| i am just a poor boy Though my story's seldom told I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles Such are promises all lies and jest Still, a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest When I left my home and my families I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers In the quiet of the railway station Lie-la-lie..... Asking only workman's wages, I come looking for a job But I get no offers Just a come-on from the whore on Seventh Avenue I do declare There were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there Then I'm laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone, going home Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me Leading me, going home In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of every glove that laid him down or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains Running scared Laying low Seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go Looking for the places only they would know Lie-la-lie..... Lie-la-lie..... | 我只是个穷人的孩子 虽然我的故事很少人提起 我已花费太多心力在应付那些閒言閒语 那些承诺都是一些谎言与玩笑 人们依然是听他想听的 其他的都当作耳边风 当我离开家和家人的时候 我还是个小男孩 溷在一大群的陌生人中 在寂静的火车站中 啦……… 我开始找工作，只求有工人的薪资 却一无所获 只有第七大道的妓女肯留我 我必须承认 当我寂寞难耐的时候 我在那儿得到不少安慰 后来，我开始整理冬天的衣物 盼望自己早已离开，回到家去 故乡不会像纽约的寒冬使我淌血 指引我，往回家的路上 空地上，一位拳击手站立着 一位职业战士 他牢记着每一次教训 每一个将他击倒或使他痛苦哀号的手套痕迹 在愤怒与羞愧中 (他喊着)"我就要离开这裡了！" 然而，战士依然留在那儿…… 我惊惶的奔跑 隐身躲藏 找寻那些衣衫褴褛的人们聚集的角落 找寻只有他们才知道的地方 Lie-la-lie..... Lie-la-lie..... |
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