这不是爱：我们不能这么称呼它。

This is not love: we cannot call it love.

爱应该让我感受到无限的事物，

Love would make me aware of infinite things,

驱动我穿过“痛苦”紧狭的隧道，

Drive me down the spirit’s vast abyss

进入“精神”广阔的深渊。

And through the narrow fastnesses of pain.

这不是爱。但它的美好

This is not love. Yet it holds loveliness

已然超越了单纯的快乐。平静和激情

Beyond mere pleasure. Peace and passion both

一并从我用来打发无聊时光的吻中发芽。

Grow from the kiss with which I paint drab hours.

这不是爱：爱属于诸神

It is not love: love is for the gods

和我们接近神的时刻。然而

And our more godlike moments. Yet when stars

当星星熄灭了它们的光辉，我们为什么不点燃

Withhold their splendor, why should we not light

蜡烛，用仁慈的凡人之火来温暖

Candles to warm with kindly mortal flames

笼罩一切的、冰冷的、不朽的夜晚？

The all-enfolding, cold, immortal night?