华兹华斯诗13首
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
A Maid whom there were none to praise
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
—Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
像长满青苔的岩石边上
紫罗兰隐约半现；
像夜间独一无二的星光
在天上荧荧闪闪。
露西，她活着无人留意，
死去有几人闻知？
如今，她已经躺进墓里，
在我呢，恍如隔世！
[Untitled]
I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.
'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
To love thee more and more.
Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire;
And she I cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.
Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed,
The bowers where Lucy played;
And thine too is the last green field
That Lucy's eyes surveyed.
终于过去了，那忧伤梦境！
我再不离开你远游；
我心中对你的眷恋之情
好像越来越深厚。
在你的山岳中，我才获得
称心如意的安恬；
我心爱的人儿摇着纺车，
坐在英国的炉边。
你晨光展现的，你夜幕遮掩的
是露西游憩的林园；
露西，她最后一眼望见的
是你青碧的草原。
To —
Let other bards of angels sing,
Bright suns without a spot;
But thou art no such perfect thing:
Rejoice that thou art not!
Heed not tho' none should call thee fair;
So, Mary, let it be
If nought in loveliness compare
With what thou art to me.
True beauty dwells in deep retreats,
Whose veil is unremoved
Till heart with heart in concord beats,
And the lover is beloved.
没有人说你美，别放在心上，
由他们去吧，玛丽——
既然你在我心中的形象
什么美也不能比拟。
真正的美呵，在幕后深藏；
揭开这层幕，要等到
爱的，被爱的，互相爱上，
两颗心融融齐跳。
[Untitled]
What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine,
Through my very heart they shine;
And, if my brow gives back their light,
Do thou look gladly on the sight;
As the clear Moon with modest pride
Beholds her own bright beams
Reflected from the mountain's side
And from the headlong streams.
就请你欣然注目——
像高天皓月，怡然自得，
望见自己的明辉
照亮了下界的静静山坡，
照亮了滔滔流水。
We are Seven
—A simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
—Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said,
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
"And often after sun-set, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
我碰到一个乡下小姑娘，
她说，她今年八岁；
鬈曲的头发盘绕在头上，
密密丛丛的一堆。
她一身山林乡野气息，
胡乱穿几件衣衫；
眼睛挺秀气，十分秀气，
——那模样叫我喜欢。
“你兄弟姐妹一共有几个？
说给我听听，小姑娘！”
“几个？一共是七个，”她说，
惊奇地向我张望。
“他们在哪儿？说给我听听。”
她说：“我们是七个；
两个当水手，在海上航行，
两个在康韦住着。
“还有两个躺进了坟地——
我姐姐和我哥哥；
靠近他们，教堂边，小屋里，
住着我妈妈和我。”
“你说有两个在康韦住着，
有两个到了海上，
却又说你们还有七个！
是怎么算的，好姑娘？”
这位小姑娘随口回答：
“我们七兄弟姐妹，
有两个睡在那棵树底下——
那儿是教堂的坟堆。”
“你到处跑来跑去，小姑娘，
你手脚多么活泼；
既然坟堆里睡下了一双，
那你们还剩五个。”
“坟堆看得见，青绿一片，”
这位小姑娘答道，
“离我家门口十二步左右，
两座坟相挨相靠。
“那儿，我常常织我的毛袜，
把手绢四边缝好；
我常常靠近坟头坐下，
给他们唱一首小调。
“先生，只要碰上了好天气，
太阳下了山，还不暗，
我就把我的小粥碗端起，
上那儿吃我的晚饭。
“我姐姐珍妮先走一步：
她躺着，哼哼叫叫，
上帝解除了她的痛苦，
她便悄悄地走掉。
“她被安顿在坟地里睡下；
等她的墓草一干，
我们便在她坟边玩耍——
我和我哥哥约翰。
“等到下了雪，地下一片白，
我可以乱跑乱滑，
我哥哥约翰却又离开，
在姐姐身边躺下。”
“有两个进了天国，”我说，
“那你们还剩几个？”
小姑娘回答得又快又利索：
“先生！我们是七个。”
“可他们死啦，那两个死啦！
他们的灵魂在天国！”
这些话说了也是白搭，
小姑娘还是坚持回答：
“不，我们是七个！”
The Pet-lamb
The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied
A snow-white mountain-lamb with a Maiden at its side.
