《英诗经典》笔记II

1830-Emily Dickinson

艾米莉·狄金森（Emily Elizabeth Dickinson，1830 — 1886），像沃特·惠特曼（Walt Whitman，1819 — 1892）一样，在19世纪中叶的美国也是他们那个诗歌时代当之无愧的杰出代表。这位生前默默无闻，成年后终老独身，直到死后才有了大名的女诗人，于1830年12月10日将近午夜出生在美国马萨诸塞州当时还是个小镇的艾默斯特。在她祖父创办的艾默斯特学校受完中等教育而于1847年毕业后，在离家不远的芒特霍利约克女子学院就读不足一年，即告退学；从25岁开始，便很少参与社交活动，几乎是足不逾户，常在家务劳动之余写信、写诗；到1886年5月15日那个明媚的初夏黄昏，由于当时诊断为肾脏疾患的病情恶化在昏迷中离去时，已给人间留下了自成一格、独放异彩、数量可观的篇什。

而在她的有生之年，公开发表过的诗作只有11首，如果再算上1850年2月匿名刊登在《艾默斯特学院院报》上的那首《瓦伦丁节日诗》，也只有12首；其余部分都是她死后30年内，由她妹妹拉维妮亚发现，邀请亲友们整理、结集，陆续出版的。

Awake ye muses nine…

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.
All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,

God hath made nothing single but thee
 in His world so fair!
The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,
Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;
The life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,
Who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree.
The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,
None cannot find who seeketh , on this terrestrial ball;
The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,
And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;
The wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,
And the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.
The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,
The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,
Their spirits meet together, they make them solemn vows,
No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.
The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide,
Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,
And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.
Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,
To bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul:
Thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,
Wilt have no kind companion, thou reap'st what thou hast sown
Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,
And a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?
There's Sarah, and Eliza, and Emelineso fair,
And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair ！
Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see
Six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree;
Approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,
And seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time ！
Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,
And give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower-
And bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum-
And bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!
1850-1894

醒来，九位缪斯……

醒来，九位缪斯，请为我唱神圣的一曲，
请用庄严的藤蔓缠束我这瓦伦丁节情书！
创造世界是为了恋人，姑娘和痴心的情郎，
为了相思，温柔的耳语，合为一体的一双。
在陆地，在海洋，在空中，万物都在求爱，
上帝从不制造孤单，你却独活在他的世界！
一个新娘，一个新郎，两个，成为一对，
亚当，和夏娃结偶，月亮，和太阳匹配。
生活已证明这条箴言，谁听从谁有幸福，
谁不向这君王臣服，将吊死在命运之树。
高的，寻找矮的，伟大的，寻找渺小，
在这美妙的地球，谁寻找，谁能找到。
蜜蜂向花求爱，鲜花接受了他的求婚，
他们举行喜庆仪式，绿叶是祝贺的宾朋。
清风和树枝调情，赢得了树枝的欢心，
舐犊情深的父亲，为儿子向姑娘求亲。
狂风暴雨驰驱于海滨，把哀歌悲声吟唱，
大海波涛，睁大忧郁的眼睛，遥望月亮，
他们的精神与精神相遇，他们庄严盟誓，
他，不再哀声叹息，她，悲伤也告消失。
蛆虫向凡人求婚，死亡要娶活的新娘，
黑夜，嫁给白昼，黎明，和黄昏成双；
大地是个风流小妞，苍天是忠贞的骑士，
大地颇爱卖弄风情，向她求婚未必合适。
箴言，对你也适用，现在就点你的大名，
要对你作一番权衡，同时指引你的灵魂：
你是人间的独奏演员，冷漠而且寂寞，
不会有亲密的伴侣，你这是自食其果。
难道不觉得，寂静的时刻，过分漫长，
哀思的打击沉重，为何哭泣而不歌唱？
这里，莎拉、艾丽莎和艾默琳多么美啊，
还有，哈莉特、苏珊，还有卷头发的她！
你的双眼瞎得可悲，却仍然可以看见
六位真纯、秀丽的姑娘，坐在树干上面；
小心，走到树下，再勇敢，往树上攀，
捉住你心爱的一位，不必介意时间空间！
然后带她到绿林深处，为她把新房建造，
送给她，她要的珠宝、鲜花，或小鸟 ——
带来横笛，敲响小鼓，吹奏起喇叭 ——
向世界问声好，走进那容光焕发的新家！

On this wondrous sea

On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar -
Where the storm is o'er?

In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest -
The anchors fast -
Thither I pilot thee -
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!

1853-1896

在这神奇的海上

在这神奇的海上
默默地启碇扬帆，
嚯，领航，嚯！
你果真知道
没有狂涛怒卷
没有风暴的彼岸？

安详宁静的西方
有许许多多航船 ——
安稳地碇泊休息 ——
我正领你前往 ——
登陆吧！永生！
嚯，终于到岸！

Summer for thee, grant I may be

Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whippoorwill
And Oriole - are done!

For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me -Anemone -
Thy flower - forevermore!

1858-1896

但愿我是，你的夏季

但愿我是，你的夏季，
当夏季的日子插翅飞去！
我依旧是你耳边的音乐，
当夜莺和黄鹂精疲力竭！

为你开花，逃出墓地，
让我的花开得成行成列！
请采撷我吧，秋牡丹 ——
你的花，永远是你的！

If recollecting were forgetting

If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not.
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot.
And if to miss, were merry,
And to mourn, were gay,
How very blithe the fingers
That gathered this, Today!

1858-1896

如果记住就是忘却

如果记住就是忘却
我将不再回忆，
如果忘却就是记住
我多么接近于忘却。
如果相思，是娱乐，
而哀悼，是喜悦，
那些手指何等欢快，今天，
采撷到了这些。

Nobody knows this little Rose

Nobody knows this little Rose -
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it -
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey -
On its breast to lie -
Only a Bird will wonder -
Only a Breeze will sigh -
Ah Little Rose - how easy
For such as thee to die!

1858-1891

没有人认识这朵玫瑰

没有人认识这朵玫瑰 ——
它很可能漂泊流离，
若不是我从路旁拾取，
把它捧起，奉献给你。
仅有一只蜜蜂会思念 ——
仅有一只，蝴蝶 ——
从远方旅行匆匆归来
在它的胸脯，息歇 ——
仅有一只小鸟会惊异 ——
仅有一阵轻风会叹息 ——
像你这样的小玫瑰
凋零，多么容易！

I had a guinea golden

I had a guinea golden -
I lost it in the sand -
And tho' the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land -
Still, had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye -
That when I could not find it -
I sat me down to sigh.

I had a crimson Robin -
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted,
He, too, did fly away -
Time brought me other Robins -
Their ballads were the same -
Still, for my missing Troubadour
I kept the "house at hame."

I had a star in heaven -
One "Pleiad" was its name -
And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same.
And tho' the skies are crowded -
And all the night ashine -
I do not care about it -
Since none of them are mine.

My story has a moral -
I have a missing friend -
"Pleiad" its name, and Robin,
And guinea in the sand.
And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with tear -
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here -
Grant that repentance solemn
May seize upon his mind -
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.

1858-1896

我有一枚金几尼

我有一枚金几尼 ——
被我失落在沙滩上 ——
尽管数额并不大
尽管我还有许多镑 ——
在我节俭的心目中 ——
仍然不能不介意 ——
以至为了找不见 ——
坐在地上长叹息。

我有一只红胸知更鸟 ——
经常整天唱歌曲 ——
森林染得绯红时 ——
他向远方飞了去 ——
时间带来新的知更鸟 ——
他们的新曲似旧曲 ——
我仍为失去的行吟诗人
守在家里不出去。

天上有我一颗星 ——
“普列亚德”是它的名 ——
偶然一时不留意
它的行踪难找寻 ——
天空虽然很拥挤 ——
光辉灿烂彻夜明 ——
我却丝毫不关心 ——
没有一颗是我的星。

我的故事有寓意 ——
有个朋友已失去 ——
“普列亚德”、知更和金几尼 ——
都是些名称，为他取。
当我含着眼泪唱 ——
唱出的这首伤心曲，
传到远方的土地上 ——
和那负心人相遇时
但愿深沉的愧疚
永远纠缠他心底 ——
愿他在这世界上
永不安宁无慰藉。

The morns are meeker than they were

The morns are meeker than they were -
The nuts are getting brown -
The berry's cheek is plumper -
The Rose is out of town.

The Maple wears a gayer scarf -
The field a scarlet gown -
Lest I should be old fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.

1858-1890

晨曦比以往更柔和

晨曦比以往更柔和 ——
毛栗正变为深棕 ——
浆果的脸颊更加丰满 ——
玫瑰已离开小镇 ——

原野穿起鲜红衣衫 ——
枫树披上艳丽的头巾 ——
为了不显得古板
我别了一枚别针。

Through lane it lay - through bramble

Through lane it lay - through bramble -
Through clearing and through wood -
Banditti often passed us
Upon the lonely road.

The wolf came peering curious -
The owl looked puzzled down -
The serpent's satin figure
Glid stealthily along -

The tempests touched our garments -
The lightning's poinards gleamed -
Fierce from the Crag above us
The hungry Vulture screamed -

The satyr's fingers beckoned -
The valley murmured "Come" -
These were the mates -
This was the road
These children fluttered home.

1858-1924

穿过小径，穿过荆棘

穿过小径，穿过荆棘 ——
穿过丛林和林间空地 ——
在寂静的路上，绿林好汉
常在我们身边来去。

鸱枭迷惑不解地俯视 ——
豺狼好奇得目不转睛 ——
蛇的绸缎般身躯
在一旁悄悄滑行 ——

暴风雨触摸我们的衣裳 ——
雷电扬起闪的利剑 ——
饥饿的兀鹰在巉岩
发出凶猛的嘶喊 ——

山林神以手指相召 ——
幽谷传来朦胧的呼唤“回来啊”——
这些就是那些伙伴 ——
这条就是那条路
孩子们急忙回家。

If I should cease to bring a Rose

If I should cease to bring a Rose
Upon a festal day,
'Twill be because beyond the Rose
I have been called away -

If I should cease to take the names
My buds commemorate -
'Twill be because Death's finger
Claps my murmuring lip!

1858-1945

果我不再带玫瑰花来

如果我不再带玫瑰花来
庆贺某个节日，
那将是因为我已被叫回
到了玫瑰那一边。

如果我不再呼唤着名字
纪念未能开放的花蕾
那将是因为死神用手指
挡住了我说话的嘴。

Heart! We will forget him!

Heart! We will forget him!
You and I -tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave -
I will forget the light!

When you have done, pray tell me
That I may straight begin!
Haste! lest while you're lagging
I remember him!

1858-1896

心啊，我们把他忘记！

心啊，我们把他忘记！
我和你 —— 今夜！
你可以忘掉他给的温暖 ——

我要把他的光忘却！
当你忘毕，请给个信息，
好让我立即开始！
快！免得当你迁延
我又把他想起！

Glowing is her Bonnet

Glowing is her Bonnet,
Glowing is her Cheek,
Glowing is her Kirtle,
Yet she cannot speak.

Better as the Daisy
From the Summer hill
Vanish unrecorded
Save by tearful rill -

Save by loving sunrise
Looking for her face.
Save by feet unnumbered
Pausing at the place.

1859-1914

明丽的是她的帽子

明丽的是她的帽子，
明丽的是她的面颊，
明丽的是她的裙子，
她却已不能说话。

最好是像那雏菊，
从夏季的山坡消失，
没有人为她作记录，
除了含泪的小溪 ——

除了多情的朝阳
来寻找她的面影，
除了无数双脚步
在那个地方暂停。

The Bee is not afraid of me

The Bee is not afraid of me.
I know the Butterfly.
The pretty people in the Woods
Receive me cordially -

The Brooks laugh louder when I come -
The Breezes madder play;
Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,
Wherefore, Oh Summer's Day?

1859-1890

蜜蜂对我毫不畏惧

蜜蜂对我毫不畏惧。
我熟识那些蝴蝶。
丛林中美丽的居民
待我都十分亲切 ——

我来时溪流笑声更亮 ——
清风嬉戏更加狂放；
为什么你的白银使我目迷，
哦，夏季的阳光？

Going to Heaven!

Going to Heaven!
I don't know when -
Pray do not ask me how!
Indeed I'm too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to Heaven!
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the Shepherd's arm!

Perhaps you're going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first
Save just a little place for me
Close to the two I lost -
The smallest "Robe" will fit me
And just a bit of "Crown" -
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home -

I'm glad I don't believe it
For it would stop my breath -
And I'd like to look a little more
At such a curious Earth!
I'm glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the mighty Autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.

1859-1891

上天堂去！

上天堂去！
我不知道什么时候 ——
请不要问我为什么！
我确实感到惊讶
想不出怎样回答！
上天堂去！
听起来多么难受！
然而一定会做到
就像羊群在夜晚
一定回到牧羊人的怀抱！

也许你也在前往！
谁知道呢？
如果你先到了
只需给我留一点空地
靠近我那两个失去的 ——
最小的“袍子”就合我的身
有一小顶“冠冕”也就可以 ——
因为你知道，我们回家
对于穿戴，从不介意 ——

我高兴我不相信
因为相信会使我停止呼吸 ——
我还要再看一看
这奇妙的大地！
我高兴他们确实相信
自从那个壮丽的秋季午后
我送他们入土的时辰
我再也没有看见他们。

A science - so the Savants say

A science - so the Savants say,
"Comparative Anatomy" -
By which a single bone -
Is made a secret to unfold
Of some rare tenant of the mold,
Else perished in the stone -

So to the eye prospective led,
This meekest flower of the mead
Upon a winter's day,
Stands representative in gold
Of Rose and Lily, manifold,
And countless Butterfly!

1859-1929

有一门科学，学者叫它

有一门科学，学者叫它 ——
“比较解剖学”——
能使单独一块骸骨
吐露秘密，展现出这大地
某种罕见或已绝迹
已化为岩石的住户。

同样，在眼睛的勘探下
这草地温驯的小花
在冬季的某一天，
是黄金的样本，代表着
数不清的彩蝶
各种玫瑰和睡莲。

A fuzzy fellow, without feet

A fuzzy fellow, without feet,
Yet doth exceeding run!
Of velvet, is his Countenance,
And his Complexion, dun!

Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass!
Sometime, upon a bough,
From which he doth descend in plush
Upon the Passer-by!

All this in summer.
But when winds alarm the Forest Folk,
He taketh Damask
 Residence -
And struts in sewing silk!

Then, finer than a Lady,
Emerges in the spring!
A Feather on each shoulder!
You'd scarce recognize him!

By Men, yclept Caterpillar!
By me! But who am I,
To tell the pretty secret
Of the Butterfly!

1860-1929

一个毛茸茸的家伙，没有腿脚

一个毛茸茸的家伙，没有腿脚
奔走，却胜过寻常步履！
像天鹅绒的，是他的面容，
他的皮肤，暗褐色！

有时，他住在草丛！
有时，攀上高枝，从那里
穿一身长毛绒外衣
跌落上过路行人身体！

这一切，都在夏季，
但是当凉风惊动丛林居民，
他搬进锦缎的宅邸 ——
摇头晃脑，引线牵丝！

然后，比贵妇人更俏丽
出现在阳春时节！
一个肩头一片华羽，
认不出往日形迹！

有人，叫他鳞翅目幼虫!
而我！我算什么，
却道出蝴蝶
有趣的秘密！

I’ll tell you how the Sun rose

I'll tell you how the Sun rose -
A Ribbon at a time -
The Steeples swam in Amethyst -
The news, like Squirrels, ran -
The Hills untied their Bonnets -
The Bobolinks - begun -
Then I said softly to myself -
"That must have been the Sun"!
But how he set - I know not -
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while -
Till when they reached the other side,
A Dominie in Gray -
Put gently up the evening Bars -
And led the flock away -

1860-1890

我告诉你太阳怎样升起

我告诉你太阳怎样升起 ——
升一次，一条缎带 ——
塔尖在紫水晶里泳浴 ——
清新的景色像松鼠奔跑 ——
山峦摘掉她们的帽子 ——
食米鸟，开始鸣唱 ——
于是我轻声自言自语 ——
“那一定就是太阳”！
但我不知他怎样下落 ——
似乎有一道紫色阶梯
穿黄衣的小男小女
不断地向上攀去 ——
直到翻越过边界 ——
一位灰色衣袍神父 ——
轻轻关上黄昏栅门 ——
领走他那些信徒 ——

Poor little Heart!

Poor little Heart!
Did they forget thee?
Then dinna care! Then dinna care!

Proud little Heart!
Did they forsake thee?
Be debonnaire! Be debonnaire!

Frail little Heart!
I would not break thee -
Could'st credit me
 ? Could'st credit me?

Gay little Heart -
Like Morning Glory!
Wind and Sun - wilt thee array!

1860-1896

可怜的小小的心！

可怜的小小的心！
是他们把你忘记？
不必介意！不必介意！

高傲的小小的心！
是他们把你抛弃？
应该欢喜！应该欢喜！

脆弱的小小的心！
我不会伤害你 ——
相信我么？相信我么？

欢快的小小的心 ——
像灿烂的晨曦！
风和太阳会打扮你！

It can’t be “Summer”!

It can't be "Summer"!
That - got through!
It's early - yet - for "Spring"!
There's that long town of White - to cross -
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can't be "Dying"!
It's too Rouge -
The Dead shall go in White -
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!

1861-1891

这不可能是“夏天”！

这不可能是“夏天”！
那个季节，已经过完！
要说是“春季”，却又太早！
还要穿越过一座白色市镇漫长的街道 ——
才能听到乌鸫鸣叫！
这不可能是“死亡”！
它那颜色太艳 ——
死去该着素装 ——
就这样，晚霞用黄宝石手铐
把我的问题锁上！

To die - takes just a little while

To die - takes just a little while -
They say it doesn't hurt -
It's only fainter - by degrees -
And then - it's out of sight -

A darker Ribbon - for a Day -
A Crape upon the Hat -
And then the pretty sunshine comes -
And helps us to forget -

The absent - mystic - creature -
That but for love of us -
Had gone to sleep - that soundest time -
Without the weariness -

1861-1935

死去，只需片刻

死去，只需片刻 ——
据说，并不痛苦 ——
只是逐渐，逐渐昏迷
然后，视力全无 ——

系一天黑色缎带 ——
帽上佩戴服丧标志 ——
然后，美丽的阳光照耀
帮助我们忘记 ——

离去的神秘的那一位 ——
若不是由于我们的爱 ——
已经在睡最香甜的一觉 ——
再不知困倦疲惫 ——

There’s a certain Slant of light

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons -
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes -

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us -
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are -

None may teach it - Any -
'Tis the Seal Despair -
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air -

When it comes, the Landscape listens -
Shadows - hold their breath -
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death -

1861-1890

在冬季的午后

在冬季的午后，
有一种斜射的光 ——
令人压抑，像有
教堂乐声的重量 ——

我们受神圣的伤 ——
痕迹无从寻觅，
心情的变化，
蕴涵着真意

没有人能讲解 ——
这是绝望的印章 ——
庄严的折磨
来自天上 ——

它来时，山水谛听 ——
阴影屏息 ——
它去时，邈不可及，
像遥望死亡的距离 ——

‘Twas just this time, last year, I died

'Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn,
When I was carried by the Farms -
It had the Tassels on -

I thought how yellow it would look -
When Richard went to mill -
And then, I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how Red - Apples wedged
The Stubble's joints between -
And the Carts went stooping round the fields
To take the Pumpkins in -

I wondered which would miss me, least,
And when Thanksgiving, came,
If Father'd multiply the plates -
To make an even Sum -

And would it blur the Christmas glee
My Stocking hang too high
For any Santa Claus to reach
The Altitude of me -

But this sort, grieved myself,
And so, I thought the other way,
How just this time, some perfect year -
Themself, should come to me -

1862-1896

正是去年此时，我死去

正是去年此时，我死去。
我知道，我听见了玉蜀黍，
当我从农场的田野被抬过 ——
玉蜀黍的缨穗已经吐出 ——

我曾想，理查送去碾磨时 ——
那些籽粒该有多么黄 ——
当时，我曾想要钻出去，
是什么压制了我的愿望。

我曾想，在庄稼的残梗间
拥挤的苹果该有多么红 ——
牛车会在田野各处弯下腰
把那些老倭瓜收捡一空 ——

我不知还有谁会思念我，
而当感恩节来临时，父亲
会不会多做几样菜 ——
同样给我分一份 ——

由于我的袜子挂得太高
任何圣诞老人也难够得到 ——
会不会损害
圣诞节的欢快 ——

但是这类想法使我苦恼
于是我改变思路，
某个美好的一年，此时 ——
他们自己，会来相聚 ——

A Bird came down the Walk

A Bird came down the Walk -
He did not know I saw -
He bit an Angleworm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass -
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass -

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all around -
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought -
He stirred his Velvet Head

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home -

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam -
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon
Leap, plashless as they swim.

1862-1891

一只小鸟沿小径走来

一只小鸟沿小径走来 ——
他不知道我在瞧 ——
他把一条蚯蚓啄成两段
再把这家伙生着吃掉，
然后从近旁的草叶上
吞饮下一颗露水珠 ——
又向墙根，侧身一跳
给一只甲虫让路 ——
他用受惊吓的珠子般
滴溜溜转的眼睛 ——
急促地看了看前后左右 ——
像个遇险人，小心
抖了抖他天鹅绒的头。
我给他点面包屑
他却张开翅膀，划动着
飞了回去，轻捷
胜过在海上划桨
银光里不见缝隙 ——
胜过蝴蝶午时从岸边跃起
游泳，却没有浪花溅激。

I cannot dance upon my Toes

I cannot dance upon my Toes -
No Man instructed me -
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge -
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe -
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze -
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences - like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so -

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention - easy - Here -
Nor any Placard boast me -
It's full as Opera -

1862-1929

我不会用脚尖跳舞

我不会用脚尖跳舞 ——
没有人传授我技艺 ——
但是我的内心深处，时常
感到一阵欣喜：

如果我有跳芭蕾的知识 ——
我将到各地去运用
以绝妙的旋舞使舞剧团失色 ——
使杰出的女演员发疯。

纵然我没有华丽的服装 ——
头发上也没有小卷，
不会单足跳向观众，像小鸟
一只脚在半空虚悬，

不会让我在绒球中被举起 ——
在雪白的轮中转动
直到从舞台上消失，满堂轰鸣着
“再来一次”的喝彩声 ——

也没有任何人知道我懂得
我说得轻松的这门技艺 ——
也没有一张海报对我吹捧 ——
仍会像歌剧院，座无虚席。

Do People moulder equally

Do People moulder equally,
They bury, in the Grave?
I do believe a Species
As positively live

As I, who testify it
Deny that I - am dead -
And fill my Lungs, for Witness -
From Tanks - above my Head -

I say to you, said Jesus -
That there be standing here -
A Sort, that shall not taste of Death -
If Jesus was sincere -

I need no further Argue -
The statement of the Lord
Is not a controvertible -
He told me, Death was dead -

1826-1945

埋在坟墓里的人们

埋在坟墓里的人们
是否会同样腐朽？
我却相信有一类
肯定还活着

就像我，我可以作证，
我否认，我已死去 ——
我可以从上边的贮气罐
注满肺叶，作为证据 ——

耶稣说过，我告诉你 ——
有这样一种人 ——
不会尝到死的滋味 ——
如果耶稣真诚 ——

我也就无须论证 ——
救世主的话语
无可争辩 ——
他说过，死亡已经死去 ——

I took one Draught of Life

I took one Draught of Life -
I'll tell you what I paid -
Precisely an existence -
The market price, they said.

They weighed me, Dust by Dust -
They balanced Film with Film,
Then handed me my Being's worth -
A single Dram of Heaven!

1862-1929

我啜饮过生活的芳醇

我啜饮过生活的芳醇 ——
付出了什么，告诉你吧 ——
不多不少，整整一生 ——
他们说，这是市价。

他们称了称我的份量 ——
锱铢必较，毫厘不爽，
然后给了我我的生命所值 ——
一滴，幸福的琼浆！

I found the words to every thought

I found the words to every thought
I ever had - but One -
And that - defies me -
As a Hand did try to chalk the Sun

To Races - nurtured in the Dark -
How would your own - begin?
Can Blaze be shown in Cochineal -
Or Noon - in Mazarin?

1862-1891

我为每一种思想寻找言辞

我为每一种思想寻找言辞
我总能成功，但有一种 ——
就是这种，使我困窘 ——
像要用粉笔描绘烈日当空

对黑暗中成长的，族类 ——
你自己，会怎样行动？
能用胭脂红表示火焰，
或用靛蓝表示午时天空？

I died for Beauty - but was scarce

I died for Beauty - but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room -

He questioned softly "Why I failed"?
"For Beauty", I replied -
"And I - for Truth - Themself are One -
We Bretheren, are", He said -

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night -
We talked between the Rooms -
Until the Moss had reached our lips -
And covered up - our names -

1862-1890

我为美而死，对坟墓

我为美而死，对坟墓
几乎还不适应
一个殉真理的烈士
就成了我的近邻 ——

他轻声问我“为什么倒下？”
我回答他：“为了美”——
他说：“我为真理，真与美 ——
是一体，我们是兄弟”——

就这样，像亲人，黑夜相逢 ——
我们，隔着房间谈心 ——
直到苍苔长上我们的嘴唇 ——
覆盖掉，我们的姓名 ——

Dreams - are well - but Waking’s better

Dreams - are well - but Waking's better,
If One wake at Morn -
If One wake at Midnight - better -
Dreaming - of the Dawn -

Sweeter - the Surmising Robins -
Never gladdened Tree -
Than a Solid Dawn - confronting -
Leading to no Day -

1862-1935

梦，很好，醒来更好

梦，很好，醒来更好 ——
如果，醒在清晨 ——
如果醒在午夜，也好 ——
可以梦想，黎明 ——

歌声婉转的灵巧知更鸟 ——
使树木得到欢欣 ——
也难比它面对永不转化为白天 ——
凝固的，黎明 ——

It feels a shame to be Alive

It feels a shame to be Alive -
When Men so brave - are dead -
One envies the Distinguished Dust -
Permitted - such a Head -

The Stone - that tells defending Whom
This Spartan put away
What little of Him we - possessed
In Pawn for Liberty -

The price is great - Sublimely paid -
Do we deserve - a Thing -
That lives - like Dollars - must be piled
Before we may obtain?

Are we that wait - sufficient worth -
That such Enormous Pearl
As life - dissolved be - for Us -
In Battle's - horrid Bowl?

It may be - a Renown to live -
I think the Men who die -
Those unsustained - Saviors -
Present Divinity -

1862-1929

着，使人感到羞耻

活着，使人感到羞耻 ——
这样勇敢的人已经捐躯 ——
有幸的泥土令人嫉妒 ——
掩埋着这样的头颅 ——

墓碑记述，是为了谁
这位斯巴达勇士战死 ——
为了自由，我们很少具备
他那种高贵的品质 ——

代价高昂，付得庄严 ——
我们是否配有这样一种 ——
必须堆积生命像堆积货币 ——
才可能换取的东西？

我们是否配有这种珍宝 ——
我们曾经等待，当生命
正为了我们，在战争
恐怖的酒杯中，消溶?

我想，那死去的人 ——
活着，也许会享盛名 ——
那些无名的保卫者
却体现着神圣 ——

I went to Heaven

I went to Heaven -
'Twas a small Town -
Lit - with a Ruby -
Lathed - with Down -
Stiller - than the fields
At the full Dew -
Beautiful - as Pictures -
No Man drew.
People - like the Moth -
Of Mechlin - frames -
Duties - of Gossamer -
And Eider - names -
Almost - contented -
I - could be -
'Mong such unique
Society -

1862-1891

我到过天堂

我到过天堂 ——
那是个小镇 ——
用红宝石照明 ——
以羽绒垫衬 ——

比露珠晶莹的田野 ——
更加安静 ——
像图画一样，美丽 ——
不经人手绘画 ——
人民，像飞蛾 ——
框架，梅克林式 ——
税赋，是游丝 ——
由绒鸭，订定 ——
几乎可称，满意 ——
如果，我能 ——
跻身这独一无二的
社会 ——

Ourselves were wed one summer - dear

Ourselves were wed one summer - dear -
Your Vision - was in June -
And when Your little Lifetime failed,
I wearied - too - of mine -

And overtaken in the Dark -
Where You had put me down -
By Some one carrying a Light -
I - too - received the Sign.

'Tis true - Our Futures different lay -
Your Cottage - faced the sun -
While Oceans - and the North must be -
On every side of mine

'Tis true, Your Garden led the Bloom,
For mine - in Frosts - was sown -
And yet, one Summer, we were Queens -
But You - were crowned in June -

1862-1945

我们曾在一个夏季结婚，亲爱的

我们曾在一个夏季结婚，亲爱的 ——
你最美的时刻，在六月 ——
在你短促的寿命结束以后 ——
我对我的，也感到厌倦 ——

在黑夜里被你赶上 ——
你让我躺下 ——
一旁有人手持烛火 ——
我，也接受超度亡魂的祝福。

是的，我们的未来不同 ——
你的茅屋面向太阳 ——
我的四周，必然是 ——
海洋，和北方

是的，你的园花首先开放 ——
而我的，播种在严寒 ——
然而有个夏季我们曾是女王 ——
但是你，在六月加冕 ——

The Day that I was crowned

The Day that I was crowned
Was like the other Days -
Until the Coronation came -
And then - 'twas Otherwise -

As Carbon in the Coal
And Carbon in the Gem
Are One - and yet the former
Were dull for Diadem -

I rose, and all was plain -
But when the Day declined
Myself and It, in Majesty
Were equally - adorned -

The Grace that I - was chose -
To Me - surpassed the Crown
That was the Witness for the Grace -
'Twas even that 'twas Mine -

1862-1935

我戴上王冠的一天

我戴上王冠的一天
日子，一如往常 ——
直到加冕完成 ——
之后，才显得异样 ——

像煤里的碳素
和钻石的一般
煤炭却黢黑无光
不适用于冠冕 ——

我成长，一切平凡 ——
但是当那一天降临
我和它，装扮一新
同样庄严 ——

我被选中的恩宠 ——
对于我，胜过王冠
王冠证明恩宠，甚至
属于我，也只是旁证 ——

A Secret told

A Secret told -
Ceases to be a Secret - then -
A Secret - kept -
That - can appal but One -

Better of it - continual be afraid -
Than it -
And Whom you told it to - beside -

1862-1929

秘密一说出口

秘密一说出口 ——
也就，不再成为秘密 ——
秘密，保守者 ——
只能，使一个人畏惧 ——

最好，继续畏惧 ——
此外 ——
你，对谁说去 ——

That I did always love

That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived - Enough -
That I shall love alway -
I argue thee
That love is life -
And life hath Immortality -
This - dost thou doubt - Sweet -
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary -

1862-1890

我一直在爱

我一直在爱
我可以向你证明
直到我开始爱
我从未活得充分 ——

我将永远爱下去 ——
也可以向你论证
爱就是生命 ——
生命有不朽的特性 ——

如果，亲爱的，
对此也抱怀疑
我便无从举证，
除了，髑髅地 ——[1.耶稣受难处。而耶稣之所以受难，据说，是由于爱，由于太爱世人。]

1840-Thomas Hardy

托马斯·哈代1840年6月出生在英国多塞特郡的一间茅屋里。多塞特郡位于英格兰西南部，是英国最贫困落后的郡县之一，他出生的小村叫上博坎普敦，在郡治多切斯特以东约五公里，村子紧靠着荒野和丛林。哈代一姓曾是名门望族，但在十八世纪已经破落。他父亲是个砖瓦匠领班，小提琴拉得很好，也是教区唱诗班成员，小哈代得以从父亲继承了音乐爱好。到了晚上，父亲用小提琴奏出各种舞曲，小哈代就会合着节拍跳舞。他母亲做过女佣，但她的爱好是读书，喜欢古典文学并颇有文学素养，她是儿子的启蒙教师，培养了他的文学兴趣。而且，在哈代身边就有浓厚的民间文学氛围。从而，他虽生长在偏僻农村，自童年起就得到了文学、音乐的熏陶和周围大自然的滋养。

Going and Staying

I

The moving sun-shapes on the spray,
The sparkles where the brook was flowing,
Pink faces, plightings, moonlit May,
These were the things we wished would stay;
But they were going.

II

Seasons of blankness as of snow,
The silent bleed of a world decaying,
The moan of multitudes in woe,
These were the things we wished would go;
But they were staying.

III

Then we looked closelier at Time,
And saw his ghostly arms revolving
To sweep off woeful things with prime,
Things sinister with things sublime
Alike dissolving.

逝与留

1

水花映照中的变幻日影，
清溪流涌中的闪光晶莹，
红颜、盟誓、五月的月明，
这都是我们切盼长留的事，
偏偏它们易逝。

2

茫茫雪压下的荒芜季节，
腐朽世界的默默流血，
受难群众的呻吟不绝，
我们切盼把这些都打发走，
偏偏它们爱留。

3

待我们对时间观察仔细，
才发现他抡起幽灵之臂，
轮番扫荡悲苦和花季，
把邪恶与崇高一同消除，
他毫不踌躇。

Throwing a Tree

(New Forest)

The two executioners stalk along over the knolls,
Bearing two axes with heavy heads shining and wide,
And a long limp two-handled saw toothed for cutting great boles,
And so they approach the proud tree that bears the death-mark on its side.

Jackets doffed they swing axes and chop away just above ground,
And the chips fly about and lie white on the moss and fallen leaves;
Till a broad deep gash in the bark is hewn all the way round,
And one of them tries to hook upward a rope, which at last he achieves.

The saw then begins, till the top of the tall giant shivers:
The shivers are seen to grow greater each cut than before:
They edge out the saw, tug the rope; but the tree only quivers,
And kneeling and sawing again, they step back to try pulling once more.

Then, lastly, the living mast sways, further sways: with a shout
Job and Ike rush aside. Reached the end of its long staying powers
The tree crashes downward: it shakes all its neighbours throughout,
And two hundred years steady growth has been ended in less than two hours.

伐树

（新森林）

两名刽子手越过山丘悄悄靠近去，
提着沉甸甸亮闪闪的两把大斧，
还有二人拉的一条锋利放树长锯，
趋向那棵壮丽的树（它树身已被加了死亡标注）。

上衣一脱，他们抡斧从矮处下手，
青苔和落叶上飞撒白花花的碎木；
直到树皮砍出一圈宽而深的伤口，
其中一人再费尽周折，用绳和钩把树顶钩住。

然后开始锯，直到巨树树顶战栗，
每拉一锯都增大着战栗的幅度；
他们退锯拉绳，但树颤抖着屹立，
只得重新跪下拉锯，然后退后去再试图拽树。

活的桅杆终于渐渐倾斜：大喊一声，
约伯和艾克逃开。坚韧生命力告终，
大树轰然倒下，四邻震撼摇动，
两百年坚定不移的生长被不到两个小时断送。

1854-Oscar Wilde

1854年10月16日，王尔德出生于爱尔兰的都柏林，父母给他取的名字是奥斯卡·芬戈尔·奥弗拉赫提·威尔斯·王尔德，后因读念和书写太长而被诗人有意简化掉了“芬戈尔”与“奥弗拉赫提”。父亲威廉·王尔德是耳外科和眼科医生，还是一名考古学专家，因为在人口统计方面做出了贡献而被授予爵士称号。他身材高大，仪表堂堂，为人慷慨豪爽，同时也风流多情。母亲珍·弗兰西斯卡·艾尔吉是一位颇有文名的诗人，笔名“斯皮兰萨”，经常在家里举办沙龙，集聚了爱尔兰的一大批文人骚客。父母身上的某些基因也传承给了这位将来的唯美主义信徒。奥斯卡·王尔德是家里的次子，曾经有过一个夭折的妹妹。据说，母亲一直渴望有个女儿，在受到丧女的打击后，就把这一意愿移射到了小儿子的身上，因此，她就刻意给童年的奥斯卡穿漂亮的女装。或许，这一做法也多少培养了诗人对奇装异服的兴趣和潜在的同性恋倾向。

王尔德少年聪慧，20岁不到就精通了法语、德语、拉丁语，曾多次获得学校的奖学金，深受老师们的赏识。在都柏林三一公学求学期间，他曾随同著名的古希腊文化研究者玛哈菲教授游历希腊、意大利等地，对古典艺术的美产生了异常强烈的兴趣。1874年，王尔德得到了一笔古典学科的奖学金，进入牛津大学莫德林学院。这在满足了这位少年的虚荣心的同时，也鼓励了他在艺术道路上继续向前。在牛津期间，他先后选修过艺术评论家罗斯金和佩特的课程。前者被王尔德看做“英国的柏拉图”、“启示真善美的先知”、“一朵把信仰的芬芳散播在天宇之间的紫罗兰”，他本人并不是一个唯美主义者，但早期探究过“美的永恒规律”，呼吁世人以“美”来矫正现实中的“丑”。后者写过《文艺复兴》一书，他在书中认为美是人生唯一的目标，它与伦理思想格格不入。生命必有一死，但艺术可以让生命丰富和扩展，得到“更多的脉搏跳动”，因此，他提倡“为艺术而艺术”。王尔德认为，佩特对其一生的影响殊为深远，正是这位导师给了自己充分的滋养和培植，“他把艺术的最高形式——美的严峻——教给了我”。

Requiescat

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

Avignon

安魂曲

放轻脚步，她就在附近
在雪地下面，
轻点儿声，她能听见
雏菊的生长。

她一头鲜亮的金发
灰暗如一片铁锈，
她曾经那么年轻美丽，
却归于黄土。

她洁白如雪如百合，
却浑然不知道
她已是一个女人，所以
她甜甜地成长。

棺木和沉重的墓石
压着她的胸口，
我心汹涌着孤独的烦恼，
而她已经安息。

安谧，安谧，她不再聆听
竖琴与商籁，
我的一生在此埋葬，
为它筑起一个土堆。

阿维尼翁

La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente

My limbs are wasted with a flame,
My feet are sore with travelling,
For calling on my Lady's name
My lips have now forgot to sing.

