Greg Irons Translation


Translation of [Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore]

William Shakespeare

 

The same way waves roll to the shore, one after another, ending at land,

Each minute of our lives hurries us to death,

Each one follows the preceding,

In a constant, successive, struggle into the future.

A divine newborn sun rises above the sea

And reaches the peak of its path and all of its magnificence,

But then clouds perversely cover it and its glory is lost,

And time that allowed the sun to rise to its peak now sends it on its decline.

Time kills youth’s growth,

Digs wrinkles into their beautiful faces,

Destroys nature’s rare beauties,

And everything will eventually be cut down by time and death.

But my poems will last into the future,

Glorifying you, even though time works against us.