Nor sheep nor kine were near; the lamb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;
With one knee on the grass did the little Maiden kneel,
While to that mountain-lamb she gave its evening meal.
The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took,
Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with
pleasure shook.
"Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said in such a tone
That I almost received her heart into my own.
'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare!
I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.
Now with her empty can the Maiden turned away:
But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay.
Right towards the lamb she looked; and from a shady place
I unobserved could see the workings of her face:
If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring,
Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little Maid might sing:
"What ails thee, young One? what? Why pull so at thy cord?
Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?
Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be;
Rest, little young One, rest; what is't that aileth thee?
"What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?
Thy limbs, are they not strong? And beautiful thou art:
This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;
And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!
"If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain,
This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;
For rain and mountain-storms! the like thou need'st not fear,
The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.
"Rest, little young One, rest; thou hast forgot the day
When my father found thee first in places far away;
Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none,
And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.
"He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home:
A blessèd day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam?
A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean
Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could have been.
"Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can
Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran;
And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,
I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.
"Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now,
Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plough;
My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold,
Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.
"It will not, will not rest! — Poor creature, can it be
That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee?
Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,
And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.
"Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair!
I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there;
The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play,
When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.
"Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;
Night and day thou art safe, — our cottage is hard by.
Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain?
Sleep — and at break of day I will come to thee again!"
— As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,
This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat;
And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,
