The Voice

Woman much missed, call to me,

Call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were

When you had changed from the one who was all to me,

But as at first, when our day was fair.

Cab it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,

Standing as when I drew near to the town

Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,

Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze, in its listlessness

Traveling across the wet mead to me here,

You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,

Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I faltering forward,

Leaves around me falling,

Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,

And the woman calling.

 

我深深思恋的女子，怎么，你叫我，叫我

说着如今你已经不是从前的你；

不是一度变改，当我还一往情深地爱着，

而是当初，当我们柔情相依。

“真是你在叫我吗？”那让我看看你

站在那儿，像我那次驶进城去。

你会在那里等我，对，就像记忆中的你，

甚至记得你那身天蓝色裙裾！

要么是一阵微风，它凌乱地吹，

拂过湿润的草地，一直到我身边；

莫非你正悄然地消融，无觉无知？

或远或近再无能把你听见！

于是乎，我踉跄而行，

周遭的落叶正在翻飞，

北风呵，它们呼啸地隙过丛荆，

女人的轻唤依稀 ...