我一天到晚工作，夜里喝成半醉。
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
凌晨四点醒来，我凝视着无声的黑暗。
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
窗帘的边缘将准时泛起光亮。
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
直到那时，我才明白究竟是什么一直在那里：
Till then I see what's really always there:
不安的死亡，现在又逼近了一天，
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
这让思维全部瘫痪，除了何时
Making all thought impossible but how
何地，我自己将以何种方式死去。
And where and when I shall myself die.
枯燥的询问：然而
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
死亡以及垂死的恐怖，
Of dying, and being dead,
再次闪现，抓住我，恫吓我。
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
闪念中大脑一片空白。不是懊悔
——善事未行，爱也未曾给予，
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
时光虚掷——也不是沮丧，
- The good not done, the love not given, time
唯一的生命竟要如此漫长的攀爬，
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
只为洗清它错误的开端，或许永远不能；
An only life can take so long to climb
而是因为永恒的绝对虚空，
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
注定的幻灭，我们奔赴它并永远地迷失于其中。
But at the total emptiness for ever,
它不在这里，也不在任何地方，
The sure extinction that we travel to
转瞬即来；没什么比这更可怕，没什么比这更真实。
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
这是一种特殊的恐惧，
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
没有伎俩能消除。宗教曾经尝试过，
那幅巨大的虫蛀锦缎回荡着乐音
This is a special way of being afraid
制造了一个假象——我们永不死亡。
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
还有似是而非的废话，“理智的人
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
不会害怕一件不可感知的事物”，却不知道
Created to pretend we never die,
这正是我们所畏惧的——无形，无声，
And specious stuff that says No rational being
无味，无嗅，无法触摸，思想无法与之共鸣，
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
无法去爱或发生联系，
That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound,
无人能从中醒转的麻醉剂。
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
所以它只停留在视野的边缘，
The anasthetic from which none come round.
一小块散乱的污点，一种挥之不去的寒意，
它把每一次冲动放慢为犹疑不定。
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
大多数事情或许永远不会发生：这一件却会，
A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill
当我们被捕获的时候（既不是被人，
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
也不是被酒），它在火炉般的恐惧中
Most things may never happen: this one will,
肆虐着变成现实。胆量毫无用处：
And realisation of it rages out
它的本意不只是吓唬别人。即便勇敢
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
也不能使任何人幸免于坟墓。
People or drink. Courage is no good:
与其抗争，还不如哀叹，因为死亡并无不同。
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
光慢慢加强，房间显出形状。
Death is no different whined at than withstood.
它清晰地立着，象个衣柜，我们知道的，
一直知道 ，知道我们无法逃脱，
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
但也不能接受。不得不做出一个选择。
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
此刻电话机蜷伏着，准备鸣响，
Have always known, know that we can't escape,
在紧锁的办公室里，而整个冷漠的
Yet can't accept. One side will have to go.
纷乱的租赁世界开始苏醒。
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
天空象粘土一样苍白，没有太阳。
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
工作不得不做。
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
邮递员象医生，在建筑物之间穿行。
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.