MY love, once upon a time your poet launched a great epic in his mind.
Alas, I was not careful, and it struck your ringing anklets and came to grief.
It broke up into scraps of songs and lay scattered at your feet.
All my cargo of the stories of old wars was tossed by the laughing waves and soaked in tears and sank.
You must make this loss good to me, my love.
If my claims to immortal fame after death are shattered, make me immortal while I live.
And I will not mourn for my loss nor blame you.
我爱,从前有一天,你的诗人把一首伟大史诗投进他心里。
啊,我不小心,
它打到你的叮当的脚镯上而引起悲愁。
它裂成诗歌的碎片散撒在你的脚边。
我满载的一切古代战争的货物,
都被笑浪颠簸。被眼泪浸透而下沉。
你必须使这损失成为我的收获,我爱。
如果我的死后不朽的荣名的希望都破灭了,
那就在生前使我不朽吧。
我将不为这损失伤心,也不责怪你。