Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,

随着带有切分音的慵懒曲调，

Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,

一边浅吟低唱，一边前后摇晃，

     I heard a Negro play.

　　我听到黑人在弹唱。

Down on Lenox Avenue the other night

又是一晚，莱诺克斯大道上，

By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light

顶着旧式汽灯苍白暗淡的光，

     He did a lazy sway . . .

　　他懒懒地摇晃……

     He did a lazy sway . . .

　　他懒懒地摇晃……

To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.

随着布鲁斯那疲惫的曲调。

With his ebony hands on each ivory key

黑檀似的双手，象牙般的琴键，

He made that poor piano moan with melody.

他让可怜的钢琴轻声呜咽。

     O Blues!

　　哦，布鲁斯！

Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool

他坐在那几乎散架的凳子上来回摇晃，

He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.

他弹奏着忧伤而破碎的曲调如痴如狂，

     Sweet Blues!

　　甜美的布鲁斯！

Coming from a black man’s soul.

它来自一颗黑人的灵魂。

     O Blues!

　　哦，布鲁斯！

In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone

嗓音深沉，曲调忧伤，

I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—

我听到老钢琴低吟，黑人在歌唱——

     "Ain’t got nobody in all this world,

　　“这个世界上我无牵无挂，

       Ain’t got nobody but ma self.

　　孑然一身，无牵无挂。

       I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’

　　我不再愁眉苦脸，

       And put ma troubles on the shelf."

　　我要把烦恼全都遗忘。”

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.

砰，砰，砰，他踏着地板。

He played a few chords then he sang some more—

他弹奏着和弦，继续歌唱——

     "I got the Weary Blues

　　“我有疲惫的布鲁斯，

       And I can’t be satisfied.

　　心里却仍有渴望。

       Got the Weary Blues

　　我有疲惫的布鲁斯，

       And can’t be satisfied—

　　心里却仍有渴望——

       I ain’t happy no mo’

　　我再也没有欢乐，

       And I wish that I had died."

　　我真希望自己去死。”

And far into the night he crooned that tune.

夜色阑珊，他低唱着那首曲子。

The stars went out and so did the moon.

星星退去了，月亮也退去了。

The singer stopped playing and went to bed

歌手停止演奏，起身上床，

While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

而那疲惫的布鲁斯仍在脑中回响。

He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

他沉睡着，仿佛岩石，又仿佛已经不在世上。