查看完整版本: 叶芝的诗；When You Are Old；He Tells of the Perfect Beauty 等

叶芝的诗；When You Are Old；He Tells of the Perfect Beauty 等

He Tells of the Perfect Beauty他述绝代佳人
William Butler Yeats威廉·巴特勒·叶芝
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman's gaze
And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
And therefore my heart will bow, when dew
Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,
Before the unlabouring stars and you.
哦，眼睑如薄雲，双目似梦幻，
诗人们辛劳累月经年
妄图以韵律塑造沉鱼落雁；
却被一女子的凝眸，
和苍穹中慵懒的众星瞬间倾翻：
因此当露珠滴落安眠，我心将垂首
于悠然的星辰与侬面前，
直至上帝把时间点燃。

[[i] 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2011-12-18 21:15 编辑 [/i]].

When You Are Old 当你老了

When You Are Old -William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

鬓髪霜雪梦悠悠，炉旁频点头；意沉沉，神游游，诗卷手中抖。朦眼缓览浏，韶华梦里秀。明眸柔柔，倩影幽幽，多少公子逑；直道是，真假莫辨令人愁，独忧绣楼。
真叹某君子，痴情难改收。恋汝冰清慕圣洁，及汝白了头。炉火红正旺，身佝偻；哀戚戚，情愁愁：怎知那未竟之爱，如何步峦岗，翻山头，浩浩宇宙之间，隐其首？
《汝老》（五言60字）
汝老鬓霜白，困盹炉前歪；颤手展书卷，秀目入梦来。
浪蝶纷纷飞，莫辨真与伪；但有真君子，恋汝心灵美。
驱倾炽炉前，戚戚诉如怨；逝爱飞山巅，归隐繁星间。
《及汝老》（72 字）
及汝老，白了头；炉前盹，颤悠悠；取书卷，读在手；梦如镜，眉似柳。
众登徒，蝶恋娇；真假情，谁知晓；有君子，逆其道；爱即深，及汝老。
炉炽炽，身弯弯；哀怨怨，意绵绵；昔日爱，步高山；群星中，隐其颜。

《当你老了》 冰心译
当你老了，头发花白，睡意沉沉，
倦坐在炉边，取下这本书来，
慢慢读着，追梦当年的眼神
那柔美的神采与深幽的晕影。
多少人爱过你青春的片影，
爱过你的美貌，以虚伪或是真情，
惟独一人爱你那朝圣者的心，
爱你哀戚的脸上岁月的留痕。
在炉栅边，你弯下了腰，
低语着，带着浅浅的伤感，
爱情是怎样逝去，又怎样步上群山，
怎样在繁星之间藏住了脸。

《当你老了》袁可嘉译

当你老了，头白了，睡意昏沉，
炉火旁打盹，请取下这部诗歌，
慢慢读，回想你过去眼神的柔和，
回想它们昔日浓重的阴影；

多少人爱你青春欢畅的时辰，
爱慕你的美丽，假意或真心，
只有一个人爱你那朝圣者的灵魂，
爱你衰老了的脸上痛苦的皱纹；

垂下头来，在红光闪耀的炉子旁，
凄然地轻轻诉说那爱情的消逝，
在头顶的山上它缓缓踱着步子，
在一群星星中间隐藏着脸庞。.

The Coming of Wisdom with Time 时光流逝智慧生

The coming of wisdom with time
Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.
时光流逝智慧生，
枝繁叶茂只一根；
年幼荒唐无所事，
艳阳光里摇花枝；
终老凋谢悟真知。.

He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven他要天堂霓裳

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
假如我有天堂的霓裳，
缀满金色、银色的光，
白昼、黑夜和黄昏
幽蓝、漆黑、朦胧的衣裳，
我会将此衣铺你脚下：
然贫穷似我却只有梦想；
我已将此梦铺你脚下
请轻移玉步，因你正踩在我的梦上。.

THE OLD MEN ADMIRING THEMSELVES IN THE WATER老人水中自赞

I HEARD the old, old men say,
'Everything alters,
And one by one we drop away.'
They had hands like claws, and their knees
Were twisted like the old thorn-trees
By the waters.
'All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters.'
吾闻老人言：
“万事皆会变。
一个接一个，
吾等会归天。”

埋葬在坟地，
浸泡在水里。
双手变为爪，
膝盖扭成犁。

“如江河之水，
奔腾入海里。
昔日之美丽，
流逝难寻觅。.

AFTER LONG SILENCE 长寂之后

peech after long silence: it is right,
All other lovers being estranged or dead,
Unfriendly lamplight hid under its shade,
The curtains drawn upon unfriendly night,
That we descant and yet again descant
Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song :
Bodily decrepitude is wisdom: young
We loved each other and were ignorant.
长时间静寂后的话语：是，
其他情人或疏远或谢世。
冷漠的灯光灯罩下躲藏，
无情的黑夜被窗帘阻挡。
我们促膝长谈、探讨着
崇高的主题绘画与曲作。
老态龙钟时才幡然醒悟，
年轻时相爱却如此麻木。.

A Drinking Song 饮酒歌

WINE comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
酒入口，
爱入眼；
吾等变老升天前，
终会将此谙。
吾举杯到咀边，
望汝而兴叹。.

谢谢分享！收藏。.

The Wild Swans At Coole柯尔庄园的野天鹅

柯尔庄园的野天鹅
　　树木披上了美丽的秋装，林中的小径一片干燥，在十月的暮色中，流水  　把静谧的天空映照，
　　一块块石头中漾着水波，游着五十九只天鹅。自从我第一次数了它们，十九度秋天已经消逝，
　　我还来不及细数一遍，就看到  　　它们一下子全部飞起．大声拍打着它们的翅膀，形成大而破碎的圆圈翱翔。　　我凝视这些光彩夺目的天鹅，此刻心中涌起一阵悲痛。一切都变了，自从第一次在河边，也正是暮色朦胧，我听到天鹅在我头上鼓翼，于是脚步就更为轻捷。还没有疲倦，一对对情侣，在冷冷的友好的河水中  前行或展翅飞入半空，它们的心依然年轻，不管它们上哪儿漂泊，它们　总是有着激情，还要赢得爱情。　现在它们在静谧的水面上浮游，神秘莫测，美丽动人，　可有一天我醒来，它们已飞去。　哦，它们会筑居于哪片芦苇丛、哪一个池边、哪一块湖滨，　　使人们悦目赏心？（裘小龙译）
The Wild Swans At Coole
by: William Butler Yeats


THE trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty Swans.
The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?

