The grass never sleeps.

那棵草永远不会入睡。

Or the roses.

或者那丛玫瑰。

Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.

那朵百合花也没有隐秘的眼睛闭着直到早晨。

Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.

耶稣说，与我一同等候。但门徒们却睡着了。

The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,

那只蟋蟀的脚上有着多么漂亮的绒毛，

and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,

它在歌唱，你注意到了吗，用它的整个身体，

and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.

但天知道是不是它其实睡着了。

Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe

耶稣说，与我一同等候。也许群星做到了，也许

the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn’t move, maybe

风将自己缠绕在一棵银树里，一动不动，也许

the lake far away, where once he walked as on a blue pavement,

远处的那片湖——他曾行走其上如履蓝色铺石地——

lay still and waited, wild awake.

静卧着等候，异常清醒。

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not

哦，那些亲爱的身体，闭着眼歪倒在地，没能

keep that vigil, how they must have wept,

保持那份警醒，他们必定为之痛痛地哭过，

so utterly human, knowing this too

所以完全的人，知道这也

must be a part of the story.

必定是这个故事的一部分。