玛格丽特，你还在伤心

Márgarét, áre you gríeving

为那金树丛叶正落尽？

Over Goldengrove unleaving?

那些树叶，如人的一切，你

Leáves like the things of man, you

用赤子之心爱怜它们，是否明智？

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

啊！当心越长越年迈

Ah! ás the heart grows older

它也会对这般惨象越加冷漠不睬

It will come to such sights colder

久而久之，连声轻叹都懒得发出

By and by, nor spare a sigh

哪怕满世界都是枯枝残树；

Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;

而你也明白了你悲从何出。

And yet you wíll weep and know why.

现在不论，孩子呀，它名为何物：

Now no matter, child, the name:

悲哀的春天也与这秋天源出一处。

Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.

嘴巴不曾，意念也从未，能一一详诉

Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed

那心所能听到的声音，而幽灵却已猜出：

What heart heard of, ghost guessed:

人生来就为了这命定的老朽，

It ís the blight man was born for,

玛格丽特你就是在为它泪流。

It is Margaret you mourn for.