我像麝鹿一样在林荫中奔走，为着自己的香气而发狂。
夜晚是五月正中的夜晚，清风是南国的清风。
我迷了路，我游荡着，我寻求那得不到的东西，我得到我所没有寻求的东西。
我自己的愿望的形象从我心中走出，跳起舞来。
我闪光的形象飞掠过去。
我想把它紧紧捉住，它躲开了又引着我飞走下去。
我寻求那得不到的东西，我得到我所没有寻求的东西。
I run as a musk-deer runs in the shadow of the forest mad with his own perfume.
The night is the night of mid-May, the breeze is the breeze of the south.
I lose my way and I wander, I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek.
From my heart comes out and dances the image of my own desire.
The gleaming vision flits on.
I try to clasp it firmly, it eludes me and leads me astray.
I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek.
若是你要忙着把水瓶灌满，来吧，到我的湖上来吧。
湖水将回绕在你的脚边，潺潺地说出它的秘密。
沙滩上有了欲来的雨云的阴影，云雾低垂在丛树的绿线上，像你眉上的浓发。
我深深地熟悉你脚步的韵律，它在我心中敲击。
来吧，到我的湖上来吧，如果你必须把水瓶灌满。
如果你想懒散闲坐，让你的水瓶飘浮在水面，来吧，到我的湖上来吧。
草坡碧绿，野花多得数不清。
你的思想将从你乌黑的眼眸中飞出，像鸟儿飞出窝巢。
你的披纱将褪落到脚上。
来吧，如果你要闲坐，到我的湖上来吧。
如果你想撇下嬉游跳进水里，来吧，到我的湖上来吧。
把你的蔚蓝的丝巾留在岸上；蔚蓝的水将没过你，盖住你。
水波将蹑足来吻你的颈项，在你耳边低语。
来吧，如果你想跳进水里，到我的湖上来吧。
如果你想发狂而投入死亡，来吧，到我的湖上来吧。
它是清凉的，深到无底。
它沉黑得像无梦的睡眠。
在它的深处黑夜就是白天，歌曲就是静默。
来吧，如果你想投入死亡，到我的湖上来吧。
If you would be busy and fill your pitcher, come, O come to my lake.
The water will cling round your feet and babble its secret.
The shadow of the coming rain is on the sands, and the clouds hang low upon the blue lines of the trees like the heavy hair above your eyebrows.
I know well the rhythm of your steps, they are beating in my heart.
Come, O come to my lake, if you must fill your pitcher.
If you would be idle and sit listless and let your pitcher float on the water, come, O come to my lake.
The grassy slope is green, and the wild flowers beyond number.
Your thoughts will stray out of your dark eyes like birds from their nests.
Your veil will drop to your feet.
Come, O come to my lake if you must sit idle.
If you would leave off your play and dive in the water, come, O come to my lake.
Let your blue mantle lie on the shore; the blue water will cover you and hide you.
The waves will stand a-tiptoe to kiss your neck and whisper in your ears.
Come, O come to my lake, if you would dive in the water.
If you must be mad and leap to your death, come, O come to my lake.
It is cool and fathomlessly deep.
It is dark like a sleep that is dreamless.
There in its depths nights and days are one, and songs are silence.
Come, O come to my lake, if you would plunge to your death.
