挣脱开大气的胸膛，

Out of the bosom of the Air,

　从它层叠的云裳里摇落，

      Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

在荒凉的、丰收后的田野上，

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

　在一片林莽，棕黄而赤裸，

      Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

　静静的，柔软的雪花

            Silent, and soft, and slow

　缓缓地朝地面落下。

            Descends the snow.

有如我们迷离的梦幻

Even as our cloudy fancies take

　突然在庄严的字句里成形，

      Suddenly shape in some divine expression,

有如我们苍白的容颜

Even as the troubled heart doth make

　显示了纷乱内心的衷情，

      In the white countenance confession,

纷乱的天空也表白

            The troubled sky reveals

它所感到的悲哀。

            The grief it feels.

这是天空所写的诗，

This is the poem of the air,

　慢慢写在寂静的音节里；

      Slowly in silent syllables recorded;

这是绝望的秘密

This is the secret of despair,

　久久隐藏在阴霾的心底；

      Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,

　　现在，对着树林和田野；

            Now whispered and revealed

　　它在低低诉说和倾泻。

            To wood and field.