Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.

诗是最高的虚构，女士。

Take the moral law and make a nave of it

以道法为基，建立中堂

And from the nave build haunted heaven.

从此中堂幽通天堂。

Thus, The conscience is converted into palms,

既良心抵折于股掌，

Like windy citherns hankering for hymns.

如风琴渴望诗章。

We agree in principle. That’s clear. But take

我们大体认同。概因一目了然。

The opposing law and make a peristyle,

而以相反之定律为列廊，

And from the peristyle project a masque

从此列廊，举办舞会于

Beyond the planets. Thus, our bawdiness,

行星之上。由此，我们猥亵，

Unpurged by epitaph, indulged at last,

不洁之碑，终于淫逸，

Is equally converted into palms,

平衡于双掌，

Squiggling like saxophones. And palm for palm,

潦乱如萨克斯声响，自掌抵掌，

Madame, we are where we began. Allow,

女士，我们是自身肇始之处。任凭，

Therefore, that in the planetary scene

行于行星之域

Your disaffected flagellants, well-stuffed,

你不近人情之笞者，塞入，

Smacking their muzzy bellies in parade,

他们蹒跚列行，

Proud of such novelties of the sublime,

为这崇高新奇之事骄傲，

Such tink and tank and tunk-a-tunk-tunk,

叮当咚嘡，

May, merely may, madame, whip from themselves

可能，仅可能，女士，他们鞭子

A jovial hullabaloo among the spheres.

快乐喧嚣于围中。

This will make widows wince. But fictive things

使嫠妇畏退。而虚构之物

Wink as they will. Wink most when widows wince.

明灭如其所是。于嫠妇畏退之时明灭最常。