When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep
How many loved your moments of glad grace
And loved your beauty with love false or true
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you
And loved the sorrows of your changing face
And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars
当你老了,白发苍苍,睡意昏沉
倦坐在炉边,取下这本书
慢慢读着,追梦当年的眼神
那柔美的神采与深幽的晕影。
多少人爱过你青春的片影,
爱过你的美貌,出于虚伪或真情,
唯独一人爱你那朝圣者的灵魂,
爱你哀戚的脸上岁月的留痕。
在炉栅边,你弯下了腰,
低语着,带着浅浅的伤感,
爱情是怎样逝去,又怎样步上群山,
将面庞藏在了繁星之间。
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