我们仍旧相信，以某种方式

Oh, yet we trust that somehow good

善将成为恶不可更改的终点，

         Will be the final end of ill,

无论本性的折磨，意志的罪孽，

         To pangs of nature, sins of will,

抑或信仰的危机，肉欲的侵蚀；

Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;

相信万事俱有其目标；

That nothing walks with aimless feet;

相信没有生命会被毁坏

         That not one life shall be destroy'd,

会被当作垃圾投向虚空，

         Or cast as rubbish to the void,

当上帝完成了他的工作；

When God hath made the pile complete;

相信没有一条虫豸被白白劈开，

That not a worm is cloven in vain;

没有一只飞蛾带着徒然的渴求

         That not a moth with vain desire

皱缩于徒劳的烈火，

         Is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire,

或是仅仅成全他人的利益；

Or but subserves another's gain.

瞧，我们一无所知，

Behold, we know not anything;

我只能相信善终将降临

         I can but trust that good shall fall

在最后——遥远的——终端，降临于众生，

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

而每个冬天都会变为春天。

And every winter change to spring.

我这样梦想着：但我是什么？

So runs my dream: but what am I?

一个婴孩在黑夜里哭喊：

         An infant crying in the night:

一个婴孩哭求着光明，

         An infant crying for the light:

没有语言，唯有哭泣。

And with no language but a cry.