[[i] 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2011-12-15 08:03 编辑 [/i]].

The Lake Isle of Innisfree
      by William Butler Yeats

  I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
  And a small cabin build there,
  of clay and wattles made;
  Nine bean-rows will I have there,

  a hive for the honey-bee,
  And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
  And I shall have some peace there,
  for peace comes dropping slow

  Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
  There midnight's all a glimmer,
  and noon a purple glow,
  And evening full of the linnet's wings.
  I will arise and go now,

  for always night and day,
  I hear the lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
  While I stand on the roadway,
  or on the pavements gray,
  I hear it in the deep heart's core.
     湖岛因尼斯弗里岛
现在我正要起身离去，前去因尼斯弗里，
用树枝和泥土，在那里筑起小屋：
我要种九垄菜豆，养一箱蜜蜂在那里，
在蜂吟嗡嗡的林间空地幽居独处。

我将享有些宁静，那里宁静缓缓滴零
从清晨的薄雾到蟋蟀鸣唱的地方；
在那里半夜清辉粼粼，正午紫光耀映，  
黄昏的天空中布满着红雀的翅膀。

现在我要起身离去，因为在每夜每日
我总是听见湖水轻舐湖岸的响声；
伫立在马路上，或灰色的人行道上时，
我都在内心深处听见那悠悠水声。

[[i] 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2011-12-15 08:01 编辑 [/i]].

叶芝

威廉·勃特勒·叶芝（WilliamButlerYeats，1865－1939），爱尔兰著名抒情诗人、剧作家，后期象征派大师，爱尔兰文艺复兴运动的领袖。生于都柏林一个画师家庭，自小喜爱诗画艺术，并对乡间的秘教法术颇感兴趣。1884年就读于都柏林艺术学校，不久违背父愿，抛弃画布和油彩，专意于诗歌创作。1888年在伦敦结识了萧伯纳、王尔德等人。1889年，叶芝与女演员毛特·戈尼结识。戈尼是爱尔兰民族自治运动的骨干，对叶芝一生的思想和创作影响很大。1896年，叶芝又结识了贵族出身的剧作家格雷戈里夫人，叶芝一生的创作都得力于她的支持。她的柯尔庄园被叶芝看作崇高的艺术乐园。他这一时期的创作虽未摆脱19世纪后期的浪漫主义和唯美主义的影响，但质朴而富于生气，著名诗作有《茵斯弗利岛》（1892）、《当你老了》（1896）等。
　　1899年，叶芝与格雷戈里夫人、约翰·辛格等开始创办爱尔兰国家剧场活动，并于1904年正式成立阿贝影院。这期间，他创作了一些反映爱尔兰历史和农民生活的戏剧，主要诗剧有《胡里痕的凯瑟琳》（1902）、《黛尔丽德》（1907）等，另有诗集《芦苇中的风》（1899）、《在七座森林中》（1903）、《绿盔》（1910）、《责任》（1914）等，并陆续出版了多卷本的诗文全集。叶芝及其友人的创作活动，史称“爱尔兰文艺复兴运动”。
　　1917年，叶芝成婚，定居于格雷戈里庄园附近的贝力利村。此后，由于局势动荡，事故迭起，叶芝在创作上极富活力，他的诗已由早期的虚幻朦胧转而为坚实、明朗。重要诗集有《柯尔庄园的野天鹅》（1919）、《马可伯罗兹与舞者》（1920）等，内有著名诗篇《基督再临》、《为吾女祈祷》、《1916年复活节》等。
　　1921年爱尔兰独立，叶芝出任参议员。1923年，“由于他那些始终充满灵感的诗，它们通过高度的艺术形成了整个民族的精神”，叶芝获得诺贝尔文学奖。
　　1928年发表诗集《古堡》，这是他创作上进入成熟期的巅峰之作，内有著名诗篇《驶向拜占廷》、《丽达与天鹅》、《在学童之间》和《古堡》等。晚年，叶芝百病缠身，但在创作上仍然热情不减，极其活跃。重要诗集有《回梯》（1929）、《新诗集》（1938），另有散文剧《窗棂上的世界》（1934）、诗剧《炼狱》（1938）等。1939年1月28日，叶芝病逝于法国的罗格布隆。
　　叶芝的诗具有雄辩的风格、明亮的色彩，意向突出而寓含哲理，情感浓厚而真切，构思精巧，语言洗练，且富有节奏，在艺术上有较高的造诣。其诗吸收浪漫主义、唯美主义、神秘主义、象征主义和玄学诗的精华，几经变革，最终熔炼出独特的风格，通常被视为英语诗从传统到现代过渡的缩影。
我们时代最伟大的诗人。叶芝就是我们时代的历史人物之一，这些人物是他们时代意识的一部分，没有他们就无从理解这一时代。　　——诗人艾略特
1923年，“由于他那些始终充满灵感的诗，它们通过高度的艺术形成了整个民族的精神”，叶芝获得诺贝尔文学奖。.

在学童中间 Among School Children

Among School Children (1927)
WB Yeats
I
I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;
A kind old nun in a white hood replies;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,
To study reading-books and history,
To cut and sew, be neat in everything
In the best modern way - the children’s eyes
In momentary wonder stare upon
A sixty-year-old smiling public man.
II
I dream of a Ledaean body, bent
Above a sinking fire. A tale that she
Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event
That changed some childish day to tragedy -
Told, and it seemed that our two natures blent
Into a sphere from youthful sympathy,
Or else, to alter Plato’s parable,
Into the yolk and white of the one shell.

III
And thinking of that fit of grief or rage
I look upon one child or t’other there
And wonder if she stood so at that age -
For even daughters of the swan can share
Something of every paddler’s heritage -
And had that colour upon cheek or hair,
And thereupon my heart is driven wild:
She stands before me as a living child.

IV
Her present image floats into the mind -
Did Quattrocento finger fashion it
Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind
And took a mess of shadows for its meat?
And I though never of Ledaean kind
Had pretty plumage once - enough of that,
Better to smile on all that smile, and show
There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow.

V
What youthful mother, a shape upon her lap
Honey of generation had betrayed,
And that must sleep, shriek, struggle to escape
As recollection or the drug decide,
Would think her son, did she but see that shape
With sixty or more winters on its head,
A compensation for the pang of his birth,
Or the uncertainty of his setting forth?

