莫斯科的一切都充斥着诗歌，
被可怕的韵律的长矛刺穿。
让我们在不同的课上和它们同在，
任全然的沉默给我们覆上花冠，
任失语成为它们和你在一起的秘密象征，
虽然似乎总是和我同在，
但你在一场婚姻中自我合一，单身的，
带着处女的沉默，变得极其痛苦，---
那个人，啃着地下的花岗岩，
让未来变成完全填满的圆，
并且，在夜里，压抑着巨大的声音，
透过你自己的耳朵预言你的毁灭。
All in the Moscow is flooded with the verses,
Pierced through with awful spears of the rhymes.
Let we abide with them on different courses,
Let the full silence crowns over us,
Let muteness would be the secret symbol
Of them with you, though always seemed – with me,
But you unite self in a marriage, single,
With virgin silence, bitterest to be, –
That one, which eats the granite under ground,
And makes the future circle wholly filled,
And, in the night, suppressing loud sound,
Predicts your perish through your own ear.
