The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandize;

心灵跟心灵也有市场和贸易，

I barter curl for curl upon that mart,

在那儿我拿卷发去跟卷发交换；

And from my poet’s forehead to my heart

从我那诗人的前额，我收下了

Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,—

这一束，几根发丝，在我心里

As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes

却重过了飘洋大船。它那带紫的乌亮，

The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart

在我眼里，就象当初平达所看见的

The nine white Muse-brows.  For this counterpart, . . .

斜披在缪斯玉额前暗紫色的秀发。

The bay crown’s shade, Belovëd, I surmise,

为了媲美，我猜想那月桂冠的阴影

Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!

依然逗留在发尖－－爱，你看它

Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,

有多么黑！我借轻轻的一吻，吐出

I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,

温柔的气息，绾住了那阴影，不让它

And lay the gift where nothing hindereth;

溜走；又把礼品放在最妥贴的地方－－

Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack

我的心头，叫它就象生长在你额上，

No natural heat till mine grows cold in death.

感受着体热，直到那心儿有一天冷却。