（一）and death shall have no dominion
    死亡也并非是所向披靡
    and death shall have no dominion.
    dead mean naked they shall be one
    with the man in the wind and the west moon;
    when their bones are picked clean and the clen bones gone，
    they shall have stars at elbow and foot;
    though they go mad they shall be sane，
    though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
    though lovers be lost love shall not;
    and death shall have no dominion.
    and death shall have no dominion.
    under the windings of the sea
    they lying long shall not die windily;
    twisting on racks when sinews give way，
    strapped to a wheel， yet they shall not break;
    faith in their hands shall snap in two，
    and the unicorn evils run them through;
    split all ends up they shan’t crack;
    and death shall have no dominion.
    and death shall have no dominion.
    no more may gulls cry at their ears
    or waves break loud on the seashores;
    where blew a flower may a flower no more
    lift its head to the blows of the rain;
    through they be mad and dead as nails，
    heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
    break in the sun till the sun breaks down，
    and death shall have no dominion.
    死亡也并非是所向披靡
    死亡也并非是所向披靡，
    西沉的月亮融为一体；
    骨头被剔净，而干净的骨头又消失，
    他们的臂肘和脚底一定会有星星；
    尽管他们发痴却一定会清醒，
    尽管他们沉落海底却一定会重新升起；
    尽管情人会失去，爱情却永生；
    死亡也井非是所向披靡。
    死亡也并非是所向披靡，
    久卧在大海的迂曲漩涡之下，
    他们不会像卷曲的风儿一样死去；
    当筋骨松弛在刑架上挣扎，
    虽受缚于车轮，却一定不会屈服；
    他们手中的信仰会被折断，
    独角兽似的邪恶刺穿他们的身躯；
    纵然粉身碎骨，他们一定不会屈服，
    死亡也并非是所向披靡。
    死亡也并非是所向披靡。
    海鸥不会再在他们身畔啼鸣，
    波涛也不会高声拍打着堤岸；
    曾经花枝招展的地方再也不会
    另有鲜花昂首笑迎雨点的打击；
    尽管他们疯狂，像硬瘤一般僵死，
    一个个人物的头颅在雏菊丛中崭露；
    在阳光中碎裂直到太阳崩裂，
    死亡也并非是所向披靡。
    （二）twenty-four years
    二十四个年头
    twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
    (bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave ln labour.)
    in the groin of the natural doorway i crouched like a tailor
    sewing a shroud for a journey
    by the light of the meat-eating sun.
    dressed to die， the sensual strut begun，
    with my red veins full of money，
    in the final direction of the elementary town
    i advance for as long as forever is.
    二十四个年头
    二十四个年头时时提醒我眼中的泪珠。
    (将死者埋葬，以免他们走近分娩时的坟窟。)
    我蜷缩在自然之门的腹沟内，犹如裁缝
    就着食肉的太阳光
    为一个旅程缝制一套尸衣。
    我穿戴整齐去赴死，肉感鲜活的大步流星，
    殷红的筋脉满当当地流淌着金钱，
    在基本元素的小镇，我循着最终的方向
    前行，永恒多深我走多远。
    （三）do not go gentle into that good night
    不要温和地走进那个良夜
    do not go gentle into that good night，
    old age should burn and rave at close of day;
    rage， rage against the dying of the light.
    though wise men at their end know dark is right，
    because their words had forked no lightning they
    do not go gentle into that good night.
    good men， the last wave by， crying how bright
    their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay，
    rage， rage against the dying of the light.
    wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight，
    and learn， too late， they grieved it on its way，
    do not go gentle into that good night.
    grave men， near death， who see with blinding sight
    blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay，
    rage， rage against the dying of the light.
    and you， my father， there on the sad height，
    curse， bless， me now with your fierce tears， i pray.
    do not go gentle into that good night.
    rage， rage against the dying of the light.
