There are no stars to-night

今晚没有星星

But those of memory.

只有记忆中的星星。

Yet how much room for memory there is

而在柔软雨水的松弛束腰里

In the loose girdle of soft rain.

有多少间屋子留给了记忆。

There is even room enough

甚至还有足够的屋子

For the letters of my mother's mother,

留给我的祖母伊丽莎白

Elizabeth,

的情书，

That have been pressed so long

它们很久以来一直被

Into a corner of the roof

压在屋顶的角落里

That they are brown and soft,

它们褐黄、松软，

And liable to melt as snow.

快要象雪一样融化。

Over the greatness of such space

踏上此处的伟大

Steps must be gentle.

脚步一定要温柔。

It is all hung by an invisible white hair.

它们全都被一根看不见的白发悬挂着。

It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air.

它们颤抖着象桦树枝在网罗空气。

And I ask myself:

我问自己：

"Are your fingers long enough to play

“你的手指有没有足够的长度

Old keys that are but echoes:

去弹奏仅仅是回音的琴键：

Is the silence strong enough

沉默有没有强大到

To carry back the music to its source

可以把音乐送回它的源头

And back to you again

再次交还给你

As though to her?"

就象给她？”

Yet I would lead my grandmother by the hand

Through much of what she would not understand;

而我情愿拉着我祖母的手

And so I stumble. And the rain continues on the roof

穿过这许多她搞不懂的东西；

With such a sound of gently pitying laughter.

因此我绊倒了。雨继续在屋顶上

带着一种轻柔的怜悯的笑。

1926