并非终局：别的却也没有更多。

Not the end: but there's nothing more.

甜蜜的夏与粗粝的冬

Sweet Summer and Winter rude

我都爱过，还有友谊与爱情，

I have loved, and friendship and love,

人群与独处：

The crowd and solitude:

但我明白它们：我并非累了；

But I know them: I weary not;

它们的意义我都明白。

But all that they mean I know.

现在，我会再一次

I would go back again home

回家。可我该怎样返回？

Now. Yet how should I go?

这是我的伤悲。那片土地，

This is my grief. That land,

我的家园，我也从未见到；

My home, I have never seen;

没有旅行者谈起过它，

No traveller tells of it,

纵然他走了那么远。

However far he has been.

可我能否发现它？

And could I discover it,

我害怕在那里我的欢乐，

I fear my happiness there,

或我的痛苦，是梦想着回到

Or my pain, might be dreams of return

这里，回到过往的那些事情。

Here, to these things that were.

记忆之病，虽然轻微

Remembering ills, though slight

却难治愈，

Yet irremediable,

带来更糟更混杂的剧痛

Brings a worse, an impurer pang

甚于回忆那些美好

Than remembering what was well.

不：我回不去了，

No: I cannot go back,

即便能回我也不愿。

And would not if I could.

直到失明降临，我必须等待

Until blindness come, I must wait

并且无视那些不美好。

And blink at what is not good.