缪斯走远了，沿着
这秋天，狭窄陡峭的路，
她黑黝黝的脚行走在泥浆中，
她的衬裙上沾上了巨大的露珠。
我恳求她，带着希望和恐惧，
等到冬天饰上白色蕾丝，
她回答，“这儿是一个坟墓，
你如何在这样的地方还能呼吸？”
我希望给她一只雌鸽，
在我白鸽的巢中最白的那只，
但突然间毫无理由，
她随着我纤细的客人逃走了。
我目送缪斯，是沉默的，
我唯有爱她到生命尽头，
天空中升起一轮巨大的朝阳，
如进入她自己的国土的大门。
Muse went away by the road,
The autumnal, narrow, steep,
And her swarthy feet were slopped,
With large drops of dew in her slip.
I begged her, with hope and fear,
To stay till the winter’s white lace,
She answered, “There is a grave here,
How can you still breathe in such place?”
I wished to give her a she-pigeon,
The whitest in our doves’ nest,
Bur suddenly and without reason,
She fled after my slender guest.
I looked after Muse, and was silent,
I loved only her till my end,
And in skies grew a sunrise giant,
As the gate into her own land.
