随着带有切分音的慵懒曲调，

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,

一边浅吟低唱，一边前后摇晃，

Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,

　　我听到黑人在弹唱。

     I heard a Negro play.

又是一晚，莱诺克斯大道上，

Down on Lenox Avenue the other night

顶着旧式汽灯苍白暗淡的光，

By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light

　　他懒懒地摇晃……

     He did a lazy sway . . .

　　他懒懒地摇晃……

     He did a lazy sway . . .

随着布鲁斯那疲惫的曲调。

To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.

黑檀似的双手，象牙般的琴键，

With his ebony hands on each ivory key

他让可怜的钢琴轻声呜咽。

He made that poor piano moan with melody.

　　哦，布鲁斯！

     O Blues!

他坐在那几乎散架的凳子上来回摇晃，

Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool

他弹奏着忧伤而破碎的曲调如痴如狂，

He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.

　　甜美的布鲁斯！

     Sweet Blues!

它来自一颗黑人的灵魂。

Coming from a black man’s soul.

　　哦，布鲁斯！

     O Blues!

嗓音深沉，曲调忧伤，

In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone

我听到老钢琴低吟，黑人在歌唱——

I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—

　　“这个世界上我无牵无挂，

     "Ain’t got nobody in all this world,

　　孑然一身，无牵无挂。

       Ain’t got nobody but ma self.

　　我不再愁眉苦脸，

       I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’

　　我要把烦恼全都遗忘。”

       And put ma troubles on the shelf."

砰，砰，砰，他踏着地板。

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

他弹奏着和弦，继续歌唱——

He played a few chords then he sang some more—

　　“我有疲惫的布鲁斯，

     "I got the Weary Blues

　　心里却仍有渴望。

       And I can’t be satisfied.

　　我有疲惫的布鲁斯，

       Got the Weary Blues

　　心里却仍有渴望——

       And can’t be satisfied—

　　我再也没有欢乐，

       I ain’t happy no mo’

　　我真希望自己去死。”

       And I wish that I had died."

夜色阑珊，他低唱着那首曲子。

And far into the night he crooned that tune.

星星退去了，月亮也退去了。

The stars went out and so did the moon.

歌手停止演奏，起身上床，

The singer stopped playing and went to bed

而那疲惫的布鲁斯仍在脑中回响。

While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

他沉睡着，仿佛岩石，又仿佛已经不在世上。

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