Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leavers are falling like its own!
The tmult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like witheered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And , by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, is from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes , can Spring be far behind?

让我做你的竖琴吧，就是森林一般，
纵然我们都落叶纷纷，又有何妨！
我们身上的秋色斑烂，
好给你那狂飚曲添上深沉的回响，
甜美而带苍凉。给我你迅猛的劲头！
豪迈的精灵，化成我吧，借你的锋芒，
把我的腐朽思想扫出宇宙，
扫走了枯叶把新生来激发；
凭着我这诗韵做符咒，
犹如从未灭的炉头吹出火花，
把我的话散布在人群之中！
对那沉睡的大地，拿我的嘴当嗽，
吹响一个预言！呵，西风，
冬天已到，春天还会远吗？