My soul is dark—Oh! quickly string
我灵魂阴郁——快调好琴弦,
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
趁我还受得住聆听乐曲;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
用轻柔手指向我耳边
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
弹弄出喁喁细诉的低语。
If in this heart a hope be dear,
只要这颗心还有所希图,
That sound shall charm it forth again;
乐音会再度将它诱导;
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
只要这双眼还藏着泪珠,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.
会流出,不再把脑髓煎熬。
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
让琴曲旋律深沉而激越,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
欢快的调门请暂且躲开;
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
乐师呵,让我哭泣吧,否则,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
沉重的心呵,会爆成碎块!
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
它原是悲哀所哺育,后来
And ached in sleepless silence long;
长期在失眠中熬受痛楚;
And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst,
命运给了它最坏的安排:
And break at once—or yield to song.
碎裂,——要么,被歌声收伏。