我对着大路，你对着弯弯曲曲的街道——我们俩谁会后悔那天碰巧相遇呢?我有一颗健全的心，你有痛苦的病态幻想——如果我们碰巧再次相遇，谁会后悔呢?我唱着朴素的爱，而你唱着亲吻的歌——我们俩谁会先对霍伊莱克小姐的爱后悔呢?我不是第一个走的，我也不是第一个欺骗的——我们俩谁会最早后悔我们虚幻的花园?你是中国的神，我是供物的集市，当我们进入安拉的花园，唱我们神圣的祈祷。我的心是垂下的、我进去、却听见有声音喊著说、因为他是献祭的神、你是钉十字架的。这一切都是虚构的，一个愚蠢的游戏，我们安拉的花园，一个客厅，我们中国的粘土之神。一串串的伤痕代替珍珠，一串串的眼泪代替勿忘我，还有一种致命的痛苦，那是一种令人厌恶的羞耻，看着褪色的斑点。它们很快凋谢了，我的心也凋谢了，直到我的花园只剩下一个沉入地狱的灵魂。冰雹! Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaire, No more together we'll enter the Enchanted garden of make-believe, Nor my sad soul listen while thine deceive. No more you'll be the God of Sacrifice, Nor I the crucified. Ah, Garden of Allah -how bitter sweet Thy fruit. Why breakest thou the heart? Why spoilest thou the soul with notes From thy golden lute? Lo! our garden a common room Our Chinese god burnt clay, and The singing of verses a funeral hymn That awakes with awakening day. 'Twas all such a meaningless play, Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaitre. Hail! Poet, take my hand -we'll walk Still a little way. I'll not desert thee at the close of day, I, too, must pray. A beggar asking alms of passers-by, Does not refuse a drink to one who's dry That once by him did lie. Poet, come close -before I leave for aye Take thou my hand, we'll walk still A little way. One garment covered both to keep us warm, What harmed the one, was't not the other's harm? Close clasped, one single form. Was it not meant of aye? Poet, take thou my hand -we'll still Walk a little way.