When what I seek, my weary travel's end, 待如愿以偿地走到困顿旅途的终点，

　　Doth teach that ease and that repose to say 一阵安逸接一场甜梦忽叫我省牾：

　　'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!'" 我和你又分隔得多么遥远。

　　The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, 压在我身下的坐骑不堪我的苦痛，

　　Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, 缓缓前行，承载着我那一团沉重，

　　As if by some instinct the wretch did know 可怜的马儿似从某一种本能得知，

　　His rider loved not speed, being made from thee: 骑手爱的不是速度，越快越远离开你，

　　The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide; 带血的马刺也激不起他前进的兴头，发怒的骑手于是猛刺进他的皮肉。

　　Which heavily he answers with a groan, 马儿忽然沉重地回报出一声呻呤，

　　More sharp to me than spurring to his side; 我听了钻心更甚于马刺刺进他的身。

　　For that same groan doth put this in my mind; 正是这一声低吟叫我突然清醒；

　　My grief lies onward and my joy behind. 快乐已成身后事，惆怅眼前生。