VI
Plato thought nature but a spume that plays
Upon a ghostly paradigm of things;
Solider Aristotle played the taws
Upon the bottom of a king of kings;
World-famous golden-thighed Pythagoras
Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings
What a star sang and careless Muses heard:
Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird.

VII
Both nuns and mothers worship images,
But those the candles light are not as those
That animate a mother's reveries,
But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
And yet they too break hearts - O Presences
That passion, piety or affection knows,
And that all heavenly glory symbolise -
O self-born mockers of man’s enterprise;

VIII
Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?
在学童中间
1
我边走边问，打从长教室穿过，
和蔼的白头巾老修女回答问题，
孩子们学做算术，练习唱歌
学习各样的读本，还有历史，
剪裁和缝纫都要求干净利索，
样式最好又时新——孩子们时不时
出于好奇心，免不了抬眼注目
一位六十岁含笑的头面人物。

2
我冥想一个丽达那样的身影
俯就奄奄的炉火，她讲起童年
一次受严厉的责备或一件小事青
竟然在童心上造成悲剧的一天——
这一讲时我们两个年轻的心灵
像出于同情而融进了一单个空间，
或者，改一下柏拉图有名的妙譬，
化作了蛋黄与蛋白，浑成一体。

3
想起了当年那一阵忧伤或愤怒，
我再对这一个那一个小孩子看看，
猜是否她当年也有这样的风度——
因为天鹅的女儿也就会承担
每一份涉水飞禽遗传的禀赋——
也有同样颜色的头发和脸蛋，
这么样一想，我的心就狂蹦乱抖，
她活现在我的面前，变一个毛丫头。

4
她目前那一副形象飘进了我心里，
难道是十五世纪手的塑造，
它两颊深陷，仿佛它只是喝空气，
只是吞够了影子就算吃饱？
我虽然从不是丽达一类的后裔，
也有过美丽的羽毛——够了，好，
逢人最好是用微笑报微笑，表示出
这个老草人过日子挺舒舒服服。

5
年轻的母亲，膝上抱一个人形
（那是“生殖蜜”泄漏给人间的皮囊，
根据了回忆或是“忘药”的决定
一定得睡眠，叫嚷，挣扎着要逃亡），
会怎样看她的儿子，只见人头顶
白茫茫披六十来个冬天的风光，
就认为报偿了生她儿子的痛苦、
愁他入世前途的牵肠挂肚？

6
柏拉图认为自然不过是水泡
戏弄着事物的幽灵式千变万化图；
坚实的亚理士多德挥舞着桦木条，
会鞭打一位王中之王的屁股；
金股骨毕达哥拉斯，无人不晓，
拨弄着琴弓或琴弦就可以算出
那颗星歌唱的、懒诗神听见的和音：
颇布片绑上老杆子吓吓飞禽！

7
修女和母亲，两类人都崇拜偶像，
可是烛光照亮的尊容并不能
激起哪一位母亲的痴心妄想，
只能使石像或铜像宁息安生。
但它们也叫人心碎——诸多色相，
激情、虔诚、慈爱所熟悉的至尊！
一切至高的光荣所象征的浮华，
对人类事业心自生自长的嘲弄家！

8

辛劳本身也就是开花、舞蹈，
只要躯体不取悦灵魂而自残，
美也并不产生于抱憾的懊恼，
迷糊的智慧也不出于灯昏夜阑。
栗树啊，根柢雄壮的花魁花宝，
你是叶子吗，花朵吗，还是株干？
随音乐摇曳的身体啊，灼亮的眼神！
我们怎能区分舞蹈与跳舞人？

卞之琳译.

丽达与天鹅

A sudden blow:the great wings beating stil      突然袭击：在踉跄的少女身上，
Above the staggering girl,her thighs caressed     一双巨翅还在乱扑，一双黑蹼
By the dark webs,her nape caught in his bill,    抚弄她的大腿，鹅喙衔着她的颈项，
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.     他的胸脯紧压她无计脱身的胸脯。
How can those terrified vague fingers push      手指啊，被惊呆了，哪还有能力
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?   从松开的腿间推开那白羽的荣耀？
And how can body,laid in that white rush        身体呀，翻倒在雪白的灯心草里，
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?   感到的唯有其中那奇异的心跳！

A shudder in the loins engenders there         腰股内一阵颤栗．竟从中生出
The broken wall,the burning roof and tower     断垣残壁、城楼上的浓烟烈焰
And Agamemnon dead.                       和阿伽门农之死。
Being so caught up,                          当她被占有之时
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,     当地如此被天空的野蛮热血制服
Did she put on his knowledge with his power  直到那冷漠的喙把她放开之前，
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?  她是否获取了他的威力，他的知识？.

驶向拜占庭

　by/ 叶芝
　　 Sailing to Byzantium

By William butler Yeats

THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

　　那不是老年人的国度。青年人
　　在互相拥抱；那垂死的世代，
　　树上的鸟，正从事他们的歌唱；
　　鱼的瀑布，青花鱼充塞的大海，
　　鱼、兽或鸟，一整个夏天在赞扬
　　凡是诞生和死亡的一切存在。
　　沉溺于那感官的音乐，个个都疏忽
　　万古长青的理性的纪念物。
　　
　　一个衰颓的老人只是个废物，
　　是件破外衣支在一根木棍上，
　　除非灵魂拍手作歌，为了它的
　　皮囊的每个裂绽唱得更响亮；
　　可是没有教唱的学校，而只有
　　研究纪念物上记载的它的辉煌，
　　因此我就远渡重洋而来到
　　拜占庭的神圣的城堡。
　　
　　哦，智者们！立于上帝的神火中，
　　好像是壁画上嵌金的雕饰，
　　从神火中走出来吧，旋转当空，
　　请为我的灵魂作歌唱的教师。
　　把我的心烧尽，它被绑在一个
　　垂死的肉身上，为欲望所腐蚀，
　　已不知它原来是什么了；请尽快
　　把我采集进永恒的艺术安排。
　　
　　一旦脱离自然界，我就不再从
　　任何自然物体取得我的形状，
　　而只要希腊的金匠用金釉
　　和锤打的金子所制作的式样，
　　供给瞌睡的皇帝保持清醒；
　　或者就镶在金树枝上歌唱
　　一切过去、现在和未来的事情
　　给拜占庭的贵族和夫人听。
　　
　　
　　查良铮 译.