    不要温和地走进那个良夜
    不要温和地走进那个良夜，
    老年应当在日暮时燃烧咆哮；
    怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
    虽然智慧的人临终时懂得黑暗有理，
    因为他们的话没有进发出闪电，他们
    也并不温和地走进那个良夜。
    善良的人，当最后一浪过去，高呼他们脆弱的善行
    可能曾会多么光辉地在绿色的海湾里舞蹈，
    怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
    狂暴的人抓住并歌唱过翱翔的太阳，
    懂得，但为时太晚，他们使太阳在途中悲伤，
    也并不温和地走进那个良夜。
    严肃的人，接近死亡，用炫目的视觉看出
    失明的眼睛可以像流星一样闪耀欢欣，
    怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
    您啊，我的父亲.在那悲哀的高处.
    现在用您的热泪诅咒我，祝福我吧.我求您
    不要温和地走进那个良夜。
    怒斥.怒斥光明的消逝。
    （四）this bread i break
    我切开的面包
    this bread i break was once the oat，
    this wine upon a foreign tree
    plunged in its fruit;
    man in the day or wind at night
    laid the crops low， broke the grape’s joy.
    once in this wine the summer blood
    knocked in the flesh that decked the vine，
    once in this bread
    the oat was merry in the wind;
    man broke the sun， pulled the wind down.
    this flesh you break， this blood you let
    make desolation in the vein，
    were oat and grape
    born of the sensual root and sap;
    my wine you drink， my bread you snap.
    我切开的面包
    这片我切开的面包曾是燕麦，
    这生在外来树上的酒
    曾果实垂落。
    白天的男人，夜里的酒
    使庄稼低下，葡萄欢乐。
    这酒里夏天的血，
    曾敲破饰着藤蔓的果肉。
    这面包里，
    燕麦曾在风中欢欣，
    人打碎太阳，把风拉倒。
    这切碎的肉，这让你饮的血
    在血管中造成了孤独。
    燕麦和葡萄天生具有
    肉感的根与汁。
    你撕咬我的面包，你喝我的酒。
    （五）i fellowed sleep
    我与睡眠结伴
    i fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain，
    let fall the tear of time; the sleeper’s eye，
    shifting to light， turned on me like a moon.
    so， planning-heeled， i flew along my man
    and dropped on dreaming and the upward sky.
    i fled the earth and， naked， climbed the weather，
    reaching a second ground far from the stars;
    and there we wept i and a ghostly other，
    my mothers-eyed， upon the tops of trees;
    i fled that ground as lightly as a feather.
    ‘my fathers’ globe knocks on its nave and sings.’
    ‘this that we tread was， too， your father’s land.’
    ‘but this we tread bears the angelic gangs
    sweet are their fathered faces in their wings.’
    ‘these are but dreaming men. breathe， and they fade.’
    faded my elbow ghost， the mothers-eyed，
    as， blowing on the angels， i was lost
    on that cloud coast to each grave-grabbing shade;
    i blew the dreaming fellows to their bed
    where still they sleep unknowing of their ghost.
    then all the matter of the living air
    raised up a voice， and， climbing on the words，
    i spelt my vision with a hand and hair，
    how light the sleeping on this soily star，
    how deep the waking in the worlded clouds.
    there grows the hours’ ladder to the sun，
    each rung a love or losing to the last，
    the inches monkeyed by the blood of man.
    and old， mad man still climbing in his ghost，
    my fathers’ ghost is climbing in the rain.
    我与睡眠结伴
    我与睡眠结伴，它吻着我的脑筋，
    让时间之泪垂下；睡者的眼睛
    朝向光，像月亮照着我。
    布置好紧跟，我沿人们飞翔，
    跌入梦或向天空。
    我逃出地球，全身裸体；攀登天空，
    到达远离星辰的第二级；
    那儿我们哭泣，我及另一个死魂，
    我母亲的眼睛闪耀在高高的树梢；
    我已逃离大地，轻若羽毛。
    我父亲的球叩响轮觳与合唱。
    我们踩着的土地也是你父亲的土地，
    我们踩着的这土地承受了一群天使，
    他们羽翼中父性的脸如此甜蜜。
    这是些做梦人，呼吸并凋零。
    凋零，我肘部的幽灵，母亲的眼睛
    吹动天使，我失落于云的海岸，
    那里紧靠唠叨的坟墓的阴影；
    我把这些梦者吹上床，
    他们继续沉睡，不知魂魄。
    活跃于空气中所有的物质
    提高了声音，在词汇之上攀登，
    我用手和头发拼出我的幻象。
    多么轻，睡在这沾泥的星星上。
    多么深，醒自这满世界的云层。
    那长高的时间的梯子升向太阳，
    鸣响爱情或丢失，直到最后一次。
    人的血一寸寸嘲弄。
    一个老而疯的人仍在攀登他的亡魂。
    而我父亲的亡魂在雨中攀登。
    （六）the force that through the green fuse drives the flower
    通过绿色茎管催动花朵的力
    the force that through the green fuse drives the flower
    drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
    is my destroyer.
