一个人，一片田野，寂静——有什么可说的？

A man, a field, silence—what is there to say?

他活着，他移动，十月的白昼

He lives, he moves, and the October day

慢慢地燃烧殆尽。

Burns slowly down.

 历史被创造

 History is made

在别处；时间在时间的利刃下缴械

Elsewhere; the hours forfeit to time's blade

这里无关紧要。巨大和渺小的树叶，

Don't matter here. The leaves large and small,

从枝头脱落，不被惋惜地坠落

Shed by the branches, unlamented fall

在他的肩头。你或许徒劳地望着

About his shoulders. You may look in vain

透过眼睛的窗户；望着他那贫乏的壁炉

Through the eyes' window; on his meagre hearth

那瘦弱、羞怯的灵魂尚未开始它的

The thin, shy soul has not begun its reign

对黑暗的统治。美丽、爱和欢笑

Over the darkness. Beauty, love and mirth

和喜乐在那里都是生客。

And joy are strangers there.

 你必须修正

 You must revise

你那乏味的自然哲学，地

Your bland philosophy of nature, earth

本身没有能力使人智慧。

Has of itself no power to make men wise.