O Linnet in the wild-rose brake
Strain for my Love thy melody,
O Lark sing louder for love's sake,
My gentle Lady passeth by.

She is too fair for any man
To see or hold his heart's delight,
Fairer than Queen or courtezan
Or moon-lit water in the night.

Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
(Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
Of autumn corn are not more fair.

Her little lips, more made to kiss
Than to cry bitterly for pain,
Are tremulous as brook-water is,
Or roses after evening rain.

Her neck is like white melilote
Flushing for pleasure of the sun,
The throbbing of the linnet's throat
Is not so sweet to look upon.

As a pomegranate, cut in twain,
White-seeded, is her crimson mouth,
Her cheeks are as the fading stain
Where the peach reddens to the south.

O twining hands! O delicate
White body made for love and pain!
O House of love! O desolate
Pale flower beaten by the rain!

记忆中可爱的女郎

我的翅膀被火焰燎焦，
我的双足因旅行而肿胀，
因为念叨我女郎的芳名，
我的嘴唇已经忘掉歌唱。

哦，野玫瑰丛中的红雀
为我的爱而倾心你的旋律，
哦，云雀为爱的缘由而高歌，
我尊贵的女郎从旁边走过。

她的美啊任何男人都不配，
看了就会把魂儿丢却，
女王和艳妓都不及她的美，
甚至水中的夜月也逊色。

桃金娘的枝叶束起她的长发，
绿叶映衬她的金发正相宜！
绿草在秋日玉米的黄穗间
闪现，也不曾有如此迷人。

她的樱桃小口生来为亲吻，
绝不是为痛苦而哭喊，
翕动如湖面轻漾的涟漪，
又如夜雨击打后的玫瑰。

她的颈项洁白如木樨，
闪现于太阳的光照，
红雀嗓音的律动
看来也没有如此美妙。

红唇轻含洁白的碎玉
仿佛一劈为二的石榴，
她的两颊泛起淡红，
如同向南红透的鲜桃。

哦，一对素手！哦，娇弱的
玉体生而为爱为痛苦！
哦，爱的小屋！哦，多凄凉，
被风雨击打的苍白小花朵！

The Grave of Keats

Rid of the world's injustice, and his pain,
He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue:
Taken from life when life and love were new
The youngest of the martyrs here is lain,
Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain.
No cypress shades his grave, no funeral yew,
But gentle violets weeping with the dew
Weave on his bones an ever-blossoming chain.
O proudest heart that broke for misery!
O sweetest lips since those of Mitylene!
O poet-painter of our English Land!
Thy name was writ in water—it shall stand:
And tears like mine shall keep thy memory green,
As Isabella did her Basil-tree.

Room

济慈墓

摆脱了尘世的不公和自身的痛苦，
他最终安息在上帝的蓝色帏幕下：
在生命与爱初绽的时刻被夺走生命，
殉难的烈士中最年轻者被安放此地，
俊美如塞巴斯蒂安，也如他一般早夭。
没有柏树，也没有紫杉荫蔽墓茔，
却有温良的紫罗兰噙着清露悲咽，
在他的遗骸上编织盛开不谢的花环。
哦，最高傲的心脏为苦难所击碎！
哦，米蒂利尼之后最甜蜜的嘴唇！
哦，我们英语国家里的诗人-画家！
你的名字写在水上——将屹立不倒：
我辈的泪水将使你的遗芳长绿，
恰似伊莎贝拉浇灌心爱的罗勒树。

罗马

Easter Day

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
'Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.'

复活节

银色的号角吹响，越过了教堂的穹顶：
人民心怀敬畏跪拜在大地上：
透过颈项之间的缝隙，我看见，
罗马神圣的教皇，像一尊伟大的天神。
教士的打扮，穿一袭比浪花更白的长袍，
披着王室的红绶带，更像一名国王，
他的头上高耸一顶金色的三重冠：
教皇走回自己的住所，显赫而光鲜。
我的心偷偷地潜回那荒废的大片岁月，
面对在孤独的大海边徘徊的人，
他在徒然地寻找一处安身的场所：
“狐狸有洞穴，小鸟也有巢窝，
我，只有我，必须疲惫地流浪，
我的脚跟有淤青，啜饮泪水泡制的苦酒。”

Vita Nuova

I stood by the unvintageable sea
Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray;
The long red fires of the dying day
Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;
And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:
'Alas!' I cried, 'my life is full of pain,
And who can garner fruit or golden grain,
From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!'
My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw,
Nathless I threw them as my final cast
Into the sea, and waited for the end.
When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw
From the black waters of my tortured past
The argent splendour of white limbs ascend!

新　生

我站立在不能酿酒的海水边，
直到浪花溅湿我的脸和头发；
濒危白昼的红色长火舌
在西天燃烧；海风凄厉地吹奏；
喧闹不已的海鸥向着陆地俯冲：
“唉！”我长叹道，“我的一生充满痛苦，
谁又能从这不停地流转的旷野，
荒芜的旷野收获果实和金色的麦子！”
我的渔网裂口大开，且有许多小洞，
但我仍然将它撒向大海，怀抱
最后的希望，等待最终的结果。
哦，看哪！意外的荣光！我看见
从我往昔苦难的黑色水域
白色胴体的银光正冉冉升起！

To Milton

Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away
From these white cliffs, and high-embattled towers;
This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours
Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,
And the age changed unto a mimic play
Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:
For all our pomp and pageantry and powers
We are but fit to delve the common clay,
Seeing this little isle on which we stand,
This England, this sea-lion of the sea,
By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,
Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land
Which bare a triple empire in her hand
When Cromwell spake the word Democracy!

致弥尔顿

弥尔顿！我想你的精神已经不在，
离开了白色悬崖和森严的高塔；
我们火红的华丽世界看来
已经沦落成尸灰，苍白而沉闷，
时代也演变成了模仿的闹剧，
其中耗费了我们过多的光阴：
为了所有的盛典、壮观和强力，
我们只配去钻研普通的黏土，
看到我们站立的这个小岛，
英格兰，这头海洋的雄狮，
被愚昧的蛊惑家所占据，
他们并不爱她：亲爱的上帝！
当克伦威尔说出“民主”一词，
这片土地曾是三岛联盟的帝国！

Magdalen Walks

The little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.

A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of deep wet grass, and of brown new-furrowed earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.

And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rosebud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.

And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.

See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing a-down the river, a flame of blue!
The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.

莫德林漫步

小小的白云在天空争先恐后地奔走，
田野上点缀着三月金色的花朵，
水仙在脚下绽放嫩芽，飘穗的落叶松
左右摇摆，画眉鸟忙碌地在其间穿梭。

清晨微风的翅膀带来优雅的芳香，
湿草的清冽和新垦地的芬芳，
鸟儿为春天的诞生而歌唱，
在颤动的树木上从这一枝跳到那一枝。

伴随春天的絮语和欢响，树木焕发着生机，
玫瑰的骨朵在野蔷薇的藤蔓上绽放，
番红花的花床仿佛颤动的火月亮，
被一根紫水晶的圆环缠绕。

整齐的松树正在讲述爱情的传奇，
直到发出簌簌的笑声，掀开绿色的斗篷，
一道灿烂的彩虹和鸽子银白的胸脯
照亮了山榆树幽深的凹洞。

你看！云雀从牧场的眠床上飞来，
打破了飘荡的游丝和露水的网格，
沿着小河飞翔，一道蓝色的火焰！
翠鸟飞动如箭矢，给空气致命的一击。

Theocritus: A Villanelle

O Singer of Persephone!
In the dim meadows desolate
Dost thou remember Sicily?

Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where Amaryllis lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!

Simætha calls on Hecate
And hears the wild dogs at the gate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?

Still by the light and laughing sea
Poor Polypheme bemoans his fate:
O Singer of Persephone!

And still in boyish rivalry
Young Daphnis challenges his mate:
Dost thou remember Sicily?

Slim Lacon keeps a goat for thee,
For thee the jocund shepherds wait,
O Singer of Persephone!
Dost thou remember Sicily?

忒奥克利托斯：维拉涅拉

哦，帕尔赛弗涅的歌手！
在幽暗、荒芜的牧场，
你是否还记得西西里？

蜜蜂倏地飞进常春藤，
阿玛丽丝堂皇地躺着，
哦，帕尔赛弗涅的歌手！

西玛萨前来拜访赫卡特，
听到一条野狗在门前狂吠，
你是否还记得西西里？

在明亮和欢笑的海边，
可怜的波吕斐摩为命运痛哭，
哦，帕尔赛弗涅的歌手！

年轻的达弗涅稚气未脱，
执拗地挑战自己的同伴，
你是否还记得西西里？

纤瘦的拉孔为你照管那山羊，
快乐的牧羊者都在期盼你，
哦，帕尔赛弗涅的歌手！
你是否还记得西西里？

Endymion

(For music)

The apple trees are hung with gold,
And birds are loud in Arcady,
The sheep lie bleating in the fold,
The wild goat runs across the wold,
But yesterday his love he told,
I know he will come back to me.
O rising moon! O Lady moon!
Be you my lover's sentinel,
You cannot choose but know him well,
For he is shod with purple shoon,
You cannot choose but know my love,
For he a shepherd's crook doth bear,
And he is soft as any dove,
And brown and curly is his hair.

The turtle now has ceased to call
Upon her crimson-footed groom,
The grey wolf prowls about the stall,
The lily's singing seneschal
Sleeps in the lily-bell, and all
The violet hills are lost in gloom.
O risen moon! O holy moon!
Stand on the top of Helice,
And if my own true love you see,

Ah! if you see the purple shoon,
The hazel crook, the lad's brown hair,
The goat-skin wrapped about his arm,
Tell him that I am waiting where
The rushlight glimmers in the Farm.

The falling dew is cold and chill,
And no bird sings in Arcady,
The little fauns have left the hill,
Even the tired daffodil
Has closed its gilded doors, and still
My lover comes not back to me.
False moon! False moon! O waning moon!
Where is my own true lover gone,
Where are the lips vermilion,
The shepherd's crook, the purple shoon?
Why spread that silver pavilion,
Why wear that veil of drifting mist?
Ah! thou hast young Endymion,
Thou hast the lips that should be kissed!

恩狄弥翁

（配乐）

苹果树挂满金色的苹果，
小鸟在阿尔卡狄亚啼啭，
绵羊躺在栅栏里咩咩叫，
野山羊在旷野里奔跑。
但昨天他已袒露了心迹，
我想他将回到我身边。
哦，初升的月亮！哦，新月女郎！
请你做我情人的保镖，
你别无选择除了你理解他，
因为他的靴子闪着紫光，
你别无选择除了明白我的爱，
因为他手里握着牧羊的钩杖，
因为他温柔像一只鸽子，
他有一头卷曲的棕发。

那斑鸠已经不再呼唤
她红脚丫的新郎，
大灰狼在羊栏周围徘徊，
百合花歌声不断的管家
也已在白色的花丛中安睡，
幽暗笼罩了紫罗兰山冈。
哦，初升的月亮！哦，新月女郎！
请停留在赫利斯山顶，
如果你能看到我真诚的爱，

啊，如果你看到闪烁的紫光，
褐色的牧羊钩杖，少年的棕发，
山羊皮裹着他的手臂，
请你告诉他我正在等待，
在农场，有黯淡的烛光。

滴下的露水寒气逼人，
阿尔卡狄亚没有了鸟鸣，
小牧神也离开了山冈，
甚至那疲惫的水仙花
也阖上镀金的门扉，可是，
唯有我的爱没回到我身边。
撒谎的月亮！撒谎的月亮，哦，苍白的月亮！
我真诚的爱人去向了何方？
那嘴唇的朱红去了何方？
还有牧羊人的钩杖，紫色的靴子？
为什么银色的天穹普洒光芒？
为什么披上薄纱似的雾霭？
啊！你拥有了年轻的恩狄弥翁，
你占有了受我亲吻的嘴唇！

Queen Henrietta Maria

In the lone tent, waiting for victory,
She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain,
Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain:
The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky,
War's ruin, and the wreck of chivalry,
To her proud soul no common fear can bring:
Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King,
Her soul a-flame with passionate ecstasy.
O Hair of Gold! O Crimson Lips! O Face
Made for the luring and the love of man!
With thee I do forget the toil and stress,
The loveless road that knows no resting place,
Time's straitened pulse, the soul's dread weariness,
My freedom and my life republican!

玛利亚王后

站在孤寂的帐篷里，等待胜利，
痛苦的迷雾遮蔽了她的双眼，
像一株百合遭到雨水过度的冲刷：
刀枪铿锵的撞击，鲜血染红的天空，
战争的废墟，骑士精神的衰落
不能给她高傲的灵魂带来惧怕，
她勇敢地等待她的主人，她的君王，
她的灵魂充满激情迷狂的火焰。
哦，金发！哦，红唇！哦，娇容！
天生尤物让男人痴迷和爱恋！
与你在一起，我忘掉劳苦与重压，
忘掉了没有歇脚之处的无爱之路，
时间短促的脉搏，灵魂可怕的倦怠，
我的自由，我共和主义的人生！

Roses and Rue

Ⅰ

I remember we used to meet
By a garden seat,
And you warbled each pretty word
With the air of a bird,
And your voice had a quaver in it
Just like a linnet,
And shook with the last full note
As the thrush's throat.
And your eyes, they were green and grey,
Like an April day,
But lit into amethyst
When I stooped and kissed.
And your hair—well, I never could tie it,
For it ran all riot
Like a tangled sunbeam of gold,
Great fold upon fold.

Ⅱ

You were always afraid of a shower,
(Just like a flower!);
I remember you started and ran
When the rain began.
I remember I never could catch you,
For no one could match you;
You had wonderful luminous fleet
Little wings to your feet.
Yet you somehow would give me the prize,
With a laugh in your eyes,
The rose from your breast, or the bliss
Of a single swift kiss
On your neck with its marble hue,
And its vein of blue—
How these passionate memories bite
In my heart as I write!

Ⅲ

I remember so well the room,
And the lilac bloom
That beat at the dripping pane
In the warm June rain.
And the colour of your gown,
It was amber-brown,
And two yellow satin bows
From the shoulders rose.
And the handkerchief of French lace
Which you held to your face—
Had a tear-drop left a stain?
Or was it the rain?

'You have only wasted your life.'—
(Ah! there was the knife!)
Those were the words you said,
As you turned your head.
I had wasted my boyhood, true,
But it was for you,
You had poets enough on the shelf,
I gave you myself!

Ⅳ

Well, if my heart must break,
Dear Love, for your sake,
It will break in music, I know;
Poets' hearts break so.
But strange that I was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's Heaven and Hell.

玫瑰与芸香

1

我记得我们经常相会
在花园的长椅旁边，
你说出每个可爱的单词，
如同小鸟在空中啼啭，
你的嗓音有一丝震颤，
就像一只蹦跳的红雀，
抖出最后一个圆满的音符，
恰似画眉鸟的歌喉。
你的美眸灰中带绿，
像明媚的四月天，
当我俯身给它们一吻，
却闪烁着紫晶的微光。
你的秀发，我也从不曾编结，
它们总在放肆奔跑，
仿佛相互纠缠的太阳光，
一层又一层地叠加。

2

你总是害怕抛头露面，
（羞涩如一朵鲜花！）；
我记得某次雨水降临，
你撒开脚丫就跑。
我记得我总撵不上你，
没人能是你的对手；
你敏捷如同电光一闪，
双脚长着一对小翅膀。
有时你也给我一点奖励，
美眸荡漾着笑意，
胸佩一朵玫瑰，或者飞速
递过至福的亲吻。
你的颈项有大理石的光泽，
隐现蓝色的静脉——
当我书写的时候，我的心
忍受着激情的回忆噬咬。

3

我清楚地记得那房间，
盛开的紫丁香，
伴随六月温暖的雨水
轻轻扑打着小窗。
还有你长裙的颜色，
是深棕的琥珀色，
两个小小的真丝蝴蝶结，
你香肩上的一朵玫瑰。
还有法兰西风格的手帕，
经常依偎你的香腮——
是否留下一滴泪痕？
抑或是一个雨点？
“你只是在浪费自己的生命，”——
（哦！这可真是一把刀子！）
这是你说出的一句话，
当你转过你的身子。
我已浪费我少年的时光，诚然，
那是为你的缘故，
你的书架摆放着许多诗人，
我还是要把自己呈献！

4

好吧，倘若我的心脏必须破碎，
我的亲亲，让它为你而碎，
它将在音乐中消融，我明白；
诗人的心脏也是如此破碎。
但奇怪的是没有人告诉过我，
人的头脑只用一个
细小的牙雕，就容纳了
上帝的天堂和地狱。

In the Gold Room: A Harmony

Her ivory hands on the ivory keys
Strayed in a fitful fantasy,
Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees
Rustle their pale-leaves listlessly,
Or the drifting foam of a restless sea
When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze.

Her gold hair fell on the wall of gold
Like the delicate gossamer tangles spun
On the burnished disk of the marigold,
Or the sun-flower turning to meet the sun
When the gloom of the dark blue night is done,
And the spear of the lily is aureoled.

And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine
Burned like the ruby fire set
In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine,
Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate,
Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet
With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.

金屋（和声）

她一双象牙小手轻按象牙的琴键，
徘徊于一阵阵的幻想，
仿佛银光一闪，正当白杨树
慵懒地摆动淡白的树叶；
又如永恒大海扬起的飞沫，
而波浪在飞翔的微风中露出牙齿。

她的金发披散在金色的墙壁，
仿佛一线线柔嫩的游丝
纠结、缠绕铮亮的圆形金盏花，
又如向日葵转身去会晤太阳，
正当幽蓝之夜的愁雾已经消散，
而百合的花尖闪现着光晕。

她甜蜜的红唇紧贴我的双唇，
灼烫仿佛红宝石燃烧
在深红的神龛里，灯光闪烁；
又如石榴滴血的伤口，
或者像一颗透湿的睡莲心
被漫溢的玫瑰红酒浆所浸泡。

Under the Balcony

O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south!
And light for my love her way,
Lest her little feet should stray
On the windy hill and the wold!
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!

O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
Put in, put in, to the port to me!
For my love and I would go
To the land where the daffodils blow
In the heart of a violet dale!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!

O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!
Sing on, sing on, from your soft brown throat!
And my love in her little bed
Will listen, and lift her head
From the pillow, and come my way!
O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!

O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!
Come down, come down, for my love to wear!
You will die on her head in a crown,
You will die in a fold of her gown,
To her little light heart you will go!
O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!

露台下

哦，美丽的星星有一张鲜红的嘴！
哦，月亮有一对金眉毛！
升起，升起，从芬芳的南方升起来！
为我的爱照亮她的路，
免得她的秀足误入迷途，
踏进狂风大作的荒郊野岭！
哦，美丽的星星有一张鲜红的嘴！
哦，月亮有一对金眉毛！

哦，寂寥的大海上颠簸的船儿！
哦，鼓起湿漉漉白帆的船儿！
向前，向前，快驶进我的港口！
为我的爱我将离开，
去到陆地看水仙花开
在紫罗兰山谷的心脏！
哦，寂寥的大海上颠簸的船儿！

哦，鼓起湿漉漉白帆的船儿！
哦，快乐的小鸟低沉而甜蜜地歌唱！
哦，栖停在枝头的小鸟！
歌唱，歌唱，发自你褐色的柔软喉管！
我的爱躺在她的小床上，
从眠枕上抬起头来，
聆听你的歌声，走到我身旁！
哦，快乐的小鸟低沉而甜蜜地歌唱！
哦，栖停在枝头的小鸟！

哦，在颤动空气里高悬的花朵！
哦，有着白雪嘴唇的花朵！
下来，下来，为我的爱做花衣！
你将变作花冠凋谢在她额头，
你将消殒在她长裙的褶皱，
你将进入她晶亮的小小的心！
哦，在颤动空气里高悬的花朵！
哦，有着白雪嘴唇的花朵！

1859-A. E. Housman

阿尔佛莱德·爱德华·豪斯曼（Alfred Edward Housman），英国现代最伟大的古典学者之一和杰出的诗人，于一八五九年出生于英国渥斯特郡。父亲爱德华·豪斯曼在伍彻斯特从事律师业务。外祖父威廉斯是当地的教区长，研究古典文学，也喜欢写诗。母亲沙拉·简也有诗才。豪斯曼对古希腊、拉丁文和对诗歌的爱好，好像都来自母系。

A Shropshire Lad　

I 1887

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.

Look left, look right, the hills are bright,
The dales are light between,
Because 'tis fifty years to-night
That God has saved the Queen.

Now, when the flame they watch not towers
About the soil they trod,
Lads, we'll remember friends of ours
Who shared the work with God.

To skies that knit their heartstrings right,
To fields that bred them brave,
The saviours come not home to-night:
Themselves they could not save.

It dawns in Asia, tombstones show
And Shropshire names are read;
And the Nile spills his overflow
Beside the Severn's dead.

We pledge in peace by farm and town
The Queen they served in war,
And fire the beacons up and down
The land they perished for.

'God save the Queen' we living sing,
From height to height 'tis heard;
And with the rest your voices ring,
Lads of the Fifty-third.

Oh, God will save her, fear you not:
Be you the men you've been,
Get you the sons your fathers got,
And God will save the Queen.

一　一八八七

克里山烽火一直烧到天，
各郡县望见如在眼前；
从南面，从北面，打回来信号，
烽火这就烧得更热闹。

向左看，向右瞧，群山如烛，
火光照彻了中间的山谷，
都只因五十年前的今夕
上帝保佑我女王登极。

今天他们步履的乡土
耸起了他们不见的火树，
孩子们，我们的心里要长有
那些与上帝分忧的朋友。

家乡天养他们胸中的正气，
家乡地养他们勇敢坚毅，
那些保驾人今夜不归来：
他们没法子拯救下自己。

东方天亮了，墓碑上显示
西罗普郡死者的姓氏；
尼罗河也将它新泛泼出，
傍着塞汶河死者的英骨。

他们在战场效忠的女王
乡镇在太平时齐祝她健康，
更高高下下把烽火点燃
他们舍身来保卫的乡县。

“上帝保佑女王”我们生者唱，
从山头到山头歌声嘹亮。
而你们五十三团的少年
歌喉跟余下人也响成一片。

啊，上帝会保佑她，不用愁：
像你们过去那样子做人，
生几个你父亲生下的孩子，
上帝将保佑女王一辈子。

II

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

二

樱桃树树中最娇，
日来正花压枝条，
林地内驰道夹立，
佳节近素衣似雪。

姑许我七十可俟，
二十岁已不再至，
七十春除去二十，
我仅有五十能得。

若依人赏花情致，
五十春殊不够事，
我其去林中走走，
看樱树垂垂雪厚。

III　THE RECRUIT

Leave your home behind, lad,
And reach your friends your hand,
And go, and luck go with you
While Ludlow tower shall stand.

Oh, come you home of Sunday
When Ludlow streets are still
And Ludlow bells are calling
To farm and lane and mill,

Or come you home of Monday
When Ludlow market hums
And Ludlow chimes are playing
'The conquering hero comes',

Come you home a hero,
Or come not home at all,
The lads you leave will mind you
Till Ludlow tower shall fall.

And you will list the bugle
That blows in lands of morn,
And make the foes of England
Be sorry you were born.

And you till trump of doomsday
On lands of morn may lie,
And make the hearts of comrades
Be heavy where you die.

Leave your home behind you,
Your friends by field and town:
Oh, town and field will mind you
Till Ludlow tower is down.

三　新兵

孩子，家丢在后面，
把手挽起你友人，
去吧，运气随你去，
只要禄如塔长存。

回家时赶个星期日，
禄如镇街道正寂寂，
禄如镇钟声正召唤，
向农场，磨坊，和巷陌。

回家时赶个星期一，
禄如镇市集正热闹，
禄如镇圣乐在飘奏：
“得胜的英雄来到。”

回家来做一个英雄，
不然就永不回家，
你丢下的孩子们会想念你，
想你到禄如塔塌下。

你将注听着笳声
在晨曦之国土上吹起，
要使英格兰的敌人
都抱怨天不该生你。

你将俟末日的号角
在晨曦之国土上躺着；
你将使同伴的心肠
经过时为你而怆楚。

丢在你后面，你的家，
你乡下和镇上的朋友；
镇上和乡下啊会想念你，
想你到禄如塔没有。

IV　REVEILLE

Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.

Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.

Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
'Who'll beyond the hills away?'

Towns and countries woo together,
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.

Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.

四　起身号

醒醒：银灰的暝色回来了，
漫上茫茫黑暗的海边；
朝日的船舶通红地烧着，
远远搁浅在东方边缘。

醒醒：穹窿的楼顶踏破了，
废基上堆起碎影重重；
夜天的营幕裂成片片，
倒在大地上散乱纵横。

起来，孩子，再不能睡了：
你听清晨的鼓声在奏；
听呀，空荡的大道叫唤着
“赶往山外的有哪一个？”

乡间和镇上一齐在敦促，
前方起烽火，钟楼正召集；
从来脚穿皮靴的男儿
在世上没有能享受一切。

起来，孩子，肌肉尽盘据
阳光的稿荐，决不会荣茂；
早晨赖床，白天里酣睡，
不是活的人份内所应做。

泥土不动，但血液是游子；
呼吸是用不了多久的炉灶。
起来，孩子，待旅程完毕时
你尽有时间睡你的觉。

V

Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers
Are lying in field and lane,
With dandelions to tell the hours
That never are told again.

Oh may I squire you round the meads
And pick you posies gay?
—'Twill do no harm to take my arm.
'You may, young man, you may.'

Ah, spring was sent for lass and lad,
'Tis now the blood runs gold,
And man and maid had best be glad
Before the world is old.

What flowers to-day may flower to-morrow,
But never as good as new.
—Suppose I wound my arm right round—
''Tis true, young man, 'tis true.'

Some lads there are, 'tis shame to say,
That only court to thieve,
And once they bear the bloom away
'Tis little enough they leave.

Then keep your heart for men like me
And safe from trustless chaps.
My love is true and all for you.
'Perhaps, young man, perhaps.'

Oh, look in my eyes then, can you doubt?
—Why, 'tis a mile from town.
How green the grass is all about!
We might as well sit down.

—Ah, life, what is it but a flower?
Why must true lovers sigh?
Be kind, have pity, my own, my pretty,—
'Good-bye, young man, good-bye.'

五

你看处处篱径和田塍
毛茛花开得多密，
中有蒲公英点缀良辰，
并告人良辰易逸。

我陪你草场那边转转，
给你扎几束野色。
——挽着我手臂走吧，不碍事。
“使得，小伙子，使得。”

啊，春天原属于少年男女，
生命现在是金流，
人们最好及时找乐趣，
莫等到世界白头。

今天的花明天也许开，
不过总不及新的。
——我这样把手兜过来好否——
“真的，小伙子，真的。”

有些男子，说起来顶丑，
殷勤只为了揩油，
他们一朝把鲜花载走，
什么情分也不留。

所以择人要择我这样，
靠不住的鬼别取。
我的心最真，只爱你一人。
“也许，小伙子，也许。”

你不信时看看我眼睛。
——怎么，离城已一里！
这儿一带草色多青青！
何不就地上坐起。

——唉，人生是什么？一朵花，
多情人何必叹气。
可怜，慈悲些，心肝，美人儿——
“再会，小伙子，再会。”

VI

When the lad for longing sighs,
Mute and dull of cheer and pale,
If at death's own door he lies,
Maiden, you can heal his ail.

Lovers' ills are all to buy:
The wan look, the hollow tone,
The hung head, the sunken eye,
You can have them for your own.

Buy them, buy them: eve and morn
Lovers' ills are all to sell.
Then you can lie down forlorn;
But the lover will be well.

六

每当小伙子为心事嗟叹，
没精打采，苍白而寡言，
姑娘，你能够治愈他病患，
纵使他倒在死神的门前。

爱人的不幸全找你买，
他深陷的眼睛和低垂的头，
抑郁的声调，憔悴的容彩，
这些你都可据为己有。

买他的，买他的，日日与夜夜
爱人的不幸全要找你卖，
那时你躺下没有人理会，
但你那爱人将霍然病瘥。

VII

When smoke stood up from Ludlow,
And mist blew off from Teme,
And blithe afield to ploughing
Against the morning beam
I strode beside my team,

The blackbird in the coppice
Looked out to see me stride,
And hearkened as I whistled
The trampling team beside,
And fluted and replied:

'Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
What use to rise and rise?
Rise man a thousand mornings
Yet down at last he lies,
And then the man is wise.'

I heard the tune he sang me,
And spied his yellow bill;
I picked a stone and aimed it
And threw it with a will:
Then the bird was still.

Then my soul within me
Took up the blackbird's strain,
And still beside the horses
Along the dewy lane
It sang the song again:

'Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
The sun moves always west;
The road one treads to labour
Will lead one home to rest,
And that will be the best.'

七

禄如镇晨烟升起，
姆河夜霭吹扬，
我欣欣下田去耕种，
迎着前面的朝阳，
走在我牲畜一旁。

矮树丛中一山鸟
伸出头望了我一下，
它听见我吹着口哨，
赶着身旁的耕马，
就鼓起歌儿回答：

“躺下吧，躺下吧，种田人，
何事起来又起来？
人起来千百个早晨，
终久是倒在尘埃，
那时才彻悟过来。”

我听见它唱给我的歌，
举目瞥见它黄嘴，
我拾起颗石子对准它
狠狠地一下掷去，
它于是再不言语。

于是乎接着那鸟儿
唱起我体内的灵魂，
它静静随着我耕马，
沿着露水的田塍，
发出同样的歌声：

“躺下吧，躺下吧，种田人，
红日是永远西颓，
人辛苦走的一条路
将引人回家去安睡，
那是顶好的好事。”

VIII

'Farewell to barn and stack and tree,
Farewell to Severn shore.
Terence, look your last at me,
For I come home no more.

'The sun burns on the half-mown hill,
By now the blood is dried;
And Maurice amongst the hay lies still
And my knife is in his side.

'My mother thinks us long away;
'Tis time the field were mown.
She had two sons at rising day,
To-night she'll be alone.

'And here's a bloody hand to shake,
And oh, man, here's good-bye;
We'll sweat no more on scythe and rake,
My bloody hands and I.

'I wish you strength to bring you pride,
And a love to keep you clean,
And I wish you luck, come Lammastide,
At racing on the green.

'Long for me the rick will wait,
And long will wait the fold,
And long will stand the empty plate,
And dinner will be cold.'

八

“再会了，仓廒，禾堆，和丛树，
再会了，塞汶河涯。
泰伦司，来看我最后一眼，
因为我再不还家。

“落日照上半刈的山野，
现在是鲜血已干；
莫理司静静躺在稻草里，
我的刀插在他腰间。

“我母亲当作我们早走了，
算来田亩已割过。
她早晨起来有两个儿子。
今晚将剩她一个。

“这一只血手你来握一下，
唉，汉子，这下是分手；
我们将不再挥汗把镰锄，
我和我这双血手。

“我愿你有骨气使得你自负，
有爱侣，不沾花惹草，
我愿你秋天拉磨节到来
赛马场上运气好。

“禾堆将把我久久等待，
等待久久的是羊栏，
桌上的空盘将久久搁着，
冷掉的将是晚餐。”

IX

On moonlit heath and lonesome bank
The sheep beside me graze;
And yon the gallows used to clank
Fast by the four cross ways.

A careless shepherd once would keep
The flocks by moonlight there,
And high amongst the glimmering sheep
The dead man stood on air.

They hang us now in Shrewsbury jail:
The whistles blow forlorn,
And trains all night groan on the rail
To men that die at morn.

There sleeps in Shrewsbury jail to-night,
Or wakes, as may betide,
A better lad, if things went right,
Than most that sleep outside.

And naked to the hangman's noose
The morning clocks will ring
A neck God made for other use
Than strangling in a string.

And sharp the link of life will snap,
And dead on air will stand
Heels that held up as straight a chap
As treads upon the land.

So here I'll watch the night and wait
To see the morning shine,
When he will hear the stroke of eight
And not the stroke of nine;

And wish my friend as sound a sleep
As lads' I did not know,
That shepherded the moonlit sheep
A hundred years ago.

九

明月照荒野和清冷的河岸，
羊群傍着我啮草；
往日在十字路口那边
绞架常铛锒锒吵。

从前常有个无忧虑的牧童
在那边月下牧羊 ，
羊群掩映，半空的死人
高立在羊群之上。

现在绞人在西鲁堡
监狱里，
那一早要死的人
彻夜听火车在铁轨上呻唤，
和汽笛绝望的悲鸣。

今晚上睡在西鲁堡狱内，
——或者在睁着眼睛——
有个孩子，假如运气好，
要比多数人都行。

待晨钟催动，绞手的圈结
就要套上他脖子，
叹上帝创造它原有别用，
并不是给绳子勒死。

生命的锁链这一下就啮断，
而脚跟将僵立空际，
而它走在地上时所支载的
也是个正直的汉子。

因此，我要在这儿守过夜，
等着见透出黎明，
那时候他将听钟敲八下，
可不及钟报九声；

再祝我朋友沉沉睡去，
就像在百年以前
那个与我从不相识的
月光下牧羊的少年。

X　MARCH

The Sun at noon to higher air,
Unharnessing the silver Pair
That late before his chariot swam,
Rides on the gold wool of the Ram.

So braver notes the storm-cock sings
To start the rusted wheel of things,
And brutes in field and brutes in pen
Leap that the world goes round again.

The boys are up the woods with day
To fetch the daffodils away,
And home at noonday from the hills
They bring no dearth of daffodils.

Afield for palms the girls repair,
And sure enough the palms are there,
And each will find by hedge or pond
Her waving silver-tufted wand.

In farm and field through all the shire
The eye beholds the heart's desire;
Ah, let not only mine be vain,
For lovers should be loved again.

十　三月

太阳新近解下双白骢，
那在它车前游泳的银龙，
跨上羚羊金澄的羊毛，
中午时向天空升得更高。

画眉鸟唱出更美的歌声，
来推动万物生锈的机轮，
田中的兽跳，栏中的兽蹦，
跳蹦使世界重新又转动。

男孩子一早就赶进林薮，
去把林中的黄水仙载走，
到了午饭时从山中返家，
他们采回来大捧水仙花。

女孩子郊外去寻找锦标 ，
郊外的锦标果然有不少，
每人都会在篱边池旁
找到她摇荡的银球仙杖。

走遍全郡的陇间陌头，
眼前所见是衷心所求；
啊，可莫让我的心儿白费，
因为有情人应重新获爱。

XI

On your midnight pallet lying,
Listen, and undo the door:
Lads that waste the light in sighing
In the dark should sigh no more;
Night should ease a lover's sorrow;
Therefore, since I go to-morrow,
Pity me before.

In the land to which I travel,
The far dwelling, let me say—
Once, if here the couch is gravel,
In a kinder bed I lay,
And the breast the darnel smothers
Rested once upon another's
When it was not clay.

十一

你，在你子夜的草荐上躺起，
听我一言，把门打开：
年轻人把白天耗在叹息里，
黑暗里面该不再叹嗟；
夜应当减轻情人的烦忧，
所以既然我明朝去休，
现在可怜我一些。

在我此去行旅的乡土，
毋妨说，那遥远的居宅——
如果这里是沙砾的床铺，
更好的床我从前也睡来，
而且这蓬蒿堵塞的胸口
和另一个人的也曾经偎搂，
当它还未委尘埃。

XII

When I watch the living meet,
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,

If the heats of hate and lust
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust
Where my sojourn shall be long.

In the nation that is not
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
And the hater hates no more;

Lovers lying two and two
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the bridegroom all night through
Never turns him to the bride.

十二

当我看见生的人聚集，
或者在街上作须臾逗留，
看见一队队走动的行列
热热嘘嘘地穿过街头，

我就想：仇恨与情欲的毒热
在肉的行舍里若这样猖獗，
让我记取那泥土的住宅，
那里我将有长期的安歇。

在那什么没有的国度里，
一切存在的都不复存在；
那里冤仇全被人忘记，
怨恨者胸中也更无蒂芥；

爱人们躺着一对一对，
也不问是谁睡在身旁，
做新郎官的酣眠竟夜，
永不翻身向他的新娘。

XIII

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
'Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.'
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
'The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
'Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.'
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.

