Ah! how Sophia,

Can you leave, your lover,

and of hope bereave? 

and of hope be heart.

 

Go, fetch the Indian’s borrow’d plume,

Yet richer far than that you bloom.

Yet richer far than that you leave.

 

I’m but a lodger in your heart,

And more than me,

I fear, have plume.

I fear, have part.

I’m but a lodger in your heart.

 

啊！索菲亞為何，

你怎能離開，你的愛人，

希望被拋棄？

希望成為心。

 

去吧，拿印度借來的羽毛，

比你綻放更豐富。

比你離開的還要豐富。

 

我只是你心中的房客，

而且比我更多，

我害怕，有羽毛。

我擔心的不止是我。 

我只是你心中的房客。