The man in 119 takes his tea alone. 在119名男子把他的茶单。

Mornings we all rise to wireless Verdi cries. 早上大家都导致无线威尔第的呼喊。

I'm hearing opera through the door. 我透过门听到歌剧。

The souls of men and women, impassioned all. 男人和女人的灵魂，慷慨激昂所有。

Their voices climb and fall; battle trumpets call. 他们的声音上升和下降;战斗鼓吹通话。

I fill the bath and climb inside, singing. 我填的是洗澡和爬在里面，唱歌。

   

He will not touch their pastry 他不会碰他们的糕点

but every day they bring him more. 但他们每天带他了。

Gold from the breakfast tray, I steal them all away 从早餐盘黄金，我偷他们全都冲去

and then go and eat them on the shore. 然后去和他们吃饭上了岸。

   

I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand, 我画豺为首的女子在沙滩上，

sing of a lover's fate sealed by jealous hate 唱了情人的命运嫉妒恨密封

then wash my hand in the sea. 然后洗我的手在海边。

With just three days more I'd have just about learned the entire score to Aida. 随着短短三天以上我都只是学到了整个比分阿依达。

   

Holidays must end as you know. 假期必须结束，因为你知道。

All is memory taken home with me: 所有的记忆和我一起带回家：

the opera, the stolen tea, the sand drawing, the verging sea, all years ago. 歌剧，被盗的茶，沙画，在濒临大海，一切年前。