When you are old and grey and full of sleep， And nodding by the fire， take down this book， And slowly read， and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once， and of their shadows deep;How many loved your moments of glad grace， And loved your beauty with love false or true， But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you， And loved the sorrows of your changing face;And bending down beside the glowing bars， Murmur， a little sadly， how Love fled And paced upon the mountains over head And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

當(dāng)你老了，頭發(fā)花白，睡意沉沉，倦坐在爐邊，取下這本書來，慢慢讀著，追夢當(dāng)年的眼神那柔關(guān)的神采與深幽的暈影。多少人愛過你青春的片影，愛過你的美貌，以虛偽或是真情，唯獨一人愛你那朝圣者的心，愛你哀戚的臉上歲月的留痕。在爐柵邊，你彎下了腰，低語著，帶著淺淺的傷感，愛情是怎樣逝去，又怎樣步上群山，怎樣在繁星之間藏住了臉。