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What passing-bells for these who die as cattle？
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
什麼样的丧钟，为那番惨死的人们响起？
只有毛骨悚然的短枪怒吼之声
只有喋喋不休的长枪结巴之声
可以仓促叨念出他们的死前祈祷
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, ——
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells；
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
没有虚伪的颂经，也没有祈祷和教堂钟声
没有哀悼的歌声，也省却丧礼的合唱诗班
嚎啕痛哭的炮弹，尖锐疯狂地齐声共鸣
悲哀的碉堡中，传出号令他们冲锋与撤退的军号
What candles may be held to speed them all？
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
什麼样的烛光，可能拿来催促他们启程出征呢？
并不在男孩的手里，而在他们的眼睛里
闪耀著神圣光辉的道别
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
女孩面容的苍白，将是他们洁白的棺布
家人温柔的忍耐，将是他们优美的丧花
（前线上日日送死，前仆后继）大后方日日垂暮，下帘吊丧
