因为我倾听着你的内心。因此我不能找到自己。
我倾听着，想听到屋里有女人的声音，我心里充满了狂乱的悔恨和凄凉的预感，我终于忍不住出声地叹息着，哭了。
I listened to detect a woman's voice in the house, and filled the interim with wild regrets and dismal anticipations, which, at last, spoke audibly in irrepressible sighing and weeping.
沼泽谷另一边的山峦隐隐约约地把回答传了过来——“你在哪儿？”我倾听着。风在冷杉中低吟着，一切只有荒原的孤独和午夜的沉寂。
The hills beyond Marsh Glen sent the answer faintly back — Where are you? I listened. The wind sighed low in the firs: all was moorland loneliness and midnight hush.
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