8

當我床前的燈熄滅了，我和晨鳥一同醒起。

我在散發上戴上新鮮的花串，坐在洞開的窗前。

那年輕的行人在玫瑰色的朝靄中從大路上來了。

珠鏈在他的頸上，陽光在他的冠上。他停在我的門前，用切望的呼聲問我：“她在哪里呢？”

因為深深害羞，我不好意思說出：“她就是我，年輕的行人，她就是我。”

黃昏來到，還未上燈。

我心緒不寧地編著頭發。

在落日的光輝中年輕的行人駕著車輦來了。

他的駕車的馬，嘴里噴著白沫，他的衣袍上蒙著塵土。

他在我的門前下車，用疲乏的聲音問：“她在哪里呢？”

因為深深害羞，我不好意思說出：“她就是我，愁倦的行人，她就是我。”

一個四月的夜晚。我的屋里點著燈。

南風溫柔地吹來。多言的鸚鵡在籠里睡著了。

我的衷衣我坐在窗前地上看望著冷落的街道。

在沉黑的夜中我不住地低吟著：“她就是我，失望的行人，她就是我。”

When the lamp went out by my bed I woke up with the early birds.

I sat at my open window with a fresh wreath on my loose hair.

The young traveller came along the road in the rosy mist of the morning.

A pearl chain was on his neck and the sun's rays fell on his crown. He stopped before my door and asked me with an eager cry, “Where is she?”

For very shame I could not say, “She is I, young traveller, she is I.”

It was dusk and the lamp was not lit.

I was listlessly braiding my hair.

The young traveller came on his chariot in the glow of the setting sun.

His horses were foaming at the mouth, and there was dust on his garment.

He alighted at my door and asked in a tired voice, “Where is she?”

For very shame I could not say, “She is I, weary traveller, she is I.”

It is an April night. The lamp is burning in my room.

The breeze of the south comes gently. The noisy parrot sleeps in its cage.

My bodice is of the colour of the peacock's throat, and my mantle is green as young grass.

I sit upon the floor at the window watching the deserted street.

Through the dark night I keep humming, “She is I, despairing traveller, she is I.”