我们竟然错过了这晚霞。
没有人曾经看见我们黄昏里牵手
蓝夜倾倒下来这世界的时分。
我从窗口看见了
西风在远山进行的盛宴。
We’ve lost even this dusk.
No one saw us this afternoon holding hands
as the blue night fell over the world.
I’ve seen from my window
the festival of the west wind in the faraway hills.
有时像一枚硬币，
一片日光落在我的手心。我思念你
以你知道在我里面的忧伤的灵魂。
当时，你在那里？
在什么人当中？
说着什么话？
为何正当我感到这么忧伤，
感觉你那么遥远时，
全部的爱会突然而至？
Sometimes like a coin,
a piece of the sun flames between my hands.
I remembered you with the constrained soul
of that sadness that you knew in me.
So, where were you?
Among what people?
Speaking what words?
Why does total love come to me so suddenly
when I feel such sadness, and feel you so far away?
这书，常常在黄昏时被挑中，又跌落，
像一只受伤的狗被我的披风缠绕我脚。
你总是、总是在暮色苍茫时分与我距离
朝着黄昏的去向，连石像也变为灰暗之处。
The book, always taken up at dusk, fell away,
and like a wounded dog my cape gathered round my feet.
Always, always you distance yourself in the afternoons
toward where the dusk runs, turning even statues to dark.
英文Translation: Terence Clarke
中文翻译：AAA杰克
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