他，在楼上的房间里，变得又老又累;她，在下面的房间，他的地板，她的天花板，追求他们各自的梦想。他打开灯，脸朝下倒在床上，哈哈大笑。她站在窗边，对着星光灿烂的夜晚微笑。他的手表吗?他听过这些年代的轮回吗?他的枕头下每隔一秒就会响起疲倦的钟声。壁炉架上的钟敲了九点钟。夜色渐深。她听到头顶上沉闷的脚步声。 The world whirs on. New stars come up to shine. His youth?far off?he sees it brightly walking In a golden cloud .... wings flashing about it.... Darkness Walls it around with dripping enormous walls. Old age, far off?or death?what do they matter? Down the smooth purple night a streaked star falls. She hears slow steps in the street; they chime like music, They climb to her heart, they break and flower in beauty, Along her veins they glisten and ring and burn. He hears his own slow steps tread down to silence. Far off they pass. He knows they will never return. Far off, on a smooth dark road, he hears them faintly. The road, like a sombre river, quietly flowing, Moves among murmurous walls. A deeper breath Swells them to sound: he hears his steps more clearly. And death seems nearer to him; or he to death. What's death??she smiles. The cool stone hurts her elbow, The last few raindrops gather and fall from elm-boughs, She sees them glisten and break. The arc-lamp sings, The new leaves dip in the warm wet air and fragrance, A sparrbw whirs to the eaves and shakes its wings. What's death?what's death ? The spring returns like music ; The trees are like dark lovers who dream in starlight; The soft grey clouds go over the stars like dreams. The cool stone wounds her arms to pain, to pleasure. Under the lamp a circle of wet street gleams. And death seems far away?a thing of roses, A golden portal where golden music closes, Death seems far away; And spring returns, the countless singing of lovers, And spring returns to stay.... He, in the room above, grown old and tired, Flings himself on the bed, face down, in laughter, And clenches his hands, and remembers, and desires to die. And she, by the window, smiles at a night of starlight.... The soft grey clouds go slowly across the sky.