´«À¸·Î º¼ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ÇÑ
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
ÀÌ ½Ã´Â ¿µ¿øÈ÷ ¼ûÀ» ½¯°ÍÀÌ¸ç ±×´ë¿¡°Ô »ý¸íÀ» ÁÙ °ÍÀÔ´Ï´Ù.
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 29(Sonnet XXIX)

 

¿î¸í°ú »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô¼­ ¹ö¸²¹Þ¾ÒÀ» ¶§,
WHEN in disgrace with fortune and men¡¯s eyes
È¥ÀÚ¼­ ¹ö¸²¹ÞÀº ½Å¼¼¸¦ ÇÑźÇÏ°í È¥ÀÚ Èå´À²¸ ¿î´Ù,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
ºÎÁú¾ø´Â ¿ïºÎ¢À½À¸·Î ±Í¸Ó°Å¸® ÇÏ´ÃÀ» ±«·ÓÈ÷°í
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
³» ÀÚ½ÅÀ» »ìÆ캸¸é¼­ ³ªÀÇ ¿î¸íÀ» ÀúÁÖÇϵµ´Ù.
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
³ªµµ Èñ¸ÁÀÌ º¸´Ù dzºÎÇÑ ±×·± »ç¶÷ÀÌ µÇ±â¸¦ ¹Ù¶ó¸ç,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
´©±¼ ´à¾Æ ¾ó±¼ÀÌ Àß »ý±â°í Ä£±¸°¡ ¸¹±â¸¦ ¹Ù¶ó¸ç,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess¡¯d,
ÀÌ »ç¶÷ÀÇ ÀçÁÖ¿Í Àú »ç¶÷ÀÇ ¿ª·®À» ŽÇϸç,
Desiring this man¡¯s art, and that man¡¯s scope,
³»°¡ °¡Áø°Í¿¡ ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ ºÒ¸¸À» ´À³¢µµ´Ù.
With what I most enjoy contented least;
±×·¯³ª ÀÌ·± »ý°¢¿¡ Á¥¾î ³» ÀÚ½ÅÀ» °ÅÀÇ °æ¸êÇÏ´Ù°¡µµ,
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
¹®µæ ±×´ë¸¦ »ý°¢Çϸé- ±×¶§ÀÇ ³» ±âºÐÀº °ð,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
»õº®³è¿¡ ¾îµÎ¿î ´ëÁö¿¡¼­ ¼Ú¾Æ ¿Ã¶ó
Like to the lark at break of day arising
õ±¹ÀÇ ¹®Àü¿¡¼­ ³ë·¡ºÎ¸£´Â Á¾´Þ»õ¿Í °°¾Æ¶ó,
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven¡¯s gate;
±×´ëÀÇ °í¿î »ç¶û »ý°¢ÇÏ¸é ³ª´Â ºÎ±Í¿¡ ³ÑÃÄ
For thy sweet love remember¡¯d such wealth brings
³ª´Â ³» óÁö¸¦ Á¦¿Õ°úµµ ¹Ù²ÙÁö ¾Æ´ÏÇϸ®¶ó.
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

 

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 44(Sonnet XXIX)

 

³» À°Ã¼ÀÇ µÐÇÑ ¹°ÁúÀÌ »ó³ä°ú °°ÀÌ °¡º±´Ù¸é,
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
³ª¸¦ ±«·ÓÈ÷´Â °Å¸®(Ëå×î)µµ ³ªÀÇ ±æÀ» ¹æÇØÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸®.
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
±×·¸´Ù¸é °ø°£¿¡ ¸ÅÀÌÁö ¾Ê°í, ³ª´Â ¸Õ ³¡À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ
For then despite of space I would be brought,
±×´ë ÀÖ´Â °÷À¸·Î µ¥·Á°¡Áö¸®.
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
³»°¡ ¼­ ÀÖ´Â °÷ÀÌ, ±×´ë °è½Å °÷À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ
No matter then although my foot did stand
°¡Àå ¸Õ °÷À̶ó ÇÑµé ¾î¶°¸®,
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
¹ÎøÇÑ »ó»óÀº ±×´ë°¡ ÀÖÀ» °÷À» »ý°¢¸¸ Çϸé
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
°ð ¹Ù´Ù¿Í À°Áö¸¦ ¶Ù¾î³ÑÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ³ª´Ï.
As soon as think the place where he would be.
±×·¯³ª, ¾Æ! »ý°¢ÇÏ¸é ±«·Î¿ö¶ó, Áö±Ý ±×´ë´Â °¡°í
But, ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
³ª´Â ¸Õ °Å¸®¸¦ ¶Ù¾î³Ñ´Â »ó»óÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï±â¿¡,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
³ª´Â ÁÖ(ñ«)·Î ¹°°ú ÈëÀ¸·Î ¸¸µé¾îÁ³³ª´Ï
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
½ÅÀ½À» ÇÏ¸ç ½Ã°£ÀÌ °¡´Â °ÍÀ» ±â´Ù·Á¾ß ÇÏ´À´Ï.
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
¹°°ú Èë ÀÌ·¸°Ô ´À¸° ¼ººÐÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ¹ÞÀº °ÍÀº,
Receiving nought by elements so slow
½½ÇÄÀÇ ¡®¹èÁö¡¯ÀÎ ´«¹°»ÓÀ̷δÙ.
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

