Not for that city of the level sun,
Its golden streets and glittering gates ablaze—
The shadeless, sleepless city of white days,
White nights, or nights and days that are as one—
We weary, when all said, all thought, all done.
We strain our eyes beyond this dusk to see
What, from the threshold of eternity
We shall step into. No, I think we shun
The splendour of that everlasting glare,
The clamour of that never-ending song.
And if for anything we greatly long,
It is for some remote and quiet stair
Which winds to silence and a space for sleep
Too sound for waking and for dreams too deep.

不为了那座太阳平恒的城市，
它金色的街与闪耀的门上如有火焰──
无阴影亦无睡眠的城市：白天，
白夜，或许夜与昼仿佛一体──
我们疲倦，当一切都说了，都想了，都做了。
我们目光越过黄昏去看
是什么，从这永恒的门槛
我们将踏入。不，我想我们会闪躲
那恒久光芒的华丽，
那无尽歌曲的喧嚷.
而若有一事令我们十分向往，
是那偏远而安静的阶梯
它旋转着到达寂静，与睡眠的空间
对清醒过于香甜，对梦过于深远。