我肃穆地端起了我沉重的心，
I lift my heavy heart up solemnly,
象当年希腊女儿捧着那坛尸灰；
As once Electra her sepulchral urn,
眼望着你，我把灰撒在你脚下。
And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn
请看呀，有多大一堆悲哀埋藏在
The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see
我这心坎里；而在那灰暗的深处，
What a great heap of grief lay hid [1] in me,
那惨红的灰烬又怎样在隐约燃烧。
And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn
要是那点点火星给你鄙夷地
Through the ashen greyness. If thy foot in scorn
一脚踏灭、还它们一片黑暗，
Could tread them out to darkness utterly,
这样也好。可是，你偏不，
It might be well perhaps. But if instead
你要守在我身旁，等风来把尘土
Thou wait beside me for the wind to blow
扬起，把死灰吹活；爱呀，那戴在
The grey dust up, ... those laurels on thine head,
你头上的桂冠可不能给你做屏障，
O my Beloved, will not shield thee so,
保护你不让这一片火焰烧坏了
That none of all the fires shall scorch and shred
那底下的发丝。快站远些呀，快走！
The hair beneath. Stand further off then! go.