我的邻居们，遗憾的是--两个街区之外，
老女人，风俗习惯--直到大门边，
但他，他的手之前在我的手里，
将和我一起定居在我的墓穴。
如果他，孤独地，站在地上--
在这黑色，本土，醇厚的土壤上，
大声地喊我，但没有回响
他，和从前一样，我亲切的声音。
My neighbours, for pities, - a two blocks more,
Old women, for customs, – until the gate,
But he, whose hand was in mine afore,
Will go with me where my pit is settled.
And will he, alone, stand on the ground -
O’er the black, native and mellow soils,
And loudly call for me, but won’t resound
Him, as before, my warmhearted voice.
