Like the chaldeau, he could watch the stars
Till he had peopled them with beings bright
As their own beams; and earth, and earth-born jars,
And human frailties, were forgotten quite:
Could he have kept his spirit to that flight,
He had been happy; but this clay will sink
Its spark immortal, envying it the light
To which it mounts, as if to break the link
That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink.

But in Man's dwellings he became a thing
Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome,
Drooped as a wild-born falcon with clipt wing,
To whom the boundless air alone were home:
Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome,
As eagerly the barred-up bird will beat
His breast and beak against his wiry dome
Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat
Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat.

好像一个巫师，他会观望着繁星，
直到它们也如星光般闪耀；
世俗，和世俗的纷争，
还有人性的弱点，全部忘掉；
如果他能保持灵魂的飞翔，
他一定很高兴；
但这身体将会沉入永恒的火花，
嫉妒它升起的光芒，
仿佛要割断这纽带，
不让我们去想那遥远的苍穹。

但是在人类居住的地方，他却成了一个，
骚动，疲惫，严肃，烦乱的东西，
沮丧得像一只割断翅膀的野鹰，
只有无际的天空才是它的家，
然后它又开始狂躁起来。
像笼中鸟，
用嘴和胸脯去撞击那铁笼子，
直到鲜血把浑身的羽毛染红，就这样，
他被禁锢的灵魂的热量啃噬着他的胸膛。