Kia whā tekau ngā hōtoke hei whakapae i tō rae,

Hei keri awarua i te whīra o tō ātaahuatanga,

Kua huri kē ōu kākahu hahaki tino miharotia nei

Ki ngā kanukanu kau, iti noa te wāriu.

Ā, ki te pātaihia mai, ‘kei hea tō ātaahua e noho ai,

Kei hea rānei ngā taonga o tō taitamatanga?’

He whakamā kikini noa ki te whakautu koe,

Kei roto ōu ake kamo pūrehe rawa e noho ana.

Kātahi te whakahira mō tō ātaahua haumako

Ki te whakautu, ‘Mā tēnei tāku tamaiti pīwari

Hei tatau i taku kaute, hei tohu mō taku whaitake,’

Ka whakamanahia ai hoki tōna ātaahua e tōu whakapapa.

Ko tēnei hei whakahoutanga mōu i tō koroheketanga,

Kia kitea ōu toto e rere wera ana ina mātaotao koe.

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,

And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,

Thy youth’s proud livery so gazed on now,

Will be a totter’d weed of small worth held:

Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,

Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;

To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes,

Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.

How much more praise deserv’d thy beauty’s use,

If thou could’st answer ‘This fair child of mine

Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,’

Proving his beauty by succession thine!

This were to be new made when thou art old,

And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.