当你年老，鬓斑，睡意昏沉，
在炉旁打盹时，取下这本书，
慢慢诵读，梦忆从前你双眸
神色柔和，眼波中倒影深深；
多少人爱你风韵妩媚的时光，
爱你的美丽出自假意或真情，
但唯有一人爱你灵魂的至诚，
爱你渐衰的脸上愁苦的风霜；
弯下身子，在炽红的壁炉边，
忧伤地低诉，爱神如何逃走，
在头顶上的群山巅漫步闲游，
把他的面孔隐没在繁星中间。
When you are old and grey 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.
