威廉·巴特勒·葉芝

When you are old and grey and full of sleep，

And nodding by the fire， take down this book，

And slowly read， and dream of the soft look your eyes had once，

and of their shadows deep；

How many loved your moments of glad grace，

And loved your beauty with love， false or true，

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you，

And loved the sorrows of your changing face；

And bending down beside the glowing bars，

Murmur， a little sadly， how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

當(dāng)你老了，鬢斑，睡意昏沉，

在爐火旁打盹時(shí)，請(qǐng)取下這本書(shū)，

慢慢閱讀，夢(mèng)憶你過(guò)去眼神的柔和，

夢(mèng)憶眼神中深深的倒影；

多少人愛(ài)你青春歡暢的時(shí)光，

愛(ài)慕你的美麗，假意或真心，

可只有一個(gè)人愛(ài)你那朝圣者的靈魂，

愛(ài)你衰老的臉上愁苦的風(fēng)霜；

彎下身子，在紅光閃耀的爐旁，

凄然地輕輕訴說(shuō)愛(ài)情如何消逝，

如何在頭頂?shù)纳缴暇従忰獠剑?/p>

如何在群星中隱藏他的臉龐。