Not the end: but there's nothing more.

并非终局：别的却也没有更多。

Sweet Summer and Winter rude

甜蜜的夏与粗粝的冬

I have loved, and friendship and love,

我都爱过，还有友谊与爱情，

The crowd and solitude:

人群与独处：

But I know them: I weary not;

但我明白它们：我并非累了；

But all that they mean I know.

它们的意义我都明白。

I would go back again home

现在，我会再一次

Now. Yet how should I go?

回家。可我该怎样返回？

This is my grief. That land,

这是我的伤悲。那片土地，

My home, I have never seen;

我的家园，我也从未见到；

No traveller tells of it,

没有旅行者谈起过它，

However far he has been.

纵然他走了那么远。

And could I discover it,

可我能否发现它？

I fear my happiness there,

我害怕在那里我的欢乐，

Or my pain, might be dreams of return

或我的痛苦，是梦想着回到

Here, to these things that were.

这里，回到过往的那些事情。

Remembering ills, though slight

记忆之病，虽然轻微

Yet irremediable,

却难治愈，

Brings a worse, an impurer pang

带来更糟更混杂的剧痛

Than remembering what was well.

甚于回忆那些美好

No: I cannot go back,

不：我回不去了，

And would not if I could.

即便能回我也不愿。

Until blindness come, I must wait

直到失明降临，我必须等待

And blink at what is not good.

并且无视那些不美好。