The Hollow Men
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
空心人
我们是空心人，
人形里面空空，
互相依靠，
天哪，满脑由败絮填充！
我们嗓音干燥，
就像枯草遇风，
我们低声交谈，
死寂空洞，
像老鼠爬过破碎的玻璃，
在地窖里发出干瘪的响声。
有体却无形，有色却无影，
缺乏力量的瘫痪，毫无意义的举动。
穿透死亡的帷幕，
人们目光炯炯，
如果真的还能记得我们，
那我们与堕落暴虐的灵魂不同，
我们徒具人形，
只是败絮其中。
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