 

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 66(Sonnet LXVI)

 

ÀÌ ¸ðµç °Í¿¡ ½ÈÁõ³ª ³ª Á×À½À» Èñ±¸Çϳë¶ó
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
Àç´ö(î¦Óì)ÀÌ °ÉÀÎ(Ë÷ìÑ)À¸·Î ž °ÍÀ» º¸°í
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
°øÇã°¡ È­·ÁÇÏ°Ô ¼ºÀåÇÑ °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
¼øÁøÇÑ ½ÅÀÇ´Â ºÒÇàÈ÷ ±â¸¸´çÇÑ °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
Âù¶õÇÑ ¸í¿¹°¡ ºÎ²ô·´°Ô À߸ø ÁÖ¾îÁø °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
ó³àÀÇ Á¤Á¶°¡ ¹«ÂüÈ÷µµ Áþ¹âÈ÷´Â °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
¿Ã¹Ù¸¥ ¿Ï¼ºÀÌ ºÎ´çÇÏ°Ô ¿åÀ» ´çÇÑ °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
°­ÇÑ ÈûÀÌ Àý¸§¹ßÀÌ¿¡ Á¦¾îµÇ¾î ¹«·ÂÈ­µÈ °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
¿¹¼úÀÌ ±Ç·Â ¾Õ¿¡¼­ º¡¾î¸®°¡ µÈ °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
¹Ùº¸°¡ ¹Ú»çÀÎ ¾ç ±â¼úÀÚ¸¦ ÅëÁ¦ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
¼ÖÁ÷ÇÑ Áø½ÇÀÌ À߸ø ºÒ¸®´Â °ÍÀ» º¸°í,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
¼±ÇÑ Æ÷·Î°¡ ¾ÇÇÑ ÀûÀåÀ» ¼¶±â´Â °ÍÀ» º¼ ¶§,
And captive good attending captain ill:
ÀÌ ¸ðµç °Í¿¡ ½ÈÁõ ³ª ³ª Á×°íÀÚ Çϳë¶ó,
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Á×´Â °ÍÀÌ »ç¶ûÀ» µÎ°í °¡´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó¸é
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

 

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 73(Sonnet LXXIII)


±×´ë ³ª¿¡°Ô¼­ ´Ê°¡À»À» º¸¸®¶ó.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
´©·± ÀÙÀÌ ¸î ÀÙ ¶Ç´Â Çϳªµµ ¾øÀÌ
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
»èdz¿¡ ¶°´Â ³ª¹µ°¡Áö
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
°í¿î »õµéÀÌ ³ë·¡ÇÏ´ø ÀÌ ÆóÇã°¡ µÈ ¼º°¡´ë¼®À»
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
³ª¿¡°Ô¼­ ±×´ë ¼®¾çÀÌ ¼­Ãµ¿¡ 
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
ÀÌ¹Ì ³Ñ¾î°£ ±×·± ȲȥÀ» º¸¸®¶ó.
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ¾È½Ä ¼Ó¿¡ ´ãÀ» Á¦2ÀÇ Á×À½.
Which by and by black night doth take away,
±× ¾ÏÈæÀÇ ¹ãÀÌ ´ÚÃĿà ȲȥÀ»
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
±×´ë´Â ³ª¿¡°Ô¼­ ÀÌ·± ºÒºûÀ» º¸¸®¶ó.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
ûÃáÀÌ Åº Àç, ÀÓÁ¾ÀÇ Ä§´ë À§¿¡
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
ºÒÀÌ ºÙ°Ô ÇÑ ¿¬·á¿¡ ¼ÒÁøµÇ¾î
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
²¨Á®¾ß¸¸ ÇÒ ºÒºûÀ»
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
±×´ë ÀÌ°ÍÀ» º¸¸é ¾ÈŸ±î¿öÁ®.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
¿À·¡Áö ¾Ê¾Æ µÎ°í °¥ °ÍÀ» ´õ¿í´õ »ç¶ûÇϸ®¶ó.
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