    and i am dumb to tell the crooked rose
    my youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
    the force that drives the water through the rocks
    drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
    turns mine to wax.
    and i am dumb to mouth unto my veins
    how at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
    the hand that whirls the water in the pool
    stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
    hauls my shroud sail.
    and i am dumb to tell the hanging man
    how of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
    the lips of time leech to the fountain head;
    love drips and gathers， but the fallen blood
    shall calm her sores.
    and i am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
    how time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
    and i am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
    how at my sheet goes the same crooked worm
    通过绿色茎管催动花朵的力
    通过绿色茎管催动花朵的力
    催动我的绿色年华，毁灭树根的力
    也是害我的刽子手。
    我缄默不语，无法告诉佝偻的玫瑰
    正是这同样的冬天之热病毁损了我的青春。
    催动泉水挤过岩缝的力催动
    我鲜红的血液；那使絮叨的小溪干涸的力
    使我的血液凝固。
    我缄默不语，无法对我的脉管张口，
    同一双嘴唇怎样吸干了山泉。
    搅动着一泓池水的那一只手
    搅动起流沙；牵引狂风的手
    扯动我的尸布船帆。
    我缄默不语，无法告诉走上绞架的人
    我的肉体制成了绞刑吏的滑石粉。
    时间的嘴唇像水蛭吮吸着泉源，
    爱情滴落又凝聚，但流下血液
    将抚慰她的创痫。
    我缄默不语，无法告诉变幻不定的风儿
    时间怎样环绕着繁星凿出一个天穹。
    我缄默不语，无法告诉情人的墓穴
    我的床单上也蠕动着一样的蛆虫。
    （七）the hand that signed the paper
    那只签署文件的手
    the hand that signed the paper felled a city;
    five sovereign fingers taxed the breath，
    doubled the globe of dead and halved a country;
    these five kings did a king to death.
    the mighty hand leads to a sloping shoulder，
    the finger joints are cramped with chalk;
    a goose’s quill has put an end to murder
    that put an end to talk.
    the hand that signed the treaty bred a fever，
    and famine grew， and locusts came;
    great is the hand that holds dominion over
    man by a scribbled name.
    the five kings count the dead but do not soften
    the crusted wound nor pat the brow;
    a hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven;
    hands have no tears to flow.
    那只签署文件的手
    那只签署文件的手毁了一座城市；
    五个大权在握的手指扼杀生机，
    把死者的世界扩大一倍又把一个国家分两半，
    这五个王置一个王于死地。
    那只有权势的手通向倾斜的肩膀，
    手指关节由于石灰质而僵硬；
    一支鹅毛笔结束了一场
    结束过谈判的屠杀。
    那只签署条约的手制造瘟疫，
    又发生机谨，飞来蝗灾，
    那只用一个潦草的签名
    统治人类的手多了不起。
    五个王数死人但不安慰
    结疤的伤口也不抚摸额头；
    一只手统治怜悯一只手统治天；
    手没有眼泪可流。
    （八）light breaks where no sun shines
    没有太阳，光就降临
    light breaks where no sun shines;
    where no sea runs， the waters of the heart
    push in their tides;
    and， broken ghosts with glowworms in their heads，
    the things of light
    file through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.
    a candle in the thighs
    warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
    where no seed stirs，
    the fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars，
    bright as a fig;
    where no wax is， the candle shows its hairs.
    dawn breaks behind the eyes;
    from poles of skull and toe the windy blood
    slides like a sea;
    nor fenced， nor staked， the gushers of the sky
    spout to the rod
    divining in a smile the oil of tears.
    night in the sockets rounds，
    like some pitch moon， the limit of the globes;
    day lights the bone;
    where no cold is， the skinning gales unpin
    the winter’s robes;
    the film of spring is hanging from the lids.
    light breaks on secret lots，
    on tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
    when logics die，
    the secret of the soil grows through the eye，
    and blood jumps in the sun;
    above the waste allotments the dawn halts.
