Translation 1:
When suddenly, at midnight, you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
as is right for you who proved worthy of this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion, but not
with the whining, the pleas of a coward;
listen—your final delectation—to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.
Translation 2:
If unexpectedly, in middle night,
an unseen company be heard to pass,
with music and with voices exquisite, —
turn not away and uselessly lament
your fortune that is giving in, your work
that came to nothing, the projects of your life
that proved illusory from first to last.
As one prepared long since, as fits the brave,
bid now farewell to the departing city,
farewell to the Alexandria you love.
And above all, do not deceive yourself:
say not that your impression was a dream,
that, it may be, your hearing played you false:
to futile hopes like these never descend.
As one prepared long since, as fits the brave,
as most fits you who gained so great a city,
approach the open window steadily,
and with emotion, but without the plaints
and supplications of the timorous,
listen — knowing it to be your last delight —
listen to the elysian sounds, the exquisite
instruments of the mystic company;
and bid farewell to the city you are losing,
farewell to the Alexandria you love.
