背靠明城,面朝彼岸,细语请求,高声呼唤
倦的穷的,被弃无怜,都送来吧,送这港湾
风雨不停,日夜不倦,只要她在,就有稳安
手持火炬,引人向前,金色大门,大开两扇
多少男女。躲宰避难,多少老少,投明弃暗
并非美丽,让人生念,而是宽容,让人动颜
每次相见,同样震撼,眼里瞬间。心中永远
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"