En tanto que de rosa y de açucena

se muestra la color en vuestro gesto

y que vuestro mirar ardiente honesto

enciende el coraçon y lo refrena,

Y en tanto que el cabello que en la vena

del oro se escogio con buelo presto

por el hermoso cuello blanco enhiesto

el viento mueve esparze y desordena

Coged de vuestra alegre primavera

el dulce fruto antes que el tiempo ayrado

cubra de nieve la hermosa cumbre

Marchitara la rosa el viento elado

todo lo mudara la edad ligera

por no hazer mudança en su costumbre

While there is yet the color of the rose

And of the lily in your countenance,

And while the burning candor of your glance

Can fire the heart and yet constrain its throes;

And while yet that soft hair of yours which flows

From a gold vein, in a disheveled dance

Is tangled by wind's sudden dalliance

As round that lovely proud white neck it blows,

Gather the harvest from your joyous spring

Of sweetest fruit before Time comes in rage

Of snow to cover that fair peak at last.

The rose will wither in the wind's chill blast.

So changing everything comes flighty Age

Never to change its way for anything.

Translation: A.Z. FOREMAN