That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine.
Again, and once again, did I repeat the song;
"Nay," said I, "more than half to the damsel must belong,
For she looked with such a look, and she spake with
such a tone,
That I almost received her heart into my own."
附近再没有牛羊，野羊羔独自一个，
拴在一块石头上，用一根细长绳索；
小姑娘屈下一膝，半跪在草地上面，
给她心爱的羊羔，喂一顿香甜晚饭。
小羊羔从她手里，把这顿晚饭吃下；
只见它尽情受用，喜滋滋摇着尾巴。
“喝吧，小乖乖，快喝，”她嗓音那样柔和，
我觉得她那番心意，融入了我的心窝。
她是少有的俏姑娘，名叫巴巴拉·柳穗；
我欣然注视着她俩——真是可爱的一对！
小姑娘喂完了晚饭，便提着空罐子走开；
走了还不到十码，脚步又停了下来。
她定睛望着羊羔；这时，我躲进阴影——
为了不让她发现，看她脸上的表情；
要是老天爷作美，让她能出口成章，
她就会向着羊羔，把这首歌曲吟唱：
“你是怎么了，小乖乖？干嘛拽你的绳子？
在这儿不是挺好吗？不是有睡又有吃？
这块草地挺软和，草儿呵，又嫩又青；
歇着吧，小乖乖，歇着吧；你怎么心神不定？
“你还想要些什么？心里有什么不踏实？
你的四肢挺硬棒，你的模样也标致；
这儿有鲜嫩的草地，这儿有最美的香花；
整日里沙沙直响的，是一片青绿的庄稼！
“要是太阳晒得慌，你就把绳子拉直，
到这棵山毛榉底下，找一块阴凉位置；
也不必害怕阵雨，害怕山地的风暴：
狂风暴雨的天气，在这儿难得见到。
“歇着吧，小乖乖，歇着吧；你已经忘了那一天：
我爹在老远的外乡，第一次把你发现；
山上那么多羊群，都不是你的族类，
你娘把你撇下了，她去了，一去不回。
“我爹瞧你怪可怜，抱起你，带回家里：
那是你走运的日子！你还想跑到哪里？
有一个好心的保姆，在这儿为你操劳，
高山上生你的亲娘，也不会比她更好！
“你知道，一天两回，我用这罐子喂你
小河里汲来的淡水，那淡水洁净无比；
同样是一天两回，当露水沾湿地面，
我给你送来奶汁，奶汁又热又新鲜。
“不多久，你的四肢，会变得加倍粗壮，
那时，你套在车前，像马驹套到犁上；
我会陪着你游玩；到冬天，北风猛刮，
这家宅给你当羊栏，炉边给你当卧榻。
“它不肯，不肯歇着！——可怜的小家伙，也许
是你娘对你的恩情，搅动着你的心绪？
你这样痴心挂念的，是什么，我全不知道，
是梦中出现的往事——你再难看到或听到？
“那边高高的山岭，看起来青绿可爱，
却常有吓人的风暴，漆黑的长夜也难捱；
一条条小河，看起来，仿佛又快活又逍遥，
一旦发了脾气呢，像狮子恶狠狠吼叫！
“天上有凶猛大鸟，在这儿却不必担心；
在我们家宅旁边，你白天黑夜都安稳。
干嘛拽你的绳子？干嘛跟着我叫唤？
睡吧！明天天一亮，我就来到你跟前！”
我顺着那条小路，缓步向家里走去，
一路上老是哼着——哼着这一首歌曲；
一句一句琢磨着，仿佛觉得这首歌
只有一半属于她，却有一半属于我。
我老是唱着这首歌，唱了一遍又一遍，
“那属于她的，”我说，“肯定超过了一半：
她眼神那样慈爱，她嗓音那样柔和，
她的那番心意呀，早融入我的心窝。”
The Waterfall and the Eglantine
"Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,"
Exclaimed an angry Voice,
"Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice!"
A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows
Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose,
That, all bespattered with his foam,
And dancing high and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home.
"Dost thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny Thing!
I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock
To which thy fibres cling."
The Flood was tyrannous and strong;
The patient Briar suffered long,
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
Hoping the danger would be past;
But, seeing no relief, at last
He ventured to reply.
"Ah!" said the Briar, "blame me not;
Why should we dwell in strife?
We who in this sequestered spot
Once lived a happy life!
You stirred me on my rocky bed—
What pleasure through my veins you spread
The summer long, from day to day,
My leaves you freshened and bedewed;
Nor was it common gratitude
That did your cares repay.
"When spring came on with bud and bell,
Among these rocks did I
Before you hang my wreaths to tell
That gentle days were nigh!
And in the sultry summer hours
I sheltered you with leaves and flowers;
And in my leaves—now shed and gone,
The linnet lodged, and for us two
Chanted his pretty songs, when you
Had little voice or none.
"But now proud thoughts are in your breast—
What grief is mine you see,
Ah! would you think, even yet how blest
Together we might be!
Though of both leaf and flower bereft,
Some ornaments to me are left—
Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,
With which I, in my humble way,
Would deck you many a winter day,
A happy Eglantine!"
What more he said I cannot tell,
The Torrent down the rocky dell
Came thundering loud and fast;
I listened, nor aught else could hear;
The Briar quaked—and much I fear
Those accents were his last.