    没有太阳，光就降临
    没有太阳，光就降临
    没有大海
    心潮就掀起波涛
    破碎的鬼影头顶着萤火虫
    没有血肉装饰的枯骨
    光的手却抚爱它的肌肤
    大腿上的烛火
    温暖着青春，却烧焦了岁月的蓓蕾
    没有种子
    人的果实在星光下平滑圆润
    像无花果一样辉煌
    没有蜡，烛光展示它的柔发
    黎明升起在瞳孔之后
    呼啸的热血贯透全身
    海流般地滑动
    天空毫无顾忌地倾斜着
    将呕物喷满魔杖——
    正微笑着探寻泪水的矿藏
    夜在眼圈四周积聚
    像漆黑的月亮，限制着眼球的扩张
    白昼照亮尸骨
    没有寒冷，侵肌的风
    解开冬天的衣裳
    春的柔发在眼睑飘荡
    思想在雨中发霉腐烂
    光降临在神秘之骰和闪念的指尖
    当逻辑死亡
    土地的秘密通过眼睛透露
    那时，血就会在阳光下飞扬
    黎明止息在荒废的机缘之上
    （十）sometimes the sky’s too bright
    有时天空太明亮
    sometimes the sky’s too bright，
    or has too many clouds or birds，
    and far away’s too sharp a sun
    to nourish thinking of him.
    why is my hand too blunt
    to cut in front of me
    my horrid images for me，
    of over-fruitful smiles，
    the weightless touching of the lip
    i wish to know
    i cannot lift， but can，
    the creature with the angel’s face
    who tells me hurt，
    and sees my body go
    down into misery?
    no stopping. put the smile
    where tears have e to dry.
    the angel’s hurt is left;
    his telling burns.
    sometimes a woman’s heart has salt，
    or too much blood;
    i tear her breast，
    and see the blood is mine，
    flowing from her， but mine，
    and then i think
    perhaps the sky’s too bright;
    and watch my hand，
    but do not follow it，
    and feel the pain it gives，
    but do not ache.
    有时天空太明亮
    有时天空太明亮，
    或者有太多的云或者鸟，
    而远空中，太阳太尖利
    以致很难让人记起。
    我的手为何太迟钝
    不能在我的前面
    为我砍断可怕的想法。
    多汁的微笑，
    嘴唇的无力触碰
    我想知道
    我不能抬起，那个
    有着天使面孔的家伙
    告诉我苦痛
    并看见我的肉体掉进
    灾难，他能吗？
    不要停。把微笑
    放在眼泪干涸了的地方。
    天使的苦痛还在；
    他的言辞在燃烧。
    有时，一个女人的心里积着盐，
    或者流着太多的血液；
    我撕开她的胸部，
    看见的是我的血液，
    在她的（而不是我的）体内流出，
    这时，我想
    或许天空太明亮；
    看着我的手，
    并不流血，
    又感觉到流血的疼痛，
    却并不痛。
    （十一）poem in october
    十月的诗
    it was my thirtieth year to heaven
    woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
    and the mussel pooled and the heron
    priested shore
    the morning beckon
    with water praying and call of seagull and rook
    and the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
    myself to set foot
    that second
    in the still sleeping town and set forth.
    my birthday began with the water-
    birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
    above the farms and the white horses
    and i rose
    in rainy autumn
    and walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
    high tide and the heron dived when i took the road
    over the border
    and the gates
    of the town closed as the town awoke.
    a springful of larks in a rolling
    cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
    blackbirds and the sun of october
    summery
    on the hill’s shoulder，
    here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
    e in the morning where i wandered and listened
    to the rain wringing
    wind blow cold
    in the wood faraway under me.
