I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;

（我的学生，坠马而亡）

And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;

我记得她脖颈上的卷发，又软又湿就像牵牛花须；

And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,

还有她迅速地看一眼，然后斜视偷笑，就像一只小狗鱼；

And she balanced in the delight of her thought,

还有，当她激灵一下突然说话，那些轻小的音节跳出拱卫她，

还有她在思考的愉悦中保持平衡，

A wren, happy, tail into the wind,

Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.

就像一只快乐的鹪鹩，在风中渐隐，

The shade sang with her;

她的歌声振动树木的纤枝。

The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,

树荫和她一起唱；

And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.

那些叶子的低语变成亲吻，

连霉菌都在月季下面苍白的谷地里唱歌。

Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,

Even a father could not find her:

哦，当她悲伤的时候，她会把自己投入如此纯粹的深度，

Scraping her cheek against straw,

即使一个父亲也没法找到她：

Stirring the clearest water.

她的面颊在稻草上摩擦，

激扰最纯净的水。

My sparrow, you are not here,

Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.

我的小麻雀，你不在这里，

The sides of wet stones cannot console me,

没有像一棵蕨草一样等待，投下多刺的阴影。

Nor the moss, wound with the last light.

潮湿石头的断面无法抚慰我，

那些被最后的阳光烧伤的苔藓也不能。

If only I could nudge you from this sleep,

My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.

多么想轻轻把你推醒，

Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:

我亲爱的伤者，我掠飞的鸽子。

I, with no rights in this matter,

在这潮湿的坟墓之上我要说出我的爱：

Neither father nor lover.

我，并无资格涉入此事，

我不是父亲，也不是情人。