Now winter downs the dying of the year,

此岁将息，寒冬沉降，

And night is all a settlement of snow;

大雪交割年末残章。

From the soft street the rooms of houses show

街道绵软，但那室内灯光聚集，

A gathered light, a shapen atmosphere,

锋砺那空气，

Like frozen-over lakes whose ice is thin

就像未及坚厚的结霜冰面，

And still allows some stirring down within.

轻微振扰仍可穿入水底。

I’ve known the wind by water banks to shake

我已识得那水畔劲风，

The late leaves down, which frozen where they fell

摇木叶坠落结霜，

And held in ice as dancers in a spell

就像疯魔之舞者，整个冬天振翅翩飞，

Fluttered all winter long into a lake;

进入小湖中央；

Graved on the dark in gestures of descent,

葬于一种黑暗的坠落姿态，

They seemed their own most perfect monument.

为自身造就完美庙堂。

There was perfection in the death of ferns

蕨草的死亡功德圆满

Which laid their fragile cheeks against the stone

倚脆弱面颊于顽石之上，

A million years. Great mammoths overthrown

岁及百万，目睹巨大猛犸一去不还。

Composedly have made their long sojourns,

它们曾经从容走过漫长逆旅，

Like palaces of patience, in the gray

就像耐心之神的宫殿，

And changeless lands of ice. And at Pompeii

走在千篇一律的灰色冰原。

The little dog lay curled and did not rise

还有那庞贝古城，

But slept the deeper as the ashes rose

小狗倦缩不起，

And found the people incomplete, and froze

越厚的灰，越深地眠。

The random hands, the loose unready eyes

他们发现的残缺的人体，

Of men expecting yet another sun

手势冻结在最后时间。

To do the shapely thing they had not done.

那眼神迷离无备

——他们还在期望又一次日出，

These sudden ends of time must give us pause.

把手中美妙的事儿做完。

We fray into the future, rarely wrought

Save in the tapestries of afterthought.

突然的终结提醒我们暂停脚步。

More time, more time. Barrages of applause

我们吵吵闹闹地进入明天，

Come muffled from a buried radio.

有多少可以织进那“后见之明”的锦缎？

The New-year bells are wrangling with the snow.

我们需要多些时间，多些时间。

欢呼的弹幕，从雪埋的收音机中传出，

有些喑哑，

而那钟声正在缠斗漫天的飞雪，

欢庆新年。