The Moon

The moon

By P.B. Shelley

And like a dying lady, lean and pale,

Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil,

Out of her chamber,  led by the insane

And feeble wanderings of her fading brain

The moon arose up in the murky east,

A white and shapeless mass.

月

像一位瘦弱苍白的濒死女子

蒙着轻罗面纱,凭迷糊脑子里

虚妄朦胧而病态的胡思乱想引领着,

步态蹒跚地走出闺房

月亮升起在黢黑的东方天边,

是白蒙蒙寒碜一片。