Tom-tom, c’est moi. The blue guitar

咚-咚，是我。蓝色吉他

And I are one. The orchestra

与我合而为一。管弦乐队

Fills the high hall with shuffling men

用脚步拖沓、高如厅堂的男人

High as the hall. The whirling noise

充斥高大的厅堂。诸多旋转的噪音，

Of a multitude dwindles, all said.

一切言语，减弱，

To his breath that lies awake at night.

化为整夜无眠的他的呼吸。

I know that timid breathing. Where

我知道那胆怯的呼吸。我从何处开始

Do I begin and end? And where.

何处结束？当我弹奏事物时，

As I strum the thing, do I pick up

我从何处捕捉

That which momentously declares

那严肃地宣称

Itself not to be I and yet

不是我却又

Must be. It could be nothing else.

必须是我的事物。它不可能是别的什么。