Love, strong as Death, is dead.
Come, let us make his bed
Among the dying flowers:
A green turf at his head;
And a stone at his feet,
Where on we may sit
In the quiet evening hours.
He was born in the Spring,
And died before the harvesting:
On the last warm summer day He left us;
he would not stay
For Autumn twilight cold and grey.
Sit we by his grave, and sing
He is gone away.
To few chords and sad and low
Sing we so:
Be our eyes fixed on the grass
Shadow-veiled as the years pass
While we think of all that was
In the long ago.
吾爱视死如归，终归。
请君与我为爱建墓床，
在垂死的花朵中间：
青草作枕，
坚石置足，
他日坐于此，
夜色应岑寂。
翩然生于春，
赴死不等秋：
暖夏末一日，
爱弃我们而去；
虽言难舍更难留，
因恐迟暮冷且昏。
你我歌于墓旁，
斯爱已逝。
如缕疏弦和挽歌：
青草映秋波，
荒影遮韶华，
此生漫如亘古长。
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