評論
打印
Turn, turn, my wheel! Tis nature's plan, the child should grow into the man, the man grow wrinkled, old, and gray;
轉啊，轉，我的輪子！這是大自然的造化，小孩會長成大人，大人會布滿皺紋，滿頭花白又衰朽；
In youth the heart exults and sings, the pulses leap, the feet have wings; In age the cricket chirps, and brings the harvest home of day.
年輕時意氣風發歌聲高亢，脈搏勁跳，腳上長了翅膀；年老時耳鳴眼花，正是人生的收獲之秋。
Turn, turn, my wheel! The human race, of every tongue, of every place, Caucasian, Coptic, or Malay,
轉啊，轉，我的輪子！人類說形形色色語言，來自各個地方，高加索、科普特或馬來，
all that inhabit this great earth, whatever be their rank or worth, are kindred and allied by birth, and made of the same clay.
都生活在這個大星球上，不論他們屬于什么社會階層，聞達也好無名也罷，從出生就有親緣和聯系，由同樣的泥土而成。
Turn, turn, my wheel! What is begun at daybreak must at dark be done, tomorrow will be another day;
轉啊，轉，我的輪子！在拂曉開始做的事情，必須在天黑完成；
Tomorrow the hot furnace flame will search the heart and try the frame, and stamp with honor or with shame, these vessels made of clay.
明天那熔爐的火焰會搜尋心靈，把束縛擺脫，用榮譽或者羞恥之心在泥做的器皿上蓋上封印。
Stop, stop, my wheel! Too soon, too soon, the noon will be the afternoon, too soon today be yesterday;
停吧，停，我的輪子！太快了，太快了，中午轉瞬午后，今朝既成往昔；
Behind us in our path, we cast the broken potsherds of the past, and all are ground to dust at last, and trodden into clay.
我們身后自己走過的路上，昨日陶瓷碎片一地，所有的一切終將化為塵土，踩進泥里。