 

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 104(Sonnet CIV)

 

¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î Ä£±¸¿©, ³» »ý°¢¿£ ±×´ë´Â ´ÄÀ»¼ö ¾ø´Â °Í°°¾Æ¶ó
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
³»°¡ óÀ½ ±×´ëÀÇ ¾ó±¼À» ºÃÀ» ¶§ °°ÀÌ
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Áö±Ýµµ ±×·¸°Ô ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ö¶ó. Ãß¿î °Ü¿ï¿¡ ¼¼ ¹øÀ̳ª
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
³ª¹« ½£¿¡¼­ ¿©¸§ÀÇ ÀÚ¶ûÀ» Èçµé¾î ¹ö·È°í,
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î º½ÀÌ ¼¼ ¹øÀ̳ª Ȳ±Ýºû °¡À»·Î º¯Çß¾î¶ó
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd
°èÀýÀÇ º¯È­¸¦ ´«¿©°Ü º¸¾Ò´õ´Ï
In process of the seasons have I seen,
4¿ùÀÇ Çâ±â°¡ ¼¼ ¹øÀ̳ª ¶ß°Å¿î 6¿ù¿¡ ºÒÅÀ¾î¶ó
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,
½Ì½ÌÇÏ°í Ǫ¸£¸¥ ±×´ë¸¦ óÀ½ ºÆ¿Â ÀÌ·¡·Î
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
¾Æ! ±×·¯³ª ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿òÀ̶õ ÇؽðèÀÇ ¹Ù´Ãó·³
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
±× ¼ýÀÚ¿¡¼­ ¹ß°ÉÀ½µµ ¾È º¸ÀÌ°Ô µµ¸ÁÄ¡µµ´Ù
Steal from his figure and no pace perceived;
±×´ëÀÇ °í¿î ÀÚ»öµµ ³» º¯ÇÔ¾ø´Ù°í ¿©±âÁö¸¸
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
½ÇÀº ¿òÁ÷À̸ç, ³» ´«ÀÌ ¾Æ¸¶ ¼Ó´Â °ÍÀ̷δÙ
Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived:
±× ¿°·Á ÀÖ³ª´Ï ³Ê ¾ÆÁ÷ žÁö ¾ÊÀº ¼¼´ë¿©, µéÀ¸¶ó
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;
³ÊÈñµéÀÌ ³ª±â Àü¿¡ ¹ÌÀÇ ¿©¸§Àº ÀÌ¹Ì Á×¾ú¾î¶ó
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 106(SONNET CVI)

 

Áö³ª°£ ¼¼¿ùÀÇ ±â·Ï ¼Ó¿¡¼­
When in the chronicle of wasted time
°¡Àå ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¹¦»ç¸¦ º¼ ¶§,
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
¶Ç Á×Àº ±ÍºÎ³à¿Í ¼ö·ÁÇÑ ±â»ç(ÑÈÞÍ)¸¦ ¿¹ÂùÇϸç
And beauty making beautiful old rime,
¹ÌÀÎ ÁßÀÇ ¹ÌÀÎÀÇ
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
¼Õ, ¹ß, ÀÔ¼ú, ´«, À̸¶¸¦ º¸¿©ÁØ
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty¡¯s best,
°í°¡(ͯʰ)¸¦ ¾Æ¸§´ä°Ô ¸¸µç ¹Ì¸¦ º¼ ¶§,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
³ª´Â ±×µéÀÇ ¿¾ ÇÊÄ¡°¡
I see their antique pen would have express¡¯d
±×´ë°¡ Áö±Ý Áö´Ñ ¹Ì¸¦ Ç¥ÇöÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î ¾Æ³ë¶ó.
Even such a beauty as you master now.
±×·¯¹Ç·Î ±× µéÀÇ ¸ðµç ¿¹ÂùÀº
So all their praises are but prophecies
±×´ë¸¦ ¿¹»óÇÏ°í ¿ì¸®½Ã´ë¸¦ ¿¹¾ð ÇÑ °Í¿¡ Áö³ªÁö ¾Ê³ë¶ó.
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
±×µéÀº ´Ù¸¸ ÁüÀÛÇÏ´Â ´«À¸·Î º¸¾ÒÀ¸¹Ç·Î
And, for they look¡¯d but with divining eyes,
±×´ëÀÇ Áø°¡¸¦ ³ë·¡ÇÒ ¸¸ÇÑ ¿ª·®À» °®Áö ¸øÇß³ë¶ó.
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
Áö±Ý ÀÌ Çö´ë¸¦ º¸´Â ¿ì¸®´Â
For we, which now behold these present days,
°æźÇÒ ´«Àº À־ Âù¹ÌÇÒ Çô´Â ¾øµµ´Ù.
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

