只因每天，我到了路程的终点，
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,
休憩时，耳边就涌来一阵细语：
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,
“你离开你朋友，又加了几里路远！”
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.'
驮我的牲口，也驮着我的苦恼，
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
驮着我这分沉重，累了，走得慢，
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
好像这可怜虫凭着本能，竟知道
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
他主人爱慢，快了要离你更远：
His rider loved not speed, being made from thee.
有时候我火了，用靴刺踢他的腹部，
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,
踢到他流血，也没能催他加快，
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
他只用一声悲哀的叫唤来答复，
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
这叫唤刺我，比靴刺踢他更厉害；
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;
因为他这声叫唤提醒了我的心：
For that same groan doth put this in my mind:
我的前面是忧愁，后面是欢欣。
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.