I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching, next to mine,
ANd summon them to drink.
Crackling with fever, they essay;
I turn my brimming eyes away,
And come next hour to look.
The hands still hug the tardy glass;
The lips I would have cooled, alas!
Are so superfluous cold,
I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould.
Some other thirsty there may be
To whom this would have pointed me
Had it remained to speak.
And so I always beat the cup
If, haply, mine may be the drop
Some pilgrim thirst to slake, —
If, haply, any say to me,
“Unto the little, unto me,”
WHen I at last awake.
译文：
我斟一杯稀世的酒
给身边，干裂的红唇，
轻唤它们快来畅饮。
嘴唇努力翕动，灼热仿佛迸出噼啪的火星；
我移开盈满清泪的眼睛，
等下一个时辰再来临。
他们的双手仍然紧搂着迟来的玻璃杯；
那双唇，我早应该让它们的灼热退却的啊！
它们是如此彻骨的冰冷，
有种冲动想要即刻去温暖
那被凝冻千年，
在形骸下业已结霜的胸膛。
可这世上还有其他的人会焦渴
他们的焦渴还会吸引着我
如果它一如往昔地善于教唆。
因为这样，我总随身携着这盏杯
如果，万一，我的杯中刚好有
可以解朝圣者干渴的那一滴水，—
如果，万一，有人对我说，
“给弱小的人喝吧，给我吧，”
当我刚好终于清醒。