下雪后，小瀑布刚刚涨了水，
就这样吓唬可怜的野蔷薇；
野蔷薇周身溅满了飞沫，
它忽上忽下，颤动摇摆——
像晦气人家委屈的小孩，
日子真不大好过。
“你怎敢堵在我路上？小东西！
滚开！再不滚，我就
踢翻你扎根的石块，叫你
头朝下栽个跟头！”
凶猛的洪流冲撞不休，
野蔷薇耐着性子忍受，
既不叹一声，也不哼一下，
只盼望平安度过这险境；
后来，见瀑布毫不留情，
便壮起胆子回答。
野蔷薇说道：“你别来找碴儿，
咱们何苦要吵架？
想当初，在这背静的旮旯儿，
你和我多么融洽！
夏天里，石床上，你把我摇晃，
摇得我周身筋脉都欢畅；
一天又一天，我片片绿叶
被你滋润得舒爽清新；
我呢，对你这一片好心，
也用盛情来答谢。
“当花朵含苞，春天来到，
我便在山石中间
把花冠戴好，向你通报：
艳阳天近在眼前！
夏天里，我在燥热的时辰，
用花儿和叶子给你遮阴；
叶子呵，如今已零落满地，
那时却引得红雀来栖身，
为我们唱出宛转的清音；
你那时没什么声息。
“如今你变得心高气傲，
眼见我遭罪受苦，
怎么不想想：咱俩在一道，
能过得多么舒服！
尽管我花儿叶子都落尽，
却也留下了光鲜的装饰品——
蔷薇果，红通通，又密又多；
我待人温顺，如今在冬天，
拿这些红果子把你来装点，
野蔷薇也就快活！”
它是否还说了别的，不清楚；
瀑布轰鸣着，奔下石谷；
别的我不曾听见；
野蔷薇在发抖；我真害怕——
惟恐它方才说的那番话
会是它最后遗言。
The Green Linnet
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow-white blossoms on my head,
With brightest sunshine round me spread
Of spring's unclouded weather,
In this sequestered nook how sweet
To sit upon my orchard-seat!
And birds and flowers once more to greet,
My last year's friends together.
One have I marked, the happiest guest
In all this covert of the blest:
Hail to Thee, far above the rest
In joy of voice and pinion!
Thou, Linnet! in thy green array,
Presiding Spirit here to-day,
Dost lead the revels of the May;
And this is thy dominion.
While birds, and butterflies, and flowers,
Make all one band of paramours,
Thou, ranging up and down the bowers,
Art sole in thy employment:
A Life, a Presence like the Air,
Scattering thy gladness without care,
Too blest with any one to pair;
Thyself thy own enjoyment.
Amid yon tuft of hazel trees,
That twinkle to the gusty breeze,
Behold him perched in ecstasies,
Yet seeming still to hover;
There! where the flutter of his wings
Upon his back and body flings
Shadows and sunny glimmerings,
That cover him all over.
My dazzled sight he oft deceives,
A Brother of the dancing leaves;
Then flits, and from the cottage eaves
Pours forth his song in gushes;
As if by that exulting strain
He mocked and treated with disdain
The voiceless Form he chose to feign,
While fluttering in the bushes.
春日里，晴朗和煦；
多美呀，在这隐僻的角落，
在我家果园椅子上独坐，
又一次欢迎鸟雀和花朵，
去年的旧侣又重聚！
这里，幸运儿聚会的地方，
有一位小客人最为欢畅：
甜美的歌喉，轻灵的翅膀，
胜过所有的羽族；
欢迎你，山雀！你披着绿衫，
今天，你是这里的指挥官，
是你导演着五月的狂欢，
这里是你的领土！
春花朵朵，蝴蝶，鸣禽，
全都配成了一对对情人；
而你，来回游息于绿阴，
总是孤零零一个；
这生命，这精灵，像空气一样，
散布着欢乐，不知有忧伤，
你太幸运了，谁也配不上；
自个儿自得其乐！
微风里，榛树丛光影摇曳，
树丛间，瞧得见栖息的山雀，
它伫立枝头，满心喜悦，
仿佛还想要飞升；
你瞧！它已经拍动翅膀，
让斑斑阴影、闪闪阳光
洒在它身上，洒在它背上，
洒遍了它的周身！
它常常弄得我眼花缭乱，
错把它看成绿叶一片；
蓦地，它飞上农舍屋檐，
倾吐出滔滔歌曲；
树丛里，它曾把绿叶假冒；
这时，它畅快淋漓的曲调
又仿佛是对绿叶的嘲笑——
笑它像哑巴，不言语。
The Poet and the Caged Turtledove
As often as I murmur here
My half-formed melodies,
Straight from her osier mansion near,
The Turtledove replies:
Though silent as a leaf before,
The captive promptly coos;
Is it to teach her own soft lore,
Or second my weak Muse?
