They say to me, thy clear and crystal eyes:

你的眸子，它们向我垂问，明澈如水晶：

“Why dost thou love me so, strange lover mine?”

“于你，奇特的情人，我有何可取？”

Be sweet, be still! My heart and soul despise

——迷人的，别出声！我心如此不宁，

All save that antique brute-like faith of thine;

只有那远古动物的直率才能将它安抚，

And will not bare the secret of their shame

它不愿对你揭示其地狱般的秘密，

To thee whose hand soothe me to slumbers long,

她那双手的摇篮诱哄我堕入长眠，

Nor their black legend write for thee in flame!

也不想描述那烈焰写成的黑色传奇。

Passion I hate, a spirit does me wrong.

我憎恨激情，才智又令我痛苦不堪。

Let us love gently. Love, from his retreat,

愿我们爱得温柔，而爱神隐匿于目，

Ambushed and shadowy, bends his fatal bow,

在他阴森的哨所，张起致命的弓，

And I too well his ancient arrows know:

可我对他古老武库的一切都了然于胸：

Crime, horror, folly. O pale Marguerite,

罪恶、恐惧与疯狂！——啊，我苍白的雏菊！

Thou art as I, a bright sun fallen low,

你不也如我一样，进入残秋的太阳，

O my so white, my so cold Marguerite.

哦，玛甘蕾，我的花儿，白洁而冰冷？