妙不可言的东西永远在里面燃烧，
我喜欢观察其奇异琢面的变幻。
它对我讲述着命运绝非--很少的契合，
而其他人恐惧靠得很近。
当最后的朋友看不见坟墓中的我时
它把我放置在寂静中，
五月唱一首雷暴雨之歌。
似乎所有的花儿在花园中开始谈话。
Something of heavens ever burns in it,
I like to watch its wondrous facets' growth.
It speaks with me in fate's non-seldom fits,
When others fear to approach close.
When the last of friends had looked away
From me in grave, it lay to me in silence,
And sang as sing a thunderstorm in May,
As if all flowers began to talk in gardens.
