One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdain'd
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not, --
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?
有一个字经常被亵渎，
我不想再把它亵渎；
有一种情感虚假的过于鄙薄，
你不能再把它鄙薄；
有一种希望几乎接近于绝望
你怎忍心再让它破灭。
与其他相比，
你的怜悯之心尤为可贵，
我不敢把这奉献叫做爱，
难道你就不能接受
这超越心灵之上的崇拜？
既然上帝也不拒绝。
飞蛾总是向往星空，
黑夜总是怀想黎明，
身处水深火热之中
怎能不对遥远的事物心领神望？