The Tower 塔堡

I

What shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?
                      Never had I more
Excited, passionate, fantastical
Imagination, nor an ear and eye
That more expected the impossible -
No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,
Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back
And had the livelong summer day to spend.
It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,
Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend
Until imagination, ear and eye,
Can be content with argument and deal
In abstract things; or be derided by
A sort of battered kettle at the heel.
一
我将怎样对付这荒唐事——
心呵，不安的心呵——这漫画，
这象拴在狗尾巴上拴在了我身上的
衰弱的老年？
我从不曾有过更加
兴奋的、热情的、奇异的
想像力，也不曾有过更加期望
不可能之事的耳朵和眼睛
不，在童年不曾，当时带着鱼竿和苍蝇，
或更低级的蠕虫，我爬上布尔本山的背脊，
有终生般漫长的夏日可消磨。
似乎我必须命令诗神去收拾行李，
而选择柏拉图和普罗提诺作朋友，
直到想像力、耳朵和眼睛
能够满足于论证，经营
抽象的事物；或者被一种
破旧的水壶跟在身后嘲弄。
II

I pace upon the battlements and stare
On the foundations of a house, or where
Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;
And send imagination forth
Under the day's declining beam, and call
Images and memories
From ruin or from ancient trees,
For I would ask a question of them all.

Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once
When every silver candlestick or sconce
Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine.
A serving-man, that could divine
That most respected lady's every wish,
Ran and with the garden shears
Clipped an insolent farmer's ears
And brought them in a little covered dish.

Some few remembered still when I was young
A peasant girl commended by a song,
Who'd lived somewhere upon that rocky place,
And praised the colour of her face,
And had the greater joy in praising her,
Remembering that, if walked she there,
Farmers jostled at the fair
So great a glory did the song confer.

And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,
Or else by toasting her a score of times,
Rose from the table and declared it right
To test their fancy by their sight;
But they mistook the brightness of the moon
For the prosaic light of day -
Music had driven their wits astray -
And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.

Strange, but the man who made the song was blind;
Yet, now I have considered it, I find
That nothing strange; the tragedy began
With Homer that was a blind man,
And Helen has all living hearts betrayed.
O may the moon and sunlight seem
One inextricable beam,
For if I triumph I must make men mad.

And I myself created Hanrahan
And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn
From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages.
Caught by an old man's juggleries
He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro
And had but broken knees for hire
And horrible splendour of desire;
I thought it all out twenty years ago:

Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;
And when that ancient ruffian's turn was on
He so bewitched the cards under his thumb
That all but the one card became
A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards,
And that he changed into a hare.
Hanrahan rose in frenzy there
And followed up those baying creatures towards -

O towards I have forgotten what - enough!
I must recall a man that neither love
Nor music nor an enemy's clipped ear
Could, he was so harried, cheer;
A figure that has grown so fabulous
There's not a neighbour left to say
When he finished his dog's day:
An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

Before that ruin came, for centuries,
Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees
Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs,
And certain men-at-arms there were
Whose images, in the Great Memory stored,
Come with loud cry and panting breast
To break upon a sleeper's rest
While their great wooden dice beat on the board.

As I would question all, come all who can;
Come old, necessitous. half-mounted man;
And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant;
The red man the juggler sent
Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,
Gifted with so fine an ear;
The man drowned in a bog's mire,
When mocking Muses chose the country wench.

Did all old men and women, rich and poor,
Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,
Whether in public or in secret rage
As I do now against old age?
But I have found an answer in those eyes
That are impatient to be gone;
Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,
For I need all his mighty memories.

Old lecher with a love on every wind,
Bring up out of that deep considering mind
All that you have discovered in the grave,
For it is certain that you have
Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing
Plunge, lured by a softening eye,
Or by a touch or a sigh,
Into the labyrinth of another's being;

Does the imagination dwell the most
Upon a woman won or woman lost?
If on the lost, admit you turned aside
From a great labyrinth out of pride,
Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought
Or anything called conscience once;
And that if memory recur, the sun's
Under eclipse and the day blotted out.
二
我漫步在雉堞之上，凝望
一座房子的基础，或者那地方：
树木象一根熏黑的手指从地里涌出；
在白昼渐渐衰弱的光线下
把想像力派出，把意象
和记忆从废墟
或古老的树木中唤出，
因为我要向它们全都提一个问题。
在那山脊那边曾住着弗兰赤太太，有一回
当每一盏银烛台或灯台
照亮暗黑的红木餐桌和葡萄酒的时候，
一个仆人他能够猜透
那极受尊敬的夫人的每一个愿望
跑去用园艺剪刀
饺掉一个无礼农夫的双耳，
并用一只带盖的小碟端来奉上。
少数几个人还记得我小的时候
有一首歌唱到一个农家女，
她从前住在那多石之地的某处；
他们赞美她脸的颜色。
在对她的赞美中得到更大乐趣，
记得，如果她在那里走过，
市场上的农夫们就竞相争夺
那支歌所授予的那么伟大的一项荣誉。
而某些人，不是被那些诗句就是被接连
数十次为她干杯弄得颠倒狂乱，
从桌边站起来，宣称应当
以他们的所见来检验他们的幻想；
但是他们把月亮的光辉
错当成白昼单调的光线
音乐已使他们的智能迷乱
有一个溺死在科隆尼大沼泽里。
奇怪，作这歌的人却是个瞎子；
然而，现在我考虑过后，觉得
没什么奇怪的；那悲剧始自
荷马，他就是个瞎子，
而海伦背叛了所有活着的心。
呵，但愿月光和日光仿佛
是一道纠缠不分的光束，
因为如果我得胜，我必定使人们发疯。
我自己创造了罕拉汉
并驱赶他从邻近农舍的某处
醉醺醺或清醒地穿过曙色。
被一个老者的魔术所迷惑，
他蹒跚，翻滚，摸索，来来去去，
跌断了双膝只是为了佣金
和欲望的可怕辉煌；
我二十年前想出了这一切：
好伙伴们在一个旧场院里玩纸牌；
当轮到那老朽的恶棍时，
他给手指下面的纸牌施了魔法，
使得除一张牌之外所有的牌都变化
成一群猎犬而不是一把牌，
他把那张牌则变化成一只野兔。
罕拉汉从那里狂跳而出，
跟上那些狂吠的造物跑向
呵，跑向什么我已忘记，够了！
我必须回忆一个人，他如此苦恼，
音乐或一只被剪下的仇敌的耳朵
都不能使他兴奋快乐；
一个已变成了荒唐的传闻，
以至于他结束了狗一般的日子的时候
竟没有一个邻居剩下来闲说他的人物：
这所房子的老朽的破产的主人。
在那毁记来临之前，数百年来，
不断有打着齐膝绑腿或穿着铁鞋的
粗鲁士兵攀登那狭窄的楼梯，
从前在那里有某些兵士，
他们的储存在“大记忆”里的形象
现在大呼小叫胸膛起伏着前来
突然显现在一个睡眠者的安歇处，
同时他们的大木头色子敲打在桌子上。
既然我想询问所有人，能来的就都来吧；
穷困潦倒、登上一半的老人，来吧；
领来美人的盲目徘徊的赞赏者；
那被魔法师打发跑过
被上帝遗弃的草地的红发男人；收受
一只精美的耳朵作为礼物的弗兰赤太太；
当嘲弄的缨斯选中那乡下姑娘时。
那溺死在沼泽的淤泥里的男人。
是否所有年老的男人和女人，无论贫富，
无论是公开还是私下发着狂怒
在这些岩石上踱步或从这门前走过，
都曾象我现在这样冲着老年发火？ 100
但是我已经从那些急于
离去的眼睛里找到了答案；
那么走吧；但留下罕拉汉，
因为我需要他所有的强大记忆。
在每一个方向都有一个爱人的老淫棍，
从那深思远虑的头脑中倾倒出
你在那坟墓里发现的一切，
因为你肯定计算过
每一次未能预知、一无所见，
被一瞥销魂的眼波110
或一下触摸或一声叹息所诱惑，
而往另一人的存在的迷宫里的投入；
是否想像力最多着意于
一个赢得的或失去的女人？
如果在于失去者，就承认你由于
骄傲、怯懦、某种过于精明的愚蠢
念头或曾经被叫做良心的任何
东西而避开了一个大迷宫；
承认如果记忆浮现，太阳
就会被侵蚀，白昼就会被遮暗。

