I will arise and go now,
and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there,
a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there,
for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the mourning
to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer,
and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now,
for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping
with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway,
or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core

我現在即將要動身
前往山間的茵斯湖
我在那裡蓋間小屋
以土為牆以竹為頂
我會種下幾畦碗豆
並養著一箱箱蜜蜂
蜂鳴聲裡獨自過活

我會在那得到平靜
平靜來自放慢節奏
來自拂曉薄霧飛散
到那蟋蟀歌唱之地
午夜星星泛著青光
中午朝顏綻放紫色
黃昏雀鳥滿天飛舞

我現在即將要動身
不論是白晝或夜晚
我都能聽見那湖水
輕輕地拍打著湖岸
每當我站在路中央
或是人行通道上時
都能聽見它的呼喚

That is no country for old Men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

那不是老人的國度 年輕人
在彼此的懷中 鳥在樹上
--那些將死的世代--揚著歌聲
鮭躍於瀑 鯖相摩于海洋
泳者 行者 飛者 整個夏季
頌揚誕生 成長 而死去的眾生
惑於感官的音樂 全都無視
紀念永生的智慧而立的碑石

一個老人 不過是一件廢物
一件破衣掛在木杖上 除非
靈魂拍掌而歌 愈歌愈激楚
為了塵衣的每一片破碎
沒有人能教歌 除了去研讀
為靈魂的宏偉而豎的石碑
所以我一直在海上航行 
來到這拜占庭的聖城

哦 諸聖立在 上帝的火中
如立在有鑲金壁畫的牆上
來吧 從聖火中 盤旋轉動
且教我的靈魂  如何歌唱
將我心焚化  情欲已病重
且系在垂死的這一具皮囊
我心已不識自己  請將我
納入  永恆那精巧的藝術

一旦蛻化後 我再也不肯
向任何物體 去乞取身形
除非 希臘的金匠所製成
的那種 用薄金片和鍍金
使欲眠的帝王 保持清醒
不然 置我于金燦的樹頂
向拜占庭的貴族和貴婦歌詠
已逝的 將逝的 未來的種種