Even the bookworms return to the dust.

就连书虫也归于尘土。

Their collections sold at half the cost.

他们的藏书以半价售出。

The dog ears, the jots in the margins,

那些卷角，那些空白处草草的记录，

I was here. l read this. I loved that page.

我曾在这儿。我读过这个。我爱那一页。

We read in search of the path to follow.

我们读书试图找到要追随的那条路。

As though each word spelled out a stone,

仿佛每个词都拼出了一块石头，

Ascending rungs up to the spinning stars.

一级级攀升直达旋转的星辰。

We read so our hearts may not be hollow.

我们读书这样我们的心就可以不作空洞。

The thoughts of others slice through to bone.

别人的思想刺穿你的骨头。

We weren't alone when we read those pages.

当我们阅读这些页面时，我们不孤单。

The table set, a feast for host and guests.

餐桌摆好了，一场主人与客人的盛宴。

What once forgotten was no longer lost.

曾经被遗忘的不再失落。

And though our flesh again becomes ashes,

尽管我们的肉体再次化为灰烬，

We did not live without our chests.

我们活着时却并非没有胸膛。