人群是殘酷的，而個(gè)人卻是善良友愛的。

Men are cruel, but Man is kind.

在鳥翼上系上了黃金，這鳥便永不能再在天上翱翔了。

Set the bird’s wings with gold and it will never again soar in the sky.

權(quán)勢(shì)夸耀著它的惡行，卻被飄落的黃葉與飄過(guò)的云彩所譏笑。

The power that boasts of its mischiefs is laughed at by the yellow leaves that fall, and clouds that pass by.

他將武器奉若神明。

當(dāng)他的武器戰(zhàn)勝時(shí)，他自己卻失敗了。

He has made his weapons his gods.

When his weapons win he is defeated himself.

世人贊揚(yáng)那些仇恨與殺戮，

但上帝感到蒙羞，匆忙地把他的記憶埋藏在綠草之下。

They hated and killed and men praised them,

but God in shame hastens to hide its memory under the green grass.

腳趾乃是舍棄了其過(guò)去的手指。

Toes are the fingers that have forsaken their past.

真理穿著“事實(shí)”的外衣而覺(jué)得行動(dòng)不便。

在虛構(gòu)的想象中，她卻轉(zhuǎn)動(dòng)得很舒暢。

Truth in her dress finds facts too tight.

In fiction she moves with ease.

“大海啊，你在說(shuō)什么呢？”

“是永恒的疑問(wèn)?！?/p>

“天空啊，你要回答我什么呢？”

“是永恒的沉默。”

“What language is thine, O sea?”

“The language of eternal question.”

“What language is thy answer, O sky?”

“The language of eternal silence.”

杯中的水是閃耀著光輝的，海中的水卻是深黑色的。

小理可以用文字來(lái)說(shuō)清楚，大理卻只有沉默。

The water in a vessel is sparkling; the water in the sea is dark.

The small truth has words that are clear; the great truth has great silence.

真理卷起狂風(fēng)暴雨反對(duì)自己，那暴風(fēng)雨播散了真理的種子而廣為人知。

Truth raises against itself the storm that scatters its seeds broadcast.

真理仿佛與結(jié)論同來(lái)；

而結(jié)論卻又孕育出了下一個(gè)真理。

Truth seems to come with its final word;

and the final word gives birth to its next.

颶風(fēng)于無(wú)路之中尋求最短之路，不知在何處倏然終止它的搜尋。

The hurricane seeks the shortest road by the no-road, and suddenly ends its search in the Nowhere.

“我們是沙沙作響的葉片，以這聲音回應(yīng)著暴風(fēng)雨，而你是誰(shuí)啊，為何如此沉默？”

“我只是一朵花。”

“We, the rustling leaves, have a voice that answers the storms, but who are you, so silent?”

“I am a mere flower.”

我的主啊！讓我真實(shí)地活著吧。如此，死亡于我也將成真。

Let me live truly, my Lord, so that death to me become true.