    pale rain over the dwindling harbour
    and over the sea wet church the size of a snail
    with its horns through mist and the castle
    brown as owls
    but all the gardens
    of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
    beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
    there could i marvel
    my birthday
    away but the weather turned around.
    it turned away from the blithe country
    and down the other air and the blue altered sky
    streamed again a wonder of summer
    with apples
    pears and red currants
    and i saw in the turning so clearly a child’s
    forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
    through the parables
    of sun light
    and the legends of the green chapels
    and the twice told fields of infancy
    that his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
    these were the woods the river and sea
    where a boy
    in the listening
    summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
    to the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
    and the mystery
    sang alive
    still in the water and singingbirds.
    and there could i marvel my birthday
    away but the weather turned around. and the true
    joy of the long dead child sang burning
    in the sun.
    it was my thirtieth
    year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
    though the town below lay leaved with october blood.
    o may my heart’s truth
    still be sung
    on this high hill in a year’s turning.
    十月的诗
    这是我去天堂的第三十年
    醒来我倾听港口和附近树林
    贻贝聚集、苍鹭
    为岸布道
    早晨召唤
    用水的祷告和海鸥白嘴鸦的啼叫
    而帆船敲击网织的墙
    我自己踏进
    那瞬间
    依然沉睡的小镇，动身。
    我的生日始于水
    鸟和展翅的树木之鸟放飞我的名字
    在那些农庄和白马之上
    我起身
    在多雨之秋
    在我所有日子的阵雨中外出。
    潮水涨，鹭下潜，当我上路
    越过边界
    而城门
    在小镇醒来时关闭。
    涌动的百灵鸟在滚滚
    云中，路旁灌木丛溢满乌鸫
    的呼哨，十月的太阳
    夏天一般
    在山冈的肩膀，
    天气宜人，甜蜜歌手们突然
    走进我游荡其中并倾听
    雨水淋湿的早晨
    寒风吹透
    我脚下远处的树林。
    苍白的雨在缩小的海湾上
    在大海弄诅的蜗牛大小的教堂上
    用触角穿透迷雾，而城堡
    棕褐如枭
    但春天和夏天的
    所有花园都在吹牛中怒放
    在边界那边在百灵鸟充斥的云下
    在那里我会为
    我的生日而惊奇
    但天气突变。
    它避开那欢乐的国度
    随另一气流而下，蓝色改变天空
    再次流出夏天的惊愕
    和苹果
    梨及红醋栗一起
    在转变中我如此清楚地看见一个孩子
    那些被遗忘的早晨，他和母亲
    穿过阳光的
    寓言
    和那绿色小教堂的传说
    以及两次被告知的幼年田野
    他的泪灼烫我的脸，心跳在我胸中