十三

那时我二十一岁，
有个聪明人对我说道：
“送人钱，金镑，和几尼，
但莫把你心儿送掉；
送人以明珠和红玉，
但善保你情意的自由。”
但我才二十一岁，
同我可没有说头。

那时我二十一岁，
我还听见他谈论：
“人的一颗心从不会
白白掏出来奉赠，
要换你许多的叹息，
再买你无穷的戚戚。”
如今我二十二岁，
唉，这话是的确，的确。

XIV

There pass the careless people
That call their souls their own:
Here by the road I loiter,
How idle and alone.

Ah, past the plunge of plummet,
In seas I cannot sound,
My heart and soul and senses,
World without end, are drowned.

His folly has not fellow
Beneath the blue of day
That gives to man or woman
His heart and soul away.

There flowers no balm to sain him
From east of earth to west
That's lost for everlasting
The heart out of his breast.

Here by the labouring highway
With empty hands I stroll:
Sea-deep, till doomsday morning,
Lie lost my heart and soul.

十四

那些人快乐地走过，
自命其灵魂为己有：
我这里落寞而无聊，
独自在大道旁行走。

啊，远在铅锤不到处
人莫能测的海底，
我的心，灵魂，与神智，
永世里再不能升起。

人把他的心和灵魂
去送给男人或女人，
在白日和青空下面
其愚蠢诚没有比伦。

从地球东头到西头，
他的病没药草能愈，
如果从他的胸臆间
永远把心儿失去。

这里在劳碌的大道旁
我两手空空地游荡：
海样深，失落掉心和魂，
要捱到末日的天亮。

XV

Look not in my eyes, for fear
They mirror true the sight I see,
And there you find your face too clear
And love it and be lost like me.
One the long nights through must lie
Spent in star-defeated sighs,
But why should you as well as I
Perish? gaze not in my eyes.

A Grecian lad, as I hear tell,
One that many loved in vain,
Looked into a forest well
And never looked away again.
There, when the turf in springtime flowers,
With downward eye and gazes sad,
Stands amid the glancing showers
A jonquil, not a Grecian lad.

十五

莫盯着我的眼睛瞧，也许
它真个照出我看到的事，
而你瞧见你脸儿太清楚，
爱上了，也如我一样失志。
那要人躺过多少长夜，
自叹命蹇而骨立形销；
但是为什么定要你与我
同尽？莫盯着我的眼睛瞧。

我听说，有个希腊的少年
对多人的爱都不曾置意，
去窥视林中的一泓清泉，
从此就没有再掉首他视。
当春时林中的草泥发花，
眼儿向下，在忧郁地凝眸，
溜雨中孤立一株水仙葩，
希腊的少年已无处寻求。

XVI

It nods and curtseys and recovers
When the wind blows above,
The nettle on the graves of lovers
That hanged themselves for love.
The nettle nods, the wind blows over,
The man, he does not move,
The lover of the grave, the lover
That hanged himself for love.

十六

荨麻点头，欠身，又立起，
当风从上面吹过，
那情人冢上的荨麻，那埋着
自己缢死者的情冢。
风吹过，荨麻点一下头，
那汉子一点儿不动，
那对冢墓有情的、为爱情
而缢死自己的情人。

XVII

Twice a week the winter thorough
Here stood I to keep the goal:
Football then was fighting sorrow
For the young man's soul.

Now in Maytime to the wicket
Out I march with bat and pad:
See the son of grief at cricket
Trying to be glad.

Try I will; no harm in trying:
Wonder 'tis how little mirth
Keeps the bones of man from lying
On the bed of earth.

十七

一礼拜两次整个的冬季，
我都站在这儿守门，
足球曾替人抵御过愁思，
替我这年轻人的灵魂。

现在五月天我又赶出来，
垫子一个，球棒一柄，
看哪，愁人儿又打板球来，
三柱门前装着高兴。

装装就装装，装装没害处，
不懂有多大乐趣，
这样拿人的骨头硬竖着
不躺进泥土里去。

XVIII

Oh, when I was in love with you,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well did I behave.

And now the fancy passes by,
And nothing will remain,
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself again.

十八

那时候我的心头有你在，
我又勇敢，又不胡搞，
远近一带子越来越奇怪
我变得多么肯学好。

如今呢，那片痴心全抛却，
什么劲我也没有了，
远近一带子他们会说我
可不和我原来一样了。

XIX　TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.

十九　给一个夭逝的运动家

你替镇上跑赢的那一次
我们抬起你穿过闹市，
大人和小孩站一旁叫好，
回家时我们举你有肩高。

今天跑手们群集于路歧，
归去也，我们抬你与肩齐，
抬你抬到你家门口放稳，
你家在一个更清静的乡镇。

机伶的孩子，正是在时候
从荣华不久留的田野溜走，
这里月桂树虽说长得早，
它比玫瑰花更快地枯槁。

眼睛为昏暗的长夜所蒙
将看不见自己的记录断送，
阒寂也未必比欢呼难受
在泥土堵塞了两耳之后。

现在你不会加进那一群
磨穿了已往光荣的年轻人，
被声望抛落在后面的跑手，
姓氏先死去了，人还没有。

所以趁足音未消逝以前，
快腿先踏上幽冥的深槛，
并且高擎在低矮的门楣
那仍旧被你保持的优胜杯。

环绕你早加上月桂的头颅，
无力的亡魂将群来瞻睹，
那留在卷发上不谢的花冠
生命比小女儿编的还短。

XX

Oh fair enough are sky and plain,
But I know fairer far:
Those are as beautiful again
That in the water are;

The pools and rivers wash so clean
The trees and clouds and air,
The like on earth was never seen,
And oh that I were there.

These are the thoughts I often think
As I stand gazing down
In act upon the cressy brink
To strip and dive and drown;

But in the golden-sanded brooks
And azure meres I spy
A silly lad that longs and looks
And wishes he were I.

二十

啊，天空和原野虽说够美的，
我知道有更美的在：
那些是浸在春水里的
加倍美丽的世界。

那些树木，白云，和浮空，
被河沼洗得多洁净，
在陆地上面从不见攸同，
在我看真是仙境。

每当我伫立在水边往下望，
我常打这样的主意，
那就是剥掉身上的衣裳，
踊身跳下去淹逝。

但同时我窥见蔚蓝的湖底
和金沙澄澄的溪河，
有个蠢孩子正殷切注视，
也愿意他能够是我。

XXI　BREDON HILL

In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.

Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.

The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.'
But here my love would stay.

And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.'

But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strown,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.

They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.

The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,'—
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.

二十一　百里顿山

百里顿山头跨两郡，
夏日里钟声送清听，
山下面两边响一片，
从远处钟楼到近，
那声音真够人高兴。

我的爱和我星期天
常一早来这里闲躺，
眺望那染色的郡县，
听周围云雀儿歌唱，
高高的在我们头上。

好钟儿会向她一直敲，
敲从那遥远的山外，
“大家善男女来祈祷，
善男女大家来礼拜。”
她才肯去呢，我的爱！

于是我转身来答话，
高卧着芊芊的芳草，
“等我们好日子再敲吧，
替我们敲一个热闹，
那时候礼拜堂准到。”

可待到圣诞节雪花儿
在百里顿山头堆絮，
我的爱一早就起来，
偷偷的不同人言语，
一个子到礼拜堂去。

他们把钟儿敲一面，
新郎官!新郎官不在；
送丧的送到礼拜堂，
她就此进去，我的爱；
也不肯等候我一块。

百里顿山头钟又动，
远近的钟楼仍闹，
“大家善男女来祈祷，”——
吵死人的钟儿，死掉，
我听见你了，我就到。

XXII

The street sounds to the soldiers' tread,
And out we troop to see:
A single redcoat turns his head,
He turns and looks at me.

My man, from sky to sky's so far,
We never crossed before;
Such leagues apart the world's ends are,
We're like to meet no more;

What thoughts at heart have you and I
We cannot stop to tell;
But dead or living, drunk or dry,
Soldier, I wish you well.

二十二

街上响起整齐的步伐，
我们都拥出道旁，
一个红袍兵掉转头来，
掉转头把我望望。

汉子，我们从没有碰过，
天同天是那样远；
地同地又隔这么多路，
我们不像能再会面；

你我心头想的些什么，
哪里能立下说了；
不过不管你醒醉死活，
当兵的，我望你好。

XXIII

The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair,
There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold,
The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,
And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.

There's chaps from the town and the field and the till and the cart,
And many to count are the stalwart, and many the brave,
And many the handsome of face and the handsome of heart,
And few that will carry their looks or their truth to the grave.

I wish one could know them, I wish there were tokens to tell
The fortunate fellows that now you can never discern;
And then one could talk with them friendly and wish them farewell
And watch them depart on the way that they will not return.

But now you may stare as you like and there's nothing to scan;
And brushing your elbow unguessed-at and not to be told
They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,
The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.

二十三

成百的少年齐涌来禄如镇赶花会，
或来自磨坊，或铁铺，或马厩，或羊圈。
有的是来寻女孩子，有的是来觅醉，
余下的还有那永不会老大的少年。

镇上的，田间的，管账的，赶车的，都有，
多少个身强力壮，多少个称勇士，
多少个脸儿标，多少个心肠忠厚，
可少有能保持其容颜或品德到死。

我愿意能认识他们，我愿意能够说
哪些是幸运儿，而现在你没法察看；
我会去找他们攀谈，珍重地再道别，
送他们上行路，看他们一去不回返。

但眼前你可只管瞧，怎样也看不出
哪些是荣华时夭折的幸运少年人；
他们会和你擦肩过，但是你没法说
谁将把崭新的人币送还给铸钱神。

XXIV

Say, lad, have you things to do?
Quick then, while your day's at prime.
Quick, and if 'tis work for two,
Here am I, man: now's your time.

Send me now, and I shall go;
Call me, I shall hear you call;
Use me ere they lay me low
Where a man's no use at all;

Ere the wholesome flesh decay,
And the willing nerve be numb,
And the lips lack breath to say,
'No, my lad, I cannot come.'

二十四

我说，孩子，你可有事要做？
有，就快些，趁你还健在。
若是两人做的事，还有我，
快些，汉子，这是个机会。

此刻你派我，我此刻能去；
唤我，用我，我将你听从；
莫等到我被深深埋入土，
那时候人将一点不中用；

莫等到脑中的神智麻痹，
健康的血肉之躯坏掉，
能言的双唇没有一丝气
说“不，孩子，我莫能来了。”

XXV

This time of year a twelvemonth past,
When Fred and I would meet,
We needs must jangle, till at last
We fought and I was beat.

So then the summer fields about,
Till rainy days began,
Rose Harland on her Sundays out
Walked with the better man.

The better man she walks with still,
Though now 'tis not with Fred:
A lad that lives and has his will
Is worth a dozen dead.

Fred keeps the house all kinds of weather,
And clay's the house he keeps;
When Rose and I walk out together
Stock-still lies Fred and sleeps.

二十五

十二个月前我撞见佛莱德，
也正是在这季节，
我们总要吵，一直到最后
打一架，我被他吃瘪。

从此在夏日的田野一带，
直至雨季开始，
露丝哈兰逢礼拜天出外，
总跟那神气的小子。

神气的小子她身边还是，
虽则已非佛莱德；
一个人活着，能随意欲为，
比十个死者还值。

佛莱德无冬无夏在家居，
他家住的是土宅；
露丝哈兰和我出门散步去，
直挺挺睡着佛莱德。

XXVI

Along the field as we came by
A year ago, my love and I,
The aspen over stile and stone
Was talking to itself alone.
'Oh who are these that kiss and pass?
A country lover and his lass;
Two lovers looking to be wed;
And time shall put them both to bed,
But she shall lie with earth above,
And he beside another love.'

And sure enough beneath the tree
There walks another love with me,
And overhead the aspen heaves
Its rainy-sounding silver leaves;
And I spell nothing in their stir,
But now perhaps they speak to her,
And plain for her to understand
They talk about a time at hand
When I shall sleep with clover clad,
And she beside another lad.

二十六

在一年以前我的爱和我，
当我们正沿着田野走过，
矮墙边我听见一棵白杨树
孤独地一个在高处自语：
“啊，且吻且走的那是谁家郎？
一个乡下人和他的姑娘；
两口子看上去好日子快到；
时间就安排请他们睡觉，
可是她将以黄土作床，
他睡在另一个情侣的身旁。”

现在果然是在这棵树底
陪着我走着另一个女子，
头上的白杨银白的树叶
传出萧萧如雨声的太息；
他感慨些什么我可听不真，
也许现在是告诉她一人，
只她能听出是明白的预言，
说有一个日子就在眼前，
那时候我将是墓草作被，
她陪另一个男子同睡。

XXVII

'Is my team ploughing,
That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
When I was man alive?'

Ay, the horses trample,
The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
The land you used to plough.

'Is football playing
Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?'

Ay, the ball is flying,
The lads play heart and soul;
The goal stands up, the keeper
Stands up to keep the goal.

'Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
As she lies down at eve?'

Ay, she lies down lightly,
She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.

'Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?'

Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose.

二十七

“我的马匹耕田吗？
那我常赶着的牲畜，
我爱赶起听辔具作响，
当我还是人活跃。”

哎，你的马踏着，
你的辔具丁当响，
你耕的地丝毫没有变，
虽则你往地下一躺。
“孩子们玩足球吗？
沿河边一如平日
皮球被人赶去又赶来，
我啊再不能挺出 。”

哎，皮球踢上天，
孩子们玩得真起劲，
球门挺着，守球门的人
挺出身来把门护定。

“我的女伴快乐吗？
我和她真难割舍，
她是不是已经哭倦了
当她到晚来安睡？”

哎，她轻松睡下了，
她睡下没打算哭，
你的女伴她很趁心呢，
别响了，孩子，睡觉。

“我的朋友他好吗？
我啊是又瘦又憔悴。
他有没有找到地方歇，
比我这一席地好睡？”

孩子，我躺得很适意，
我干的事儿人人会，
我逗一个死鬼的情人，
你莫问她是谁。

XXVIII　THE WELSH MARCHES

High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam
Islanded in Severn stream;
The bridges from the steepled crest
Cross the water east and west.

The flag of morn in conqueror's state
Enters at the English gate:
The vanquished eve, as night prevails,
Bleeds upon the road to Wales.

Ages since the vanquished bled
Round my mother's marriage-bed;
There the ravens feasted far
About the open house of war:

When Severn down to Buildwas ran
Coloured with the death of man,
Couched upon her brother's grave
The Saxon got me on the slave.

The sound of fight is silent long
That began the ancient wrong;
Long the voice of tears is still
That wept of old the endless ill.

In my heart it has not died,
The war that sleeps on Severn side;
They cease not fighting, east and west,
On the marches of my breast.

Here the truceless armies yet
Trample, rolled in blood and sweat;
They kill and kill and never die;
And I think that each is I.

None will part us, none undo
The knot that makes one flesh of two,
Sick with hatred, sick with pain,
Strangling—When shall we be slain?

When shall I be dead and rid
Of the wrong my father did?
How long, how long, till spade and hearse
Put to sleep my mother's curse?

二十八　威尔士人进行曲

映日的风标闪闪高照，
西鲁堡为塞汶河水环绕，
山头矗尖塔，山侧接长桥，
东西横隔千古塞汶潮。

黎明的大旗以主子雄姿
昂然进入英吉利关隘；
黑夜侵占时，溃败的落日
退往威尔士一路上流赤。

在昔战败者无限的碧血
曾环洒我母合卺的床席；
那里，为战争残破的家
门前广歇着宴集的乌鸦：

当塞汶河水向比尔大奔逃，
被累累死亡翻出红涛，
杀兄，奴妹，坟土作阳台，
那撒克逊人搞我出来。

自从种下这古老的祸根，
沉默已久是杀伐之声；
呜噎的热泪也久矣寂寞，
一自痛哭那无底的罪恶。

可战争，虽睡在塞汶水次，
在我的心头并没有消逝；
东方和西方鏖战个不停，
盘据我胸中，跟着我前进。

这里面对垒的两军依然
相互践踏，滚着血与汗；
他们杀，杀，可永远不死；
而我则觉得全是我自己。

谁也分不开这两种骨血，
谁也解不了这一个结，
仇恨得要死，痛苦得要命，
我扼着我——几时才同尽？

几时我才能一死解决
我父亲当年作下的冤孽？
要多久，多久，柩辇与锄锹
最后才平息我母的诅咒？

XXIX　THE LENT LILY

'Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found.

And there's the windflower chilly
With all the winds at play,
And there's the Lenten lily
That has not long to stay
And dies on Easter day.

And since till girls go maying
You find the primrose still,
And find the windflower playing
With every wind at will,
But not the daffodil,

Bring baskets now, and sally
Upon the spring's array,
And bear from hill and valley
The daffodil away
That dies on Easter day.

二十九　四旬花

春来了，出来散散步，
沿这带丛林游荡，
看，藏在野荆棘下面，
在谷中低洼的地方，
已有莲馨花开放。

那儿有冷淡的银莲花
尽情在风中嬉斗；
还有那四旬的黄水仙，
它花时没有多久，
捱不到复活节后。

见说到女儿们寻芳时
依旧有莲馨花开遍，
依旧有银莲花迎着风
任意与风儿缱绻，
只有黄水仙不见；

所以你带个篮子来，
踏上春天的锦绣，
把开了漫山遍谷的
那些黄水仙载走；
它捱不到复活节后。

XXX

Others, I am not the first,
Have willed more mischief than they durst:
If in the breathless night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.
More than I, if truth were told,

Have stood and sweated hot and cold,
And through their reins in ice and fire
Fear contended with desire.
Agued once like me were they,

But I like them shall win my way
Lastly to the bed of mould
Where there's neither heat nor cold.
But from my grave across my brow

Plays no wind of healing now,
And fire and ice within me fight
Beneath the suffocating night.

三十

别的人——我并不是第一个——
都曾闯过这不敢闯的祸：
所以，在这透不过气的夜晚，
我也抖战，并不能算稀罕。

说实话，除掉我许多人都曾
站立着淌汗，人又热又冷，
在他们血管内，欲望和惧怕
像烈火寒冰狠命地相搏。

他们当初也像我发过烧，
可我像他们也会捱得了，
最后找到我泥土的褥席，
那里没有冷也没有热。

可是目前从我的墓中
迎面吹不出疗疾的风，
一任我，在这窒息的夜晚，
寒冰和烈火在体内搏战。

XXXI

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.

Then, 'twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.

There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.

The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.

三十一

温洛岭一带草木深诉着悲苦；
雷铿冈披离的林莽似叹息填膺；
狂风不断地摧击偃蹇的幼树，
塞汶河上的风叶如雪片纷纷。

当古乌里恭城堡犹高峙云霄，
也是这样风吹过森森的山谷：
一样是古代的风，古代的怒号，
虽则当年它挞伐另一片林木。

当年，远在我以前，那个罗马人
常向着那边起伏的山林凝睇：
一个英吉利农夫创痛的心情
和使他激奋的血液，他都有的是。

他那里，也像风吹过骚动的树林，
生命的风暴从他心头吹过；
树如此，人亦如此，永远不能平：
昔日有那罗马人，今日有我。

狂风不断地摧击偃蹇的幼树，
它吹得这样猛，将没有多久延捱：
今日那个罗马人和他的忧苦
已与古乌里恭城俱委荒埃。

XXXII

From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.

Now—for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart—
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.

Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.

三十二

从遐远，从黄昏与清晓，与十二风
行的天上，
往这厢吹拢来生之质
合成我，而我以降。

今我在呼吸间此淹留，
算犹未飞散分化，
快执着我的手告诉我
你心头有什么话。

现在说，我可以回答你；
要我怎样做，你分付；
莫待我向天风十二方
拾上我无穷的征路。

XXXIII

If truth in hearts that perish
Could move the powers on high,
I think the love I bear you
Should make you not to die.

Sure, sure, if stedfast meaning,
If single thought could save,
The world might end to-morrow,
You should not see the grave.

This long and sure-set liking,
This boundless will to please,
—Oh, you should live for ever
If there were help in these.

But now, since all is idle,
To this lost heart be kind,
Ere to a town you journey
Where friends are ill to find.

三十三

要是凡人的一片心
能感动威灵的上苍，
我想我对于你的爱
当使你不致死亡。

的确，如果是意念坚，
如果心意专能解，
这世界明天就许完，
你不应进入坟台。

这久久不移的倾慕，
这无边爱护的愿心——
唉，你该永远活下去，
如果这些是有灵。

可如今，一切既白费，
愿你能稍给我温存，
要知你游往别处后，
那里是难得有故人。

XXXIV　THE NEW MISTRESS

'Oh, sick I am to see you, will you never let me be?
You may be good for something but you are not good for me.
Oh, go where you are wanted, for you are not wanted here.'
And that was all the farewell when I parted from my dear.

'I will go where I am wanted, to a lady born and bred
Who will dress me free for nothing in a uniform of red;
She will not be sick to see me if I only keep it clean:
I will go where I am wanted for a soldier of the Queen.

'I will go where I am wanted, for the sergeant does not mind;
He may be sick to see me but he treats me very kind:
He gives me beer and breakfast and a ribbon for my cap,
And I never knew a sweetheart spend her money on a chap.

'I will go where I am wanted, where there's room for one or two,
And the men are none too many for the work there is to do;
Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick;
And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick.'

三十四　新欢

“啊，我真看见你头痛，你可能别缠着我？
你也许有点点好处，不过你配我还不够。
啊，哪里要你的你去，这里你没有人要。”
我临走我的好人儿送我的就是这一套。

哪里要我的我去，我要去找一位贵人，
她会一个钱不要，给我件红制服披身；
她见我也不会头痛，只要我穿得整洁：
哪里要我的我去，去当我女王的小卒。

哪里要我的我去，军曹他不会介意；
他也许看见我头痛，他待我却十分客气：
他给我早饭和啤酒，和一条带子帽上挂；
可有个女人替她相好的花费过一个大？

哪里要我的我去，一两个总插得进；
那里人不会嫌多，愈多干得愈有劲；
碰到阵线上人少，而阵地上伤亡渐重，
我要使英格兰的敌人对面看见我头痛。

XXXV

On the idle hill of summer,
Sleepy with the flow of streams,
Far I hear the steady drummer
Drumming like a noise in dreams.
Far and near and low and louder
On the roads of earth go by,
Dear to friends and food for powder,
Soldiers marching, all to die.
East and west on fields forgotten
Bleach the bones of comrades slain,
Lovely lads and dead and rotten;
None that go return again.
Far the calling bugles hollo,
High the screaming fife replies,
Gay the files of scarlet follow:
Woman bore me, I will rise.

三十五

夏日偃卧在寥落的山头，
流水淙淙添人的睡意，
远远我听见深沉的鼓手
声声敲着有似在梦寐。

由远而近，由低渐高，
土路上走着出发的人子，
友朋之宝，火药的饲料，
一批批兵，全都去送死。

东西战场上久无人顾，
捐躯者曝露白骨累累，
美好的少年既死且腐，
从来出去的没有人回。

呜咽的军笳远远招人，
龙吟的短笛高声和奏，
猩色的行列欣欣随行：
父母生我，吾岂能独后？

XXXVI

White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.

Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
Still, still the shadows stay:
My feet upon the moonlit dust
Pursue the ceaseless way.

The world is round, so travellers tell,
And straight though reach the track,
Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well,
The way will guide one back.

But ere the circle homeward hies
Far, far must it remove:
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.

三十六

月光下惨淡一条长路，
惨淡的月光高吐；
月光下惨淡一条长路
引我离吾爱远去。

静静的树篱没有风信，
静静的，静静的篱影：
我踏着地行行复行行，
满地的月华清冷。

世界是圆的，行客曾说，
不管路走去多直，
前进，前进，去去勿复戚，
人将有归来的一日。

可是路未及兜回家去，
须投往更远的远处：
月光下惨淡一条长路
引我离吾爱远去。

XXXVII

As through the wild green hills of Wyre
The train ran, changing sky and shire,
And far behind, a fading crest,
Low in the forsaken west
Sank the high-reared head of Clee,
My hand lay empty on my knee.
Aching on my knee it lay:
That morning half a shire away
So many an honest fellow's fist
Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist.
Hand, said I, since now we part
From fields and men we know by heart,
For strangers' faces, strangers' lands,—
Hand, you have held true fellows' hands.
Be clean then; rot before you do
A thing they'd not believe of you.
You and I must keep from shame
In London streets the Shropshire name;
On banks of Thames they must not say
Severn breeds worse men than they;
And friends abroad must bear in mind
Friends at home they leave behind.
Oh, I shall be stiff and cold
When I forget you, hearts of gold;
The land where I shall mind you not
Is the land where all's forgot.
And if my foot returns no more
To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore,
Luck, my lads, be with you still
By falling stream and standing hill,
By chiming tower and whispering tree,
Men that made a man of me.
About your work in town and farm
Still you'll keep my head from harm,
Still you'll help me, hands that gave
A grasp to friend me to the grave.

三十七

火车在怀尔荒野的山中
奔驰着，变动着州原与天空，
远远在后面，一峰隐约，
犹见克里峥嵘的头角
低低向捐弃的西方落去。
那一天早晨，离此半郡路，
多少个忠实的朋友来握别，
我的手几乎被拉得脱节；
现在手搁在膝上空着，
我膝上这只手还觉得痛着。
我说手啊，现在我们既
离开了心契的斯人与斯地，
去会生人面，生人地去行走——
手啊，你既握过好朋友的手，
就要自爱；宁死莫去做
一件事叫他们信你不过。
在伦敦街上你我要爱护
西罗普郡名字不受到玷污；
泰晤士河边莫给人说口：
塞汶河生的人比他们更丑；
凡是出门的朋友心里头
要念着丢在家里的朋友。
唉，我要是忘记你们金石心，
除非是我啊体硬而手冰；
除非在一切不记忆之国，
你们乃会在我心头消失。
而且，孩子啊，如果我不回转
若稊姆，或考夫，或塞汶河畔，
你们，曾经陶冶过我的人，
愿运气能够与你们长亲，
如山的长在，傍水的长流，
或风鸣的林下，或钟动的楼头。
当你们在镇上田间操作，
愿你们使我永绝于过恶；
愿你们给我的珍重的一握
扶助我，友我，直到我瞑目。

XXXVIII

The winds out of the west land blow,
My friends have breathed them there;
Warm with the blood of lads I know
Comes east the sighing air.

It fanned their temples, filled their lungs,
Scattered their forelocks free;
My friends made words of it with tongues
That talk no more to me.

Their voices, dying as they fly,
Loose on the wind are sown;
The names of men blow soundless by,
My fellows' and my own.

Oh lads, at home I heard you plain,
But here your speech is still,
And down the sighing wind in vain
You hollo from the hill.

The wind and I, we both were there,
But neither long abode;
Now through the friendless world we fare
And sigh upon the road.

三十八

风，曾经我朋友呼吸过的，
一阵阵吹出西陲；
为年轻人血液所暖的空气
叹息着向东流来。

它吹人鬓角，掠人额发，
装满他们的胸肺；
我朋友的舌头把它说成话，
可不再和我应对。

他们的声音边飞边堕，
疏落地撒在风中；
许多人名字无声地吹过——
我的和我的友朋。

孩子啊，在家乡我清楚听得，
但这里却寂然无闻；
你们从山头向山下呼唤，
空有叹息的风声。

风和我，我们都到过那边，
但谁也没有久留，
现在一路上各自叹息：
到这异乡来漂流。

XXXIX

'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn sprinkled up and down
Should charge the land with snow.

Spring will not wait the loiterer's time
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The hedgerows heaped with may.

Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge,
Gold that I never see;
Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge
That will not shower on me.

三十九

现在温洛镇一带想已是
金雀花开放时节；
高高下下飘坠的野棠花
当积压满地如雪。

春光因游子睽隔这许久，
将不等待他归期，
所以任别人插上金雀花，
攀越花满的棠篱。

啊，温洛岭边新近黄落的
是我无由看的金英；
沿棠篱，长阵似的雪花堆
再洒不上我的衣襟。

XL
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

从远方飘来了一阵熏风
侵入人心坎：
那是何处在，那识面的青山，
寺塔与田园？

我认出，是不堪回首的乡邦
鲜映在眼前，
分明快乐的来时路，我如今
再不能回还。

XLI

In my own shire, if I was sad,
Homely comforters I had:
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;
And standing hills, long to remain,
Shared their short-lived comrade's pain.
And bound for the same bourn as I,
On every road I wandered by,
Trod beside me, close and dear,
The beautiful and death-struck year:
Whether in the woodland brown
I heard the beechnut rustle down,
And saw the purple crocus pale
Flower about the autumn dale;
Or littering far the fields of May
Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay,
And like a skylit water stood
The bluebells in the azured wood.

Yonder, lightening other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another's care.
They have enough as 'tis: I see
In many an eye that measures me
The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
And till they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.

四十一

在我的本乡如果我发愁，
家乡的安慰者我能够有：
大地，因为我的心怆楚，
会为她生育的孩子忧苦；
巍巍的群山，终古长存，
也分有它短命伙伴的悲恨。
而在我漫步的每一条路上，
亲密而接近地走在我身旁，
有美丽的，被死击中的华年，
和我赶往同一的终点：
我能在金黄的林间听到
山榉叶落下时作响萧萧，
我能见番红花浅紫或暗红
到处开绽在清秋溪谷中；
春天有野芹花雪白如练
在五月原野间铺出多远，
蓝色的风信子在青绿的林内
望去如一片浸天的春水。

在家乡，漫步于陇间陌头，
有四季风光减轻你烦忧，
但这里在伦敦街上，我不曾
见过这样的益友，只见人；
而他们也没有心思来担起
别人的忧苦，即使是愿意。
他们现在就够受：我看见
在打量我的多少眸子间，
一个深深受病的灵魂，
不快乐到顶，再无法子温存。
为困苦搞垮，他们的能为
只是恨他们自己的同类；
而且直到他们死，他们还
只管望着你，孕怀着不善。

XLII　THE MERRY GUIDE

Once in the wind of morning
I ranged the thymy wold;
The world-wide air was azure
And all the brooks ran gold.

There through the dews beside me
Behold a youth that trod,
With feathered cap on forehead,
And poised a golden rod.

With mien to match the morning
And gay delightful guise
And friendly brows and laughter
He looked me in the eyes.

Oh whence, I asked, and whither?
He smiled and would not say,
And looked at me and beckoned
And laughed and led the way.

And with kind looks and laughter
And nought to say beside
We two went on together,
I and my happy guide.

Across the glittering pastures
And empty upland still
And solitude of shepherds
High in the folded hill,

By hanging woods and hamlets
That gaze through orchards down
On many a windmill turning
And far-discovered town,

With gay regards of promise
And sure unslackened stride
And smiles and nothing spoken
Led on my merry guide.

By blowing realms of woodland
With sunstruck vanes afield
And cloud-led shadows sailing
About the windy weald,

By valley-guarded granges
And silver waters wide,
Content at heart I followed
With my delightful guide.

And like the cloudy shadows
Across the country blown
We two fare on for ever,
But not we two alone.

With the great gale we journey
That breathes from gardens thinned,
Borne in the drift of blossoms
Whose petals throng the wind;

Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper
Of dancing leaflets whirled
From all the woods that autumn
Bereaves in all the world.

And midst the fluttering legion
Of all that ever died
I follow, and before us
Goes the delightful guide,

With lips that brim with laughter
But never once respond,
And feet that fly on feathers,
And serpent-circled wand.

四十二　快乐的向导

有一天我在晨风里
漫步芳草的汀洲，
仰望青青的大气，
俯看金色的溪流。

在身边露水里我看见
一个行路的青年人，
额上覆一顶羽帽，
手里拿金杖一根。

他态度轻盈而快乐，
他丰神有若晨曦，
他眉宇之间含友意，
朝我眼睛看，笑嘻嘻。

我问他何来更何往，
他微笑而不肯吐，
他向我望着招招手，
笑呵呵在前引路。

我们俩一同向前行，
我和我快乐的向导，
我们间一语不交谈，
只蔼然相视微笑。

他穿过闪烁的草原，
和幽静冷落的平冈，
他拾上高在叠嶂间
牧羊人寂寞的方场；

他登山，穿林，过村；
村落，人家，和果园
俯眺着转动的风车
和远方历历的乡县；

他带着希望的神情
和坚定不移的步伐，
兴孜孜领我向前行，
微笑着，一语不发。

我走过着花的林丛，
四郊是映日的风标，
在狂风吹过的旷野里
白云带影子飞逃；

沿溪谷环卫的村庄
和广阔银灿的水流，
我安心安意追随在
我快乐的向导之后。

像风在郊原上吹过
无数无数的云影，
我们俩一径向前行，
然不仅我们两人。

从疏落的园林中吹来
满载花片的狂风，
我们随风而前进，
飘飘在落花风中；

从世界各处林地里
涌出动天的秋声，
回旋而飞舞的落叶
在风中载我们浮沉。

我杂在一切死亡者
翩跹的行伍中间，
我们在后面跟着走，
由快乐的向导领前；

他嘴边浮现着笑意，
但总是一声不响，
两足踏鸟羽轻飞，
手挽盘蛇的金杖。

XLIII　THE IMMORTAL PART

When I meet the morning beam
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
'Another night, another day.
'When shall this slough of sense be cast,
This dust of thoughts be laid at last,
The man of flesh and soul be slain
And the man of bone remain?

'This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout,
These thews that hustle us about,
This brain that fills the skull with schemes,
And its humming hive of dreams,—

'These to-day are proud in power
And lord it in their little hour:
The immortal bones obey control
Of dying flesh and dying soul.

''Tis long till eve and morn are gone:
Slow the endless night comes on,
And late to fulness grows the birth
That shall last as long as earth.

'Wanderers eastward, wanderers west,
Know you why you cannot rest?
'Tis that every mother's son
Travails with a skeleton.

'Lie down in the bed of dust;
Bear the fruit that bear you must;
Bring the eternal seed to light,
And morn is all the same as night.

'Rest you so from trouble sore,
Fear the heat o' the sun no more,
Nor the snowing winter wild,
Now you labour not with child.

'Empty vessel, garment cast,
We that wore you long shall last.
—Another night, another day.'
So my bones within me say.

Therefore they shall do my will
To-day while I am master still,
And flesh and soul, now both are strong,
Shall hale the sullen slaves along,

Before this fire of sense decay,
This smoke of thought blow clean away,
And leave with ancient night alone
The stedfast and enduring bone.

四十三　不朽的部分

每当我醒来和晨光重逢，
或者在夜间躺下来入梦，
总听见我骨头在自语自言，
“又过了一晚，又过了一天！

“这感觉的蜕壳到几时脱却？
这灰扬的思绪几时才降落？
几时才显出骷髅人样子，
把那灵的人、肉的人齐杀死？

“这发言的舌头，这叫嚣的肺，
这催人碌碌的许许多气力，
这脑子，给脑壳装满机算，
还有它营营的一窝蜂梦幻——

“这些在今日骄掌着大权，
作弄威福于朝夕之间，
垂死的灵魂和垂死的肉
夷然控制着不朽的骨头。

“要等到清晓与黄昏俱杳，
缓缓降临那长夜浩浩，
才来到最后一次的诞生，
迟熟，晚成，与厚土同存。

“东去的行人，西去的旅客，
知否你因何永不能宁息？
那由于每个为人子的人
孕怀着白骨在隐隐作痛。

“躺下吧，躺上你泥土的蓐席，
结出果实吧，你不结也得结；
使永恒的种籽见诸天日，
清晨乃全然无别于夜黑。

“从此卸下你苦恼的双肩，
不再畏酷热的夏日炎炎，
也不再害怕严冬的风雪，
你今再没个婴儿要生出。

“空去的甑缶，弃置的衣裳，
惟我们用你者能挣得久长。
又过了一晚，又过了一天！”
我体内骨头在自语自言。

今天我所以仍然是主子，
这些悍仆们还听我驱使，
肉体和灵魂一朝还健好，
将会把他们押着一路跑；

直到这感觉的烈焰烧残，
这思绪的烟云一古脑吹散，
留下坚牢的白骨一堆
独自儿厮守终古长夜。

XLIV

Shot? so quick, so clean an ending?
Oh that was right, lad, that was brave:
Yours was not an ill for mending,
'Twas best to take it to the grave.

Oh you had forethought, you could reason,
And saw your road and where it led,
And early wise and brave in season
Put the pistol to your head.

Oh soon, and better so than later
After long disgrace and scorn,
You shot dead the household traitor,
The soul that should not have been born.

Right you guessed the rising morrow
And scorned to tread the mire you must:
Dust's your wages, son of sorrow,
But men may come to worse than dust.

Souls undone, undoing others,—
Long time since the tale began.
You would not live to wrong your brothers:
Oh lad, you died as fits a man.

Now to your grave shall friend and stranger
With ruth and some with envy come:
Undishonoured, clear of danger,
Clean of guilt, pass hence and home.

Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking;
And here, man, here's the wreath I've made:
'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking,
But wear it and it will not fade.