III

It is time that I wrote my will;
I choose upstanding men
That climb the streams until
The fountain leap, and at dawn
Drop their cast at the side
Of dripping stone; I declare
They shall inherit my pride,
The pride of people that were
Bound neither to Cause nor to State.
Neither to slaves that were spat on,
Nor to the tyrants that spat,
The people of Burke and of Grattan
That gave, though free to refuse -
Pride, like that of the morn,
When the headlong light is loose,
Or that of the fabulous horn,
Or that of the sudden shower
When all streams are dry,
Or that of the hour
When the swan must fix his eye
Upon a fading gleam,
Float out upon a long
Last reach of glittering stream
And there sing his last song.
And I declare my faith:
I mock Plotinus' thought
And cry in Plato's teeth,
Death and life were not
Till man made up the whole,
Made lock, stock and barrel
Out of his bitter soul,
Aye, sun and moon and star, all,
And further add to that
That, being dead, we rise,
Dream and so create
Translunar paradise.

I have prepared my peace
With learned Italian things
And the proud stones of Greece,
Poet's imaginings
And memories of love,
Memories of the words of women,
All those things whereof
Man makes a superhuman,
Mirror-resembling dream.

As at the loophole there
The daws chatter and scream,
And drop twigs layer upon layer.
When they have mounted up,
The mother bird will rest
On their hollow top,
And so warm her wild nest.

I leave both faith and pride
To young upstanding men
Climbing the mountain-side,
That under bursting dawn
They may drop a fly;
Being of that metal made
Till it was broken by
This sedentary trade.

Now shall I make my soul,
Compelling it to study
In a learned school
Till the wreck of body,
Slow decay of blood,
Testy delirium
Or dull decrepitude,
Or what worse evil come -
The death of friends, or death
Of every brilliant eye
That made a catch in the breath -
Seem but the clouds of the sky
When the horizon fades;
Or a bird's sleepy cry
Among the deepening shades.
三
该是我写遗嘱的时候了；
我选择那些上溯溪水
直到流泉飞湍之处，
黎明时分在滴水的
石岸边下钩垂钓的
挺拔的人们；我宣布
他们将继承我的骄傲，
那些既不系于原因亦不
系于状态，既不系于遭
唾辱的奴隶也不系于施130
唾辱的暴君的人们的骄傲；
那是柏克和格拉坦的人们，
他们率直地拒绝，却给予
骄傲，就象清晨的骄傲，
当那急速的光松驰之时，
或传说中号角的骄傲，
或骤来的暴雨的骄傲，
当所有的河流干涸之时，
或那个时刻的骄傲，
当那天鹅必须把目光凝聚
在一道正在消逝的闪光上， 140
在一条晶亮的溪流
长长的最后流域上漂浮而出，
在那里唱它临终的歌之时。
我还宣布我的信仰：
我嘲笑普罗提诺的思想，
公然对柏拉图大嚷，
在人类组合起全部，
用他的苦难的灵魂
制造出各种零件， 150
对，太阳月亮星星，一切，
再给这加上一条，
即，死后，我们站起，
做梦，如此创造出来
超越月亮的乐园之前，
死亡与生命并不存在。
我已准备好讲和，
与博学的意大利玩意
和骄做的古希腊石刻，
与诗人的想像
和对爱情的记忆， 160
对女人的言语的记忆，
人类用以制造一个
超人类的镜子似的
梦的所有那些东西。
犹如在那里的了望孔里，
寒鸦低鸣和厉啼，
衔去一层一层的细枝。
在它们登堂入室之后，
做母亲的鸟儿将歇卧170
在它们的空虚的顶上，
就那样温暖她的陋窠。
我把信仰和骄傲都留赠
那些攀登那山崖的
挺拔的年轻的人们，
以便他们在喷薄的曙色下
可以投下一只虫饵；
它是用那种金属造成，
直到它被这
静坐的功夫折断。
现在我将使我的灵魂
通过强迫它去一所
博学的学校研习学问，
直到肉体的毁坏， 190
血液的逐渐衰竭，
烦躁的精神错乱
或迟钝的老朽衰年，
或什么更坏的不幸来临：
朋友的死亡，或那
令人呼吸梗塞的每一个
灿烂的眼波的死亡
仿佛只是地平线隐没
之后天空中的云霓；
或逐渐加深的荫影间
一只鸟儿的瞌睡的鸣啼。
（1926年）.

Youth and Age 青年与老年

Much did I rage when young,
Being by the world oppressed,
But now with flattering tongue
It speeds the parting guest.

