William Henry Davies - The Philosophical Beggar 汉译

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Man lives to fret

For some vain thing

  He cannot get.

 

The cities crave

  Green solitude,

The Country craves

  A multitude.

 

Man lives to want;

  The rich man’s lot

Is to want things

  The poor know not.

 

And no man died

  But must look back

With sorrow on

  His own past track.

 

If beggar has

  No child or wife,

He, of all men,

  Enjoys most life.

 

When rich men loathe

  Their meat and wine,

He thinks dry bread

  And water fine.

 

When Fame’s as sick

  As Failure is,

He shores on straw

  In quiet bliss.