今夜，月亮进入无限慵懒的梦中，

Tonight the moon dreams with more indolence,

像在重叠的垫褥上躺着的美人，

Like a lovely woman on a bed of cushions

在入寐以前，用她的手，漫不经心

Who fondles with a light and listless hand

轻轻将自己乳房的轮廓抚弄，

The contour of her breasts before falling asleep;

在雪崩似的绵软的缎子背上，

On the satiny back of the billowing clouds,

月亮奄奄一息地耽于昏厥状态，

Languishing, she lets herself fall into long swoons

她的眼睛眺望那如同百花盛开

And casts her eyes over the white phantoms

向蓝天里袅袅上升的白色幻象。

That rise in the azure like blossoming flowers.

有时，当她感到懒洋洋无事可为，

When, in her lazy listlessness,

给地球上滴下一滴悄悄的眼泪，

She sometimes sheds a furtive tear upon this globe,

一位虔诚的诗人，厌恶睡眠之士，

A pious poet, enemy of sleep,

就把这一滴像猫眼石碎片一样

In the hollow of his hand catches this pale tear,

闪着红光的苍白眼泪收进手掌，

With the iridescent reflections of opal,

放进远离太阳眼睛的他的心里。

And hides it in his heart afar from the sun's eyes.