 

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 116(Sonnet CXVI)

 

Áø½ÇÇÑ »ç¶÷µéÀÇ °áÈ¥¿¡
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
¹æÇظ¦ ¿ë³³ÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸®¶ó
Admit impediments. Love is not love
º¯È­°¡ »ý±æ ¶§ º¯ÇÏ°í
Which alters when it alteration finds,
º¯½ÉÀÚ¿Í °°ÀÌ º¯½ÉÇÏ´Â »ç¶ûÀº »ç¶ûÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï·Î´Ù
Or bends with the remover to remove:
¾Æ, ¾Æ´Ï·Î´Ù! »ç¶ûÀº ¿µ¿øÈ÷ º¯Ä¡¾Ê´Â ÁöÇ¥¶ó,
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
ÆødzÀ» °Þ°íµµ µ¿¿ä¸¦ ¸ð¸£´Â
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
»ç¶ûÀº ¸ðµç ¹æȲÇÏ´Â ¹èÀÇ ºÏµÎ¼ºÀ̷δÙ,
It is the star to every wandering bark,
±× °íµµ´Â Ãø·®ÇÒ ¼ö À־ ±× Áø°¡´Â ¾Ë ¼ö ¾ø´Â
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
»ç¶ûÀº ¼¼¿ùÀÇ ³î¸²°¨Àº ¾Æ´Ï¶ó
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Àå¹Ôºû ÀÔ¼ú°ú »´Àº ¼¼¿ù¿¡ Èñ»ýµÇ´õ¶óµµ,
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
»ç¶ûÀº ªÀº ½ÃÀÏ¿¡ º¯Ä¡ ¾Ê°í
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
½ÉÆÇÀϱîÁö °ßµð¾î ³ª°¡´À´Ï¶ó
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
ÀÌ°ÍÀÌ Æ²¸° »ý°¢À̶ó Áõ¸íµÈ´Ù¸é,
If this be error and upon me proved,
³ª´Â ±ÛÀ» ¾²Áö ¾ÊÀ¸¸®¶ó, »ç¶÷À» °áÄÚ »ç¶ûÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸®¶ó
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

 

 

¼Ò³×Æ® 130(Sonnet CXXX)

 

³» ¿¬ÀÎÀÇ ´«Àº Á¶±Ýµµ ÅÂ¾ç °°Áö ¾Ê¾Æ¶ó
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
»êÈ£´Â ±×³àÀÇ ÀÔ¼úÀÌ ºÓÀº °Íº¸´Ù ´õ ºÓ°í,
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
´«ÀÌ Èñ´Ù¸é ±×³àÀÇ °¡½¿Àº °ËÀº Æí,
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
¸Ó¸®ÅÐÀÌ ±ÝÁÙÀ̶ó¸é ±×³àÀÇ ¸Ó¸®ÅÐÀº ½ÇÁÙÀ̶ó
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
³ª´Â ºÓ°íµµ Èò Àå¹Ì¸¦ º¸¾ÒÁö¸¸,
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
±×³àÀÇ »´¿¡¼­´Â ±×·± Àå¹Ì¸¦ º¼ ¼ö ¾ø¾î¶ó
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
¾î¶² Çâ¼ö´Â ±×³àÀÇ ÀԱ躸´Ùµµ
And in some perfumes is there more delight
´õ ÁÁÀº ³¿»õ°¡ ÀÖ¾î¶ó
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
±×³àÀÇ À½¼ºÀ» ³» »ç¶ûÇÏÁö¸¸
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
À½¾Ç¸¸Àº ¸øÇÑ °ÍÀ» ¾Æ³ë¶ó
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
¿©½ÅÀÌ °È´Â °ÍÀ» ³ª´Â ¸ø º¸¾Ò°Å´Ï
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
³ªÀÇ ¿©½ÅÀº ¾ðÁ¦³ª ¶¥À» ¹âµµ´Ù
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
±×·¯³ª ´ÜÁ¤ÄÚ ³ªÀÇ ¿¬ÀÎÀº
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
±×¸©µÇ°Ô ºñÀ¯µÈ ´©±¸º¸´Ù Áø±ÍÇÏ¿©¶ó
As any she belied with false compare.