盛大的耳语和咳嗽声来自

Giant whispering and coughing from 

星期天人满为患、令管风琴皱眉的广阔空间，

Vast Sunday-full and organ-frowned-on spaces 

突然一阵疾促的鼓点，

Precede a sudden scuttle on the drum, 

女王驾临？然后是落座的轰鸣。

'The Queen', and huge resettling. Then begins 

接着，小提琴的抽泣开始了：

A snivelling of the violins: 

在所有的脸中，我念想你的脸

I think of your face among all those faces, 

美丽而虔诚，在

Beautiful and devout before 

一片浩瀚的音乐的滑翔前，

Cascades of monumental slithering, 

你的一只手套悄悄掉在地上，

One of your gloves unnoticed on the floor 

落在崭新的，稍稍过时的鞋子旁。

Beside those new, slightly-outmoded shoes. 

天很快黑下来了。我失去了

Here it goes quickly dark. I lose 

一切，除了安静而枯萎的

All but the outline of the still and withering 

树叶映在那微微寂寥的树上的轮廓。在

Leaves on half-emptied trees. Behind 

热烈的波段后面，遥远而疯狂的

The glowing wavebands, rabid storms of chording 

和弦风暴更加无耻地

By being distant overpower my mind 

抑制我的头脑，他们碎裂的尖叫

All the more shamelessly, their cut-off shout 

留下我绝望地搜寻

Leaving me desperate to pick out 

你的手，在那样的空气里微弱的，鼓掌。

Your hands, tiny in all that air, applauding.