My soul is dark—Oh! quickly string

我靈魂陰郁——快調好琴弦，

The harp I yet can brook to hear;

趁我還受得住聆聽樂曲;

And let thy gentle fingers fling

用輕柔手指向我耳邊

Its melting murmurs o’er mine ear.

彈弄出喁喁細訴的低語。

If in this heart a hope be dear,

只要這顆心還有所希圖，

That sound shall charm it forth again;

樂音會再度將它誘導;

If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

只要這雙眼還藏著淚珠，

’Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

會流出，不再把腦髓煎熬。

But bid the strain be wild and deep,

讓琴曲旋律深沉而激越，

Nor let thy notes of joy be first:

歡快的調門請暫且躲開;

I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,

樂師呵，讓我哭泣吧，否則，

Or else this heavy heart will burst;

沉重的心呵，會爆成碎塊!

For it hath been by sorrow nursed,

它原是悲哀所哺育，后來

And ached in sleepless silence long;

長期在失眠中熬受痛楚;

And now ’tis doom’d to know the worst,

命運給了它最壞的安排：

And break at once—or yield to song.

碎裂，——要么，被歌聲收伏。