年轻时被这世界压抑，
我曾经愤激狂狷，
可如今它满口谄媚辞，
祝过客一路平安。.

1916 1916年复活节

I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

日暮时分我遇见过他们，
一张张生动活泼的脸
来自十八世纪的灰房中
办公桌或柜台的后面。
擦肩而过时我点了点头
或谈些无意义的闲话，
或偶尔稍事盘桓说几句
礼貌而无意义的闲话，
而话未说完我就想出了
一个讽刺故事或趣闻， 10
好去俱乐部里拥火而坐
讲给一个伙伴来开心，
因为，我确信他们和我
不过象丑角一样生活：
一切都变了，彻底变了：
一个可怕的美诞生了。
那个女人的白昼都耗费
在无知的良好意愿里。
在夜晚则与人辩论争执
直到她嗓音变得尖厉。20
当年她也曾年轻又美丽，
在她骑马打猎的时光，
那甜美的嗓音谁能相比？
这个男人曾开办学堂，
而且也乘骑我们的飞马；
这另一位是他的友人，
将与他联合帮助他谋划；
他的天性如此地锐敏，
他的思想既大胆又清新，
最终他也许赢得名气。30
我所想到的这另一个人
是个虚荣粗鄙的醉鬼。
他曾经对我心上的人儿
做过极端刻薄的事情，
而我在歌里仍把他提起；
他也放弃了在那轻松
荒唐的喜剧中他的角色；
在轮到他时也改变了，
他已被彻底地改弦易辙：
一个可怕的美诞生了。

众多的心只有一个目的，
经过盛夏和严冬似乎
中了魔法被变成了顽石，
要把活泼的溪流困阻。
大路上奔驰而来的马匹、
骑马的人、翻飞盘旋
在翻滚的层云间的鸟儿，
一分钟一分钟地变幻；
溪水上倒映的云影一片
变幻一分钟又一分钟； 50
一只马蹄滑陷在溪水边，
一匹马溅水在溪流中；
长腿雌水鸡向水里跳跃，
雌鸡把雄鸡声声呼唤；
一分钟一分钟它们生活：
那顽石在这一切中间。

一场牺牲奉献太长太久
能够把心灵变成顽石。
呵，什么时候才算个够？
那是天命，我们的事60
是低唤一个又一个名姓，
象母亲呼唤她的孩子，
当昏沉的睡意终于降临
在野跑的肢体之上时。
除了是夜色那又是什么？
不，不是黑夜而是死；
毕竟那死亡是否不值得？
因为英国可能守信义，
对于做过和说过的一切。
我们知道他们的梦寐； 70
知道他们梦过现已死了。
足矣；如果过度的爱
把他们迷惑至死又如何？
我把一切用诗写出来
麦克多纳和麦克布莱德，
康诺利和皮尔斯之辈，
无论是现在还是在将来，
只要遍布有青青绿色，
他们都会变，变得彻底：
一个可怕的美诞生了。80

（1916年9月25日）.

A Prayer for my Daughter 为我女儿的祈祷

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind.
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And-under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.

Helen being chosen found life flat and dull
And later had much trouble from a fool,
While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless could have her way
Yet chose a bandy-legged smith for man.
It's certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of plenty is undone.

In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful;
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty's very self, has charm made wise.
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there's no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.

An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of plenty's horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy Still.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.

风暴又一次咆哮；半掩
在这摇篮的篷罩和被巾下面，
我的孩子依然安睡，除去
格雷戈里的森林和一座秃丘
再没有任何屏障足以阻挡
那起自大西洋上的掀屋大风；
我踱步祈祷已一个时辰，
因为那巨大阴影笼罩在我心上。
为这幼女我踱步祈祷了一个时辰，
耳听着海风呼啸在高塔顶， 10
在拱桥下，在泛滥的溪水上，
在溪上的榆树林中回荡；
在快乐的迷狂中幻梦
未来的岁月已经来到：
踏着狂乱的鼓点舞蹈，
来自大海残酷的天真。
愿她被人承认美丽，
但不至使陌生人的眼光痴迷，
或使自己在镜前心醉，因为
一旦生得过分地艳丽， 20
便会把美看作是最终的满足，
从而丧失天性的善良，还可能
失去推心置腹的莫逆交情，
永远也找不到一个朋友。
海伦命定要感到生活平淡，
后来因一个蠢汉惹来许多麻烦，
而那从浪花中升起的伟大女王，
因没有生父而可以自做主张，
却选中了一个瘸腿铁匠做男人。30
无疑娇贵的女人们喜欢
吃肉时佐以古怪的生菜冷盘，
丰饶角因此而被糟蹋罄尽。
我要让她首先精通礼节；
心灵不可视为天赐，而是那些
并不十分美丽的人所挣得；
而许多曾为美而美的蠢货
已经将魅力变成了智慧，
还有不少曾经漫游的穷汉，
爱恋过并自认为曾被爱恋， 40
现在目光已离不开令人欢悦的仁爱。
愿她成为一株繁茂的绿树，
红雀就好象她全部的思绪，
没有劳形的事务，只是慷慨地
四处播送着它们宏亮的鸣啼，
只是在欢乐中相互嬉逐，
只是在欢乐中你吵我争。
呵，但愿她象月桂那样长青
植根在一个可爱的永恒之处。
近来，由于我曾喜爱的那些心意
和我曾赞赏的那种美丽50
皆是昙花一现，我的心灵已枯竭，
但仍知一旦为仇恨所壅塞
才定然是最可怕的厄运。
假如心灵中毫无仇恨，
那厉风的袭击再烈再猛
也绝不能将红雀和绿叶撕分。
理智的仇恨为害最甚，
因此教她把观念视为可憎。
难道我不曾眼见那诞生
自丰饶角之口的最美丽的女人， 60
只因她观念固执的心肠，
用温和的天性所了解的
每一种美德和那只羊角
换取了一只充满愤怒的旧风箱？
想到此，一切仇恨被驱逐散尽，
灵魂恢复了根本的天真，
终于得知那是自娱自乐，
自慰自安，自惊自吓，
它自己的美好愿望就是天意；
尽管每一张面孔都会恼怒， 70
每一处风源都会咆哮，或每一组
风箱都会胀破，但她会依然欢喜。
还愿她的新郎引她入洞房，
那里一切寻常，庄重堂皇；
因为傲慢和仇恨都不过
是大路两旁零售的杂货。
除了在风俗和礼仪之中，
纯真和美丽如何诞生？
礼仪是丰饶角的别名，
风俗是繁盛的桂树的名称。

（1919年6月）.