四十四

打死了？好快，好干脆就完结？
这样对，孩子，这样有种：
你的毛病啊已没法救药，
顶好的办法是把它葬送。

有见识算你，懂道理你算，
你看出你的路，和路的去向，
早早的趁流光，知机，敢断，
手枪抵准了脑袋瓜一放。

早一点好，省得到后日
受尽耻辱和人间的蔑视，
一枪打死你家宅内的贼，
那灵魂当初原不该出世。

来日是泥涂，你猜得准，
你不屑陷进，又不容挣出：
尘土是你的报酬，苦命人，
可是人会弄得连尘土不值。

灵魂坏掉，再去坏别个——
从故事一开头久已是如此。
宁可不活着，不累及同类，
孩子啊，你死的真够个汉子。

现在无论是相识不相识，
都会来送葬，有的惜，有的妒：
你清誉未越，清心无责，
清净无虑，从此兮归去。

安然躺下，无醒亦无梦；
这里，呔，汉子，是我做的花环 ：
一点儿礼物说不上奉送，
你拿去戴上吧，它总不凋残。

XLV

If it chance your eye offend you,
Pluck it out, lad, and be sound:
'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you,
And many a balsam grows on ground.

And if your hand or foot offend you,
Cut it off, lad, and be whole;
But play the man, stand up and end you,
When your sickness is your soul.

四十五

如果是你的眼睛累及你，
手挖它出来，孩子，就治好；
你会痛，但这里有药膏敷你，
而且香油树地上要多少。

如果你的手或者足累及你，
砍掉它，孩子，还你的完人；
但是做个汉子，来，结果了你，
当那病根儿是你的灵魂。

XLVI

Bring, in this timeless grave to throw,
No cypress, sombre on the snow;
Snap not from the bitter yew
His leaves that live December through;
Break no rosemary, bright with rime
And sparkling to the cruel clime;
Nor plod the winter land to look
For willows in the icy brook
To cast them leafless round him: bring
No spray that ever buds in spring.

But if the Christmas field has kept
Awns the last gleaner overstept,
Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue
A single season, never two;
Or if one haulm whose year is o'er
Shivers on the upland frore,
—Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain
Whatever will not flower again,
To give him comfort: he and those
Shall bide eternal bedfellows
Where low upon the couch he lies
Whence he never shall arise.

四十六

雪中莫去摘黝黑的柏枝
投入此墓中，杳杳无岁时；
莫去折味苦性毒的杉树，
杉叶能将十二月捱度；
莫采迷迭香 ，皑皑着浓霜，
在凛冽寒气中闪映冬阳；
也莫去跋涉岁暮的原郊，
冰溪中去寻找衰柳的空条
放在他身边罗列；莫撷
任何岁寒枝，春来还发叶。

但如果冬节的田野犹存
拾穗者往日踏过的麦茎；
或是一些干萎的胡麻，
青花只开一夏，不再发；
或一根豆梗，其时季已毕，
留在冻结的高地中颤栗——
啊，不管从原野，山边或水隈，
把一切不再开花的载来
给他以慰藉；当他潜进那
他从此不能升起的泉下，
这些将留着和他作陪，
千年，万年，一榻儿沉睡。

XLVII　THE CARPENTER's SON

'Here the hangman stops his cart:
Now the best of friends must part.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live, lads, and I will die.

'Oh, at home had I but stayed
'Prenticed to my father's trade,
Had I stuck to plane and adze,
I had not been lost, my lads.

'Then I might have built perhaps
Gallows-trees for other chaps,
Never dangled on my own,
Had I but left ill alone.

'Now, you see, they hang me high,
And the people passing by
Stop to shake their fists and curse;
So 'tis come from ill to worse.

'Here hang I, and right and left
Two poor fellows hang for theft:
All the same's the luck we prove,
Though the midmost hangs for love.

'Comrades all, that stand and gaze,
Walk henceforth in other ways;
See my neck and save your own:
Comrades all, leave ill alone.

'Make some day a decent end,
Shrewder fellows than your friend.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live, lads, and I will die.'

四十七　某木匠子

绞手在这里停住他车子：
现在是好朋友也得要分离。
愿你们都好，不好的是我：
你们活去，孩子，我死就是了。

唉，我要是安心地在家里
做学徒，学会我父亲的手艺，
我要是死抱着木刨和小斧，
孩子们，我不会走到这一步。

那样子我也许会替别人家
竖起木架子来，看他们朝上挂，
决计不至于把自己断送，
如果我放着坏事不去碰。

现在你们看我吊得高高，
路人看见我都停步说笑，
朝我挥拳头，朝我咒骂；
不想我愈弄愈弄得不像话。

我吊死在这里，在左侧右侧
吊两个穷汉子，为了做贼：
我们的运气可算一样坏，
当中间这个虽说是为了爱。

瞠目而立的同志们大家，
从今天以后换条路去走吧；
看看我脖子，保全你头颅：
大家同志们，坏事由它去。

哪一天乖乖地赚个好收场，
不要学你朋友糊涂到这么样。
愿你们都好，不好的是我：
你们活去，孩子，我死就是了。

XLVIII

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,—call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.

Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.

Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.

Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation—
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?

四十八

静些，灵魂儿，静些；你携的武器是脆弱的，
大地和高空来自远古，且根基坚强；
试想想——试回顾已往，如果现在不快乐些，
那些安息的日子，灵魂啊，那些够多长。

当时人也爱残酷，不过地窟内没亮，
我睡着看不见，眼泪落下，我并不悲戚，
我的汗流着，血涌出来，也从不懊丧：
当时我是好好的，过着我未出世的岁月。

现在我默默寻思，却找不出什么道理，
我踯躅着大地，饮着空气，薰沐着阳光。
静些，灵魂儿，静些，这仅有短短的一季：
让我们捱一个时辰，等着看不平事消亡。

看哪，高空和大地挣扎于远始的病苦；
一切心思只椎心欲裂，一切都枉然：
到处是恐怖，侮蔑，恨毒，忧虑，和愤怒——
啊，我为什么要醒转？何时我再得安眠？

XLIX

Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly:
Why should men make haste to die?
Empty heads and tongues a-talking
Make the rough road easy walking,
And the feather pate of folly
Bears the falling sky.

Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking
Spins the heavy world around.
If young hearts were not so clever,
Oh, they would be young for ever:
Think no more; 'tis only thinking
Lays lads underground.

四十九

别再想了，孩子，笑笑，高高兴，
人干吗要死得这样快？
嘴里只管说，脑子空无所有，
会把难走的路变得容易走，
莫看那蠢蠢的草包，越是他
天掉下也撑得起来。

使这沉重世界旋转不息的
是喝酒啊，跳舞啊，胡缠，
年轻人的心若是不顶精明，
他们就会变得永远年轻：
别再想了，都是这样地想啊想，
把年轻人送进黄泉。

L

Clunton and Clunbury,
Clungunford and Clun,
Are the quietest places
Under the sun.

In valleys of springs of rivers,
By Ony and Teme and Clun,
The country for easy livers,
The quietest under the sun,

We still had sorrows to lighten,
One could not be always glad,
And lads knew trouble at Knighton
When I was a Knighton lad.

By bridges that Thames runs under,
In London, the town built ill,
'Tis sure small matter for wonder
If sorrow is with one still.

And if as a lad grows older
The troubles he bears are more,
He carries his griefs on a shoulder
That handselled them long before.

Where shall one halt to deliver
This luggage I'd lief set down?
Not Thames, not Teme is the river,
Nor London nor Knighton the town:

'Tis a long way further than Knighton,
A quieter place than Clun,
Where doomsday may thunder and lighten
And little 'twill matter to one.

五十

克仑登与克仑堡，
克仑根津与克仑，
是在阳光下
最幽静的地方。

在诸水汇聚的流域，
沿翁尼、稊姆与克仑 ，
在那生活安闲的
阳光下最幽静的江村，

人依旧有恨要排遣，
谁能够永远无愁；
当我是尼登镇一少年，
少年人就知有烦忧。

在伦敦这歹恶的城市，
泰晤士流过的桥边，
人如仍不免有恨事，
那没有奇怪足言。

待得人长大了一点，
他心内烦忧将更大；
他挑得沉重的双肩
早就把苦恼订下。

我哪儿才获得宁息，
卸下这行李一身轻？
稊姆，泰晤士，都不是，
也不是尼登，伦敦城：

那地带比尼登更辽远，
比克仑河边更静，
末日的雷电任施显，
对于人全没个要紧。

LI

Loitering with a vacant eye
Along the Grecian gallery,
And brooding on my heavy ill,
I met a statue standing still.
Still in marble stone stood he,
And stedfastly he looked at me.
'Well met,' I thought the look would say,
'We both were fashioned far away;
We neither knew, when we were young,
These Londoners we live among.'

Still he stood and eyed me hard,
An earnest and a grave regard:
'What, lad, drooping with your lot?
I too would be where I am not.
I too survey that endless line
Of men whose thoughts are not as mine.
Years, ere you stood up from rest,
On my neck the collar prest;
Years, when you lay down your ill,
I shall stand and bear it still.
Courage, lad, 'tis not for long:
Stand, quit you like stone, be strong.'
So I thought his look would say;
And light on me my trouble lay,
And I stept out in flesh and bone
Manful like the man of stone.

五十一

一个人走进希腊古物馆门，
两眼漠无所见，我独自逡行，
一面沉思着我深重的不幸，
忽见一座石像在面前立定。
他大理石身体静静地站着，
目光不移转地把我看着。
那神情好像和我说，“碰得巧，
我们俩的模样都是外地佬，
我们小时候谁也不曾听闻
和我们在一起的这些伦敦人。”

他立着不动，深深向我凝视，
带一种恳切而关心的神气：
“怎么，孩子，会颓丧到如此？
我也想念那回不去的乡里。
我也眼看着这无尽的人流，
永远不见一个心情与我投。
多年前，你安息着还没有起身，
我一个紧箍儿已套上颈根；
多年后，你的坏运早已交卸，
我仍将竖在这里受着苦罪。
孩子，拿出勇气来，这没多久：
忍耐些，硬挣些，譬你是块石头。”
从他眼光里我意会到这番话，
忧苦的心胸顿然感觉轻快。
我走出门去，一个血肉之身
雄赳赳地俨然是一座石人。

LII

Far in a western brookland
That bred me long ago
The poplars stand and tremble
By pools I used to know.
There, in the windless night-time,
The wanderer, marvelling why,
Halts on the bridge to hearken
How soft the poplars sigh.
He hears: no more remembered
In fields where I was known,
Here I lie down in London
And turn to rest alone.
There, by the starlit fences,
The wanderer halts and hears
My soul that lingers sighing
About the glimmering weirs.

五十二

远在那西方的水域，
多年前我生长之乡，
白杨树萧萧地摇曳
傍着我熟悉的池塘。

那里在风定的夜间
有行人驻足桥头，
在惊疑不定倾听着
白杨的叹息多轻柔。

他听着：我这里在伦敦
独自躺下来安息，
在我混熟的田野里
再也无人忆及。

那里在星映的篱边
行人驻足而倾听
我梦魂的叹息萦绕着
夜色微茫的堰景。

LIII　THE TRUE LOVER

The lad came to the door at night,
When lovers crown their vows,
And whistled soft and out of sight
In shadow of the boughs.

'I shall not vex you with my face
Henceforth, my love, for aye;
So take me in your arms a space
Before the east is grey.

'When I from hence away am past
I shall not find a bride,
And you shall be the first and last
I ever lay beside.'

She heard and went and knew not why;
Her heart to his she laid;
Light was the air beneath the sky
But dark under the shade.

'Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast
Seems not to rise and fall,
And here upon my bosom prest
There beats no heart at all?'

'Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock,
You should have felt it then;
But since for you I stopped the clock
It never goes again.'

'Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips
Wet from your neck on mine?
What is it falling on my lips,
My lad, that tastes of brine?'

'Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear,
For when the knife has slit
The throat across from ear to ear
'Twill bleed because of it.'

Under the stars the air was light
But dark below the boughs,
The still air of the speechless night,
When lovers crown their vows.

五十三　真情人

正是情人们盟誓的夜间，
那小伙子门口来到，
在树阴底下人躲着不见，
轻轻地吹着口哨。

“亲爱的，我从此再不来惹你
看见我的脸生气，
所以，趁东方露白以前
来和我搂抱一会。

“在我这一次走开以后，
我再找不到新人，
你将是和我睡在一起的
唯一而最后的情人。”

她听见去了，也莫明其妙
就两颗心躺在一起，
天光下面的夜色正朦胧，
但树下是黑漆漆地。

“小伙啊，你可呼吸？你胸口
怎不见一起一落？
你这里和我心抵着心，
怎没有心儿跳跃？”

“啊，亲爱的，从前它跳得很急，
当初你就该觉出，
但自从为你我停掉钟摆，
它再也跳动不得。”

“小伙啊，是什么从你脖子上
滴得我颈子稀湿？
小伙啊，是什么落到我嘴里？
尝起来就像盐汁。”

“那个，亲爱的，很可能是血，
因为当你拿刀子
把脖子从左耳划到右耳，
它就会流个不止。”

繁星下面夜色是亮的，
但树下是黑漆漆地，
长夜无语，沉寂的空气，
正是情人们盟誓时。

LIV

With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.

By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.

五十四

为昔日的金玉良朋，
我心中载满了伤悲，
为多少花颜的女儿，
为多少矫健的少年。

矫健的少年安卧在
无从飞越的溪边；
在春花凋谢的田野里，
沉睡着花颜的女儿。

LV

Westward on the high-hilled plains
Where for me the world began,
Still, I think, in newer veins
Frets the changeless blood of man.

Now that other lads than I
Strip to bathe on Severn shore,
They, no help, for all they try,
Tread the mill I trod before.

There, when hueless is the west
And the darkness hushes wide,
Where the lad lies down to rest
Stands the troubled dream beside.

There, on thoughts that once were mine,
Day looks down the eastern steep,
And the youth at morning shine
Makes the vow he will not keep.

五十五

西去在山岭嵯峨的领域，
对我那是世界的开头，
我想人们不变的血液
在新的脉管里将激动依旧。

现在是我以外别的孩子
解衣就浴于塞汶水干，
他们，没有治，任他们怎使，
都得忍受我经受的磨难。

那里，当西方敛去了余赪，
黑暗的寂静逐渐收拢，
年轻的孩子躺下来休息，
立在他身边是烦忧的梦。

那里，初日从东岭缘升，
下睨我一度曾有的心念，
晨光高照里有那少年人
立下了誓言他总不遵践。

LVI　THE DAY OF BATTLE

'Far I hear the bugle blow
To call me where I would not go,
And the guns begin the song,
"Soldier, fly or stay for long."

'Comrade, if to turn and fly
Made a soldier never die,
Fly I would, for who would not?
'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot.

'But since the man that runs away
Lives to die another day,
And cowards' funerals, when they come,
Are not wept so well at home,

'Therefore, though the best is bad,
Stand and do the best, my lad;
Stand and fight and see your slain,
And take the bullet in your brain.'

五十六　作战日

远远我听见号角吹起，
召唤我上阵我打算不理，
还有大炮也放出金嗓：
“当兵的，溜吧，否则莫想。”

伙计也，如果转身一跑，
能使当兵的从此不老，
那我就溜，看有谁不做，
打死总不够什么快活。

可是人跑尽管跑得掉，
活些日子终须要睡倒，
而且懦夫们死了出丧，
家乡哭的总不大断肠。

所以，最好的虽说万难，
孩子，起来，拣最好的干，
起来上阵去看你战死，
拚着脑袋瓜吃进枪子。

LVII

You smile upon your friend to-day,
To-day his ills are over;
You hearken to the lover's say,
And happy is the lover.

'Tis late to hearken, late to smile,
But better late than never:
I shall have lived a little while
Before I die for ever.

五十七

今天你对你朋友笑，
今天他恶运交完；
痴心人的话你肯听，
痴心人也就心宽。

算来听已迟，笑也迟，
可是迟总聊胜于无：
在我未死去以前，
我总能活这一斯须。

LVIII

When I came last to Ludlow
Amidst the moonlight pale,
Two friends kept step beside me,
Two honest lads and hale.

Now Dick lies long in the churchyard,
And Ned lies long in jail,
And I come home to Ludlow
Amidst the moonlight pale.

五十八

上次我回到禄如镇，
一路上戴着淡月，
跟我走有两个好朋友，
两个都天真而活跃。

狄克呢，已长睡墓园里，
耐德是久困于缧绁，
我今禄如镇又归来，
一路上戴着淡月。

LIX　THE ISLE OF PORTLAND

The star-filled seas are smooth to-night
From France to England strown;
Black towers above the Portland light
The felon-quarried stone.

On yonder island, not to rise,
Never to stir forth free,
Far from his folk a dead lad lies
That once was friends with me.

Lie you easy, dream you light,
And sleep you fast for aye;
And luckier may you find the night
Than ever you found the day.

五十九　宝兰岛

今晚上英法两岸间海水
填满了千里星斗，
宝兰岛黑塔高照宝兰山
死囚刨缺的石头。

再不能升起了，在那边岛上
永没有翻身的一日，
远离其亲人躺着个孩子，
他是我旧日的相识。

安心地卧吧，任情地酣睡，
梦魂永远无挂牵，
可能够黑夜不至像白天
那样与你无缘。

LX

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
And leave your friends and go.

Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread,
Look not left nor right:
In all the endless road you tread
There's nothing but the night.

六十

现在炉中火已烧成灰烬，
灯光也摇摇欲坠，
挺起你肩膀，掀起你行囊，
丢下你朋友们再会。

汉子，不须愁，莫左瞻右顾，
莫当作有什么可怕，
此去的一条漫漫的长路
什么都没有，只有夜。

LXI　HUGHLEY STEEPLE

The vane on Hughley steeple
Veers bright, a far-known sign,
And there lie Hughley people,
And there lie friends of mine.
Tall in their midst the tower
Divides the shade and sun,
And the clock strikes the hour
And tells the time to none.

To south the headstones cluster,
The sunny mounds lie thick;
The dead are more in muster
At Hughley than the quick.
North, for a soon-told number,
Chill graves the sexton delves,
And steeple-shadowed slumber
The slayers of themselves.

To north, to south, lie parted,
With Hughley tower above,
The kind, the single-hearted,
The lads I used to love.
And, south or north, 'tis only
A choice of friends one knows,
And I shall ne'er be lonely
Asleep with these or those.

六十一　休莱寺

风标烁烁地转动着，
远望见休莱的钟楼；
那里长眠着休莱人，
那里长眠着我朋友。
休莱寺高立在当中，
隔离开阳光和阴影，
钟楼上朝夕报时辰，
悠悠的永无人省。

南面的石表密成林，
阳光下处处崇墓；
在休莱死者要多于
检阅时生者的人数。
北面为生命不永者
有寺工掘下的冷坟，
而沉沉楼影里酣睡的
是些自杀掉的人。

在南面北面分隔着——
有休莱寺高临其间——
那良善的，我往昔笃爱的，
心地朴实的少年。
而无论南面或北面，
好朋友人只得几个，
而我是永不会孤单的，
和这些或那些同卧。

LXII

'Terence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head:
We poor lads, 'tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.'

Why, if 'tis dancing you would be,
There's brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a peer of England brews
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot
To see the world as the world's not.
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:
The mischief is that 'twill not last.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And left my necktie God knows where,
And carried half-way home, or near,
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely muck I've lain,
Happy till I woke again.
Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.

Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill,
And while the sun and moon endure
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure,
I'd face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good.
'Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
Is not so brisk a brew as ale:
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I wrung it in a weary land.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the embittered hour;
It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.

There was a king reigned in the East:
There, when kings will sit to feast,
They get their fill before they think
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink.
He gathered all that springs to birth
From the many-venomed earth;
First a little, thence to more,
He sampled all her killing store;
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
Sate the king when healths went round.
They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat;
They poured strychnine in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
—I tell the tale that I heard told.
Mithridates, he died old.

六十二

“泰伦司，这些诗写得多蠢：
你吃你东西吃的可真狠；
看你喝啤酒那样子起劲，
摆明你的人并没有毛病。
可是老天啊，你写的这些诗，
人看了真会一肚子闷气。
那头老母牛算早经死掉，
她倒着两只角，睡她的好觉：
现在是轮到我们该死，
要听这饿死老牛的调子。
真够交情，使你的好友朋
变得忧忧失志而发疯，
一个个不得到头就呜呼：
来，孩子，作首歌我们跳舞。”

怎么，你要的若是跳舞曲，
自有比诗歌更生动的音乐。
你说，蛇麻园的意思怎讲，
为什么伯顿要建在泉特上？
啊，英格兰多少贵家会酿制
上口的饮料，远胜过缪士，
麦芽只有比密尔顿
更能宣扬上帝怎样地对待人。
麦酒，汉子，麦酒顶配
那些没脑子人们的口胃：
向白镴杯中看世界色相，
把世界看成个世界不像。
的确，当其时人倒也好受，
可恨是它没有办法持久。
唉，我也曾去禄如镇赶过集，
丢掉我领带天知道哪儿觅，
回家半路上肚子里满装
大杯小罐的禄如镇黄汤：
那时候世界像一点不错，
我自己也变成真实的好货；
我倒在可爱的垃圾中睡稳，
快快活活直到人苏醒，
于是我瞧见早晨的天光，
呀，那话儿原来全然是个谎；
世界还是老世界依旧，
我是我，我的衣衫都湿透，
现在更没有别的事好干，
只有将把戏从头再玩。

这世界上好事虽则尽有，
但比起坏事来好事远不够，
因此，只要日与月常新，
运气是碰巧，倒霉可一定；
我要学聪明人处世的智巧，
只打算它坏，不打算好。
固然，我卖的东西赶不上
麦酒那样轻松的佳酿；
我用了手掌大的一茎
在厌倦之乡中辛勤榨成。
可是你喝掉它，虽则它带酸味，
在酸苦的时辰味只有更美；
当你的灵魂处我的境地，
它对你心智都能有裨益；
而我将陪伴你，如果你不嫌，
度过那阴霾和云翳的天。

从前在东方有一个国王
（东方的国王在筵宴时常常
把下毒的酒和下毒的肉
不知不觉地吃一个够），
他向众毒汇萃的大地
采撷一切生命的汁液，
先是一点滴，渐由少而多，
把致命的毒藏尽数网罗。
当觥筹交错时，王高踞宝位，
兴高采烈，嬉笑而不经意；
人在他肉盆里加进砒霜，
睁着大眼睛看见他吃光；
人在他酒杯内放进鳖精，
骇异地看见他一饮而尽：
看得人，吓得人，脸色如白衣，
下毒人结果反害了自己。
我说这故事是闻自人道，
米司雷代第王终至寿考。

LXIII

I hoed and trenched and weeded,
And took the flowers to fair:
I brought them home unheeded;
The hue was not the wear.

So up and down I sow them
For lads like me to find,
When I shall lie below them,
A dead man out of mind.

Some seed the birds devour,
And some the season mars,
But here and there will flower
The solitary stars,

And fields will yearly bear them
As light-leaved spring comes on,
And luckless lads will wear them
When I am dead and gone.

六十三

我锄地，翻泥，掘草，
采了花去赶市集：
市散又带了还家，
它不是时新的颜色。

于是我往返播种，
待他日如我的少年，
那时我将为陈死人
躺在我种籽下面。

有些种籽鸟吃掉，
有些为时令摧残，
但这里那里见到
几点孤星开绽。

年年草木发华滋，
田野将带来这点
给不幸的少年佩戴，
而我是去世已远。

##

V　GRENADIER

（From Last Poems）

The Queen she sent to look for me,
The sergeant he did say,
'Young man, a soldier will you be
For thirteen pence a day?'

For thirteen pence a day did I
Take off the things I wore,
And I have marched to where I lie,
And I shall march no more.

My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,
My blood runs all away,
So now I shall not die in debt
For thirteen pence a day.

To-morrow after new young men
The sergeant he must see,
For things will all be over then
Between the Queen and me.

And I shall have to bate my price,
For in the grave, they say,
Is neither knowledge nor device
Nor thirteen pence a day.

后·五　掷弹兵

女王差人来把我召去，
军曹对我说，“小伙子，
你可愿意当一名兵士，
一天给十三个便士？”

于是我为了十三个便士，
把身上的衣服脱掉，
并且挺进到我躺下的地方，
再没法挺进得了。

我的口干渴，我衣服湿透，
我的血都已流尽，
可是如今我再也用不着
为十三个便士卖命。

明天军曹他得另外挑选
别的小伙子顶替，
因为那时候我跟女王间
已全然没有交易。

而我也势将削减身价，
因为他们说，在阴世
既没有知识、谋算和工作，
也没有十三个便士。

X

（From Last Poems）

Could man be drunk for ever
With liquor, love, or fights,
Lief should I rouse at morning
And lief lie down of nights.

But men at whiles are sober
And think by fits and starts,
And if they think, they fasten
Their hands upon their hearts.

后·十

人如果能一世沉醉，
爱爱，喝喝酒，打打架，
谁不愿一早就起来？
谁不愿一晚就睡下？

无奈人有时也清醒，
也会东想想，西想想。
要是他们想，他们会
一双手紧勒在胸膛。

XXIV

（From More Poems）

Stone, steel, dominions pass,
Faith too, no wonder;
So leave alone the grass
That I am under.
All knots that lovers tie
Are tied to sever;
Here shall your sweet-heart lie,
Untrue for ever.

外·二十四

铁、石、山河俱有尽，
两情又何足道；
所以你还是离开这
我眠宿的墓草。
一切情人们打的结，
都结了还得拆；
这里将躺着你心上人，
永远地不忠实。

XLI

（From More Poems）

He looked at me with eyes I thought
I was not like to find;
The voice he begged for pence with brought
Another man to mind.

Oh, no, lad, never touch your cap;
It is not my half-crown;
You have it from a better chap
That long ago lay down.

Turn east and over Thames to Kent
And come to the sea's brim,
And find his everlasting tent
And touch your cap to him.

外·四十一

他向我看看，那一双眼睛
我没料再能碰见；
听到他乞求便士的声音，
另一人在脑中出现。

啊，不，孩子，莫碰你帽沿，
这不是我的半克郎，
你得自一个更好的少年，
多年前就已倒账。

向东走，渡过泰晤士到肯特，
再走到大海的边缘，
在那里找到他埋骨的洞穴，
你向他碰一下帽沿。

外·序诗

They say my verse is sad: no wonder;
Its narrow measure spans
Tears of eternity, and sorrow,
Not mine, but man's.

This is for all ill-treated fellows
Unborn and unbegot,
For them to read when they're in trouble
And I am not.

外·序诗

人都说我的诗太苦，这无怪；
它那狭窄的格律
囊括有亘古的眼泪和恨，
不属我，而属于人类。

这是给一切受迫害的人们，
没有生，没有出世的
去读，当他们处在忧患时，
而我则不。

1883-Kahlil Gibran

卡里·纪伯伦（Kahlil Gibran）是著名的黎巴嫩作家。他自幼就受到阿拉伯文化和西方文化的熏陶，并从中汲取了营养。在吸收东西方文化的精华的同时，他拓宽了自己的视野，克服了自己民族和地域的狭隘性。他着眼于东方，也注视西方。他希冀通过文学创作来唤醒东方，改造东方，警策西方，改造西方。他集哲学、文学、艺术于一身，不仅擅长小说、绘画，而且精于散文诗，而在后一方面的成就尤为突出。他的文学艺术创作的独特才华使他跻身于世界文坛。

The Prophet

Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said,
"Speak to us of Children."
And he said:Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, 
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 
and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, 
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

孩子

于是一个怀中抱着孩子的妇人说：请给我们谈孩子。
他说：你们的孩子，都不是你们的孩子。
乃是“生命”为自己所渴望的儿女。
他们是凭借你们而来，却不是从你们而来，
他们虽和你们同在，却不属于你们。
你们可以给他们以爱，却不可给他们以思想。
因为他们有自己的思想。
你们可以荫庇他们的身体，却不能荫庇他们的灵魂。
因为他们的灵魂，是住在“明日”的宅中，那是你们在梦中也不能想见的。
你们可以努力去模仿他们，却不能使他们来像你们。
因为生命是不倒行的，也不与“昨日”一同停留。
你们是弓，你们的孩子是从弦上发出的生命的箭矢。
那射者在无穷之中看定了目标，也用神力将你们引满，
使他的箭矢迅速而遥远地射了出去。
让你们在射者手中的“弯曲”成为喜乐吧；
因为他爱那飞出的箭，也爱了那静止的弓。

Giving

Then said a rich man, "Speak to us of Giving."
And he answered:
You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, 
thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have—and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, 
and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked,
through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.
You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."
The trees in your orchard say not so, 
nor the flocks in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights is worthy of all else from you.
And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream.
And what desert greater shall there be than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed?
See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, 
and an instrument of giving.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life—while you,
who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
And you receivers—and you are all receivers—assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, 
is to doubt his generosity who has the free-hearted earth for mother,
and God for father.

施与

于是一个富人说：请给我们谈施与。
他回答说：
你把你的产业给人，那只算给了一点。
当你以身布施的时候，那才是真正的施与。
因为你的财产，岂不是你保留着的恐怕“明日”或许需要它们的东西么？
但是“明日”，那只过虑的犬，随着香客上圣城去，却把骨头埋在无痕迹的沙土里，
“明日”能把什么给他呢？
除了需要的本身之外，需要还忧惧什么呢？
当你在井泉充溢的时候愁渴，那你的渴不是更难解么？
有人有许多财产，却只把一小部分给人——他们为求名而施与，
那潜藏的欲念，使他们的礼物不完美。
有人只有一点财产，却全部都给人。
这些人相信生命和生命的丰富，他们的宝柜总不空虚。
有人喜乐地施与，那喜乐就是他们的酬报。
有人痛苦地施与，那痛苦就是他们的洗礼。
也有人施与了，而不觉出施与的痛苦，也不寻求快乐，也不有心为善；
他们的施与，如同那边山谷里的桂花，香气在空际浮动。
从这些人的手中，上帝在说话，在他们的眼后，上帝在俯对大地微笑。
因着请求而施与的，固然是好，而未受请求，只因着默喻而施与的，是更好了；
对于乐善好施的人，去寻求需要他帮助的人的快乐，比施与的快乐还大。
有什么东西你必须保留的呢？
必有一天，你的一切都要交付出来；
趁现在施与吧，这施与的时机是你自己的，而不是你的后人的。
你常说：“我要施与，却只要舍给那些配受施与者。”
你果园里的树木，和牧场上的羊群，却不这样说。
他们为要生存而施与，因为保留就是毁灭。
凡是配接受白日和黑夜的人们，都配接受你施与的一切。
凡配在生命的海洋里啜饮的，都配在你的小泉里舀满他的杯。
还有什么德行比接受的勇气、信心和善意还大呢？
有谁能使人把他们的心怀敞露，把他们的狷傲揭开，使你能看出他们赤裸的价值和无惭的骄傲？
先省察你自己是否配做一个施与者，是否配做一个施与的器皿。
因为实在说，那只是生命给予生命——你以为自己是施主，其实也不过是一个证人。
你们这些接受者——你们都是接受者——不要负起报恩的重担，
恐怕你要把轭加在你自己和施者的身上。
不如和施者在礼物上一齐展翅飞腾；
因为过于思量你们的欠负，就是怀疑了那以慈悲的大地为母、以上帝为父的人的仁心。

Work

Then a ploughman said, "Speak to us of Work."
And he answered, saying:
You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.
When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?
Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.
But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life.
And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.
But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.
You have been told also life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love.
And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, "He who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is nobler than he who ploughs the soil.
"And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet."
But I say, not in sleep but in the over-wakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades of grass;
And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving
Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man's hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the wine.
And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man's ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.

工作

于是一个农夫说：请给我们谈工作。
他回答说：
你工作为的是要与大地和大地的精神一同前进。
因为惰逸使你成为一个时代的生客，一个生命大队中的落伍者，
这大队是庄严的，高傲而服从的，向着无穷前进。
在你工作的时候，你是一管笛，从你心中吹出时光的微语，变成音乐。
你们谁肯做一根芦管，在万物合唱的时候，你独痴呆无声呢？
你们常听人说，工作是祸殃，劳动是不幸。
我却对你们说，你们工作的时候，你们完成了大地深远的梦之一部，
他指示你那梦是从何时开头的。
而在你劳动不息的时候，你确实爱了生命。
在工作里爱了生命，就是通彻了生命最深的秘密。
倘然在你的辛苦里，将有身之苦恼和养身之诅咒，写上你的眉间，则我将回答你，
只有你眉间的汗，能洗去这些字句。
你们也听见人说，生命是黑暗的。在你疲劳之中，你附和了那疲劳的人所说的话。
我说生命的确是黑暗的，除非是有了激励；
一切的激励都是盲目的，除非是有了知识；
一切的知识都是徒然的，除非是有了工作；
一切的工作都是空虚的，除非是有了爱。
当你仁爱地工作的时候，你便与自己、与人类、与上帝联系为一。
怎样才是仁爱地工作呢？
从你的心中抽丝织成布帛，仿佛你的爱者要来穿此衣裳。
热情地盖造房屋，仿佛你的爱者要住在其中。
温存地播种，欢乐地收刈，仿佛你的爱者要来吃这产物。
这就是用你自己灵魂的气息，来充满你所制造的一切。
要知道一切受福的古人，都在你上头看视着。
我常听见你们仿佛在梦中说：“那在蜡石上表现出他自己灵魂的形象的人，是比耕地的人高贵多了。
“那捉住虹霓，传神地画在布帛上的人，是比织履的人强多了。”
我却要说，不在梦中，而在正午清醒的时候，风对大橡树说话的声音，
并不比对纤小的草叶所说的更甜柔；
只有那用他的爱心，把风声变成甜柔的歌曲的人，是伟大的。
工作是眼能看见的爱。
倘若你不是欢乐地却厌恶地工作，那还不如撇下工作，坐在大殿的门边，
去乞求那些欢乐地工作的人的周济。
倘若你无精打采地烤着面包，你烤成的面包是苦的，只能救半个人的饥饿。
你若是怨重地压榨着葡萄酒，你的怨望，在酒里滴下了毒液。
倘若你能像天使一般地唱，却不爱唱，那你就把人们能听到白天和黑夜的声音的耳朵都塞住了。

Joy & Sorrow

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, 
the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, 
look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only 
that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, 
and you shall see that in truth you are weeping 
for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," 
and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, 
and when one sits alone with you at your board, 
remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver,
needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

哀乐

于是一个妇人说：请给我们讲欢乐与悲哀。
他回答说：
你的欢乐，就是你的去了面具的悲哀。
连你那涌溢欢乐的井泉，也常是充满了你的眼泪。
不然又怎样呢？
悲哀的创痕在你身上刻得越深，你越能容受更多的欢乐。
你的盛酒的杯，不就是那曾在陶工的窑中燃烧的坯子么？
那感悦你的心神的笛子，不就是曾受尖刀挖刻的木管么？
当你欢乐的时候，深深地内顾你的心中，你就知道只不过是曾使你悲哀的，又在使你欢乐。
当你悲哀的时候，再内顾你的心中，你就看出实在是那曾使你喜悦的，又在使你哭泣。
你们有些人说：“欢乐大于悲哀。”也有人说：“不，悲哀是更大的。”
我却要对你们说，它们是不能分开的。
它们一同来到，当这一个和你同席的时候，要记住那一个正在你床上酣眠。
真的，你是天平般悬在悲哀与欢乐之间。
只有在盘空的时候，你才能静止，持平。
当守库者把你提起来称他的金银的时候，你的哀乐就必须升降了。

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, 
and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for 
that which has been your delight.

当你悲哀的时候，再内顾你的心中，你就看出实在是那曾使你喜悦的，又在使你哭泣。

Clothes

And the weaver said, "Speak to us of Clothes."
And he answered:
Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful.
And though you seek in garments the freedom of privacy 
you may find in them a harness and a chain.
Would that you could meet the sun and the wind 
with more of your skin and less of your raiment,
For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.
Some of you say, "It is the north wind who has woven the clothes to wear."
And I say, Aye, it was the north wind,
But shame was his loom, and the softening of the sinews was his thread.
And when his work was done he laughed in the forest.
Forget not that modesty is for a shield against the eye of the unclean.
And when the unclean shall be no more, 
what were modesty but a fetter and a fouling of the mind?
And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet 
and the winds long to play with your hair.

