Do not go gentle into that good night,
　　Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
　　Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
　　Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
　　Because their words had forked no lightning they
　　Do not go gentle into that good night.
　　Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
　　Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
　　Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
　　Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
　　And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
　　Do not go gentle into that good night.
　　Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
　　Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
　　Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
　　And you, my father, there on the sad height,
　　Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
　　Do not go gentle into that good night.
　　Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
不要温顺地走进那个良夜
激情不能被消沉的暮色淹没
咆哮吧、咆哮
痛斥那光的退缩
智者在临终的时候对黑暗妥协
是因为他们的语言也黯然失色
他们也不想被夜色迷惑
咆哮吧、咆哮
痛斥那光的退缩