Oh, yet we trust that somehow good

我们仍然相信：不管如何

         Will be the final end of ill,

恶最终将达到善的目的地，

         To pangs of nature, sins of will,

不论是信仰危机、血的污迹

Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;

自然的苦难和意志的罪恶；

That nothing walks with aimless feet;

相信天下事不走无目标之路

         That not one life shall be destroy'd,

相信等到造物完工之时，

         Or cast as rubbish to the void,

没有一条性命会被丢失，

When God hath made the pile complete;

被当作垃圾而投入虚无；

That not a worm is cloven in vain;

相信没一条虫被白白斩劈，

         That not a moth with vain desire

没一只飞蛾带着徒然追求

         Is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire,

在无意义的火焰中烧皱，

Or but subserves another's gain.

或是仅仅去替别人赢利。

Behold, we know not anything;

看哪，我们任什么都不懂．

         I can but trust that good shall fall

我只能相信善总会降临，

         At last—far off—at last, to all,

在遥远的未来，降临众生，

And every winter change to spring.

而每个冬天都将化成春风。

So runs my dream: but what am I?

我这样梦着，但我是何人？——

         An infant crying in the night:

一个孩子在黑夜里哭喊，

         An infant crying for the light:

一个孩子在把光明呼唤，

And with no language but a cry.

没有语言，而唯有哭声。