衣服

于是一个织工说：请给我们谈衣服。
他回答说：
你们的衣服掩盖了许多的美，却遮不住丑恶。
你们虽可在衣服里找到隐秘的自由，却也找到了橛饰与羁勒了。
我恨不得你们多用皮肤而少用衣服去迎接太阳和风。
因为生命的气息是在阳光中，生命的把握是在风里。
你们中有人说：“那纺织衣服给我们穿的是北风。”
我也说：对的，是北风，
但他的机杼是可羞的，那使筋肌软弱的是他的线缕。
当他的工作完毕时，他在林中喧笑。
不要忘却，“羞怯”只是遮挡“不洁”的眼目的盾牌。
在“不洁”完全没有了的时候，“羞怯”不是仅仅是心上的桎梏与束缚么？
也别忘了大地是欢喜和你的赤脚接触，风是希望和你的头发相戏的。

Freedom

And an orator said, "Speak to us of Freedom."
And he answered:
At the city gate and by your fireside 
I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,
Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.
Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel 
I have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.
And my heart bled within me; 
for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom 
becomes a harness to you, 
and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfillment.
You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights 
without a want and a grief,
But rather when these things girdle your life 
and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.
And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights 
unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of 
your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?
In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, 
though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle the eyes.
And what is it but fragments of your own self 
you would discard that you may become free?
If it is an unjust law you would abolish, 
that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.
You cannot erase it by burning your law books 
nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, 
though you pour the sea upon them.
And if it is a despot you would dethrone, 
see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, 
but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their won pride?
And if it is a care you would cast off, 
that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.
And if it is a fear you would dispel, 
the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.
Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, 
the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished,
the pursued and that which you would escape.
These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.
And when the shadow fades and is no more, 
the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.
And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters
becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

自由

于是一个辩士说：请给我们谈自由。
他回答说：
在城门边，在炉火光前，我曾看见你们俯伏敬拜自己的“自由”，
就像那些囚奴，在诛戮他们的暴君之前卑屈，颂赞。
噫，在庙宇的林中，在城堡的影里，我曾看见你们中之最自由者，把自由像枷铐似地戴上。
我心里忧伤；因为只有那求自由的愿望也成了羁饰，你们再不以自由为标杆、
为成就的时候，你们才是自由了。
当你们的白日不是没有牵挂，你们的黑夜也不是没有愿望与忧愁的时候，你们才是自由的。
不如说是当那些事物包围住你的生命，而你却能赤裸地无牵挂地超腾的时候，你们才是自由了。
但若不是在你们了解的晓光中，折断了捆绑你们朝气的锁链，你们怎能超脱你们的白日和黑夜呢？
实话说，你们所谓的自由，就是最坚牢的锁链，虽然那链环闪烁在日光中，炫耀了你们的眼目。
“自由”岂不是你们自身的碎片，你们愿意将它抛弃换得自由么？
假如那是你们所要废除的一条不公平的法律，那法律却是你们用自己的手写在自己的额上的。
你们虽烧毁你们的律书，倾全海的水来冲洗你们法官的额，也不能把它抹掉。
假如那是个你们所要废黜的暴君，先看他的建立在你心中的宝座是否毁坏。
因为一个暴君怎能辖制自由和自尊的人呢？除非他们自己的自由是专制的，他们的自尊是可羞的。
假如那是一种你们所要抛掷的牵挂，那牵挂是你自取的，不是别人勉强给你的。
假如那是一种你们所要消灭的恐怖，那恐怖的座位是在你的心中，而不在你所恐怖的人的手里。
真的，一切在你里面运行的事物，愿望与恐怖，憎恶与爱怜，追求与退避，都是永恒地互抱着。
这些事物在你里面运行，如同光明与黑影成对地胶粘着。
当黑影消灭的时候，遗留的光明又变成另一种光明的黑影。
这样，当你们的自由脱去它的镣铐的时候，它本身又变成更大的自由的镣铐了。

Pain

And a woman spoke, saying, "Tell us of Pain."
And he said:
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, 
that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life,
your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, 
even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, 
and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard,
is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, 
has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened
with His own sacred tears.

苦痛

于是一个妇人说：请给我们谈苦痛。
他说：
你的苦痛是你那包裹知识的皮壳的破碎。
连果核也必须破碎，使果仁可以暴露在阳光中，所以你们也必须知道苦痛。
倘若你能使你的心时常赞叹日常生活的神妙，你的苦痛的神妙必不减于你的欢乐；
你要承受你心天的季候，如同你常常承受从田野上度过的四时。
你要静守，度过你心里凄凉的冬日。
许多的苦痛是你自择的。
那是你身中的医士，医治你病躯的苦药。
所以你要信托这医生，静默安宁地吃他的药：
因为他的手腕虽重而辣，却是有冥冥的温柔之手指导着，
他带来的药杯，虽会焚灼你的嘴唇，那陶土却是陶工用他自己神圣的眼泪来润湿调抟而成的。

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, 
even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

你要承受你心天的季候，如同你常常承受田野上度过的四时。

Teaching

Then said a teacher, "Speak to us of Teaching."
And he said:
No man can reveal to you aught but that 
which already lies half asleep in the dawning of our knowledge.
The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, 
gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness.
If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of wisdom,
but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.
The astronomer may speak to you of his understanding of space, 
but he cannot give you his understanding.
The musician may sing to you of the rhythm which is in all space, 
but he cannot give you the ear 
which arrests the rhythm nor the voice that echoes it.
And he who is versed in the science of numbers can tell of the regions 
of weight and measure, but he cannot conduct you thither.
For the vision of one man lends not its wings to another man.
And even as each one of you stands alone in God's knowledge, 
so must each one of you be alone in his knowledge 
of God and in his understanding of the earth.

教授

于是一位教师说：请给我们讲教授。
他说：
除了那已经半睡着、躺卧在你知识的晓光里的东西之外，没有人能向你启示什么。
那在殿宇的阴影里，在弟子群中散步的教师，他不是在传授他的智慧，
而是在传授他的忠信与仁慈。
假如他真是大智，他就不命令你进入他的智慧之堂，却要引导你到你自己心灵的门口。
天文家能给你讲述他对于太空的了解，他却不能把他的了解给你。
音乐家能给你唱出那充满太空的韵调，他却不能给你那聆受韵调的耳朵和应和韵调的声音。
精通数学的人能说出度量衡的方位，他却不能引导你到那方位上去。
因为一个人不能把他理想的翅翼借给别人。
正如上帝对于你们每个人的了解都是不相同的，
所以你们对于上帝和大地的见解也应当是不相同的。

Friendship

And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."
And he answered saying:
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, 
nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, 
all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence,
as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery 
is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter,
and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

友谊

于是一个青年说：请给我们谈友谊。
他回答说：
你的朋友是你的有回答的需求。
他是你用爱播种、用感谢收获的田地。
他是你的饮食，也是你的火炉。
因为你饥渴地奔向他，你向他寻求平安。
当你的朋友向你倾吐胸臆的时候，你不要怕说出心中的“否”，也不要瞒住你心中的“可”。
当他静默的时候，你的心仍要倾听他的心；
因为在友谊里，不用言语，一切的思想，一切的愿望，一切的希冀，
都在无声的欢乐中发生而共享了。
当你与朋友别离的时候，不要忧伤；
因为你感到他的最可爱之点，当他不在时愈见清晰，正如登山者从平原上望山峰，也加倍地分明。
愿除了寻求心灵的加深之外，友谊没有别的目的。
因为那只寻求着要泄露自身的神秘的爱，不算是爱，只算是一个撒下的网，
只网住一些无益的东西。
让你的最美好的事物，都给你的朋友。
假如他必须知道你潮水的退落，也让他知道你潮水的高涨。
你找他只为消磨光阴的人，还能算是你的朋友么？
你要在生长的时间中去找他。
因为他的时间是满足你的需要，不是填满你的空虚。
在友谊的温柔中，要有欢笑和共同的喜悦。
因为在那微末事物的甘露中，你的心能寻到他的清晓而焕发了精神。

Beauty

And a poet said, "Speak to us of Beauty."
And he answered:
Where shall you seek beauty, 
and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?
The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle.
"Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us."
And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
"Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."
The tired and the weary say, 
"Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
"Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light 
that quivers in fear of the shadow."
But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
"And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, 
and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."
At night the watchmen of the city say, 
"Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, 
"We have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."
In winter say the snow-bound, 
"She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."
And in the summer heat the reapers say,
"We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, 
and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."
All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes 
and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, 
nor a wing attached to a claw.
But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, 
beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and your are the mirror.

美

于是一个诗人说：请给我们谈美。
他回答说：
你们到处追求美，除了她自己做了你的道路，引导着你之外，你如何能找到她呢？
除了她做了你的言语的编造者之外，你如何能谈论她呢？
冤抑的、受伤的人说：“美是仁爱的，和柔的，
“如同一位年轻的母亲，在她自己的光荣中半含着羞涩，在我们中间行走。”
热情的人说：“不，美是一种全能的可畏的东西，
“暴风似地，撼摇了上天下地。”
疲乏的、忧苦的人说：“美是温柔的微语，在我们心灵中说话。
“她的声音传达到我们的寂静中，如同微晕的光，在阴影的恐惧中颤动。”
烦躁的人却说：“我们听见她在万山中叫号，
“与她的呼声俱来的，有兽蹄之声，振翼之音，与狮子之吼。”
在夜里守城的人说：“美要与晓暾从东方一同升起。”
在日中的时候，工人和旅客说：“我们曾看见她凭倚在落日的窗户上俯视大地。”
在冬日，阻雪的人说：“她要和春天一同来临，跳跃于山峰之上。”
在夏日的炎热里，刈者说：“我们曾看见她和秋叶一同跳舞，我们也看见她的发中有一堆白雪。”
这些都是他们关于美的谈说。
实际上，你却不是谈她，只是谈着你那未曾满足的需要，
美不是一种需要，只是一种欢乐。
她不是干渴的口，也不是伸出的空虚的手，
却是发焰的心，陶醉的灵魂。
她不是那你能看到的形象，能听到的歌声，
却是你虽闭目时也能看见的形象，虽掩耳时也能听见的歌声。
她不是犁痕下树皮中的液汁，也不是在兽爪间垂死的禽鸟，
却是一座永远开花的花园，一群永远飞翔的天使。
阿法利斯的民众呵，在生命揭露圣洁的面容的时候的美，就是生命。
但你就是生命，你也是面纱。
美是永生揽镜自照。
但你就是永生，你也是镜子。

Death

Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day 
cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, 
open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd
when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, 
that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, 
that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

死

于是爱尔美差开口了，说：现在我们愿意问死。
他说：
你愿知道死的奥秘。
但是除了在生命的心中寻求以外，你们怎能寻见呢？
那夜中张目的枭鸟，他的眼睛在白昼是盲瞎的，不能揭露光明的神秘。
假如你真要瞻望死的灵魂，你应当对生的肉体大大地开展你的心。
因为生和死是一件事，如同江河与海洋也是一件事。
在你的希望和愿欲的深处，隐藏着你对于来生的默识；
如同种子在雪下梦想，你们的心也在梦想着春天。
信赖一切的梦境吧，因为在那里面隐藏着永生之门。
你们的怕死，只是像一个牧人，当他站在国王的座前，被御手恩抚时的战栗。
在战栗之下，牧人岂不因为他身上已有了国王的手迹而喜悦么？
可是，他岂不更注意到他自己的战栗么？
除了在风中裸立，在日下消融之外，“死”还是什么呢？
除了把呼吸从不停的潮汐中解放，使他上升，扩大，无碍地寻求上帝之外，“气绝”又是什么呢？
只在你们从沉默的河中啜饮时，才真能歌唱。
只在你们达到山巅时，你们才开始攀援。
只在大地索取你们的四肢时，你们才真正地跳舞。

Sand and Foam

（1926）

I AM FOREVER
 walking upon these shores,
Betwixt the sand and the foam,
The high tide will erase my foot-prints,
And the wind will blow away the foam.
But the sea and the shore will remain
Forever.
Once I filled my hand with mist.
Then I opened it and lo, the mist was a worm.
And I closed and opened my hand again,
and behold there was a bird.
And again I closed and opened my hand, 
and in its hollow stood a man with a sad face,
turned upward.
And again I closed my hand, 
and when I opened it there was naught but mist.
But I heard a song of exceeding sweetness.
It was but yesterday I thought myself a fragment quivering 
without rhythm in the sphere of life.
Now I know that I am the sphere, 
and all life in rhythmic fragments moves within me.
They say to me in their awakening, 
"You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand 
upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea."
And in my dream I say to them, "I am the infinite sea,
and all worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore."
Only once have I been made mute. It was when a man asked me,
"Who are you?"
The first thought of God was an angel.
The first word of God was a man.
We were fluttering, wandering,
longing creatures a thousand thousand years before the sea 
and the wind in the forest gave us words.
Now how can we express the ancient of days in us 
with only the sounds of our yesterdays?
The Sphinx spoke only once, and the Sphinx said, 
"A grain of sand is a desert, 
and a desert is a grain of sand; and now let us all be silent again."
I heard the Sphinx, but I did not understand.
Once I saw the face of a woman and I beheld all her children not yet born.
And a woman looked upon my face and she knew all my forefathers, 
dead before she was born.
Now would I fulfil myself. 
But how shall I unless I become a planet with intelligent lives dwelling upon it?
Is not this every man's goal?
A pearl is a temple built by pain around a grain of sand.
What longing built our bodies and around what grains?
When God threw me, a pebble, 
into this wondrous lake I disturbed its surface with countless circles.
But when I reached the depths I became very still.
Give me silence, and I will outdare the night.
I had a second birth when my soul and my body loved one another and were married.
Once I knew a man whose ears were exceedingly keen,
but he was dumb. He had lost his tongue in a battle.
I know now what battles that man fought before the great silence came.
I am glad he is dead
The world is not large enough for two of us.
Long did I lie in the dust of Egypt, 
silent and unaware of the seasons.
Then the sun gave me birth, and I rose and walked upon the banks of the Nile,
Singing with the days and dreaming with the nights.
And now the sun treads upon me with a thousand feet 
that I may lie again in the dust of Egypt.
But behold a marvel and a riddle!
The very sun that gathered me cannot scatter me.
Still erect am I, and sure of foot do I walk upon the banks of the Nile.
Remembrance is a form of meeting.
Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.
We measure time according to the movement of countless suns; 
and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets.
Now tell me, how could we ever meet at the same place and the same time?
Space is not space between the earth and the sun to one 
who looks down from the windows of the Milky Way.
Humanity is a river of light running from the ex-eternity to eternity.
Do not the spirits who dwell in the ether envy man his pain?
On my way to the Holy City I met another pilgrim and I asked him, 
"Is this indeed the way to the Holy City?"
And he said, "Follow me, 
and you will reach the Holy City in a day and a night."
And I followed him. And we walked many days and many nights, 
yet we did not reach the Holy City.
And what was to my surprise he became angry with me because he had misled me.
Make me, oh God, the prey of the lion, 
ere You make the rabbit my prey.
One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night.
My house says to me, "Do not leave me, 
for here dwells your past."
And the road says to me, 
"Come and follow me, for I am your future."
And I say to both my house and the road,
"I have no past, nor have I a future. If I stay here,
there is a going in my staying; 
and if I go there is a staying in my going. Only love and death change all things."
How can I lose faith in the justice of life, 
when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful 
than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth?
Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain.
Seven times have I despised my soul:
The first time when I saw her being meek that she might attain height.
The second time when I saw her limping before the crippled.
The third time when she was given to choose between the hard and the easy, 
and she chose the easy.
The fourth time when she committed a wrong, 
and comforted herself that others also commit wrong.
The fifth time when she forbore for weakness, 
and attributed her patience to strength.
The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, 
and knew not that it was one of her own masks.
And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, 
and deemed it a virtue.
I AM IGNORANT of absolute truth. But I am humble before my ignorance 
and therein lies my honour and my reward
There is a space between man's imagination and man's attainment 
that may only be traversed by his longing.
Paradise is there, behind that door, in the next room;
but I have lost the key.Perhaps I have only mislaid it.
You are blind and I am deaf and dumb, 
so let us touch hands and understand.
The significance of man is not in what he attains,
but rather in what he longs to attain.
Some of us are like ink and some like paper.
And if it were not for the blackness of some of us, some of us would be dumb;
And if it were not for the whiteness of some of us, some of us would be blind.
Give me an ear and I will give you a voice.
Our mind is a sponge; our heart is a stream.
Is it not strange that most of us choose sucking rather than running?
When you long for blessings that you may not name, 
and when you grieve knowing not the cause, 
then indeed you are growing with all things that grow,
and rising toward your greater self.
When one is drunk with a vision, 
he deems his faint expression of it the very wine.
You drink wine that you may be intoxicated; 
and I drink that it may sober me from that other wine.
When my cup is empty I resign myself to its emptiness; 
but when it is half full I resent its half-fullness.
The reality of the other person is not in what he reveals to you,
but in what he cannot reveal to you.
Therefore, if you would understand him, 
listen not to what he says but rather to what he does not say.
Half of what I say is meaningless; 
but I say it so that the other half may reach you.
A sense of humour is a sense of proportion.
My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults 
and blamed my silent virtues.
When Life does not find a singer to sing her heart 
she produces a philosopher to speak her mind.
A truth is to be known always, to be uttered sometimes.
The real in us is silent; the acquired is talkative.
The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; 
but let us talk that we may not feel lonely.
When two women talk they say nothing; 
when one woman speaks she reveals all of life.
Frogs may bellow louder than bulls, 
but they cannot drag the plough in the field nor turn the wheel of the winepress,
and of their skins you cannot make shoes.
Only the dumb envy the talkative.
If winter should say, "Spring is in my heart,"
who would believe winter?
Every seed is a longing.
Should you really open your eyes and see, 
you would behold your image in all images.
And should you open your ears and listen,
you would hear your own voice in all voices.
It takes two of us to discover truth: 
one to utter it and one to understand it.
Though the wave of words is forever upon us, 
yet our depth is forever silent.
Many a doctrine is like a window pane. 
We see truth through it but it divides us from truth.
Now let us play hide and seek. 
Should you hide in my heart it would not be difficult to find you. 
But should you hide behind your own shell,
then it would be useless for anyone to seek you.
A woman may veil her face with a smile.
How noble is the sad heart who would sing a joyous song with joyous hearts.
He who would understand a woman, or dissect genius, 
or solve the mystery of silence is the very man who would wake from 
a beautiful dream to sit at a breakfast table.
I would walk with all those who walk. 
I would not stand still to watch the procession passing by
You owe more than gold to him who serves you. 
Give him of your heart or serve him.
Nay, we have not lived in vain. Have they not built towers of our bones?
Let us not be particular and sectional.
The poet's mind and the scorpion's tail rise in glory from the same earth.
Every dragon gives birth to a St. George who slays it.
Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky. 
We fell them down and turn them into paper that we may record our emptiness.
Should you care to write (and only the saints know why you should) 
you must needs have knowledge and art and magic—the knowledge of the music of words,
the art of being artless, and the magic of loving your readers.
They dip their pens in our hearts and think they are inspired.
Should a tree write its autobiography it would not be unlike the history of a race.
If I were to choose between the power of writing a poem 
and the ecstasy of a poem unwritten, I would choose the ecstasy. It is better poetry.
But you and all my neighbours agree that I always choose badly.
Poetry is not an opinion expressed. 
It is a song that rises from a bleeding wound or a smiling mouth.
Words are timeless. You should utter them or write them 
with a knowledge of their timelessness.
A POET IS a dethroned king sitting among the ashes of his palace 
trying to fashion an image out of the ashes.
Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, 
with a dash of the dictionary.
In vain shall a poet seek the mother of the songs of his heart.
Once I said to a poet, "We shall not know your worth until you die."
And he answered saying, "Yes, death is always the revealer. 
And if indeed you would know my worth it is 
that I have more in my heart than upon my tongue, 
and more in my desire than in my hand."
If you sing of beauty though alone in the heart of the 
desert you will have an audience.
Poetry is wisdom that enchants the heart.
Wisdom is poetry that sings in the mind.
If we could enchant man's heart and at the same time sing in his mind,
Then in truth he would live in the shadow of God.
Inspiration will always sing; inspiration will never explain.
We often sing lullabies to our children that we ourselves may sleep.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.
Thinking is always the stumbling stone to poetry.
A great singer is he who sings our silences.
How can you sing if your mouth be filled with food?
How shall your hand be raised in blessing if it is filled with gold?
They say the nightingale pierces his bosom 
with a thorn when he sings his love song.
So do we all. How else should we sing?
Genius is but a robin's song at the beginning of a slow spring.
Even the most winged spirit cannot escape physical necessity.
A madman is not less a musician than you or myself; 
only the instrument on which he plays is a little out of tune.
The song that lies silent in the heart of a mother sings upon the lips of her child.
No longing remains unfulfilled.
I have never agreed with my other self wholly. 
The truth of the matter seems to lie between us.
Your other self is always sorry for you. 
But your other self grows on sorrow; so all is well.
There is no struggle of soul and body save in the minds of those 
whose souls are asleep and whose bodies are out of tune.
When you reach the heart of life you shall find beauty in all things,
even in the eyes that are blind to beauty.
We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting.
Sow a seed and the earth will yield you a flower. 
Dream your dream to the sky and it will bring you your beloved.
The devil died the very day you were born.
Now you do not have to go through hell to meet an angel.
Many a woman borrows a man's heart; very few could possess it.
If you would possess you must not claim.
When a man's hand touches the hand of a woman they both touch the heart of eternity.
Love is the veil between lover and lover.
Every man loves two women; the one is the creation of his imagination, 
and the other is not yet born.
Men who do not forgive women their little faults will never enjoy their great virtues.
Love that does not renew itself every day becomes a habit and in turn a slavery.
Lovers embrace that which is between them rather than each other.
Love and doubt have never been on speaking terms.
Love is a word of light, written by a hand of light, 
upon a page of light.
Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, 
never an opportunity.
If you do not understand your friend under all conditions 
you will never understand him.
Your most radiant garment is of the other person's weaving;
Your most savoury meal is that which you eat at the other person's table;
Your most comfortable bed is in the other person's house.
Now tell me, how can you separate yourself from the other person?
Your mind and my heart will never agree 
until your mind ceases to live in numbers and my heart in the mist.
We shall never understand one another 
until we reduce the language to seven words.
HOW SHALL MY heart be unsealed unless it be broken?
Only great sorrow or great joy can reveal your truth.
If you would be revealed you must either dance naked in the sun, 
or carry your cross.
Should nature heed what we say of contentment no river would seek the sea,
and no winter would turn to Spring. Should she heed all we say of thrift,
how many of us would be breathing this air?
You see but your shadow when you turn your back to the sun.
You are free before the sun of the day, 
and free before the stars of the night;
And you are free when there is no sun and no moon and no star.
You are even free when you close your eyes upon all there is.
But you are a slave to him whom you love because you love him,
And a slave to him who loves you because he loves you.
We are all beggars at the gate of the temple, 
and each one of us receives his share of the bounty of the King 
when he enters the temple, and when he goes out.
But we are all jealous of one another, 
which is another way of belittling the King.
You cannot consume beyond your appetite. 
The other half of the loaf belongs to the other person, 
and there should remain a little bread for the chance guest.
If it were not for your guests all houses would be graves.
Said a gracious wolf to a simple sheep, 
"Will you not honour our house with a visit?"
And the sheep answered,
"We would have been honoured to visit your house if it were not in your stomach."
I stopped my guest on the threshold and said, 
"Nay, wipe not your feet as you enter, but as you go out."
Generosity is not in giving me that which I need more than you do, 
but it is in giving me that which you need more than I do.
You are indeed charitable when you give, and while giving, 
turn your face away so that you may not see the shyness of the receiver.
The difference between the richest man and the poorest is but a day of hunger 
and an hour of thirst.
We often borrow from our tomorrows to pay our debts to our yesterdays.
I too am visited by angels and devils, but I get rid of them.
When it is an angel I pray an old prayer, and he is bored;
When it is a devil I commit an old sin, and he passes me by.
After all this is not a bad prison; 
but I do not like this wall between my cell and the next prisoner's cell;
Yet I assure you that I do not wish to reproach the warder nor the Builder of the prison.
Those who give you a serpent when you ask for a fish, 
may have nothing but serpents to give. It is then generosity on their part.
Trickery succeeds sometimes, but it always commits suicide.
You are truly a forgiver when you forgive murderers who never spill blood, 
thieves who never steal, and liars who utter no falsehood.
He who can put his finger upon that which divides good from 
evil is he who can touch the very hem of the garment of God.
If your heart is a volcano how shall you expect flowers to bloom in your hands?
A strange form of self-indulgence! There are times 
when I would be wronged and cheated,
that I may laugh at the expense of those 
who think I do not know I am being wronged and cheated.
What shall I say of him who is the pursuer playing the part of the pursued?
Let him who wipes his soiled hands with your garment take your garment. 
He may need it again; surely you would not.
It is a pity that money-changers cannot be good gardeners.
Please do not whitewash your inherent faults with your acquired virtues. 
I would have the faults; they are like mine own.
How often have I attributed to myself crimes I have never committed, 
so that the other person may feel comfortable in my presence.
Even the masks of life are masks of deeper mystery.
You may judge others only according to your knowledge of yourself.
Tell me now, who among us is guilty and who is unguilty?
The truly just is he who feels half guilty of your misdeeds.
Only an idiot and a genius break man-made laws; 
and they are the nearest to the heart of God.
It is only when you are pursued that you become swift.
I have no enemies, O God, but if I am to have an enemy
Let his strength be equal to mine,
That truth alone may be the victor.
You will be quite friendly with your enemy when you both die.
Perhaps a man may commit suicide in self-defence.
Long ago there lived a Man who was crucified for being too loving and too lovable.
And strange to relate I met him thrice yesterday.
The first time He was asking a policeman not to take a prostitute to prison; 
the second time He was drinking wine with an outcast; 
and the third time He was having a fist-fight with a promoter inside a church.
If all they say of good and evil were true, then my life is but one long crime.
Pity is but half justice.
THE ONLY ONE who has been unjust to me is the one to 
whose brother I have been unjust.
When you see a man led to prison say in your heart,
"Mayhap he is escaping from a narrower prison."
And when you see a man drunken say in your heart, 
"Mayhap he sought escape from something still more unbeautiful."
Oftentimes I have hated in self-defence; 
but if I were stronger I would not have used such a weapon.
How stupid is he who would patch the hatred in his eyes with the smile of his lips.
Only those beneath me can envy or hate me.
I have never been envied nor hated; I am above no one.
Only those above me can praise or belittle me.
I have never been praised nor belittled; I am below no one.
Your saying to me, "I do not understand you," 
is praise beyond my worth, and an insult you do not deserve.
How mean am I when life gives me gold and I give you silver,
and yet I deem myself generous.
When you reach the heart of life you will 
find yourself not higher than the felon, and not lower than the prophet.
Strange that you should pity the slow-footed and not the slow-minded,
And the blind-eyed rather than the blind-hearted.
It is wiser for the lame not to break his crutches upon the head of his enemy.
How blind is he who gives you out of his pocket that he may take out of your heart.
Life is a procession. The slow of foot finds it too swift and he steps out;
And the swift of foot finds it too slow and he too steps out.
If there is such a thing as sin some of us commit it
backward following our forefathers' footsteps;
And some of us commit it forward by overruling our children.
The truly good is he who is one with all those who are deemed bad.
We are all prisoners but some of us are in cells with windows and some without.
Strange that we all defend our wrongs with more vigour than we do our rights.
Should we all confess our sins to one another 
we would all laugh at one another for our lack of originality.
Should we all reveal our virtues we would also laugh for the same cause.
An individual is above man-made laws until 
he commits a crime against man-made conventions;
After that he is neither above anyone nor lower than anyone.
Government is an agreement between you and myself.
You and myself are often wrong.
Crime is either another name of need or an aspect of a disease.
Is there a greater fault than being conscious of the other person's faults?
If the other person laughs at you, you can pity him; 
but if you laugh at him you may never forgive yourself.
If the other person injures you, you may forget the injury;
but if you injure him you will always remember.
In truth the other person is your most sensitive self given another body.
How heedless you are when you would have men fly 
with your wings and you cannot even give them a feather.
Once a man sat at my board and ate my bread 
and drank my wine and went away laughing at me.
Then he came again for bread and wine, 
and I spurned him;
And the angels laughed at me.
Hate is a dead thing. Who of you would be a tomb?
It is the honour of the murdered that he is not the murderer.
The tribune of humanity is in its silent heart, never its talkative mind.
They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold;
And I deem them mad because they think my days have a price.
They spread before us their riches of gold and silver, of ivory and ebony, 
and we spread before them our hearts and our spirits;
And yet they deem themselves the hosts and us the guests.
I would be the least among men with dreams and the desire to fulfil them, 
rather than the greatest with no dreams and no desires.
The most pitiful among men is he who turns his dreams into silver and gold.
We are all climbing toward the summit of our hearts' desire.
Should the other climber steal your sack and your purse and wax fat 
on the one and heavy on the other, you should pity him;
The climbing will be harder for his flesh, 
and the burden will make his way longer.
And should you in your leanness see his flesh puffing upward, 
help him a step; it will add to your swiftness.
You cannot judge any man beyond your knowledge of him, 
and how small is your knowledge.
I would not listen to a conqueror preaching to the conquered.
The truly free man is he who bears the load of the bond slave patiently.
A thousand years ago my neighbour said to me, 
"I hate life, for it is naught but a thing of pain."
And yesterday I passed by a cemetery and saw life dancing upon his grave.
Strife in nature is but disorder longing for order.
Solitude is a silent storm that breaks down all our dead branches;
Yet it sends our living roots deeper into the living heart of the living earth.
Once I spoke of the sea to a brook, 
and the brook thought me but an imaginative exaggerator;
And once I spoke of a brook to the sea, 
and the sea thought me but a depreciative defamer.
How narrow is the vision that exalts the busyness of the ant
above the singing of the grasshopper.
The highest virtue here may be the least in another world.
The deep and the high go to the depth or to the height in a straight line;
only the spacious can move in circles.
IF IT WERE not for our conception of weights and measures 
we would stand in awe of the firefly as we do before the sun.
A scientist without imagination is a butcher with dull knives and out-worn scales.
But what would you, since we are not all vegetarians?
When you sing the hungry hears you with his stomach.
Death is not nearer to the aged than to the new-born; neither is life.
If indeed you must be candid, be candid beautifully; 
otherwise keep silent, for there is a man in our neighbourhood who is dying.
Mayhap a funeral among men is a wedding feast among the angels.
A forgotten reality may die and leave in its will seven thousand actualities 
and facts to be spent in its funeral and the building of a tomb.
In truth we talk only to ourselves, 
but sometimes we talk loud enough that others may hear us.
The obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply.
If the Milky Way were not within me how should I have seen it or known it?
Unless I am a physician among physicians they would 
not believe that I am an astronomer.
Perhaps the sea's definition of a shell is the pearl.
Perhaps time's definition of coal is the diamond.
Crime is either another name of need or an aspect of a disease.
Is there a greater fault than being conscious of the other person's faults?
If the other person laughs at you, you can pity him;
but if you laugh at him you may never forgive yourself.
If the other person injures you, you may forget the injury;
but if you injure him you will always remember.
In truth the other person is your most sensitive self given another body.
How heedless you are when you would have men fly 
with your wings and you cannot even give them a feather.
Once a man sat at my board and ate my bread 
and drank my wine and went away laughing at me.
Then he came again for bread and wine, and I spurned him;
And the angels laughed at me.
Hate is a dead thing. Who of you would be a tomb?
It is the honour of the murdered that he is not the murderer.
The tribune of humanity is in its silent heart, never its talkative mind.
They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold;
And I deem them mad because they think my days have a price.
They spread before us their riches of gold and silver, of ivory and ebony,
and we spread before them our hearts and our spirits;
And yet they deem themselves the hosts and us the guests.
I would be the least among men with dreams and the desire to fulfil them, 
rather than the greatest with no dreams and no desires.
The most pitiful among men is he who turns his dreams into silver and gold.
We are all climbing toward the summit of our hearts' desire.
Should the other climber steal your sack and your purse 
and wax fat on the one and heavy on the other, you should pity him;
The climbing will be harder for his flesh, and the burden will make his way longer.
And should you in your leanness see his flesh puffing upward,
help him a step; it will add to your swiftness.
You cannot judge any man beyond your knowledge of him, 
and how small is your knowledge.
I would not listen to a conqueror preaching to the conquered.
The truly free man is he who bears the load of the bond slave patiently.
A thousand years ago my neighbour said to me,
"I hate life, for it is naught but a thing of pain."
And yesterday I passed by a cemetery and saw life dancing upon his grave.
Strife in nature is but disorder longing for order.
Solitude is a silent storm that breaks down all our dead branches;
Yet it sends our living roots deeper into the living heart of the living earth.
Once I spoke of the sea to a brook, 
and the brook thought me but an imaginative exaggerator;
And once I spoke of a brook to the sea, and the sea thought me 
but a depreciative defamer.
How narrow is the vision that exalts the busyness of the ant 
above the singing of the grasshopper.
The highest virtue here may be the least in another world.
The deep and the high go to the depth or to the height in a straight line; 
only the spacious can move in circles.
IF IT WERE not for our conception of weights and measures 
we would stand in awe of the firefly as we do before the sun.
A scientist without imagination is a butcher with dull knives and out-worn scales.
But what would you, since we are not all vegetarians?
When you sing the hungry hears you with his stomach.
Death is not nearer to the aged than to the new-born; neither is life.
If indeed you must be candid, be candid beautifully; 
otherwise keep silent, for there is a man in our neighbourhood who is dying.
Mayhap a funeral among men is a wedding feast among the angels.
A forgotten reality may die and leave in its will seven thousand actualities 
and facts to be spent in its funeral and the building of a tomb.
In truth we talk only to ourselves,
but sometimes we talk loud enough that others may hear us.
The obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply.
If the Milky Way were not within me how should I have seen it or known it?
Unless I am a physician among physicians they would not believe that I am an astronomer.
Perhaps the sea's definition of a shell is the pearl.
Perhaps time's definition of coal is the diamond.
Fame is the shadow of passion standing in the light.
A root is a flower that disdains fame.
There is neither religion nor science beyond beauty.
Every great man I have known had something small in his make-up; 
and it was that small something which prevented inactivity or madness or suicide.
The truly great man is he who would master no one, 
and who would be mastered by none.
I would not believe that a man is mediocre simply 
because he kills the criminals and the prophets.
Tolerance is love sick with the sickness of haughtiness.
Worms will turn; but is it not strange that even elephants will yield?
A disagreement may be the shortest cut between two minds.
I am the flame and I am the dry bush, and one part of me consumes the other part.
We are all seeking the summit of the holy mountain; 
but shall not our road be shorter if we consider the past a chart and not a guide?
Wisdom ceases to be wisdom when it becomes too proud to weep, 
too grave to laugh, and too self-full to seek other than itself.
Had I filled myself with all that you know what room should 
I have for all that you do not know?
I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant,
and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers.
A bigot is a stone-leaf orator.
The silence of the envious is too noisy.
When you reach the end of what you should know, 
you will be at the beginning of what you should sense.
An exaggeration is a truth that has lost its temper.
If you can see only what light reveals and hear only what sound announces,
Then in truth you do not see nor do you hear.
A fact is a truth unsexed.
You cannot laugh and be unkind at the same time.
The nearest to my heart are a king without a kingdom 
and a poor man who does not know how to beg
A shy failure is nobler than an immodest success.
Dig anywhere in the earth and you will find a treasure, 
only you must dig with the faith of a peasant.
Said a hunted fox followed by twenty horsemen and a pack of twenty hounds, 
"Of course they will kill me. But how poor and how stupid they must be. 
Surely it would not be worth while for twenty foxes riding on twenty 
asses and accompanied by twenty wolves to chase and kill one man."
It is the mind in us that yields to the laws made by us, 
but never the spirit in us.
A traveller am I and a navigator, 
and every day I discover a new region within my soul.
A woman protested saying, 
"Of course it was a righteous war. My son fell in it."
I said to Life, "I would hear Death speak."
And Life raised her voice a little higher and said, "You hear him now."
When you have solved all the mysteries of life you long for death, 
for it is but another mystery of life.
Birth and death are the two noblest expressions of bravery.
My friend, you and I shall remain strangers unto life,
And unto one another, and each unto himself,
Until the day when you shall speak and I shall listen
Deeming your voice my own voice;
And when I shall stand before you
Thinking myself standing before a mirror.
They say to me, "Should you know yourself you would know all men."
And I say, "Only when I seek all men shall I know myself."
MAN IS TWO men; one is awake in darkness, the other is asleep in light.
A hermit is one who renounces the world of fragments 
that he may enjoy the world wholly and without interruption.
There lies a green field between the scholar and the poet; 
should the scholar cross it he becomes a wise man;
should the poet cross it, he becomes a prophet.
Yestereve I saw philosophers in the marketplace carrying their heads in baskets,
and crying aloud, "Wisdom! Wisdom for sale!"
Poor philosophers! They must needs sell their heads to feed their hearts.
Said a philosopher to a street sweeper, "I pity you. Yours is a hard and dirty task."
And the street sweeper said, "Thank you, sir. 
But tell me what is your task?"
And the philosopher answered saying, "I study man's mind, 
his deeds and his desires."
Then the street sweeper went on with his sweeping and said with a smile,
"I pity you too."
He who listens to truth is not less than he who utters truth.
No man can draw the line between necessities and luxuries. 
Only the angels can do that, and the angels are wise and wistful.
Perhaps the angels are our better thought in space.
He is the true prince who finds his throne in the heart of the dervish.
Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less than you need.
In truth you owe naught to any man. You owe all to all men.
All those who have lived in the past live with us now. 
Surely none of us would be an ungracious host.
He who longs the most lives the longest.
They say to me, "A bird in the hand is worth ten in the bush."
But I say, "A bird and a feather in the bush is worth more 
than ten birds in the hand."
Your seeking after that feather is life with winged feet; 
nay, it is life itself.
There are only two elements here, beauty and truth;
beauty in the hearts of lovers, and truth in the arms of the tillers of the soil.
Great beauty captures me, but a beauty still greater frees me even from itself.
Beauty shines brighter in the heart of him 
who longs for it than in the eyes of him who sees it.
I admire him who reveals his mind to me; 
I honour him who unveils his dreams. But why am I shy, 
and even a little ashamed before him who serves me?
The gifted were once proud in serving princes.
Now they claim honour in serving paupers.
The angels know that too many practical men eat their bread
with the sweat of the dreamer's brow
Wit is often a mask. 
If you could tear it you would find 
either a genius irritated or cleverness juggling.
The understanding attributes to me understanding and the dull, 
dullness. I think they are both right.
Only those with secrets in their hearts could divine the secrets in our hearts.
He who would share your pleasure
but not your pain shall lose the key to one of the seven gates of Paradise.
Yes, there is a Nirvana; it is in leading your sheep to a green pasture, 
and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem.
We choose our joys and our sorrows long before we experience them.
Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.
When either your joy or your sorrow becomes great the world becomes small.
Desire is half of life; indifference is half of death.
The bitterest thing in our today's sorrow is the memory of our yesterday's joy.
They say to me, "You must needs choose 
between the pleasures of this world and the peace of the next world."
And I say to them, "I have chosen both the delights of this world 
and the peace of the next. For I know in my heart 
that the Supreme Poet wrote but one poem, and it scans perfectly,
and it also rhymes perfectly."
Faith is an oasis in the heart which will never be reached by the caravan of thinking.
When you reach your height you shall desire but only for desire; 
and you shall hunger, for hunger; and you shall thirst for greater thirst.
If you reveal your secrets to the wind you 
should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.
The flowers of spring are winter's dreams related at the breakfast table of the angels.
Said a skunk to a tube-rose, "See how swiftly I run, 
while you cannot walk nor even creep."
Said the tube-rose to the skunk, "Oh, most noble swift runner, please run swiftly!"
Turtles can tell more about roads than hares.
Strange that creatures without backbones have the hardest shells.
The most talkative is the least intelligent, 
and there is hardly a difference between an orator and an auctioneer.
Be grateful that you do not have to live down the renown 
of a father nor the wealth of an uncle.
But above all be grateful that no one will have to live down 
either your renown or your wealth.
Only when a juggler misses catching his ball does he appeal to me.
The envious praises me unknowingly.
Long were you a dream in your mother's sleep, 
and then she woke to give you birth.
The germ of the race is in your mother's longing.
My father and mother desired a child and they begot me.
And I wanted a mother and a father and I begot night and the sea.
Some of our children are our justifications and some are but our regrets.
When night comes and you too are dark, lie down and be dark with a will.
And when morning comes and you are still dark stand up 
and say to the day with a will, "I am still dark."
It is stupid to play a role with the night and the day.
They would both laugh at you.
The mountain veiled in mist is not a hill; 
an oak tree in the rain is not a weeping willow.
Behold here is a paradox;
the deep and high are nearer to one another than the mid-level to either.
When I stood a clear mirror before you, you gazed into me and saw your image.
Then you said, "I love you."
But in truth you loved yourself in me.
When you enjoy loving your neighbour it ceases to be a virtue.
Love which is not always springing is always dying.
You cannot have youth and the knowledge of it at the same time.
For youth is too busy living to know, 
and knowledge is too busy seeking itself to live.
You may sit at your window watching the passers-by. 
And watching you may see a nun walking toward your right hand,
and a prostitute toward your left hand.
And you may say in your innocence, 
"How noble is the one and how ignoble is the other."
But should you close your eyes and listen awhile 
you would hear a voice whispering in the ether, "One seeks me in prayer, 
and the other in pain. And in the spirit of each there is a bower for my spirit."
Once every hundred years Jesus of Nazareth meets 
Jesus of the Christian in a garden among the hills of Lebanon. 
And they talk long; and each time Jesus of Nazareth 
goes away saying to Jesus of the Christian, 
"My friend, I fear we shall never, never agree."
May God feed the over-abundant!
A great man has two hearts; one bleeds and the other forbears.
Should one tell a lie which does not hurt you nor anyone else, 
why not say in your heart that the house of his facts is too small for his fancies,
and he had to leave it for larger space?
Behind every closed door is a mystery sealed with seven seals.
Waiting is the hoofs of time.
What if trouble should be a new window in the Eastern wall of your house?
You may forget the one with whom you have laughed, 
but never the one with whom you have wept.
There must be something strangely sacred in salt. 
It is in our tears and in the sea.
Our God in His gracious thirst will drink us all, 
the dewdrop and the tear.
You are but a fragment of your giant self, 
a mouth that seeks bread, and a blind hand that holds the cup for a thirsty mouth.
If you would rise but a cubit above race 
and country and self you would indeed become godlike.
If I were you I would not find fault with the sea at low tide.
It is a good ship and our Captain is able;
it is only your stomach that is in disorder.
What we long for and cannot attain is dearer than what we have already attained.
Should you sit upon a cloud you would not see the boundary line 
between one country and another, 
nor the boundary stone between a farm and a farm.
It is a pity you cannot sit upon a cloud.
Seven centuries ago seven white doves rose from a deep valley flying 
to the snow-white summit of the mountain. One of the seven men 
who watched the flight said, "I see a black spot on the wing of the seventh dove."
Today the people in that valley tell of seven black doves 
who flew to the summit of the snowy mountain.
In the autumn I gathered all my sorrows and buried them in my garden.
And when April returned and spring came to wed the earth, 
there grew in my garden beautiful flowers unlike all other flowers.
And my neighbours came to behold them, and they all said to me,
"When autumn comes again, at seeding time, 
will you not give us of the seeds of these flowers 
that we may have them in our gardens?"
It is indeed misery if I stretch an empty hand to men 
and receive nothing; 
but it is hopelessness if I stretch a full hand and find none to receive.
I long for eternity 
because there I shall meet my unwritten poems and my unpainted pictures.
Art is a step from nature toward the Infinite.
A work of art is a mist carved into an image.
Even the hands that make crowns of thorns are better than idle hands.
Our most sacred tears never seek our eyes.
Every man is the descendant of every king and every slave that ever lived.
If the great-grandfather of Jesus had known what was hidden within him,
would he not have stood in awe of himself?
Was the love of Judas' mother of her son less than the love of Mary for Jesus?
There are three miracles of our Brother Jesus not yet recorded in the Book: 
the first that He was a man like you and me, the second 
that He had a sense of humour, and the third 
that He knew He was a conqueror though conquered.
Crucified One, you are crucified upon my heart; 
and the nails that pierce your hands pierce the walls of my heart.
And tomorrow when a stranger passes 
by this Golgotha he will not know that two bled here.
He will deem it the blood of one man.
You may have heard of the Blessed Mountain.
It is the highest mountain in our world.
Should you reach the summit you would have only one desire,
and that to descend and be with those who dwell in the deepest valley.
That is why it is called the Blessed Mountain.
Every thought I have imprisoned in expression I must free by my deeds.

