But live, attracted by your own sweet talent.

But why do not you have a more powerful wayTo make war on this bloody tyrant, Time?And fortify yourself in your rotWith more blessed means than my sterile rhyme?Now you are at the top of happy hours,And many still unsettled girl gardensWith a virtuous wish would bring your flowers alive,Many liker that your counterfeit painted:Thus, the life lines that life must repair,Which, the pencil of Time, or my pen student,Neither in inner value nor in appearance fair,Can you live in the eyes of men.Giving yourself stays still,And you must live, attracted by your own sweet talent.Then we find the end