Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,

家是那样悲伤。它仍是被遗弃时的模样，

Shaped to the comfort of the last to go

保留着最后离开的人喜欢过的陈设，

As if to win them back. Instead, bereft

像是还在争取他们回头。其实，再没有

Of anyone to please, it withers so,

谁可以取悦，它萎靡憔悴，

Having no heart to put aside the theft

没有勇气放下这失去，

And turn again to what it started as,

去回想当初的自己，

A joyous shot at how things ought to be,

作为一次欢乐的尝试，希望一切依轨而行，

Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:

却早已偏航。你还能看到它那时的样子：

Look at the pictures and the cutlery.

瞧瞧这些画儿，餐具。

The music in the piano stool. That vase.

琴凳里的乐谱。那只花瓶。