沙与沫

我永远
在沙岸上行走，
在沙土和泡沫的中间。
高潮会抹去我的脚印，
风也会把泡沫吹走。
但是海洋和沙岸
却将永远存在。
我曾抓起一把烟雾。
然后我伸掌一看，哎哟，烟雾变成一个虫子。
我把手握起再伸开一看，手里却是一只鸟。
我再把手握起又伸开，在掌心里站着一个容颜忧郁、向天仰首的人。
我又把手握起，当我伸掌的时候，除了烟雾以外，一无所有。
但是我听到了一支绝顶甜柔的歌曲。
仅仅在昨天，我认为我自己只是一个碎片，无韵律地在生命的穹苍中颤抖。
现在我晓得，我就是那穹苍，一切生命都是在我里面有韵律地转动的碎片。
他们在觉醒的时候对我说：“你和你所居住的世界，只不过是无边海洋的无边沙岸上的一粒沙子。”
在梦里我对他们说：“我就是那无边的海洋，大千世界只不过是我的沙岸上的沙粒。”
只有一次把我窘得哑口无言，就是当一个人问我“你是谁？”的时候。
想到神的第一个念头是一个天使。
说到神的第一个字眼是一个人。
我们是有海洋以前千万年地扑腾着、飘游着、追求着的生物，森林里的风把语言给予了我们。
那么我们怎能以昨天的声音来表现我们心中的远古年代呢？
斯芬克斯只说过一次话。斯芬克斯说：“一粒沙子就是一片沙漠，
一片沙漠就是一粒沙子；现在再让我们沉默下去吧。”
我听到了斯芬克斯的话，但是我不懂得。
我看到过一个女人的脸，我就看到了她所有的还未生出的儿女。
一个女人看了我的脸，她就认得了在她生前已经死去的我的历代祖宗。
我想使自己完满起来。但是除非我能变成一个上面住着理智的生物的星球，此外还有什么可能呢？
这不是每一个人的目标吗？
一粒珍珠是痛苦围绕着一粒沙子所建造起来的庙宇。
是什么愿望围绕着什么样的沙粒，建造起我们的躯体呢？
当神把我这块石子丢在奇妙的湖里的时候，我以无数的圈纹扰乱了它的表面。
但是当我落到深处的时候，我就变得十分安静了。
给我静默，我将向黑夜挑战。
当我的灵魂和肉体由相爱而结婚的时候，我就得到了重生。
从前我认识一个听觉极其锐敏的人，但是他不能说话。在一个战役中他丧失了舌头。
现在我知道在这伟大的沉默来到以前，这个人打过的是什么样的仗。我为他的死亡而高兴。
这世界为我们两个人是不够大的。
我在埃及的沙土上躺了很久，沉默着而且忘却了季节。
然后太阳把生命给了我，我起来在尼罗河岸上行走。
和白天一同唱歌，和黑夜一同做梦。
现在太阳又用一千只脚在我身上践踏，让我再在埃及的沙土上躺下。
但是，请看一个奇迹和一个谜吧！
那个把我集聚起来的太阳，不能把我打散。
我依旧挺立着，我以稳健的步履在尼罗河岸上行走。
记忆是相会的一种形式。
忘记是自由的一种形式。
我们依据无数太阳的运转来测定时间；他们以他们口袋里的小小的机器来测定时间。
那么请告诉我，我们怎能在同一的地点和同一的时间相会呢？
对于从银河的窗户里下望的人，空间就不是地球与太阳之间的空间了。
人性是一条光河，从永久以前流向永久。
难道在以太里居住的精灵，不妒羡世人的痛苦吗？
在到圣城去的路上，我遇到另一位香客，我问他：“这条就是到圣城去的路吗？”
他说：“跟我来吧，再有一天一夜就到达圣城了。”
我就跟随他。我们走了几天几夜，还没有走到圣城。
使我惊讶的是，他带错了路反而对我大发脾气。
神呵，让我做狮子的俘食，要不就让兔子做我的俘食吧。
除了通过黑夜的道路，人们不能到达黎明。
我的房子对我说：“不要离开我，因为你的过去住在这里。”
道路对我说：“跟我来吧，因为我是你的将来。”
我对我的房子和道路说：“我没有过去，也没有将来。如果我住下来，
我的住中就有去；如果我去，我的去中就有住。只有爱和死才能改变一切。”
当那些睡在绒毛上面的人所做的梦，并不比睡在土地上的人的梦更美好的时候，
我怎能对生命的公平失掉信心呢？
奇怪得很，对某些娱乐的愿望，也是我的痛苦的一部分。
曾有七次我鄙视了自己的灵魂：
第一次是在她可以上升而却谦让的时候。
第二次是我看见她在瘸者面前跛行的时候。
第三次是让她选择难易，而她选了易的时候。
第四次是她做错了事，却安慰自己说别人也同样做错了事。
第五次是她容忍了软弱，而把她的忍受称为坚强。
第六次是当她轻蔑一个丑恶的容颜的时候，却不知道那是她自己的面具中之一。
第七次是当她唱一首颂歌的时候，自己相信这是一种美德。
我不知
道什么是绝对的真理。但是我对于我的无知是谦虚的，这其中就有了我的荣誉和报酬。
在人的幻想和成就中间有一段空间，只能靠他的热望来通过。
天堂就在那边，在那扇门后，在隔壁的房里；但是我把钥匙丢了。
也许我只是把它放错了地方。
你瞎了眼睛，我是又聋又哑，因此让我们握起手来互相了解吧。
一个人的意义不在于他的成就，而在于他所企求成就的东西。
我们中间，有些人像墨水，有些人像纸张。
若不是因为有些人是黑的话，有些人就成了哑巴。
若不是因为有些人是白的话，有些人就成了瞎子。
给我一只耳朵，我将给你以声音。
我们的心才是一块海绵；我们的心怀是一道河水。
然而我们大多宁愿吸收而不肯奔流，这不是很奇怪吗？
当你想望着无名的恩赐，怀抱着无端的烦恼的时候，你就真和一切生物一同长大，升向你的大我。
当一个人沉醉在一个幻象之中，他就会把这幻象的模糊的情味当作真实的酒。
你喝酒为的是求醉；我喝酒为的是要从别种的醉酒中清醒过来。
当我的酒杯空了的时候，我就让它空着；但当它半满的时候，我却恨它半满。
一个人的实质，不在于他向你显露的那一面，而在于他所不能向你显露的那一面。
因此，如果你想了解他，不要去听他说出的话，而要去听他的没有说出的话。
我说的话有一半是没有意义的；我把它说出来，为的是也许会让你听到其他的一半。
幽默感就是分寸感。
当人们夸奖我多言的过失，责备我沉默的美德的时候，我的寂寞就产生了。
当生命找不到一个歌唱家来唱出她的心情的时候，她就产生一个哲学家来说出她的心思。
真理是常久被人知道的，有时被人说出的。
我们的真实的我是沉默的；后天的我是多嘴的。
我的生命内的声音达不到你的生命内的耳朵；但是为了避免寂寞，就让我们交谈吧。
当两个女人交谈的时候，她们什么话也没有说；当一个女人自语的时候，她揭露了生命的一切。
青蛙也许会叫得比牛更响，但是它们不能在田里拉犁，
也不会在酒坊里牵磨，它们的皮也做不出鞋来。
只有哑巴才妒忌多嘴的人。
如果冬天说，“春天在我的心里”，谁会相信冬天呢？
每一粒种子都是一个愿望。
如果你真的睁起眼睛来看，你会从每一个形象中看到你自己的形象。
如果你张开耳朵来听，你会在一切声音里听到你自己的声音。
真理是需要我们两个人来发现的：一个人来讲说它，一个人来了解它。
虽然言语的波浪永远在我们上面喧哗，而我们的深处却永远是沉默的。
许多理论都像一扇窗户，我们通过它看到真理，但是它也把我们同真理隔开。
让我们玩捉迷藏吧。你如果藏在我的心里，就不难把你找到。
但是如果你藏到你的壳里去，那么任何人也找你不到的。
一个女人可以用微笑把她的脸蒙了起来。
那颗能够和欢乐的心一同唱出欢歌的忧愁的心，是多么高贵呵。
想了解女人，或分析天才，或想解答沉默的神秘的人，
就是那个想从一个美梦中挣扎醒来坐到早餐桌上的人。
我愿意同走路的人一同行走。我不愿站住看着队伍走过。
对于服侍你的人，你欠他的还不只是金子。把你的心交给他或是服侍他吧。
没有，我们没有白活。他们不是把我们的骨头堆成堡垒了吗？
我们不要挑剔计较吧。诗人的心思和蝎子的尾巴，都是从同一块土地上光荣地升起的。
每一条毒龙都产生出一个屠龙的圣乔治来。
树木是大地写上天空中的诗。我们把它们砍下造纸，让我们可以把我们的空洞记录下来。
如果你要写作（只有圣人才晓得你为什么要写作），
你必须有知识、艺术和魔术——字句的音乐的知识，不矫揉造作的艺术，和热爱你读者的魔术。
他们把笔蘸在我们的心怀里，就认为他们已经得了灵感了。
如果一棵树也写自传的话，它不会不像一个民族的历史。
如果我在“写诗的能力”和“未写成诗的欢乐”之间选择的话，我就要选那欢乐。
因为欢乐是更好的诗。
但是你和我所有的邻居，都一致地说我总是不会选择。
诗不是一种表白出来的意见。它是从一个伤口或是一个笑口涌出的一首歌曲。
言语是没有时间性的。在你说它或是写它的时候应该懂得它的特点。
诗人是
一个退位的君王，坐在他的宫殿的灰烬里，想用残灰捏出一个形象。
诗是欢乐、痛苦和惊奇穿插着词汇的一场交道。
一个诗人要想寻找他心里诗歌的母亲的话，是徒劳无功的。
我曾对一个诗人说：“不到你死后我们不会知道你的价值。”
他回答说：“是的，死亡永远是个揭露者。如果你真想知道我的价值，那就是我心里的比舌上的多，我所愿望的比手里现有的多。”
如果你歌颂美，即使你是在沙漠的中心，你也会有听众。
诗是迷醉心怀的智慧。
智慧是心思里歌唱的诗。
如果我们能够迷醉人的心怀，同时也在他的心思中歌唱，
那么他就真个地在神的影中生活了。
灵感总是歌唱；灵感从不解释。
我们常为使自己入睡而对我们的孩子唱催眠的歌曲。
我们的一切字句，都是从心思的筵席上散落下来的残屑。
思想对于诗往往是一块绊脚石。
能唱出我们的沉默的，是一个伟大的歌唱家。
如果你嘴里含满了食物，你怎能歌唱呢？
如果你手里握满金钱，你怎能举起祝福之手呢？
他们说夜莺唱着恋歌的时候，把刺扎进自己的心膛。
我们也都是这样的。不这样我们还能歌唱吗？
天才只不过是晚春开始时节知更鸟所唱的一首歌。
连那最高超的心灵，也逃不出物质的需要。
疯人作为一个音乐家并不比你我逊色，不过他所弹奏的乐器有点失调而已。
在母亲心里沉默着的歌，在她孩子的唇上唱了出来。
没有不能圆满的愿望。
我和另外一个我，从来没有完全一致过。事物的实质似乎横梗在我们中间。
你的另外一个你总是为你难过。但是你的另外一个你就在难过中成长；那么就一切都好了。
除了在那些灵魂熟睡、躯壳失调的人的心里之外，灵魂和躯壳之间是没有斗争的。
当你达到生命的中心的时候，你将在万物中甚至于在看不见美的人的眼睛里，也会找到美。
我们活着只为的是去发现美。其他一切都是等待的种种形式。
撒下一粒种子，大地会给你一朵花。向天祝愿一个梦想，天空会给你一个情人。
你生下来的那一天，魔鬼就死去了。
你不必经过地狱去会见天使。
许多女子借到了男子的心；很少女子能占有它。
如果你想占有，你千万不可要求。
当一个男子的手接触到一个女子的手，他俩都接触到了永在的心。
爱情是情人之间的面幕。
每一个男子都爱着两个女人：一个是他想象的作品，另外一个还没有生下来。
不肯原谅女人的细微过失的男子，永远不会欣赏她们伟大的德性。
不日日自新的爱情，变成一种习惯，而终于变成奴役。
情人只拥抱了他们之间的一种东西，而没有互相拥抱。
恋爱和疑忌是永不交谈的。
爱情是一个光明的字，被一只光明的手写在一张光明的册页上的。
友谊永远是一个甜柔的责任，从来不是一种机会。
如果你不在所有的情况下了解你的朋友，你就永远不会了解他。
你的最华丽的衣袍是别人织造的；
你的最可口的一餐是在别人的桌上吃的；
你的最舒适的床铺是在别人的房子里的。
那么请告诉我，你怎能把自己同别人分开呢？
你的心思和我的心怀将永远不会一致，除非你的心思不再居留于数字中，
而我的心怀不再居留在云雾里。
除非我们把语言减少到七个字，我们将永不会互相了解。
我的心，除了把它敲碎以外，怎能把它打开呢？
只有深哀和极乐才能显露你的真实。
如果你愿意被显露出来，你必须在阳光中裸舞，或是背起你的十字架。
如果自然听到了我们所说的知足的话语，江河就不去寻求大海，
冬天就不会变成春天。如果她听到我们所说的一切吝啬的话语，我们有多少人可以呼吸到空气呢？
当你背向太阳的时候，你只看到自己的影子。
你在白天的太阳前面是自由的，在黑夜的星辰前面也是自由的；
在没有太阳，没有月亮，没有星辰的时候，你也是自由的。
就是在你对世上一切闭起眼睛的时候，你也是自由的。
但是你是你所爱的人的奴隶，因为你爱了他。
你也是爱你的人的奴隶，因为他爱了你。
我们都是庙门前的乞丐，当国王进出庙门的时候，我们每人都分受到恩赏。
但是我们都互相妒忌，这是轻视国王的另一种方式。
你不能吃得多过你的食欲。那一半食粮是属于别人的，而且也还要为不速之客留下一点面包。
如果不为待客的话，所有的房屋都成了坟墓。
和善的狼对天真的羊说：“你不光临寒舍吗？”
羊回答说：“我们将以造府为荣，如果贵府不是在你肚子里的话。”
我把客人拦在门口说：“不必了，在出门的时候再擦脚吧，进门的时候是不必擦的。”
慷慨不是你把我比你更需要的东西给我，而是你把你比我更需要的东西也给了我。
当你施与的时候你当然是慈善的，在授与的时候要把脸转过一边，这样就可以不看那受者的羞赧。
最富与最穷的人的差别，只在于一整天的饥饿和一个钟头的干渴。
我们常常从我们的明天预支了来偿付我们昨天的债负。
我也曾受过天使和魔鬼的造访，但是我都把他们支走了。
当天使来的时候，我念一段旧的祷文，他就厌烦了；
当魔鬼来的时候，我犯一次旧的罪过，他就从我面前走过了。
总的说来，这不是一所坏监狱；我只不喜欢在我的囚房和隔壁囚房之间的这堵墙；
但是我对你保证，我决不愿责备狱吏和建造这监狱的人。
你向他们求鱼而却给你毒蛇的那些人，也许他们只有毒蛇可给。
那么在他们一方面就算是慷慨的了。
欺骗有时成功，但它往往自杀。
当你饶恕那些从不流血的凶手，从不窃盗的小偷，
不打诳语的说谎者的时候，你就真是一个宽大的人。
谁能把手指放在善恶分野的地方，谁就是能够摸到上帝圣袍的边缘的人。
如果你的心是一座火山的话，你怎能指望会从你的手里开出花朵来呢？
多么奇怪的一个自欺的方式！有时我宁愿受到损害和欺骗，好让我嘲笑那些以为我不知道我是被损害、欺骗了的人。
对于一个扮作被追求者的角色的追求者，我该怎么说他呢？
让那个把脏手在你衣服上擦的人，把你的衣服拿走吧。
他也许还需要那件衣服，你却一定不会再要了。
兑换商不能做一个好园丁，真是可惜。
请你不要以后天的德行来粉饰你的先天的缺陷。我宁愿有缺陷；这些缺陷和我自己的一样。
有多少次我把没有犯过的罪都拉到自己身上，为的让人家在我面前感到舒服。
就是生命的面具，也都是更深的奥秘的面具。
你可能只根据对自己的了解去判断别人。
现在告诉我，我们里头谁是有罪的，谁是无辜的。
真正公平的人就是对你的罪过感到应该分担的人。
只有白痴和天才，才会去破坏人造的法律，他们离上帝的心最近。
只在你被追逐的时候，你才快跑。
我没有仇人，上帝呵！如果我会有仇人的话，
就让他和我势均力敌，
只让真理做一个战胜者。
当你和敌人都死了的时候，你就会和他十分友好了。
一个人在自卫的时候可能自杀。
很久以前一个“人”，因为过于爱别人，也因太可爱了，而被钉在十字架上。
说来奇怪，昨天我碰到他三次。
第一次是他恳求一个警察不要把一个妓女关到监牢里去；
第二次是他和一个无赖一块喝酒；第三次是他在教堂里和一个法官拳斗。
如果他们所谈的善恶都是正确的话，那么我的一生只是一个长时间的犯罪。
怜悯只是半个公平。
过去唯
一对我不公平的人，就是那个我曾对他的兄弟不公平的人。
当你看见一个人被带进监狱的时候，在你心中默默地说：“也许他是从更狭小的监狱里逃出来的。”
当你看见一个人喝醉了的时候，在你心中默默地说：“也许他想躲避某些更不美好的事物。”
在自卫中我常常憎恨；但是如果我是一个比较坚强的人，我就不必使用这样的武器。
把唇上的微笑来遮掩眼里的憎恨的人，是多么愚蠢呵！
只有在我以下的人，能忌妒我或憎恨我。
我从来没有被忌妒或被憎恨过；我不在任何人之上。
只有在我以上的人，能称赞我或轻蔑我。
我从来没有被称赞或被轻蔑过；我不在任何人之下。
你对我说“我不了解你”，这就是过分地赞扬了我，无故地侮辱了你。
当生命给我金子而我给你银子的时候，我还自以为慷慨，这是多么卑鄙呵！
当你达到生命心中的时候，你会发现你不高过罪人，也不低于先知。
奇怪的是，你竟可怜那脚下慢的人，而不可怜那心里慢的人。
可怜那盲于目的人，而不可怜那盲于心的人。
瘸子不在他敌人的头上敲断他的拐杖，是更聪明些的。
那个认为从他的口袋里给你，可以从你心里取回的人，是多么糊涂呵！
生命是一支队伍。迟慢的人发现队伍走得太快了，他就走出队伍；
快步的人又发现队伍走得太慢了，他也走出队伍。
如果世上真有罪孽这件东西的话，我们中间有的人是跟着我们祖先的脚踪，倒退着造孽。
有的人是管制着我们的儿女，赶前地造孽。
真正的好人，是那个和所有大家认为坏的人在一起的人。
我们都是囚犯，不过有的是关在有窗的牢房里，有的就关在无窗的牢房里。
奇怪的是，当我们为错误辩护的时候，我们用的气力比我们捍卫正确时还大。
如果我们互相供认彼此的罪过的话，我们就会为大家并无新创而互相嘲笑。
如果我们都公开了我们的美德的话，我们也将为大家并无新创而大笑。
一个人是在人造的法律之上，直到他犯了抵触人造的惯例的罪；
在此以后，他就不在任何人之上，也不在任何人之下。
政府是你和我之间的协定。你和我常常是错误的。
罪恶是需要的别名，或是疾病的一种。
还有比意识到别人的过失还大的过失吗？
如果别人嘲笑你，你可以怜悯他；但是如果你嘲笑他，你决不可自恕。
如果别人伤害你，你可以忘掉它；但是如果你伤害了他，你须永远记住。
实际上别人就是最敏感的你，附托在另一个躯壳上。
你要人们用你的翅翼飞翔而却连一根羽毛也拿不出的时候，你是多么轻率呵。
从前有人坐在我的桌上，吃我的饭，喝我的酒，走时还嘲笑我。
以后他再来要吃要喝，我不理他；
天使就嘲笑我。
憎恨是一件死东西，你们有谁愿意做一座坟墓？
被杀者的光荣就是他不是凶手。
人道的保护者是在它沉默的心怀中，从不在它多言的心思里。
他们认为我疯了，因为我不肯拿我的光阴去换金钱；
我认为他们是疯了，因为他们以为我的光阴是可以估价的。
他们把最昂贵的金子、银子、象牙和黑檀排列在我们的面前，我们把心胸和气魄排列在他们面前；
而他们却自称为主人，把我们当作客人。
我宁可做人类中有梦想和有完成梦想的愿望的、最渺小的人，
而不愿做一个最伟大的、无梦想、无愿望的人。
最可怜的人是把他的梦想变成金银的人。
我们都在攀登自己心愿的高峰。如果另一个登山者偷了你的粮袋和钱包，
而把粮袋装满了，钱包也加重了，你应当可怜他；
这攀登将为他的肉体增加困难，这负担将加长他的路程。
如果在你消瘦的情况下，看到他的肉体膨胀着往上爬，帮他一步；这样做会增加你的速度。
你不能超过你的了解去判断一个人，而你的了解是多么浅薄呵。
我决不去听一个征服者对被征服的人的说教。
真正自由的人是忍耐地背起奴隶的负担的人。
千年以前，我的邻人对我说：“我恨生命，因为它只是一件痛苦的东西。”
昨天我走过一座坟园，我看见生命在他的坟上跳舞。
自然界的竞争不过是混乱渴望着秩序。
静独是吹落我们枯枝的一阵无声的风暴；
但是它把我们活生生的根芽，更深地送进活生生的大地的活生生的心里。
我曾对一条小溪谈到大海，小溪认为我只是一个幻想的夸张者；
我也曾对大海谈到小溪，大海认为我只是一个低估的诽谤者。
把蚂蚁的忙碌捧得高于蚱蜢的歌唱的眼光，是多么狭仄呵！
这个世界里的最高德行，在另一个世界也许是最低的。
深和高在直线上走到深度和高度；只有广阔能在圆周里运行。
如果不是因为我们有了重量和长度的观念，我们站在萤火光前也会同在太阳面前一样地敬畏。
一个没有想象力的科学家，好像一个拿着钝刀和旧秤的屠夫。
但既然我们不全是素食者，那么你该怎么办呢？
当你歌唱的时候，饥饿的人就用他的肚子来听。
死亡和老人的距离并不比和婴儿的距离更近；生命也是如此。
假如你必须直率地说的话，就直率得漂亮一些；要不就沉默下来，因为我们邻近有一个人快死了。
人间的葬礼也可能是天上的婚筵。
一个被忘却的真实可能死去，而在它的遗嘱里留下七千条的实情实事，
作为料理丧事和建造坟墓之用。
实际上我们只对自己说话，不过有时我们说得大声一点，使得别人也能听见。
显而易见的东西是：在被人简单地表现出来之前，从不被人看到的。
假如银河不在我的意识里，我怎能看到它或了解它呢？
除非我是医生群中的一个医生，他们不会相信我是一个天文学家的。
也许大海给贝壳下的定义是珍珠。
也许时间给煤炭下的定义是钻石。
荣名是热情站在阳光中的影子。
花根是鄙弃荣名的花朵。
在美之外没有宗教，也没有科学。
我所认得的大人物的性格中都有些渺小的东西；就是这些渺小的东西，
阻止了懒惰、疯狂或者自杀。
真正伟大的人是不压制人也不受人压制的人。
我决不因为那个人杀了罪人和先知，就相信他是中庸的。
容忍是和高傲狂害着相思的一种病症。
虫子是会弯曲的；但是连大象也会屈服，不是很奇怪吗？
一场争论可能是两个心思之间的捷径。
我是烈火，我也是枯枝，一部分的我消耗了另一部分的我。
我们都在寻找圣山的顶峰；假如我们把过去当作一张图表而不作为一个向导的话，
我们的路程不是可以缩短吗？
当智慧骄傲到不肯哭泣，庄严到不肯欢笑，自满到不肯看人的时候，就不成为智慧了。
如果我把你所知道的一切，把自己填满的话，我还能有余地来容纳你所不知道的一切吗？
我从多话的人学到了静默，从偏狭的人学到了宽容，从残忍的人学到了仁爱，
但奇怪的是我对于这些老师并不感激。
执拗的人是一个极聋的演说家。
妒忌的沉默是太吵闹了。
当你达到你应该了解的终点的时候，你就处在你应该感觉的起点。
夸张是发了脾气的真理。
假如你只能看到光所显示的，只能听到声所宣告的，
那么实际上你没有看，也没有听。
一件事实是一条没有性别的真理。
你不能同时又笑又冷酷。
离我心最近的是一个没有国土的国王和一个不会求乞的穷人。
一个羞赧的失败比一个骄傲的成功还要高贵。
在任何一块土地上挖掘你都会找到珍宝，不过你应该以农民的信心去挖掘。
一个被二十个骑士和二十条猎狗追逐着的狐狸说：“他们当然会打死我。
但他们准是很可怜很笨拙的。
假如二十只狐狸骑着二十头驴子带着二十只狼去追打一个人的话，那真是不值得的。”
是我们的心思屈服于我们自制的法律之下，我们的精神是从不屈服的。
我是一个旅行者，也是一个航海者，我每天在我的灵魂中发现一个新的王国。
一个女人抗议说：“当然那是一场正义的战争。我的儿子在这场战争中牺牲了。”
我对生命说：“我要听死亡说话。”
生命把她的声音提高一点说：“现在你听到他说话了。”
当你解答了生命的一切奥秘，你就渴望死亡，因为它不过是生命的另一个奥秘。
生与死是勇敢的两种最高贵的表现。
我的朋友，你和我对于生命将永远是个陌生者，
我们彼此也是陌生者，对自己也是陌生者，
直到你要说、我要听的那一天，
把你的声音作为我的声音；
当我站在你的面前，
觉得我是站在镜前的时候。
他们对我说：“你能自知你就能了解所有的人。”
我说：“只有我寻求所有的人我才能自知。”
一个人有两个我，一个在黑暗里醒着，一个在光明中睡着。
隐士是遗弃了支离破碎的世界，使他可以无惊无扰地享受着整个世界。
在学者和诗人之间伸展着一片绿野；如果学者穿走过去，他就成个圣贤；
如果诗人穿走过来，他就成个先知。
昨晚我看见哲学家们把他们的头颅装在篮子里，在市场上高声叫卖：“智慧，卖智慧咯！”
可怜的哲学家！他们必须出卖他们的头来喂养他们的心。
一个哲学家对一个清道夫说：“我可怜你，你的工作又苦又脏。”
清道夫说：“谢谢你，先生。请告诉我，你做什么工作？”
哲学家回答说：“我研究人的心思、行为和愿望。”
清道夫一面扫街一面微笑说：“我也可怜你。”
听真理的人并不弱于讲真理的人。
没有人能在需要与奢侈之间画一条界线。只有天使能这样做，天使是明智而热切的。
也许天使就是我们在太空中的更高尚的思想。
在托钵僧的心中找到自己的宝座的是真正的王子。
慷慨是超过自己能力的施与，自尊是少于自己需要的接受。
实际上你不欠任何人的债。你欠所有的人一切的债。
从前生活过的人现在都和我们一起活着。我们中间当然没有人愿意做一个慢客的主人。
想望得最多的人活得最长。
他们对我说：“十鸟在树不如一鸟在手。”
我却说：“一鸟一羽在树胜过十鸟在手。”
你对那根羽毛的追求，就是脚下生翼的生命；不，它就是生命的本身。
世界上只有两个原素，美和真；美在情人的心中，真在耕者的臂里。
伟大的美俘虏了我，但是一个更伟大的美居然把我从掌握中释放了。
美在想望它的人的心里比在看到它的人的眼里，放出更明亮的光彩。
我爱慕那对我倾诉心怀的人，我尊重那对我披露梦想的人。但是为什么在服侍我的人面前，
我却腼腆，甚至于带些羞愧呢？
天才曾以能侍奉王子为荣。
现在他们以侍奉贫民为荣。
天使们晓得，有过多的讲实际的人，就着梦想者眉间的汗，吃他们的面包。
风趣往往是一副面具。你如能把它扯了下来，你将发现一个被激恼了的才智，
或是在变着戏法的聪明。
聪明把聪明归功于我，愚钝把愚钝归罪于我。我想他俩都是对的。
只有自己心里有秘密的人才能参透我们心里的秘密。
只能和你同乐不能和你共苦的人，丢掉了天堂七个门中的一把钥匙。
是的，世界上是有涅磐；它是在把羊群带到碧绿的牧场的时候，
在哄着你孩子睡觉的时候，在写着你的最后一行诗句的时候。
远在体验到它们以前，我们就已经选择了我们的欢乐和悲哀了。
忧愁是两座花园之间的一堵墙壁。
当你的欢乐和悲哀变大的时候，世界就变小了。
愿望是半个生命，淡漠是半个死亡。
我们今天的悲哀里最苦的东西，是我们昨天的欢乐的回忆。
他们对我说：“你必须在今生的欢娱和来世的平安之中作个选择。”
我对他们说：“我已选择了今生的愉快和来世的安宁。
因为我心里知道那最大的诗人只写过一首诗，而这首诗是完全合乎音节韵律的。”
信仰是心中的绿洲，思想的骆驼队是永远走不到的。
当你求达你的高度的时候，你将想望，但要只为想望而想望；
你应为饥饿而热望；你应为更大的干渴而渴望。
假如你对风泄露了你的秘密，你就不应当去责备风对树林泄露了秘密。
春天的花朵是天使们在早餐桌上所谈论的冬天的梦想。
鼬鼠对月下香说：“看我跑得多快，你却不能走，也不会爬。”
月下香对鼬鼠说：“，最高贵的快腿，请你快快跑开吧！”
乌龟比兔子更能多讲些道路的情况。
奇怪的是没有脊骨的生物都有最坚硬的壳。
话最多的人是最不聪明的人，在一个演说家和一个拍卖人之间，几乎没有分别。
你应该感谢，因为你不必靠着父亲的名望或伯叔的财产来生活。
但是最应感谢的是，没有人必须靠着你的名誉或财产来生活。
只在一个变戏法的人接不到球的时候，他才能吸引我。
忌妒我的人在不知不觉之中颂扬了我。
在很久的时间，你是你母亲睡眠里的一个梦，以后她醒起把你生了下来。
人类的胚芽是在你母亲的愿望里。
我的父母愿意有个孩子，他们就生下我。
我要母亲和父亲，我就生下了黑夜和海洋。
有的儿女使我们感到此生不虚，有的儿女为我们留下终身之憾。
当黑夜来了而你也阴郁的时候，就坚决地阴郁着躺了下去。
当早晨来了而你还感着阴郁的时候，就站起来坚决地对白天说：“我还是阴郁的。”
对黑夜和白天扮演角色是愚蠢的。
他俩都会嘲笑你。
雾里的山岳不是丘陵；雨中的橡树也不是垂柳。
看哪，这一个似非而是的论断：深和高是比“折中”和“两可”更为相近。
当我一面明镜似地站在你面前的时候，你注视着我看到了自己的形象。
然后你说：“我爱你。”
但是实际上你爱的是我里面的你。
当你以爱邻为乐的时候，它就不是美德了。
不时常涌溢的爱就往往死掉。
你不能同时又有青春又有关于青春的知识。
因为青春忙于生活，而顾不得去了解；而知识忙于自我寻求，而顾不得去生活。
你有时坐在窗边看望过往行人。望着望着地，你也许看见一个尼姑向你右手边走来，
一个妓女向你左手边走来。
你也许在无意中说出“这一个是多么高洁而那一个又是多么卑贱”。
假如你闭起眼睛静听一会，你会听到太空中有个声音低语说：
“这一个在祈祷中寻求我，那一个在痛苦中寻求我。
在各人的心灵里，都有一座供奉我的心灵的庵堂。”
每隔一百年，拿撒勒的耶稣就和基督徒的耶稣在黎巴嫩山中的花园里相会。他们作了长谈；每次当拿撒勒的耶稣向基督徒的耶稣道别的时候，他都说：
“我的朋友，我恐怕我们两人永远、永远也不会一致。”
求上帝喂养那些穷奢极欲的人吧！
一个伟大的人有两颗心：一颗心流血，另一颗心宽容。
如果一个人说了并不伤害你或任何人的谎话，为什么不在你心里说，他堆放事实的房子是太小了，搁不下他的胡想，他必须把胡想留待更大的地场。
在每扇关起的门后，都有一个用七道封皮封起的秘密。
等待是时间的蹄子。
假如困难是你东墙上的一扇新开的窗户，那你怎么办呢？
和你一同笑过的人，你可能把他忘掉；但是和你一同哭过的人，你却永远不忘。
在盐里面一定有些出奇地神圣的东西。它也在我们的眼泪里和大海里。
我们的上帝在他慈悲的干渴里，会把我们——露珠和眼泪——都喝下去。
你不过是你的大我的一个碎片，一张寻求面包的嘴，一只盲目的、为一张干渴的嘴举着水杯的手。
只要你从种族、国家和自身之上，升起一腕尺，你就真成了神一样的人。
假如我是你，我决不在低潮的时候去抱怨大海。
船是一只好船，我们的船主是精干的；只不过是你的肚子不合适就是了。
我们想望而得不到的东西，比我们已经得到的东西总要宝贵些。
假如你能坐在云头上，你就看不见两国之间的界线，也看不见庄园之间的界石。
可惜的是你不能坐在云头上。
七百年以前有七只白鸽，从幽谷里飞上高山的雪峰。七个看到鸽子飞翔的人中，
有一个说：“我看出第七只鸽子的翅膀上，有一个黑点。”
今天这山谷里的人们，就说飞上雪山顶峰的是七只黑鸽。
在秋天，我收集起我的一切烦恼，把它们埋在我的花园里。
四月又到，春天来同大地结婚，在我的花园里开出与众花不同的美丽的花。
我的邻人们都来赏花，他们对我说：“当秋天再来，该下种子的时候，
你好不好把这些花种分给我们，让我们的花园里也有这些花呢？”
假如我向人伸出空手而得不到东西，那当然是苦恼；但是假如我伸出一只满握的手，
而发现没有人来接受，那才是绝望呢。
我渴望着来生，因为在那里我将会看到我的未写出的诗和未画出的画。
艺术是从自然走向无穷的一步。
艺术作品是一堆云雾雕塑成的一个形象。
连那把荆棘编成王冠的双手，也比闲着的双手强。
我们最神圣的眼泪，永不寻求我们的眼睛。
每一个人都是已往的每一个君王和每一个奴隶的后裔。
如果耶稣的曾祖知道在他里面隐藏着的东西的话，他不会对自己肃然起敬吗？
犹大的母亲对于儿子的爱，会比玛利亚对耶稣的爱少些吗？
我们的弟兄耶稣还有三桩奇迹没有在经书上记载过：
第一件是他是和你我一样的人；第二件是他有幽默感；
第三件是他知道他虽然被征服，而却是一个征服者。
钉在十字架上的人，你是钉在我的心上；穿透你双手的钉子，穿透了我的心壁。
明天，当一个远方人从各各他走过的时候，他不会知道这里有两个人流过血。
他还以为那是一个人的血。
你也许听说过那座福山。
它是我们世上最高的山。
一旦你登上顶峰，你就只有一个愿望，那就是往下走入最深的峪谷里，
和那里的人民一同生活。这就是这座山叫做福山的原因。
我的每一个禁闭在表情里的念头，我必须用行为去释放它。

1885-D. H. Lawrence

劳伦斯的诗歌是他一生中文学创作的重要组成部分，也是他一生中的欢乐、痛苦以及思想感受的重要记录。他的早期诗歌具有浓厚的自传色彩，如他自己所说，这些诗篇凑在一起，构成了一部充满激情的内心生活传记。这种自传色彩是他早期诗作的一大特点，在《爱情诗及其他》等早期诗集中，主题主要是爱情，尤其是诗集《瞧！我们走过来了！》更是一部心灵活动的诗的记录，是他与弗丽达结合的新婚曲，是爱的贺颂，是他们早期婚姻生活中欢乐与痛苦的记录。跟弗丽达结合在一起的第一年年底，劳伦斯曾写信给柯布金太太说：“我常是爱情的祭司。”
这句话正好概括了他早期诗歌的主题。

A Decision

She is sweet and soft-throated,
Her eyes glow, as she
Tunes her voice, many noted
For me.

