No me digas jamás que he sido esquivo,
Que la ausencia mi ardor ha mitigado:
De mí mismo jamás podría apartarme
Ni de mi alma, que guardas en tu pecho,
Mi morada de amor: aunque me vaya
Siempre vuelvo a él cual peregrino,
A Tiempo y no cambiado por el Tiempo,
Y mis faltas conmigo mismo excuso.
No creas nunca, aun si me dominan
Impulsos de los débiles sentidos,
Que podría trocar por algo indigno
Tu suma de virtudes venturosas.
Pues del vasto universo nada importa
Salvo tú, rosa mía, que eres todo.

O! never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify,
As easy might I from my self depart
As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe though in my nature reigned,
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.