The Second coming 基督再临

No. 194 The Second coming 第二次降临
V1：傅浩 译；V2：于中旻 译
The Second coming
V1：第二次降临
V2：第二次来临

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

V1：盘旋盘旋在渐渐广阔的锥体中，
猎鹰再听不见驯鹰人的呼声；
万物崩散；中心难再维系；
世界上散布着一派狼藉，
血污的潮水到处泛滥，
把纯真的礼俗吞噬；
优秀的人们缺乏信念，
卑劣之徒却狂嚣一时。
确实有某种启示近在眼前；
确实第二次降临近在眼前。10
第二次降临！这几个字尚未出口，
蓦地一个巨大形象出自“世界灵魂”
闯入我的眼帘：在大漠的尘沙里，
一个狮身人面的形体，
目光似太阳茫然而冷酷，
正缓缓挪动着巨腿；它周围处处
旋舞着愤怒的沙漠野鸟的阴影。
黑暗重新降临；但如今我明白
那两千年的僵死的沉睡
已被一只摇篮搅扰成恶梦， 20
于是何等恶兽——它的时辰终于到来——
懒懒地走向伯利恒来投生？

V2：盘旋复盘旋圈子越来越大
鹰不再受蓄鹰者的驭使；
事务散盘了；中心失去控制；
成为只是乱民的世界，
贫血的潮流泛滥，到处
对清白的尊重被淹没了；
最好的人全然缺乏信念，但最坏的
却满有强烈的热情。

定然是某种启示临近了；
定然是第二次来临近了。
第二次来临！这句话刚完
就有一个巨大的形象灵感
出现使我不安：在某地荒漠散沙中间
一个狮身人首的模样，
像太阳漠然无怜悯的注视，
它的腿缓慢的移动，在它的周围
是沙漠群鸟畏缩的影子。
黑暗又降临；但现在我知道
二十个世纪的沉睡
苦恼的被摇篮摇成噩梦，
那么粗暴的兽，它的时刻终于来临，
懒散的走向伯利恒出生。.

Cuchulain Comforted 得到安慰的库胡林

A man that had six mortal wounds, a man
Violent and famous, strode among the dead;
Eyes stared out of the branches and were gone.

Then certain Shrouds that muttered head to head
Came and were gone. He leant upon a tree
As though to meditate on wounds and blood.

A Shroud that seemed to have authority
Among those bird-like things came, and let fall
A bundle of linen. Shrouds by two and three

Came creeping up because the man was still.
And thereupon that linen-carrier said:
'Your life can grow much sweeter if you will

'Obey our ancient rule and make a shroud;
Mainly because of what we only know
The rattle of those arms makes us afraid.

'We thread the needles' eyes, and all we do
All must together do.' That done, the man
Took up the nearest and began to sew.

'Now we shall sing and sing the best we can,
But first you must be told our character:
Convicted cowards all, by kindred slain

'Or driven from home and left to die in fear.'
They sang, but had nor human tunes nor words,
Though all was done in common as before,

They had changed their throats and had the throats
    of birds.

一个身负六处致命伤的汉子，一个
威名赫赫的汉子，在死者中间阔步行走；
一双双眼睛自树枝问凝望，然后消失。
于是某些交头接耳窃窃私语的尸衣
来临然后消失。他倚靠着一棵树
好象在对创伤和鲜血凝神沉思。
一件在那些鸟儿似的东西中间似乎
享有权威的尸衣前来，扔下一捆
亚麻布。三三两两的尸衣匍匐
爬上前来，因为那汉子凝然不动。10
这时那携来亚麻布者开口说
“你的生活可以变得更美好，如果你愿
遵从我们的古老律条，制做一件尸衣；
主要是由于我们所不知道的东西，
那些武器的铿锵撞击声令我们恐惧。
“我们穿针引线，所有人都必须一起
做我们要做的一切。”穿好针线，那汉子
捡起身边最近的一块布，开始缝制。
“现在我们来唱歌，要尽量唱得最好，
但是首先必须告诉你我们是何等人物： 20
全都是被亲属屠杀或赶出家门，
“任其在恐惧之中死去的被判有罪的懦夫。”
他们唱起来，但是既无人的音调也无人的词句，
虽然一切都象先前一样大家一起做，
他们改变了他们的喉咙，有了鸟儿的喉咙。

（1939年1月13日）
1939-1-28去世.

The Statues 雕像

Pythagoras planned it. Why did the people stare?
His numbers, though they moved or seemed to move
In marble or in bronze, lacked character.
But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love
Of solitary beds, knew what they were,
That passion could bring character enough,
And pressed at midnight in some public place
Live lips upon a plummet-measured face.

No! Greater than Pythagoras, for the men
That with a mallet or a chisel modelled these
Calculations that look but casual flesh, put down
All Asiatic vague immensities,
And not the banks of oars that swam upon
The many-headed foam at Salamis.
Europe put off that foam when Phidias
Gave women dreams and dreams their looking-glass.

One image crossed the many-headed, sat
Under the tropic shade, grew round and slow,
No Hamlet thin from eating flies, a fat
Dreamer of the Middle Ages. Empty eyeballs knew
That knowledge increases unreality, that
Mirror on mirror mirrored is all the show.
When gong and conch declare the hour to bless
Grimalkin crawls to Buddha's emptiness.

When Pearse summoned Cuchulain to his side.
What stalked through the Post Office? What intellect,
What calculation, number, measurement, replied?
We Irish, born into that ancient sect
But thrown upon this filthy modern tide
And by its formless spawning fury wrecked,
Climb to our proper dark, that we may trace
The lineaments of a plummet-measured face.