    在树林河流和大海之处
    一个孩子
    正倾听
    死亡之夏把欢乐的真理
    悄悄告诉树石头和潮中的鱼
    而神秘
    还在
    在水中在啼鸟中欢唱。
    在那里我会为我的生日惊奇
    但天气突变，那长眠的孩子
    所歌唱的真正快乐燃烧
    在太阳中。
    这是我去天堂的
    第三十年，站在夏日正午
    而下面的小镇满树十月的血。
    噢愿我心中真理
    仍在这
    转变之年的高山上被歌唱。
    （以下几首诗歌暂时没有找到原文）：
    （十二）雨切割着我们走过的地方
    雨切割着我们走过的地方，
    闪烁的水流洒向
    我们这些毫无活水的孩子可我是例外
    用手掌掂量着
    从一条云的街衢上飘来的雨水。
    我们驾着一条船驶上小路，
    以叶为浆
    荡入一条迷人的光线中，
    观望，有点昏昏然
    以致未能用感知感受更多，
    展开的波浪里
    大多点缀着闪亮的碎石，
    花园里器皿似的活物
    在轻快的时光里漂浮；
    同时，正如你所见，彩虹的脚
    踏在大地上，
    一头传说中的马，扬着蹄飞舞着翼翅，
    急急地离去。
    它穿过天空，
    可是，当它从视野里消失时，
    它飞扬的尾留下
    无数分叉的云翳，
    一条欢快的抛物线
    刻在积满草叶的小船的上空。
    我们划着桨；
    水流异乎寻常的生硬，
    太凝滞了，无法用桨叶拔动，
    满是扯碎的苔草植物的
    枝茎和外壳。这是一条
    由铁一样的草木构成的沟渠。
    当我们用桨触碰花朵
    我们像是在击打而不是搅扰它。
    我们的小船随着
    再一次高涨的
    上升到惬意高度的水流，
    进入彩虹害羞的拥抱。
    我们毫无怨尤地颤抖着，
    品尝着各自的嘴唇、这片刻、
    这绿宝石般的吻，
    并呼吸着靛蓝的呼吸。
    （十三）清晨，莉达的时光
    清晨，莉达的时光。
    用欢快的脚搅动水流，
    并有提琴声插入
    为捕捉她顺流而下的航行——
    森林中的短句不是她的；
    一只食鱼鸟让象牙般的音符
    蹦跳在它鹤颈似的喉管中——
    举目可见月亮仍悬于空中，
    明亮，不偏不倚的额头，
    同时，作为一枚枢轴，
    从如镜的海上掀起的阴影
    以泪水打湿着天空，
    以渴望涂抹着尚未升起的旭日。
    天鹅在坚守中弹拔着水纹；
    在日与月之间
    有着拽住竖琴之声的时间，
    睡眠湿润的嘴唇
    用封存于
    一朵花上的蕊蜜吻醒我的手臂。
    在上升与沉落之间
    春天可能绿了——
    在树木的服饰下没有忧愁，
    在树木的裙裾下没有肢体——
    冬天像一阵回声一样跟着
    夏天的声音如此暖热从簇拥
    在她肩膀周围的果实上飘落，
    并藏匿于她裸露着的胸脯上。
    清晨，也是恋爱的时间，
    当莉达，单趾触地，
    与天鹅舞动着进行一场搏击
    天鹅把她紧紧地拥进强悍、洁白的翼间；
    手与手相挽流动着光，而黑暗
    是盲目的带着泪水，太脆弱了以至不可品尝。
    （十四）被明亮的世界所包绕
    被明亮的世界所包绕
    在一切的边缘，辛辣地
    吸进她草木般哔啪作响的嘴里
    必定感到像某种异质的侵入
    一如你脱落的一绺神经进入我，
    这围困的轻触被爱和眷顾
    深深束缚，
    在死亡中或从死亡中逃脱，
    从黄色的坚果上瞥见，
    从蜂蜡砌成的高塔上注目，
    或者，白如奶汁，出自丝丝渗漏的黑暗，
    这低垂，一如你将我囚于
    一个网中的世界
    我碰着就碎了，
    我碰着就碎了。
    （十五）寻常的日与夜
    寻常的日与夜
    充斥着喧嚣与叹息
    多让我忧郁，
    活力与乐音在光中散尽，
    在嘀嗒作响的铃声里
    我又消磨了生命里的一小时，
    好心的人；
    （多么好的一个词）；
    不要去伤害女人编针样的
    优美肌体，它已磨损，近乎碎裂
    在灌木房、实验室、或玻璃场，
    女人以源于女人特有的热力，
    缝一个谎在轻信里，
    而阳光会晒裂它
    而石块会压碎它
    伸手捂住嘴、
    耳朵、鼻子和眼睛，
    以及我全部稀薄的天赋的味觉。
    可白昼过尽，夜晚来临，
    夜晚来临。
    黑色的阴影降落，
    奇异的噪声终于平息，
    我欢乐的言辞，
    竟如此稀少——
    是谁教给我苦难？
    从空空的黑色的子宫，
    从薄薄的黑色的嘴唇，
    从我不洁的双眼
    和我腐败的知识——
    它们是一些痛哭的词汇。
    甲虫说，我
    在这世上，苦难够多了。
    疼痛中的高声哭嚎，
    猛烈地冲击着头颅，
    哦，欢乐！
    哦，欢乐！
    暗处的歌声，
    歌唱着美好的事情歌唱着美好；
    歌唱着，回到一首歌里。