只读孩子们的书籍，

Only to read childrens’ books,

只为孩子的念头喜悦，

only to love childish things,

远远吹散大人的一切，

throwing away adult things,

从深深的忧愁中奋起。

rising from saddest looks.

对生活我已厌倦得要死，

I am wearied to death with life.

我不愿再向她索取，

There’s nothing it has that I want,

但我爱我贫乏的故土

but I celebrate my naked earth,

因为，她是我眼中的唯一。

there’s no other world to descant.

我在遥远的花园荡起

A plain swing of wood;

简陋的木头秋千

the dark, of the high fir-tree,

我身处朦胧的迷幻

in the far-off garden, swinging;

将高大幽暗的云杉回忆。

remembered by feverish blood.