57

I PLUCKED your flower, O world!

I pressed it to my heart and the thorn pricked.

When the day waned and it darkened, I found that the flower had faded, but the pain remained.

More flowers will come to you with perfume and pride, O world!

But my time for flower-gathering is over, and through the dark night I have not my rose, only the pain remains.

57

我采了你的花，啊，世界！

我把它压在胸前，花刺伤了我。

日光渐暗，我发现花儿凋谢了，痛苦却存留着。

许多有香有色的花又将来到你这里，啊，世界！

但是我采花的时代过去了，

黑夜悠悠，我没有了玫瑰，只有痛苦存留着。