To me fair friend you never can be old.

"La persistencia de la memoria" Salvador Dalí.

Sonnet 104

To me fair friend you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still: three Winter's cold
Have from the forests shook three Summer's pride,

Three beauteous springs to yellow Autumn turn'd
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,
Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green.

Ah yet doth beauty like a dial hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv'd,
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd.

For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred,
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.

Soneto 104

Para mí, bello amigo, nunca podrás ser viejo,
que tal como os miré, aquella vez primera,
así, es vuestra belleza. Ya tres fríos inviernos,
al bosque le han quitado, tres hermosos veranos,

tres bellas primaveras, trocadas en otoños,
y he visto en el proceso de tantas estaciones,
tres aromas de Abril en tres Junios quemados.
Me asombra que mantengas tu joven lozanía.

Mas la belleza igual que aguja de cuadrante,
nos roba su figura sin percibir su paso.
Igual tu color dulce está siempre de exacto,
que cambia y es mi ojo, sólo el que se ilusiona.

Por mi temor escucha: «Edad no concebida,
antes de ti no había, belleza en el verano.»

William Shakespeare