Her warm red lips
Are budded, as she
With a quick kiss clips
Them to me.

Her hair's live curl
Clutches for me.
Alas! Tossed back in my hearts swirl
Is she.

判定

她甜蜜逗人，嗓音柔和，
当她为我调整
抑扬顿挫的歌喉，
喜色燃烧在她的眼睛。

她温暖的朱唇
像含苞待放的鲜花，
当她把一记疾速的亲吻
印上我的面颊。

她活泼的缕缕鬈发
为我形成一道道波纹，
哎呀！是她在我心中
激起旋涡翻滚。

A Kiss

A red flower falls to its dim reflection
—Hush then, never a word.
A red flower falls to its red reflection,
The shadow dances up in affection,
And two are one in sweet connection,
—Never a sound was heard.

Something has gone down the silent river
—What does the robin say?
Silver slow goes by the river,
Far off in gold the willows quiver,
And further still 'neath the sunset gather
Red flowers that have floated away.

亲吻

一朵红花落向它朦胧的倒影
——嘘，别再发出一丝声音。
一朵红花落向它红色的倒影，
倒影向上浮动，充满深情，
两者融合成为甜蜜的整体，
——再也听不见一丝声音。

寂静的河面上有东西飘过
——知更鸟在评说什么？
银白缓慢地从河边飘过
远方，柳树在金光中战栗，
更远的地方，在暮色的下面，
漂走的红花在悄然聚集。

Lightning

I felt the lurch and halt of her heart
Next my breast, where my own heart was beating;
And I laughed to feel it plunge and bound,
And strange in my blood-swept ears was the sound
Of the words I kept repeating,
Repeating with tightened arms, and the hot blood's blindfold art.

Her breath flew warm against my neck,
Warm as a flame in the close night air;
And the sense of her clinging flesh was sweet
Where her arms and my neck's thick pulse could meet.
Holding her thus, could I care
That the black night hid her from me, blotted out every speck?

I leaned in the darkness to find her lips
And claim her utterly in a kiss,
When the lightning flew across her face
And I saw her for the flaring space
Of a second, like snow that slips
From a roof, inert with death, weeping "Not this! Not this!"

A moment there, like snow in the dark
Her face lay pale against my breast,
Pale love lost in a thaw of fear
And melted in an icy tear,
And open lips, distressed;
A moment; then darkness shut the lid of the sacred ark.

And I heard the thunder, and felt the rain,
And my arms fell loose, and I was dumb.
Almost I hated her, sacrificed;
Hated myself, and the place, and the iced
Rain that burnt on my rage; saying: Come
Home, come home, the lightning has made it too plain!

闪电

我感觉到在我胸口，在我心脏跳动之处，
她的心脏迈起了蹒跚的步履，
我欢笑地感觉到它上下跳动，
奇怪，在我清除了血液的耳朵里，
有我不断重复之词的声音，
重复着，双臂绷紧，以热血的看不见的技艺。

她的呼吸温暖地掠过我的颈项，
温暖得如同闷热之夜的一团火焰；
感觉到她紧贴的肉体是多么甜蜜，
当她的双臂与我颈部脉搏贴成一片。
如此紧搂，我难道担心
黑夜会把她藏走，抹除每一个印痕？

我在黑暗中俯身寻找她的樱唇
并把她完全索取在一记亲吻，
这时，一道闪电掠过她的脸蛋，
我看到了她，靠这瞬间闪烁的亮光，
像从屋顶上落下的雪
死一般苍白无力，哭着说：“不要这样，不要这样！”

紧接着，像黑暗中的雪，
她惨白的脸紧偎在我的胸口，
苍白的爱情失却在融解的恐惧，
化入寒冷如冰的泪流，
融进悲痛的张开的嘴唇；
然后，黑暗关闭了神圣的方舟。

我听到了雷鸣，我感到了雨声，
我的双臂松弛下来，哑然失语。
我几乎憎恨她，这个牺牲品；
憎恨这块地方，憎恨我自己，
憎恨使我怒火中烧的冷雨；
回家吧，快回家，闪电使一切平淡无奇！

Return

Now I am come again, to you who have so desired
My coming, why do you look away from me?
Why burns your cheek against me? how have I inspired
Such anger as sets your mouth unwontedly?

Now here I sit while you break the music beneath
Your bow; for broken it is, and hurting to hear.
Cease then from music! Does anguish of absence bequeath
But barbed aloofness when I would draw near?

归来

我又回到你身边，既然你如此盼望
我的归来，可你为什么把脸扭向一边？
你的面颊为何在我跟前涨得绯红？
是什么惹得你生气，嘴儿噘得尖尖？

我坐了下来，你却拉起琴弓，击出乐声，
但击出的琴声是如此破碎，刺耳难听，
别再拉了！难道分离的痛苦只会使你
对渴望亲近的心灵赠送带刺的骄矜？

Silence

Since I lost you, I am silence-haunted;
Sounds wave their little wings
A moment, then in weariness settle
On the flood that soundless swings.

Whether the people in the street
Like pattering ripples go by,
Or whether the theatre sighs and sighs
With a loud, hoarse sigh:

Or the wind shakes a ravel of light
Over the dead-black river,
Or last night's echoing
Makes the daybreak shiver:

I feel the silence waiting
To take them all up again,
In its last completeness drinking
Down the noise of men.

寂静

自从我失去你，我就遭受寂静折磨，
声音将自己的羽翼挥动了一会儿，
随后便在疲惫中歇息下来，
歇息在一股无声旋动的洪波。

不知街头上来来去去的人们
是否步履轻快如同涟漪？
不知剧院里聚集一起的观众
是否发出响亮而嘶哑的叹息？

不知劲风是否将一团光线
投射到死一般黑暗的河面？
不知最后一个夜晚的回声
是否使拂晓感到一丝震撼？

我感觉到寂静正在等待
再一次将万物全都战胜，
在它的最终的结尾动作中
饮尽人类的所有的噪声。

Listening

I listen to the stillness of you,
My dear, among it all;
I feel your silence touch my words as I talk,
And hold them in thrall.

My words fly off a forge
The length of a spark;
I see the silence easily sip them
Up in the dark.

The lark sings loud and glad,
Yet I am not loth
That silence should take the song and the bird
And lose them both.

A train goes roaring south,
The steam-flag flying;
I see the stealthy shadow of silence
Alongside going.

And off the forge of the world
Whirling in the draught of life
Go myriad sparks of people, filling
The night with strife.

Yet they never change the darkness
Nor blench it with noise;
Alone on the perfect silence
The stars are buoys.

倾听

在所有的声音中，亲爱的，
我倾听来自你的寂静声息；
每当我开口，我就感觉到
你的寂静俘获了我的话语。

我的话语从熔炉之中
只是飞出了零星碎片，
我见到寂静轻而易举地
将我的话语吸进一片黑暗。

云雀的歌唱响亮又欢畅，
但是我宁愿寂静出面
攻克鸟儿以及鸟儿的歌声，
让它们不再呈现。

一列火车呼啸着奔向南方，
冒出的蒸气如飘荡的旗帜，
我看见寂静的秘密的身影
沿着道路挺进，寸步不离。

于是从世界的熔炉之中
冒出无数人们的言语火星，
在生命的气流中旋转，
奋力填充夜晚的空洞。

然而它们无法改变黑暗，
或者以声音让其退缩；
在一片完美的寂静之中，
唯一的浮标便是星辰闪烁。

Green

The dawn was apple-green,
The sky was green wine held up in the sun,
The moon was a golden petal between.

She opened her eyes, and green
They shone, clear like flowers undone
For the first time, now for the first time seen.

绿

黎明是一片苹果绿，
天空是举起在太阳下的绿酒；
月亮是两者间的金色的花瓣。

她睁开眼睛，射出
绿色光彩，纯净灵秀
像初绽的鲜花，此刻被人发现。

River Roses

By the Isar, in the twilight
We were wandering and singing,
By the Isar, in the evening
We climbed the huntsman's ladder and sat swinging
In the fir tree overlooking the marshes,
While river met with river, and the ringing
Of their pale-green glacier water filled the evening.

By the Isar, in the twilight
We found the dark wild roses
Hanging red at the river; and simmering
Frogs were singing, and over the river closes
Was savour of ice and of roses; and glimmering
Fear was abroad. We whispered: "No one knows us.
Let it be as the snake disposes
Here in this simmering marsh."

河边的蔷薇

在伊萨尔河畔的暮色之中，
我们一边歌唱一边漫步。
在伊萨尔河畔的黄昏之中，
我们沿着猎人的梯子攀登，
摇摇晃晃地坐在杉树枝头，俯瞰沼泽，
河流与河流交汇，浅绿色的冰冷的河水
用清脆的歌声填满了黄昏。

在伊萨尔河畔的暮色之中，
我们发现了深色的野蔷薇
红彤彤地悬挂在河畔，
骚动的青蛙放声歌唱，
河流交汇处的冰水中迷漫着蔷薇的香味；
微弱的畏惧掠过心头。我们喃喃自语：
“没有人认识我们。如同一条蛇，
被安置在处于骚动状态的沼泽。”

Gloire de Dijon

When she rises in the morning
I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her
Glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow
Golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.

She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
Glisten as silver, they crumple up
Like wet and falling roses, and I listen
For the sluicing of their rain-dishevelled petals.
In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.

壮丽的黄玫瑰

当她凌晨起床的时候，
我驻足对她凝望；
她拉上窗下的浴帘，
一束束阳光将她捕获，
在她的肩膀上熠熠发亮，
在她的两侧，闪烁着
金色的柔美的影像，
她俯身擦拭身体，
一对乳房晃动着，
如同两朵盛开的壮丽的黄玫瑰。

她将水淋在自己身上，她的双肩
闪着银光，并且起皱，
如同有点下垂的湿玫瑰。我倾听
因水而凌乱的花瓣发出的窸窣声音。
在洒满阳光的窗前，
她的金色身影凝聚，
层层相叠，闪烁光彩，
美得如同那壮丽的玫瑰。

New Year’s Eve

There are only two things now,
The great black night scooped out
And this fireglow.

This fireglow, the core,
And we the two ripe pips
That are held in store.

Listen, the darkness rings
As it circulates round our fire.
Take off your things.

Your shoulders, your bruised throat,
Your breasts, your nakedness!
This fiery coat!

As the darkness flickers and dips,
As the firelight falls and leaps
From your feet to your lips!

除夕

现在只剩下两件东西了，
一是凸现的恢宏的黑夜，
一是这灼热的炉火。

灼热的炉火，是核心，
而我们两个人
是储存其中的成熟的果仁。

请听，黑暗发出声响，
在炉火周围荡漾。
脱下你的衣裳。

你青肿的咽喉，你的肩膀，
你的赤裸，你的乳房！
你的外套也闪闪发光！

随着黑暗颤动、渗侵，
炉火的火光扑倒又欢腾，
从你的脚尖直到嘴唇！

History

The listless beauty of the hour
When snow fell on the apple trees
And the wood-ash gathered in the fire
And we faced our first miseries.

Then the sweeping sunshine of noon
When the mountains like chariot cars
Were ranked to blue battle—and you and I
Counted our scars.

And then in a strange, grey hour
We lay mouth to mouth, with your face
Under mine like a star on the lake,
And I covered the earth, and all space.

The silent, drifting hours
Of morn after morn
And night drifting up to the night
Yet no pathway worn.

Your life, and mine, my love
Passing on and on, the hate
Fusing closer and closer with love
Till at length they mate.

历史

此刻具有冷漠的美：
雪片落上了苹果树，
木灰聚集在火炉里，
我们面临初次的痛苦。

正午的阳光漫地扫射，
青山座座宛如战车一排，
列队进入蓝色的战场——你与我
数着我们的伤疤。

然后在奇特的灰色时刻，
我们唇贴唇地躺下，你的脸面
偎在我脸下，像湖面上的星，
我覆盖了大地，覆盖了全部空间。

寂静的、漂泊不定的时间，
从黎明向着黎明游漂，
从夜间又浮到夜间，
没有方向，没有目标。

你的生命，我的生命，
我的爱情不停地流逝，
憎恨与爱情亲密地融合，
直到最终结成一体。

Fidelity

Fidelity and love are two different things, like a flower and a gem.
And love, like a flower, will fade, will change into something else
or it would not be flowery.

O flowers, they fade because they are moving swiftly; a little torrent of life
leaps up to the summit of the stem, gleams, turns over round the bend
of the parabola of curved flight,
sinks, and is gone, like a comet curving into the invisible.

O flowers they are all the time travelling
like comets, and they come into our ken
for a day, for two days, and withdraw, slowly vanish again.

And we, we must take them on the wing, and let them go.
Embalmed flowers are not flowers, immortelles are not flowers;
flowers are just a motion, a swift motion, a coloured gesture;
that is their loveliness. And that is love.

But a gem is different. It lasts so much longer than we do
so much much much much longer
that it seems to last forever.

Yet we know it is flowing away
as flowers are, and we are, only slower.
The wonderful slow flowing of the sapphire!

All flows, and every flow is related to every other flow.
Flowers and sapphires and us, diversely streaming.
In the old days, when sapphires were breathed upon and brought forth
during the wild orgasms of chaos
time was much slower, when the rocks came forth.
It took aeons to make a sapphire, aeons for it to pass away.

And a flower it takes a summer.

And man and woman are like the earth, that brings forth flowers
in summer, and love, but underneath is rock.
Older than flowers, older than ferns, older than foraminiferae,
older than plasm altogether is the soul of a man underneath.

And when, throughout all the wild orgasms of love
slowly a gem forms, in the ancient, once-more-molten rocks
of two human hearts, two ancient rocks, a man's heart and a woman's,
that is the crystal of peace, the slow hard jewel of trust,
the sapphire of fidelity.
The gem of mutual peace emerging from the wild chaos of love.

忠贞

忠贞与爱情不是一码事，如同鲜花与宝石。
爱情，就像鲜花，将会凋谢，将会转变成别的东西，
否则就算不上绚丽。

噢，鲜花凋谢，因为它们疾速运动；小小的生命湍流
跃上茎的顶巅，隐约闪现，疯狂旋动
急转弯飞翔时的抛物线，
下倾，离去，像一颗彗星急速拐进幽冥世界。

噢，鲜花始终在运行，
如同彗星，它们进入我们的认知领域，
一天，两天，随后撤回，再次慢悠悠地消亡。

我们，我们必须给它们装上翅膀，放它们离开。
香味弥漫的花不算花，灰毛菊不算花；
花只是一种运动，一种疾速的运动，
一种绚丽多彩的动作姿态；
这就是它们的可爱。这就是爱情。

但宝石迥然不同。它一个劲儿地延续，
存在得比我们更为长久，
似乎要永世长存。

然而我们知道它不断地消亡，
如同鲜花，如同我们，只是更为缓慢。
蓝宝石的美妙的缓慢的消亡！
一切都在流逝，每一种流逝都与另一种流逝发生联系。
鲜花和宝石，还有我们，互不相同地流逝。
在昔日，当宝石被玷污，被诱惑，
在混乱的疯狂高潮，
当岩石诞生时，时光缓慢得多。
它花了无数的年代造就的宝石，也要花无数的年代让宝石消亡。

一朵花只有一个夏天。

男人和女人就像泥土，生出夏天的鲜花和爱情，
但下方就是岩石。
比鲜花年长，比羊齿植物年长，比有孔虫类年长，
比所有的原形质都要年长——这就是下方的人的灵魂。

在全部的爱情疯狂高潮，
宝石缓慢地形成，在古老的、曾经融合的两颗心脏的岩石中，
两个古老的岩石，男人和女人的两颗心脏，
这是宁静之结晶，是缓慢坚固的信任之珠宝，
是忠贞之蓝宝石。
从爱情疯狂的混乱中，共同宁静之宝石脱颖而出。

Fatality

No one, not even God, 
can put back a leaf on to a tree
once it has fallen off.

And no one, not God nor Christ nor any other,
can put back a human life into connection with the living cosmos
once the connection has been broken
and the person has become finally self-centred.

Death alone, through the long process of disintegration,
can melt the detached life back
through the dark Hades at the roots of the tree
into the circulating sap, once more, of the tree of life.

命运

一旦树叶凋落，
甚至连上帝也不能使它返回树身。

一旦人类生活与活生生的宇宙的联系被击破，
人最后变得以自我为中心，
不管什么人，不管是上帝还是基督，
都无法挽回这种联系。

只有死亡通过分解的漫长过程，
能够融化分裂的生活。
经过树根旁边的黑暗的冥河，
再次融进生命之树的流动的汁液。

1914-Dylan Thomas

狄兰·托马斯（Dylan Thomas，1914—1953）是20世纪英美诗坛最杰出的诗人之一，其非凡的诗艺掀开了英美诗歌史上新的篇章。他的诗围绕生、欲、死三大主题，诗风粗犷而热烈，音韵充满活力而不失严谨；其肆意设置的密集意象相互撞击、相互制约，表现自然的生长力和人性的律动。他前期的许多作品晦涩难懂，后期的作品更清晰明快，尽管某些细节仍然令人疑惑不解；然而，他作品的晦涩与不解并非由于结构的松散与模糊，而是因其内涵过于浓缩所致。他的诗篇感性而坚实，绝少流于概念或抽象；他的诗歌很少涉及精神压力、怀疑、自我分裂、反讽等现代诗常见的主题。他的诗朴实纯粹，自成一体，普通的一片落叶、一滴露水、一次性爱过程均可化为无穷的诗意；他从感性出发，通过具体可感的物象，触及内在的本质，最终达到某种永恒的境界。他那种化腐朽为神奇的诗歌艺术令人赞叹，令人翘首仰望。

Forest Picture

Calm and strange is this evening hour in the forest,
Carven domes of green are the trees by the pathway,
Infinite shadowy isles lie silent before me,
Summer is heavy with age, and leans upon Autumn.

All the land is ripe. There is no motion
Down the long bays of blue that those cloudy headlands
Sleep above in the glow of a fading sunset;
All things rest in the will of purpose triumphant.

Outlines melting into a vague immensity
Fade, the green gloom grows darker, and deeper the dusk:
Hark! a voice and laughter—the living and loving
Down these fantastic avenues pass like shadows.

森林美景

寂静又陌生，此刻林中的夜晚，
路边的大树，雕刻绿色的穹顶，
无比幽暗的岛屿静卧在眼前，
夏日一天天地沉重，斜倚着秋。

大地熟透了。不见一丝波澜
沿着长长的蓝色海湾，海岬阴沉沉
沉睡在消退中的落日余晖里；
一切长眠于此，意志得意洋洋。

茫茫然，融入一片无限之中
消散，青色的幽暗更深，薄暮更重了：
听吧！笑声与歌声——生活与爱情
仿佛影子一般，穿过美妙的林荫道。

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.

穿过绿色茎管催动花朵的力

穿过绿色茎管催动花朵的力
催动我绿色的年华；摧毁树根的力
摧毁我的一切。
我无言相告佝偻的玫瑰
一样的寒冬热病压弯了我的青春。

催动流水穿透岩石的力
催动我鲜红的血液；驱使溪流干涸的力
驱使我的血流衰微。
我无言相告我的血管
同是这张嘴怎样吸干山涧的清泉。

搅动一泓池水旋转的手
搅动沙的流动；牵动风前行的手
扯动我尸布般的风帆。
我无言相告那绞死的人
我的泥土怎样制成刽子手的石灰。

时间的嘴唇水蛭般贴紧泉眼；
爱滴落又聚集，但是流淌的血
一定会抚慰她的伤痛。

我无言相告一个季候的风
时光怎样围绕星星滴答出一个天堂。

我无言相告恋人的坟墓
我的被褥上蠕动着一样扭曲的蛆虫。

Where once the waters of your face

Where once the waters of your face
Spun to my screws, your dry ghost blows,
The dead turns up its eye;
Where once the mermen through your ice
Pushed up their hair, the dry wind steers
Through salt and root and roe.

Where once your green knots sank their splice
Into the tided cord, there goes
The green unraveller,
His scissors oiled, his knife hung loose
To cut the channels at their source
And lay the wet fruits low.

Invisible, your clocking tides
Break on the lovebeds of the weeds;
The weed of love's left dry;
There round about your stones the shades
Of children go who, from their voids,
Cry to the dolphined sea.

Dry as a tomb, your coloured lids
Shall not be latched while magic glides
Sage on the earth and sky;
There shall be corals in your beds,
There shall be serpents in your tides,
Till all our sea-faiths die.

在你脸上的水

在你脸上的水曾经被我螺杆
搅动的地方，掠过你枯干的灵魂，
死者的眼睛上翻着；
在美人鱼撩起头发曾经穿越
你冰层的地方，刮过干枯的风
穿越盐粒、草根和鱼卵。

在你下沉的绿色绳结曾经紧缚
潮汐下的船索，走来
那绿色的解缚人，
剪刀抹上油，刀片松弛地悬着，
从源头切断他们的通道，
摘下湿漉漉的果实。

来去无踪，潮升汐落
拍打水草丛生的爱情之床；
爱的水草枯萎而亡；
孩子们的身影晃动在岩石的四周，
他们各自从空旷中，向着
海豚游戈的大海呼喊。

虽然坟墓般干枯，你斑斓的眼睑
绝不会锁闭，圣贤施展魔力
滑过大地和天空；
你的床笫将铺满珊瑚，
你的潮汐将游动起蛇群，
直到大海所有的信念消逝。

Especially when the October wind

Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds,
Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks,
My busy heart who shudders as she talks
Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark
On the horizon walking like the trees
The wordy shapes of women, and the rows
Of the star-gestured children in the park.
Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches,
Some of the oaken voices, from the roots
Of many a thorny shire tell you notes,
Some let me make you of the water's speeches.

Behind a pot of ferns the wagging clock
Tells me the hour's word, the neural meaning
Flies on the shafted disc, declaims the morning
And tells the windy weather in the cock.
Some let me make you of the meadow's signs;
The signal grass that tells me all I know
Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye.
Some let me tell you of the raven's sins.

Especially when the October wind
(Some let me make you of autumnal spells,
The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales)
With fist of turnips punishes the land,
Some let me make of you the heartless words.
The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry
Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.
By the sea's side hear the dark-vowelled birds.

尤其当十月的风

尤其当十月的风
伸出寒冷的手指痛击我的发丝，
受制于蟹行的太阳，我踏着烈火而来，
在地面投下一片影子，蟹一样爬行，
我站在海边，倾听群鸟的喧鸣，
倾听渡鸦咳叫在冬日的枝头，
我忙碌的心一阵阵颤栗，当她
倾泻音节般的血液，倾吐她的话语。

也被关入言词之塔，我留意
地平线上树林般行走的
女人身姿喋喋不休，以及公园里
一排排孩子星星般显露。
有人让我制作你，用发元音的山毛榉，
有人让我用橡树的声音，从荆棘丛生的
州郡根须告知你音符，
有人让我塑造你，用水的言词。

在一盆羊齿草后面，摇摆的钟
告诉我时辰的讯息，神经的意图
盘旋于茎秆的花盘，在雄鸡啼晓时，
宣告早晨降临，并预报刮风的天气。
有人让我制作你，用草地的标志；
草符告诉我知晓的一切
透过目光挣脱蠕虫似的冬天。
有人让我告知你渡鸦的罪过。

尤其当十月的风
（有人让我塑造你，用秋天的字符，
蜘蛛的话语，以及威尔士喧闹的山岗）
握紧萝卜般的拳头惩处大地，
有人让我塑造你，用无情的词语。
心已耗尽，一股股疾奔的热血，
预警狂暴即刻来临。
站在海边，倾听群鸟鸣叫黑色的元音。

When, like a running grave

When, like a running grave, time tracks you down,
Your calm and cuddled is a scythe of hairs,
Love in her gear is slowly through the house,
Up naked stairs, a turtle in a hearse,
Hauled to the dome,

Comes, like a scissors stalking, tailor age,
Deliver me who, timid in my tribe,
Of love am barer than Cadaver's trap
Robbed of the foxy tongue, his footed tape
Of the bone inch,

Deliver me, my masters, head and heart,
Heart of Cadaver's candle waxes thin,
When blood, spade-handed, and the logic time
Drive children up like bruises to the thumb,
From maid and head,

For, sunday faced, with dusters in my glove,
Chaste and the chaser, man with the cockshut eye,
I, that time's jacket or the coat of ice
May fail to fasten with a virgin o
In the straight grave,

Stride through Cadaver's country in my force,
My pickbrain masters morsing on the stone
Despair of blood, faith in the maiden's slime,
Halt among eunuchs, and the nitric stain
On fork and face.

Time is a foolish fancy, time and fool.
No, no, you lover skull, descending hammer
Descends, my masters, on the entered honour.
You hero skull, Cadaver in the hangar
Tells the stick, 'fail.'

Joy is no knocking nation, sir and madam,
The cancer's fashion, or the summer feather
Lit on the cuddled tree, the cross of fever,
Not city tar and subway bored to foster
Man through macadam.

I damp the waxlights in your tower dome.
Joy is the knock of dust, Cadaver's shoot
Of bud of Adam through his boxy shift,
Love's twilit nation and the skull of state,
Sir, is your doom.

Everything ends, the tower ending and,
(Have with the house of wind), the leaning scene,
Ball of the foot depending from the sun,
(Give, summer, over), the cemented skin,
The actions' end.

All, men my madmen, the unwholesome wind
With whistler's cough contages, time on track
Shapes in a cinder death; love for his trick,
Happy Cadaver's hunger as you take
The kissproof world.

时光，像座奔跑的坟墓

时光，像座奔跑的坟墓，一路追捕你，
你安然的拥抱是一把毛发的镰刀，
她换好挡，驾驭爱情缓缓穿过房室，
灵车里的乌龟，上了裸露的楼梯，
被拽向穹顶，

像一把剪刀，昂首阔步来裁剪岁月，
向部落中胆怯的我
传递比死亡陷阱更为外露的爱，
剥夺狡诈的口舌，他的带尺
丈量寸寸肉骨，

我的主人，传给我大脑和内心，
一颗蜡烛般消瘦的死亡之心，
当手铲之下的血和严密的时间
驱动孩子们成长，像青肿袭上拇指，
从少女及大脑，

因面对周日，手套里塞着抹布，
贞洁和猎手，男子的目光昏暗，
我，一身时令夹克或冰冷的外套，
也许无法和一位零形处女相守
僵直的墓穴，

我大步跨过死亡的国度，
我讨教的主人在石头上敲动密码，
血液绝望，可信的处女黏液，
在阉人间停留，裤裆和脸上
留下硝石的污迹。

时光是一种愚蠢的幻觉，时光与傻瓜。
不！不！情人的脑瓜，垂落的锤子
落下，我的主人，敲打获取的荣誉。
英雄的颅骨，机棚里的死尸
向手杖诉说“失败”。

快乐不是叮当作响的国度，先生和女士，
癌肿的风尚，或夏日的羽叶
在相拥的绿树和狂热十字架上闪亮，
城市的沥青和地铁不倦于养育
人类穿过碎石的小道。

我浇湿你圆形塔顶里的烛光。
快乐是尘埃的敲击，死尸穿越
盒内的突变，抽发亚当的芽胚，
爱情是暮色苍茫的国度及颅骨，
先生，全是你的劫数。

一切均已消亡，塔楼崩塌，
（风灌满空房），倾斜的布景，
足根从太阳悬落，
（夏天，到此为止），皮肤粘连，
所有的动作消亡。

人啊，我疯狂的人，尽是腐败的风
传播吹哨者的咳嗽，追踪的时光
化为死亡的灰烬；爱上他的诡计，
快乐死尸饥肠辘辘，当你占据
这禁止亲吻的世界。

From love’s first fever to her plague

From love's first fever to her plague, from the soft second
And to the hollow minute of the womb,
From the unfolding to the scissored caul,
The time for breast and the green apron age
When no mouth stirred about the hanging famine,
All world was one, one windy nothing,
My world was christened in a stream of milk.
And earth and sky were as one airy hill,
The sun and moon shed one white light.

From the first print of the unshodden foot, the lifting
Hand, the breaking of the hair,
And to the miracle of the first rounded word,
From the first secret of the heart, the warning ghost,
And to the first dumb wonder at the flesh,
The sun was red, the moon was grey,
The earth and sky were as two mountains meeting.

The body prospered, teeth in the marrowed gums,
The growing bones, the rumour of the manseed
Within the hallowed gland, blood blessed the heart,
And the four winds, that had long blown as one,
Shone in my ears the light of sound,
Called in my eyes the sound of light.
And yellow was the multiplying sand,
Each golden grain spat life into its fellow,
Green was the singing house.

The plum my mother picked matured slowly,
The boy she dropped from darkness at her side
Into the sided lap of light grew strong,
Was muscled, matted, wise to the crying thigh
And to the voice that, like a voice of hunger,
Itched in the noise of wind and sun.

And from the first declension of the flesh
I learnt man's tongue, to twist the shapes of thoughts
Into the stony idiom of the brain,
To shade and knit anew the patch of words
Left by the dead who, in their moonless acre,
Need no word's warmth.
The root of tongues ends in a spentout cancer,
That but a name, where maggots have their X.

I learnt the verbs of will, and had my secret;
The code of night tapped on my tongue;
What had been one was many sounding minded.

One womb, one mind, spewed out the matter,
One breast gave suck the fever's issue;
From the divorcing sky I learnt the double,
The two-framed globe that spun into a score;
A million minds gave suck to such a bud
As forks my eye;
Youth did condense; the tears of spring
Dissolved in summer and the hundred seasons;
One sun, one manna, warmed and fed.

当初恋从狂热趋于烦扰

当初恋从狂热趋于烦扰，当子宫
从柔软的瞬秒趋于空洞的分钟，
当胎膜随着一把剪子打开，
系上绿围裙哺乳的时光降临，
垂悬的饥荒周围没有嘴舌在骚动，
整个世界风雨过后，一片虚无，
我的世界在一条乳白的溪流里受洗。
大地和天空融为一处缥缈的山岗，
太阳和月亮洒下一样的白色光芒。

从赤足的第一行脚印，举起的手，
散乱的头发，
到首轮词语的非凡神奇，
从内心最初的秘密，预警的幽灵，
到第一次面对肉体时的默然惊愕，
太阳鲜红，月亮灰白，
大地和天空仿佛是两座山的相遇。

身体渐趋成熟，牙髓里长出牙齿，
骨骼在生长，神圣的腺体里
精液谣言般流窜，血液祝福心脏，
四面来风，始终如一地刮个不停，
我的耳朵闪耀声音的光芒，
我的眼睛呼唤光芒的声音。
成倍增加的沙子一片金黄，
每一粒金沙繁衍成生命的伙伴，
颂唱的房子呈现绿意。

母亲采摘的梅子慢慢地成熟，
男孩从母体的黑暗中降生，
在明亮的膝下日趋健壮，
结实匀称，善于腿脚的啼哭，
善于发出声音，如饥饿的声音，
渴望风和太阳的喧闹。

从肉体的首次变格
我牙牙学语，学会将思想扭曲成
脑海里冷酷的词语，
重新修饰并编排前人遗留的
片言只语，在月光消逝的大地，
他们无需言语的温暖。
舌根在消耗殆尽的癌变中消亡，
空留虚名，只为蛆虫留下印迹。

我学会表达意愿的动词，拥有自己的秘密；
夜晚的密码轻叩我的舌面；
聚为一体的心智发出响亮不绝的声响。

一个子宫，一种思想，喷涌自身的内涵，
一只乳房触发吮吸的狂热；
从分离的天空，我学会了双重的涵义，
双重的世界旋转为一次积分；
万千思想吮吸同一朵花蕾
犹如刀叉在眼前绽放；
青春无比浓郁；春的泪水
在夏天和成百的季节里消融；
一个太阳，一种甘露，带来温暖和养分。

In the beginning

In the beginning was the three-pointed star,
One smile of light across the empty face;
One bough of bone across the rooting air,
The substance forked that marrowed the first sun;
And, burning ciphers on the round of space,
Heaven and hell mixed as they spun.

