Mi ojo en fiel artista transformado
Ha pintado en mi pecho tu belleza,
Y mi cuerpo ahora enmarca tu retrato
Diseñado con justa perspectiva.
A través del pintor verás su arte
Y hallarás tu imagen verdadera
En mi pecho colgada, si contemplas
A través del cristal de tu mirada.
Los ojos con los ojos se han trocado:
Los míos te copiaron, y los tuyos
Son vidriera del pecho, donde atisba
El sol gozosamente por mirarte.
Aunque algo falta al arte de mis ojos:
Dibujan lo que ven, mas tu alma ignoran.

Mine eye hath played the painter and hath steeled,
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective that is best painter's art.
For through the painter must you see his skill,
To find where your true image pictured lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.