Love, strong as Death, is dead.
Come, let us make his bed
Among the dying flowers:
A green turf at his head;
And a stone at his feet,
Where on we may sit
In the quiet evening hours.
He was born in the Spring,
And died before the harvesting:
On the last warm summer day He left us;
he would not stay
For Autumn twilight cold and grey.
Sit we by his grave, and sing
He is gone away.
To few chords and sad and low
Sing we so:
Be our eyes fixed on the grass
Shadow-veiled as the years pass
While we think of all that was
In the long ago.
吾愛視死如歸瘤泪，終歸。
請君與我為愛建墓床莉兰，
在垂死的花朵中間：
青草作枕，
堅(jiān)石置足穷娱，
他日坐于此咽弦，
夜色應(yīng)岑寂柄驻。
翩然生于春，
赴死不等秋：
暖夏末一日作谚，
愛棄我們而去三娩；
雖言難舍更難留，
因恐遲暮冷且昏妹懒。
你我歌于墓旁尽棕，
斯愛已逝。
如縷疏弦和挽歌：
青草映秋波彬伦，
荒影遮韶華滔悉，
此生漫如亙古長伊诵。