In the beginning was the pale signature,
Three-syllabled and starry as the smile;
And after came the imprints on the water,
Stamp of the minted face upon the moon;
The blood that touched the crosstree and the grail
Touched the first cloud and left a sign.

In the beginning was the mounting fire
That set alight the weathers from a spark,
A three-eyed, red-eyed spark, blunt as a flower;
Life rose and spouted from the rolling seas,
Burst in the roots, pumped from the earth and rock
The secret oils that drive the grass.

In the beginning was the word, the word
That from the solid bases of the light
Abstracted all the letters of the void;
And from the cloudy bases of the breath
The word flowed up, translating to the heart
First characters of birth and death.

In the beginning was the secret brain.
The brain was celled and soldered in the thought
Before the pitch was forking to a sun;
Before the veins were shaking in their sieve,
Blood shot and scattered to the winds of light
The ribbed original of love.

最　初

最初是那三角的星星，
一丝光的微笑掠过空虚的脸；
一条骨的枝干穿越生根的空气，
物质分裂，构成太阳最初的精髓；
浑圆的天地燃烧着虚无，
天堂和地狱在旋转中混为一体。

最初是那苍白的署名，
三个音节，微笑般闪烁星光；
随后水面上出现印迹，
月亮显现铸造脸面的印痕；
触及桅顶横衍和圣杯的鲜血
触及最初的云彩，留下一丝痕迹。

最初是那上升的火苗，
一点星火点燃所有的天气，
三眼的星火，透出红光，迟钝如花；
生命萌发，自翻滚的大海喷涌而出，
从根须处迸发，渗自大地和岩石，
神秘的油催动青草成长。

最初是词语，那词语
源自光的坚实底座，
抽象成所有虚无的字母；
从呼吸那云雾缭绕的底座
词语不断涌现，向内心
传译生死最初的字符。

最初是那神秘的大脑。
脑细胞在思想中不断分裂衔接，
随后音叉迎着太阳分化；
在滤网震动血脉之前，
血液喷涌，迎着光束播撒
源初棱角分明的爱。

Light breaks where no sun shines

Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads,
The things of light
File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.

A candle in the thighs
Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
Where no seed stirs,
The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars,
Bright as a fig;
Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs.

Dawn breaks behind the eyes;
From poles of skull and toe the windy blood
Slides like a sea;
Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky
Spout to the rod
Divining in a smile the oil of tears.

Night in the sockets rounds,
Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes;
Day lights the bone;
Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin
The winter's robes;
The film of spring is hanging from the lids.

Light breaks on secret lots,
On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
When logics die,
The secret of the soil grows through the eye,
And blood jumps in the sun;
Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.

没有太阳照耀的地方，光降临

没有太阳照耀的地方，光降临；
没有大海奔腾的地方，心潮掀起
自己的波涛；
而破碎的幽灵，一脑门的萤火虫，
光的万物
列队穿过肉体，那儿没有血肉装点身骨。

腿股间的烛火
温暖着青春和种子，点燃岁月的种子；
没有种子骚动的地方，
男人的果实，在星光下圆润光滑，
无花果一样明亮；
没有蜂蜡的地方，烛火映照它的毛发。

黎明在目光下破晓而出；
呼啸的热血，仿佛大海一样滑过
颅骨和脚趾的两极；
没有篱笆，没有树桩，天空下的喷井
朝着魔杖喷涌，
微笑中勘探泪水的原油。

黑夜在眼窝里打转，
犹如黑漆漆的月亮，环绕地球的边界；
白昼照亮身骨；
没有严寒的地方，砭人肌骨的狂风
解开冬日的长袍；
春天的薄雾从眼睑上垂落。

光降临神秘的符签，
降临思维的末梢，那儿思想在雨中发霉；
随着逻辑消亡，
泥土的秘密透过目光而生长，
血液在阳光下高涨；
黎明逗留在荒芜的大地之上。

I fellowed sleep

I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain,
Let fall the tear of time; the sleeper's eye,
Shifting to light, turned on me like a moon.
So, 'planning-heeled, I flew along my man
And dropped on dreaming and the upward sky.

I fled the earth and, naked, climbed the weather,
Reaching a second ground far from the stars;
And there we wept, I and a ghostly other,
My mothers-eyed, upon the tops of trees;
I fled that ground as lightly as a feather.

'My fathers' globe knocks on its nave and sings.'
'This that we tread was, too, your father's land.'
'But this we tread bears the angelic gangs,
Sweet are their fathered faces in their wings.'
'These are but dreaming men. Breathe, and they fade.'

Faded my elbow ghost, the mothers-eyed,
As, blowing on the angels, I was lost
On that cloud coast to each grave-grabbing shade;
I blew the dreaming fellows to their bed
Where still they sleep unknowing of their ghost.

Then all the matter of the living air
Raised up a voice, and, climbing on the words,
I spelt my vision with a hand and hair,
How light the sleeping on this soily star,
How deep the waking in the worlded clouds.

There grows the hours' ladder to the sun,
Each rung a love or losing to the last,
The inches monkeyed by the blood of man.
An old, mad man still climbing in his ghost,
My fathers' ghost is climbing in the rain.

我与睡眠作伴

我与睡眠作伴，它在脑海亲吻我，
任岁月的泪水洒落；入睡的眼睛，
转向光，仿佛月亮一样开启我。
我因此调整脚跟，随着身姿飞翔，
坠入了梦境，飘向上浮的天空。

我逃离大地，赤裸着，攀上天气，
抵达远离群星的第二重地界；
我们哭泣，我及另一个幽魂，
我母性的目光，闪烁在树梢；
我逃离那重地界，羽毛般轻盈。

“我父辈的地球叩动它的轴心歌唱。”
“我们踩着的土地，也是你父辈的土地。”
“我们脚下的土地孕育成群的天使，
羽翼下那些慈父的脸庞多么亲切。”
“他们不过是些梦中人。吹口气，就会消失。”

消失，我肘边的幽魂，露出母性的目光，
正如我吹拂天使，迷失于
云岸，相连每一片攫取墓穴的阴影；
我将梦中的伙伴吹回到他们的眠床，
他们酣然沉睡，全然不知自己的幽魂。

随后空气中活着的万物
抬高了嗓音，而我攀上言词，
用手和毛发拼写自己的幻象，
入睡多么轻盈，在这污秽的星星
苏醒多么沉重，从那世俗的云层。

时光的阶梯向太阳生长，
每一级响彻爱或终将消逝，
寸寸跳动着男人的血液。
一位年迈疯子仍在攀缘他的阴魂，
我父辈的阴魂正在雨中攀缘。

I dreamed my genesis

I dreamed my genesis in sweat of sleep, breaking
Through the rotating shell, strong
As motor muscle on the drill, driving
Through vision and the girdered nerve.

From limbs that had the measure of the worm, shuffled
Off from the creasing flesh, filed
Through all the irons in the grass, metal
Of suns in the man-melting night.

Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop, costly
A creature in my bones I
Rounded my globe of heritage, journey
In bottom gear through night-geared man.

I dreamed my genesis and died again, shrapnel
Rammed in the marching heart, hole
In the stitched wound and clotted wind, muzzled
Death on the mouth that ate the gas.

Sharp in my second death I marked the hills, harvest
Of hemlock and the blades, rust
My blood upon the tempered dead, forcing
My second struggling from the grass.

And power was contagious in my birth, second
Rise of the skeleton and
Rerobing of the naked ghost. Manhood
Spat up from the resuffered pain.

I dreamed my genesis in sweat of death, fallen
Twice in the feeding sea, grown
Stale of Adam's brine until, vision
Of new man strength, I seek the sun.

我梦见自身的起源

一阵沉睡中的盗汗，我梦见自身的起源，
突破旋转的卵壳，壮如
钻头的运动肌，穿越
幻象和梁上的神经。

从蠕虫般丈量的肢体，从起皱的肉身，
曳步而落，锉过
草丛里的废铜烂铁，锉过
感人的夜晚那阳光般的金属。

承接流淌爱情热血的脉管，昂贵
是我骨骼中的生灵，
我环绕代代相传的地球，低速
驶过黑夜慢行的人类。

我梦见自身的起源，再次死去，榴弹
击中行进中的心脏，洞穿
缝合的伤口和凝结的风，死亡
堵住那张吞吃气体的嘴。

就在我再次死去，我标识了山岗，
丰收的毒芹和叶片，我的血
在僵硬的死尸上起了锈，迫使
我从草丛中再次奋发。

而我的诞生感染着力量，骨骼
再次生长，赤裸的
亡魂再次受劫。再次
受难的痛苦吐出男儿的气概。

一阵死亡的盗汗，我梦见自身的起源，
两度落入养育的大海，亚当的
汗水渐渐变质，直到梦见
强悍的新人，我去搜寻太阳。

This bread I break

This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wind at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy.

Once in this wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.

This flesh you break, this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.

这片我切开的面包

这片我切开的面包原是燕麦，
这杯酒原是一棵异国果树上
畅游的果汁；
白天的人，夜晚的风，
割倒一地的庄稼，捣碎葡萄的欢乐。

这酒中夏日的血
曾经叩动装饰藤蔓的果肉，
这面包里的燕麦
曾经在风中快乐地摇曳；
人击毁了太阳，摧垮了风。

你切开的肉质，你畅饮的血
在脉管中流动着忧伤，
燕麦和葡萄
原是天生肉感的根茎和液汁；
你畅饮我的美酒，你嚼食我的面包。

Out of the sighs

Out of the sighs a little comes,
But not of grief, for I have knocked down that
Before the agony; the spirit grows,
Forgets, and cries;
A little comes, is tasted and found good;
All could not disappoint;
There must, be praised, some certainty,
If not of loving well, then not,
And that is true after perpetual defeat.

After such fighting as the weakest know,
There's more than dying;
Lose the great pains or stuff the wound,
He'll ache too long
Through no regret of leaving woman waiting
For her soldier stained with spilt words
That spill such acrid blood.

Were that enough, enough to ease the pain,
Feeling regret when this is wasted
That made me happy in the sun,
How much was happy while it lasted,
Were vagueness enough and the sweet lies plenty,
The hollow words could bear all suffering
And cure me of ills.

Were that enough, bone, blood, and sinew,
The twisted brain, the fair-formed loin,
Groping for matter under the dog's plate,
Man should be cured of distemper.
For all there is to give I offer:
Crumbs, barn, and halter.

叹息中

叹息中流露出的点点滴滴，
可不是忧伤，因为在悲痛之前，
我按捺住哀伤；灵魂在生长
遗忘又哭闹；
流露出的点点滴滴，尝起来真好；
一切都不会失望；
谢天谢地，终究会存在某种必然，
假如爱得不够真，那便不是爱，
不断失败之后终成真。

一场弱小者熟知的战斗之后，
遗下的不止是死亡；
付出极度的痛苦或填平创伤，
他的痛太久太长，
无憾无悔地让一个女人等待
她的战士，沾染话语如溅，
溅出苦涩的血。

假如那足以、足以减轻痛苦，
耗尽痛苦又颇感遗憾，
令我沐浴阳光下的幸福，
那么后续的幸福又有多大，
假如暧昧足矣，甜蜜的谎言足矣，
空洞的言语就能承受所有的苦难
并治愈我的伤痛。

假如那已足矣，骨骼、血液和肌腱，
扭曲的大脑、匀称的腰身，
狗碟之下进行的摸索，
人类就会治愈瘟疫。
这就是我所能奉献的一切：
面包屑、谷仓和牵狗绳。

Now

Now
Say nay,
Man dry man,
Dry lover mine
The deadrock base and blow the flowered anchor,
Should he, for centre sake, hop in the dust,
Forsake, the fool, the hardiness of anger.

Now
Say nay,
Sir no say,
Death to the yes,
The yes to death, the yesman and the answer,
Should he who split his children with a cure
Have brotherless his sister on the handsaw.

Now
Say nay,
No say sir
Yea the dead stir,
And this, nor this, is shade, the landed crow,
He lying low with ruin in his ear,
The cockerel's tide upcasting from the fire.

Now
Say nay,
So star fall,
So the ball fail,
So solve the mystic sun, the wife of light,
The sun that leaps on petals through a nought,
The come-a-cropper rider of the flower.

Now
Say nay
A fig for
The seal of fire,
Death hairy-heeled, and the tapped ghost in wood,
We make me mystic as the arm of air,
The two-a-vein, the foreskin, and the cloud.

现　在

现在
说不，
人，干枯的人，
我那干枯的情人
死礁般的基石，吹动开花的锚，
假如他在尘埃里围绕中心跳跃，
那么傻子，就会放弃持续的愤怒。

现在
说不，
先生说不，
向着是说死亡，
向着死亡说是，那是唯唯诺诺的回答，
假如他用药剂分解他的孩子，
那么手锯上的姐妹就会失去兄弟。

现在
说不，
先生说不
说是死者复苏，
阴影似是而非，乌鸦落地，
他躺在底下，耳内一片废墟，
好斗的小公鸡潮水般从火中升腾。

现在
说不，
星星随之陨落，
星球随之衰亡，
随之解决神秘的太阳，光的伴侣，
阳光透过虚无在花瓣上跳跃，
像一把修剪机骑上花丛。

现在
说不，
无花果
代表火漆，
死亡长出毛茸茸的后跟，叩击树林里的幽魂，
我们将我变得神秘，如同空中的手臂，
成双成对的血脉、包皮和云彩。

It is the sinners’ dust-tongued bell

It is the sinners' dust-tongued bell claps me to churches
When, with his torch and hourglass, like a sulphur priest,
His beast heel cleft in a sandal,
Time marks a black aisle kindle from the brand of ashes,
Grief with dishevelled hands tear out the altar ghost
And a firewind kill the candle.

Over the choir minute I hear the hour chant:
Time's coral saint and the salt grief drown a foul sepulchre
And a whirlpool drives the prayerwheel;
Moonfall and sailing emperor, pale as their tideprint,
Hear by death's accident the clocked and dashed-down spire
Strike the sea hour through bellmetal.

There is loud and dark directly under the dumb flame,
Storm, snow, and fountain in the weather of fireworks,
Cathedral calm in the pulled house;
Grief with drenched book and candle christens the cherub time
From the emerald, still bell; and from the pacing weather-cock
The voice of bird on coral prays.

Forever it is a white child in the dark-skinned summer
Out of the font of bone and plants at that stone tocsin
Scales the blue wall of spirits;
From blank and leaking winter sails the child in colour,
Shakes, in crabbed burial shawl, by sorcerer's insect woken,
Ding dong from the mute turrets.

I mean by time the cast and curfew rascal of our marriage,
At nightbreak born in the fat side, from an animal bed
In a holy room in a wave;
And all love's sinners in sweet cloth kneel to a hyleg image,
Nutmeg, civet, and sea-parsley serve the plagued groom and bride
Who have brought forth the urchin grief.

是罪人的尘埃之舌鼓动起钟声

是罪人的尘埃之舌鼓动起钟声轻拍我走向教堂，
此刻带着火把和沙漏，像一位满身硫黄味的牧师，
他走兽般的脚跟在凉鞋里爆裂，
时光流痕，烙下的余烬点燃黑色的走廊，
悲伤伸出凌乱的双手撕碎这祭坛上的幽灵，
而一阵风卷起火焰扑灭烛光。

在合唱圣诗的时刻，我听到时间的诵唱：
时光珊瑚般的圣徒和咸涩的悲伤淹没污秽的坟墓，
一股旋涡推动着祈祷轮；
月落和航海的帝王，苍白如潮水的流痕，
死亡的灾难旁，我听到俯冲而下的报时钟声
透过塔顶的大钟敲响大海的时光。

无声的火焰下方，一阵喧嚣一片黑暗，
烟火般的天气夹杂着风暴、飞雪和喷泉般的暴雨，
拔地而起的房屋教堂般宁静；
悲伤翻阅湿淋淋的圣书，烛光洗礼天使的时光，
伴随一阵翠绿而宁静的钟声；而在风向标的缓缓转动中
鸟儿在珊瑚丛发出声声祈祷。

在黑皮肤的夏天，孩子永远是那么洁白无瑕，
在石头的警报声中，从动植物的圣水池
攀缘灵魂蓝色的房墙；
身着彩衣的孩子驶出渗漏又空茫的冬天，
在巫师唤醒的蠕虫旁，斜披乖张的头巾，
将沉默的塔楼摇得叮咚作响。

我说在晚钟萦绕的黄昏，在波涛汹涌的圣屋里
婚姻的小淘气从肥肥的身躯降生
在一张兽性的大床；
此刻，爱情所有的罪人身着盛装去跪拜原初的圣像，
豆蔻、麝猫和海欧芹供奉染上瘟疫的新郎新娘，
顽童的悲伤就此降生。

After the funeral

(In memory of Ann Jones)

After the funeral, mule praises, brays,
Windshake of sailshaped ears, muffle-toed tap
Tap happily of one peg in the thick
Grave's foot, blinds down the lids, the teeth in black,
The spittled eyes, the salt ponds in the sleeves,
Morning smack of the spade that wakes up sleep,
Shakes a desolate boy who slits his throat
In the dark of the coffin and sheds dry leaves,
That breaks one bone to light with a judgment clout,
After the feast of tear-stuffed time and thistles
In a room with a stuffed fox and a stale fern,
I stand, for this memorial's sake, alone
In the snivelling hours with dead, humped Ann
Whose hooded, fountain heart once fell in puddles
Round the parched worlds of Wales and drowned each sun
(Though this for her is a monstrous image blindly
Magnified out of praise; her death was a still drop;
She would not have me sinking in the holy
Flood of her heart's fame; she would lie dumb and deep
And need no druid of her broken body).
But I, Ann's bard on a raised hearth, call all
The seas to service that her wood-tongued virtue
Babble like a bellbuoy over the hymning heads,
Bow down the walls of the ferned and foxy woods
That her love sing and swing through a brown chapel,
Bless her bent spirit with four, crossing birds.
Her flesh was meek as milk, but this skyward statue
With the wild breast and blessed and giant skull
Is carved from her in a room with a wet window
In a fiercely mourning house in a crooked year.
I know her scrubbed and sour humble hands
Lie with religion in their cramp, her threadbare
Whisper in a damp word, her wits drilled hollow,
Her fist of a face died clenched on a round pain;
And sculptured Ann is seventy years of stone.
These cloud-sopped, marble hands, this monumental
Argument of the hewn voice, gesture and psalm,
Storm me forever over her grave until
The stuffed lung of the fox twitch and cry Love
And the strutting fern lay seeds on the black sill.

葬礼之后

（纪念安·琼斯）

葬礼之后，骡子哞哞地赞美，
风扇动帆形的双耳，裹紧的蹄子
在厚实的坟基轻快地叩击
一根木桩，眼帘垂闭，牙齿又发黑，
眼里冒出唾液，袖口流成盐池，
早晨铁锹惊醒睡梦的铲击声，
惊动一个孤独的男孩，他在漆黑的
棺材里，撕开了喉咙，褪落枯叶，
最后的一击让一根白骨暴殓，
饱尝泪水盈盈的时光盛宴和紫蓟后
狐狸在房内暴食，羊齿草发臭，
我独自站立，为了心中这一份悼念，
在此饮泣的时刻陪伴死者，驼了背的安，
她遮裹的心泉，汇成干裂的威尔士旷野
四周的水坑，溺死每一颗太阳，
（尽管这对她而言只是一个怪异的形象，赞美
过于盲目；她的死原是一次宁静的水滴；
她并不希望我沉溺于她的善心及其名声
所引发的圣潮，她愿默默地安息，
不必为她破碎的身子祈祷）。
而我，安的吟游诗人，立于壁炉的高台之上，
呼唤所有的大海为她歌唱，她缄默的美德
像浮标铃一样在颂扬者的头上喋喋不休，
弯下围墙般的羊齿草和狡猾的树林
让她爱的歌声飘荡，穿过褐色的教堂，
四只穿梭的鸟祝福她俯服的灵魂。
她的肌肤牛奶一样温顺，而这高耸的雕像
挺起狂野的胸乳，扬起神圣而巨大的头骨，
塑自她的原型，雕成于那窗口透着潮气，
佝偻岁月里一间深切悼念的房室。
我知道她那双洁净、酸痛而谦卑的手
仍然紧握着她的信仰，潮湿的话语
倾诉如旧，她的心智渐渐干涸，
拳头般紧绷的脸抓紧圆形的痛苦而去；
安的雕像是位七旬的老人。
一双浸透云雾的大理石手，这些表达不朽而
精心打磨的声音、姿势和圣歌
永远在她的坟头震撼着我
直到狐狸暴食的肺腑抽搐，呼喊爱情，
昂首阔步的羊齿草在黑色的窗台播下种子。

Fern Hill

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

羊齿山

此刻我站在苹果树下，年轻又飘逸，
身旁的小屋活泼轻快，我幸福美好，绿草如茵，
幽谷上的夜空星光灿烂，
时光令我欢呼雀跃
眼中的盛世金碧辉煌，
我是苹果小镇的王子，马车迎送，无比的荣耀，
很久以后我像君王一样拥有森林和绿叶
沿途长满雏菊和大麦
河岸上微风吹拂洒落的阳光。

此刻我青春无忧，声名赫赫，四周谷仓座座，
幸福的庭院深深，我一路欢歌，仿佛农场就是家园
阳光也曾一度年轻，
时光让我嬉戏，
蒙受他的恩宠金光闪耀
我是猎手，我是牧人，年轻灿烂，牛犊们应着
我的号角歌唱，山岗上狐狸吠声清脆而苍凉，
圣溪的鹅卵石里
传来安息日缓缓的钟声。

明媚的阳光整天地泼洒，那么美丽可爱，
田间的干草高及屋脊，烟囱飘出美妙的旋律，
那是嬉戏的空气，动人又湿润，
而火焰青翠如绿草。
每到夜色降临，稀疏的星空下
我赶着回家入睡，猫头鹰驮着农场而去，
皎洁的月光整夜地赐福，我在马厩听到欧夜鹰
衔起干草飞翔，一匹匹马
光一样闪入黑夜。

随后农场醒来，像一位流浪者身披白露
再次回归，肩上立着雄鸡：阳光普照大地
那是亚当和夏娃，
天空再次聚拢
那一天的太阳浑圆无边。
所以肯定是质朴的光芒诞生之后
在最初旋转的地方，痴迷的马群温情地
走出低声嘶鸣的绿色马厩
奔驰在美好的原野。

快乐的小屋旁，我荣幸地置身于狐群和雉鸡旁
新近形成的云朵下，幸福欢畅，内心悠长，
太阳日复一日地诞生，
我狂放不羁，
我的祝愿穿越高及屋脊的干草，
在蓝天下劳作，无忧无虑，时光在和谐的
旋律里转动，竟诵唱如此寥寥几首晨歌，
随后散发青春活力的孩子
随他步出优雅，

我无所牵挂，在羔羊般洁白的日子里，时光
拉起我手的影子，在冉冉升起的月光下，
爬上栖满燕子的阁楼，
我并不一路奔波入眠，
我该听到他与高高的原野一起飞翔，
醒来发现农场永远逃离了没有孩子的土地。
哦，我蒙受他的恩宠，年轻又飘逸，
时光赐我青春与死亡
尽管我戴着镣铐依然像大海一样歌唱。

In Country Sleep

I

Never and never, my girl riding far and near
In the land of the hearthstone tales, and spelled asleep,
Fear or believe that the wolf in a sheepwhite hood
Loping and bleating roughly and blithely shall leap,
My dear, my dear,
Out of a lair in the flocked leaves in the dew dipped year
To eat your heart in the house in the rosy wood.

Sleep, good, for ever, slow and deep, spelled rare and wise,
My girl ranging the night in the rose and shire
Of the hobnail tales: no gooseherd or swine will turn
Into a homestall king or hamlet of fire
And prince of ice
To court the honeyed heart from your side before sunrise
In a spinney of ringed boys and ganders, spike and burn,

Nor the innocent lie in the rooting dingle wooed
And staved, and riven among plumes my rider weep.
From the broomed witch's spume you are shielded by fern
And flower of country sleep and the greenwood keep.
Lie fast and soothed,
Safe be and smooth from the bellows of the rushy brood.
Never, my girl, until tolled to sleep by the stern

Bell believe or fear that the rustic shade or spell
Shall harrow and snow the blood while you ride wide and near,
For who unmanningly haunts the mountain ravened eaves
Or skulks in the dell moon but moonshine echoing clear
From the starred well?
A hill touches an angel! Out of a saint's cell
The nightbird lauds through nunneries and domes of leaves

Her robin breasted tree, three Marys in the rays.
Sanctum sanctorum the animal eye of the wood
In the rain telling its beads, and the gravest ghost
The owl at its knelling. Fox and holt kneel before blood.
Now the tales praise
The star rise at pasture and nightlong the fables graze
On the lord's-table of the bowing grass. Fear most

For ever of all not the wolf in his baaing hood
Nor the tusked prince, in the ruttish farm, at the rind
And mire of love, but the Thief as meek as the dew.
The country is holy: O bide in that country kind,
Know the green good,
Under the prayer wheeling moon in the rosy wood
Be shielded by chant and flower and gay may you

Lie in grace. Sleep spelled at rest in the lowly house
In the squirrel nimble grove, under linen and thatch
And star: held and blessed, though you scour the high four
Winds, from the dousing shade and the roarer at the latch,
Cool in your vows.
Yet out of the beaked, web dark and the pouncing boughs
Be you sure the Thief will seek a way sly and sure

And sly as snow and meek as dew blown to the thorn,
This night and each vast night until the stern bell talks
In the tower and tolls to sleep over the stalls
Of the hearthstone tales my own, last love; and the soul walks
The waters shorn.
This night and each night since the falling star you were born,
Ever and ever he finds a way, as the snow falls,

As the rain falls, hail on the fleece, as the vale mist rides
Through the haygold stalls, as the dew falls on the wind
Milled dust of the apple tree and the pounded islands
Of the morning leaves, as the star falls, as the winged
Apple seed glides,
And falls, and flowers in the yawning wound at our sides,
As the world falls, silent as the cyclone of silence.

II

Night and the reindeer on the clouds above the haycocks
And the wings of the great roc ribboned for the fair!
The leaping saga of prayer! And high, there, on the hare
Heeled winds the rooks
Cawing from their black bethels soaring, the holy books
Of birds! Among the cocks like fire the red fox

Burning! Night and the vein of birds in the winged, sloe wrist
Of the wood! Pastoral beat of blood through the laced leaves!
The stream from the priest black wristed spinney and sleeves
Of thistling frost
Of the nightingale's din and tale! The upgiven ghost
Of the dingle torn to singing and the surpliced

Hill of cypresses! The din and tale in the skimmed
Yard of the buttermilk rain on the pail! The sermon
Of blood! The bird loud vein! The saga from mermen
To seraphim
Leaping! The gospel rooks! All tell, this night, of him
Who comes as red as the fox and sly as the heeled wind.

Illumination of music! The lulled black backed
Gull, on the wave with sand in its eyes! And the foal moves
Through the shaken greensward lake, silent, on moonshod hooves,
In the winds' wakes.
Music of elements, that a miracle makes!
Earth, air, water, fire, singing into the white act,

The haygold haired, my love asleep, and the rift blue
Eyed, in the haloed house, in her rareness and hilly
High riding, held and blessed and true, and so stilly
Lying the sky
Might cross its planets, the bell weep, night gather her eyes,
The Thief fall on the dead like the willy-nilly dew,

Only for the turning of the earth in her holy
Heart! Slyly, slowly, hearing the wound in her side go
Round the sun, he comes to my love like the designed snow,
And truly he
Flows to the strand of flowers like the dew's ruly sea,
And surely he sails like the ship shape clouds. Oh he

Comes designed to my love to steal not her tide raking
Wound, nor her riding high, nor her eyes, nor kindled hair,
But her faith that each vast night and the saga of prayer
He comes to take
Her faith that this last night for his unsacred sake
He comes to leave her in the lawless sun awaking

Naked and forsaken to grieve he will not come.
Ever and ever by all your vows believe and fear
My dear this night he comes and night without end my dear
Since you were born:
And you shall wake, from country sleep, this dawn and each first dawn,
Your faith as deathless as the outcry of the ruled sun.

梦中的乡村

1

我那远近一路驰骋的女孩
流连于梦中拼读炉边童话的原野，
别害怕或别相信，裹着羊毛头巾的狼
跳着脚奔跑，粗哑地发出咩咩的叫声，
我的宝贝，我的心肝，
在露珠浸润的日子，欢快地跳出落叶满地的狼窝
窜入玫瑰林的房子吞食你的心肝。

睡吧，慢慢地酣然入睡，不要过于沉迷拼读，
我的女孩在夜晚漫游乡村童话里的玫瑰和州郡：
牧鹅人或猪绝不会变成农家院落里的国王
或火一般热烈的哈姆雷特
冰一样冷酷的王子，
蜂拥在灌木林的男孩和雄鹅，发狂而叮当作响
拂晓前，设法从你那儿获取那颗蜜糖般的心，

天真的谎言也不会在生根的幽谷求欢
与打孔，并在我骑手哭泣的羽毛间撕裂。
羊齿草一再替你挡开女巫扫泼的泡沫，
乡村的花朵入睡，翠绿的树林默然看护。
快快地躺下睡吧，
安然又宁静，滑离灯心草丛呼呼的风声。
我的女孩，除非丧钟鸣响，摇你入梦乡

钟声从不相信或害怕野外的影子或符咒
在你远近一路驰骋时，会耙犁或雪埋你的鲜血，
谁会幽灵般怯懦地出没寒鸦栖息的山崖？
除了月光在群星璀璨的井口清越地回响
谁会隐匿于月明的幽谷？
山岗触及天使！夜莺赞美的歌声飘自
圣人的小屋，穿越女修道院和落叶斑斓的屋顶，

知更鸟落在树梢，三圣母玛利亚在月光下闪现。
至高无上的至圣所，林中动物的眼睛
在雨中水珠般倾诉，最阴森的幽灵猫头鹰
发出不祥的哀鸣。狐狸和林地跪在血泊里。
此刻童话颂扬
星星在草场上空升起，彻夜地放牧寓言
在绿草摇曳的圣桌。永远不必害怕

裹着羊毛头巾咩咩叫的狼，也不必害怕
长着獠牙的王子，在春情荡漾的农庄陷入
爱情的泥潭，但是要警惕那露水般温顺的贼。
乡村多么神圣：哦，住在自然亲切的乡村里，
感奋绿野的美好，
玫瑰林中的月光在祈祷者的脚下飘荡，
愿歌声和鲜花庇护你，愿你快乐永远

欣然就寝。安然入睡在松鼠窜动的小树林，
低矮的小屋，亚麻、茅草、星光遮蔽着屋顶：
愿你尽享神的祝福，虽然你穿越的狂风
刮自四处潮湿的影子和咆哮的锁孔，
尽管誓言那么冷漠。
但是走出鸟嘴、蛛网的黑暗和摇动的树枝，
别忘记那贼正偷偷而执着地搜寻而来，

飞雪般隐秘，露珠般温顺地飘向荆棘，
就在今夜以及每一个辽阔的夜晚，直到丧钟
在塔楼里敲响，在炉边童话的马厩上空
送我自身最终的爱进入梦乡；灵魂走过
修剪一新的水面。
今夜以及你星星般降生后的每一个夜晚，
他不停地搜寻而来，犹如冬雪飘落，

雨点洒落，冰雹猛击羊群，犹如山谷里的迷雾
飘过干草般金黄的马厩，露珠飘落苹果树上
飞旋的尘土，飘落在晨叶击打的荒岛，
犹如星星陨落，犹如翻飞的苹果籽
轻轻地滑行
又飘落，鲜花般盛开在我们腰间开裂的伤口，
犹如世界沉落，犹如寂静的旋风无声无息。

2

夜晚，驯鹿在干草堆上空的云层腾挪
大鹏为仙女装上展翅的双翼！
祈祷的英雄传奇遍布四方！在那兔子般
跃动的狂风里
白嘴鸦随高翔的黑色教堂啼鸣，一本飞鸟的圣书！
红色的狐狸在火一样的雄鸟间

燃烧！夜晚，鸟在林中翻飞，血脉奔涌！
透过田间的翠花秀叶，血液不停地搏动！
小溪流自牧师黑手腕的灌木林，流自
夜莺喧闹的童话中
含霜蓟丛的袖管！幽谷的孤魂声嘶力竭地歌唱！
松柏丛生的小山斜披白色的法袍！

喧闹的童话涉掠的庭院里，奶汁
雨点般敲打着奶桶！血的布道！
血脉响亮的飞鸟！英雄传奇从人鱼
跃向六翼天使！
传播福音的白嘴鸦！今夜的一切都在诉说
他的降临，狐狸般猩红，尾风般隐秘而狡诈。

音乐的启示！宁静的黑脊海鸥
眼含沙砾飞翔于碧波之上！小马驹掠过
绿意颤栗的湖面，寂静的月光马蹄声碎，
清风令人警觉。
音乐的一切元素创造大自然的奇迹！
泥土、空气、流水和烈火诵唱白色的一幕，

我梦中的心肝宝贝，头发干草般金黄，双眸
透出一丝蔚蓝，室内光影浮动，她独自驰骋
在高高的山岗，纯真而尽享神的祝福，天空
静静地展卧，
也许划过行星，钟声哭泣，夜晚聚拢她的目光，
那个贼像露水般不容分说地降临死尸，

只为转动她神圣心灵中的世界！
他隐秘而狡诈，听到她腰间的伤口绕着太阳
而转动，慢慢地走向我的心肝，犹如谋划的冬雪，
他正走向鲜花
盛开的河岸，像露水流入秩序井然的大海，
他肯定要出航，犹如船形的云朵。哦，他正

谋划着靠近我的宝贝，不去偷取她的海潮去冲刷
伤口，也不去偷取她的驰骋，她的双眸，她点燃的秀发，
而是偷取她的信仰，每一个辽远的夜晚以及
祈祷者的传奇，
就在昨夜他带走她的信仰，为他并不神圣的目的，
在非法的阳光苏醒之际，他又将她遗弃，

让她独自赤裸着身，哀叹他的离去
无论你如何信誓旦旦，不管你是相信还是害怕，
我的心肝宝贝，今夜他正走来，自从你降临人世
夜晚永不停息：
你会从梦中的乡村醒来，在黎明以及每个最初的黎明，
你的信仰永生不灭，仿佛受制的太阳爆发的呐喊。

Elegy

Too proud to die; broken and blind he died
The darkest way, and did not turn away,
A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride

On that darkest day. Oh, forever may
He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed
Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow

Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost
Or still all the numberless days of his death, though
Above all he longed for his mother's breast

Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground
The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed.
Let him find no rest but be fathered and found,

I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed,
In the muted house, one minute before
Noon, and night, and light. The rivers of the dead

Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw
Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea.
[An old tormented man three-quarters blind,

I am not too pround to cry that He and he
Will never never go out of my mind.
All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain,

Being innocent, he dreaded that he died
Hating his God, but what he was was plain:
An old kind man brave in his burning pride.

The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned.
Even as a baby he had never cried;
Nor did he now, save to his secret wound.

Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide.
Here among the light of the lording sky
An old blind man is with me where I go

Walking in the meadows of his son's eye
On whom a world of ills came down like snow.
He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres'

Last sound, the world going out without a breath:
Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears,
And caught between two nights, blindness and death.

O deepest wound of all that he should die
On that darkest day. Oh, he could hide
The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.

Until I die he will not leave my side.]

挽　歌

傲然不屑死去；失明而心碎地死去，
他走上最黑暗之路，不再回头，
一位勇敢而善良的人，冷峻而孤傲，

那一天最黑暗。哦，愿他从此躺下，
终于能轻松地躺下，最终穿越山岗，
在青草之下，永沐爱意，在那长长的

人群中勃发青春，决不迷失
或沉寂在那死亡无穷无尽的岁月，
尽管他依然渴望母亲的乳汁，

最终安息并化为尘土，仁慈的大地上
死亡那最黑暗的公正，盲目又不幸。
让他不屑安息，却被生养，重返人世，

在沉默的屋内，蜷缩的内室间，
在他失明的病榻边，我祈祷
在正午、夜晚和黎明前的那一刻。

死亡之河在我握住的可怜的手心流淌，
透过他看不见的眼睛，我看到大海之根。
（一个受苦的老人丧失了四分之三视力，

我没那么高傲，不会不屑于哭泣，
上帝和他将永驻我心。
他的骨头在哭泣，除了痛苦，缺乏一切，

他如此天真，害怕死时会
憎恨上帝，他清楚自己是什么样的人：
勇敢、善良、炽热孤傲的垂暮之人。

屋内的手杖是他的；书是他的珍藏。
自打出生起他就从不哭泣；
此刻他也不哭，除了自身的隐痛。

我看见最后一丝光芒滑过他的眼睛。
在这君临天下的光线之中
一位失明的老人随我走上

他儿子目所能及的草地，
不幸的世界像雪片一样降临。
他死去时哭了，最终害怕世上

最后的声音，世界消逝得无声无息：
傲然不屑哭泣，脆弱得无法控制泪水，
深陷于两个夜晚之间，失明与死亡。

哦，至深的痛，莫过于他将会死在
最黑暗的日子。哦，他的眼睛
竟然能藏得住眼泪，傲然不屑哭泣。

直到我死去，他都不会离开我的身旁。）