毕达哥拉斯设计了它。人们为什么凝视？
他的数字虽然活动或仿佛活动在
大理石或青铜里，但是它们缺乏性格。
可是由于孤单床铺的想像的爱
而苍白的少男少女们知道它们是什么，
知道情热能够把足够的性格带来；
在夜半时分在某个公共场所把活生生的
嘴唇按在一张用锤规测量的面孔上。

不；比毕达哥拉斯更伟大，因为是那些
用一把锤子或一把凿子把这些计算10
雕刻得就象偶然的肌肤一样的人们
摧毁了亚州所有模糊的庞然大物，
而不是那在撤拉米斯飞划在
万头涌动的浪涛之上的战船排桨。
欧洲逐退了那浪涛，当菲狄亚斯
给了女人梦想，给了梦想以她们的镜子之时。

一个形象渡过万头涌动的波涛，坐在
热带的凉荫之下，渐渐变得浑圆迟钝，
不是因吃苍蝇而消瘦的哈姆雷特，而是
一个向往中世纪的梦想者。空虚的眼球20
深知知识增加虚幻，深知
反映在镜子上的镜子是全部的展示。
当铜锣和螺号声宣告祝福的时刻到来时，
革里毛金便爬向佛陀的空寂。

当皮尔斯把库胡林召唤到他身边之时，
什么阔步穿过了邮政总局？什么才智，
什么计算、数字、尺度，作出了回答？
我们，生于那古老的宗派里，却被抛掷
到这污浊的现代潮流之上，被其无定形、
多孳生的狂怒摧毁了的爱尔兰人， 30
攀登上我们固有的黑暗，以便我们可以
摸索一张用锤规测量的面孔的轮廓。.

为女儿的祝福

为女儿的祝福
    威廉·巴特勒·叶芝（1865-1939）
今夜大海起狂风，吹过港口和山峰，吹过了森林和河流，吹动了我的小木屋。
小小房间多温馨，女儿安睡在摇篮中，我边看女儿边祈祷，无限思虑到心头。

为她祈祷一时辰，海上狂风还没停。吹过高高镇海塔，吹过了拱桥和槐树林，
想到她要长成人，我心不知在何方，猛烈无暇的大海洋，请为她保驾和护航。

愿她美丽又庄严，如同仙女来下凡。但别沉迷在美貌中，也不要长得太妖艳。
琴棋书画要擅长，待人亲切又真诚。过分精明没朋友，温柔随和多知音。

海伦嫁给莫里劳，生活无聊又彷徨，后来邂逅巴里斯，木马屠城好悲伤。
海神女儿爱芙兰，少年丧父泪涟涟，下嫁瘸腿打铁匠，鲜花插在牛粪旁。
世事经常不如意，娇女难逢好儿郎，养儿防老成空话，父母失望又悲伤。


希望她认真学礼仪，模样平凡小姑娘，只有端庄又善良，正人君子才赞扬 ，
女孩模样诚可贵，气质动人价更高。温文尔雅女青年，举手投足迷众生，
痴情才子纷纷至，一见钟情结良缘。

愿她艳如百合花，阿娜多姿人人夸，又像云雀在天庭，唱出绵绵海豚音，
无忧无虑过童年，吵吵闹闹也开心，如同一只快乐鸟，平平安安长成人。

我曾年幼不知情，爱过不良女青年，结交过淘气小年轻，如今后悔又伤心。
但我始终记心间，只有爱情满心田，感情生活比密甜。只要没有仇恨心，
即使深林起寒风，活泼可爱的小夜莺，依偎在夫君的怀抱中，如胶似漆乐融融。

文人相轻最悲伤，固持己见遭祸殃。我见过富贵美少女，楚楚动人迷众生，
只因个性太坚强，生活过得不顺当。女孩温柔又多情，感情生活才温馨。


做个快乐的女青年，仇恨不要记心间。和气生财快乐多，耶稣对我们这样说。
即使人人责怪你，即使面对暴风雨，只要冷静无怨言，感情生活比密甜。  


夫妻每天吵不停，伤害儿女纯洁心，吵吵闹闹的小家庭，天使见了也伤心。
愿她寻得好夫君，相敬如宾过一生，儿女健康又文明，知书达理传美名。
我为女儿赋诗篇，此身不知在何方。

William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)


Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.

Helen being chosen found life flat and dull
And later had much trouble from a fool,
While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless could have her way
Yet chose a bandy-leggd smith for man.
It's certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.

In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful;
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty's very self, has charm made wise,
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there's no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.

An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.
阮小晨译.

姑娘的心The Heart of the Woman

威廉•巴特勒•叶芝
虔诚温馨的小闺房，对我已经没意义，他晚上和我来约会，我们拥抱在一起。
妈妈的爱和温暖的家，对我已经没意义，我的万缕金丝发，能为我俩遮风雨。
露水般的眼睛和金丝发，我已不在乎生和死，我的心贴着他的心，生生死死不分离
The Heart of the Woman
The Heart of the Woman
W.B. Yeats

O what to me the little room
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into the gloom,
And my breast lies upon his breast.
O what to me my mother's care,
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.
O hiding hair and dewy eyes,
I am no more with life and death,
  My heart upon his warm heart lies,
My breath is mixed into his breath..

发一首根据叶芝的诗[b][size=2]Down by the Salley Gardens [/size][/b]谱曲的歌曲
[media=flv,500,375,0]http://www.yinyuetai.com/video/182798[/media][url]http://www.yinyuetai.com/video/182798
[/url]
Down by the Salley Gardens
My love and I did meet 　
She passed the Salley Gardens 　　
With little snow-white feet 　　
She bid me take love easy 　　
As the leaves grow on the tree 　　
But I being young and foolish 　　
With her did not agree 　　
In a field by the river 　　
My love and I did stand 　　
And on my leaning shoulder 　　
She laid her snow-white hand 　　
She bid me take life easy 　　
As the grass grows on the weirs 　　
But I was young and foolish 　　
And now I am full of tears 　　
走进垂柳花园 萧饮寒译 　　
走进垂柳花园 　　我与爱人在此邂逅 　　她穿过垂柳花园 　　纤足如雪般皎白 　　她嘱我善待爱情 　　如同树上的葇叶 　　但我却年轻无知 　　未细听她的心声 　　在河畔那片田野 　　我和爱人并肩而立 　　在我微倾的肩上 　　抚着她雪白的纤手 　　她嘱我善待爱情 　　如同堰上的荑草 　　但我却年轻无知 　　而今唯有泪水涟涟

[[i] 本帖最后由 xhl5623 于 2012-4-10 10:05 编辑 [/i]].

答复24楼xhl5623

很美妙的音乐，谢谢，欣赏了。.

喜欢叶芝的诗，很耐很耐读。很智慧，有岁月的平静。

24楼的音乐也很棒。.

喜欢叶芝的诗。叶芝本人的爱情历程也相当艰辛，最终也没有得到自己心爱的女人。很伤感~~.

向LZ致敬並獻花.

叶芝是我大学时代最喜欢的诗人之一。谢谢楼主的分享。.