She marking them begins a wailing note
And sings extemporally a woeful ditty;
How love makes young men thrall and old men dote;
How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty:
Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe,
And still the choir of echoes answer so.
嘶声力竭神女叫,
贫调高歌即兴来;
耆老情衰少年妙;
蠢中有智爱见才:
歌虽高扬仍凄凉,
回声荡荡更断肠。