I rather think the gentle Dove
Is murmuring a reproof,
Displeased that I from lays of love
Have dared to keep aloof;
That I, a Bard of hill and dale,
Have carolled, fancy free,
As if nor dove nor nightingale
Had heart or voice for me.
If such thy meaning, O forbear,
Sweet Bird! to do me wrong;
Love, blessed Love, is everywhere
The spirit of my song:
'Mid grove, and by the calm fireside,
Love animates my lyre—
That coo again!—'tis not to chide,
I feel, but to inspire.
它本来像树叶一样静默，
此刻却咕咕不停；
是教唱柔和歌曲？是给我
贫乏的诗才助兴？
我却猜想：这温顺鸣禽
咕哝着把我责备，
嗔怪我只会别的调门，
爱的歌曲却不会；
它嗔怪我这山野歌手
歌唱时心中没有爱，
斑鸠、夜莺的情意与歌喉
都被我置之度外。
鸟儿呵！你若是这个意思，
可不该把我诬枉；
爱，崇高的爱，这主旨
贯穿我全部篇章；
欧洲人认为，斑鸠和夜莺的歌曲都是倾诉爱情的。
在宁静炉边，在园林幽处，
爱拨动我的琴弦——
又咕咕叫了！——这回我听出
那不是责备，是嘉勉。
To the Cuckoo
O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice.
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?
While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass
At once far off, and near.
Though babbling only to the Vale,
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.
Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery;
The same whom in my schoolboy days
I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.
To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen.
And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.
O blessèd Bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, faery place;
That is fit home for Thee!
我静静偃卧在青草地上，
听见你呼唤的双音；
这音响从山冈飞向山冈，
回旋在远远近近。
你只向山谷咕咕倾诉，
咏赞阳光与花枝，
这歌声却仿佛向我讲述
如梦年华的故事。
春天的骄子！欢迎你，欢迎！
至今，我仍然觉得你
不是鸟，而是无形的精灵，
是音波，是一团神秘。
与童年听到的一模一样——
那时，你们的啼鸣
使我向林莽、树梢、天上
千百遍瞻望不停。
为了寻觅你，我多次游荡，
越过幽林和草地；
你是一种爱，一种希望，
被追寻，却不露形迹。
今天，我还能偃卧在草原，
静听着你的音乐，
直到我心底悠悠再现
往昔的黄金岁月。
吉祥的鸟儿呵！这大地沃野
如今，在我们脚下
仿佛又成了缥缈的仙界，
正宜于给你住家！
[Untitled]
Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.
"Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse: and with me
The Girl, in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
"She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
"The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the Storm
Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form
By silent sympathy.
"The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
"And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell."
Thus Nature spake—The work was done—
How soon my Lucy's race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.
“让这乖孩子和我在一起，
让我做她的法度和动力；
不论在天堂、人世，
在林中、屋里、平地、山崖，
她都在我的照管之下，
受我鼓励或节制。
“她要像小鹿般欢腾嬉戏，
有时兴冲冲跃过草地，
有时又奔上山头；
乡野间飘溢的芳香气息，
无言木石的安恬静谧，
我都要让她享有。
“流云会给她轻柔的姿态；
垂柳会为她把枝条摇摆；
她从动荡的风暴
也能窥见优美的形影——
这些形影以默默温情
把少女丰姿塑造。
“午夜的星辰会和她热络；
在那些隐僻幽静的角落，
她也会侧耳倾听：
听溪水纵情回旋舞蹈，
淙淙水声流露的美妙
会沁入她的面影。
“青春的活力，愉悦的柔情，
会使她身材玉立亭亭，
娇小的胸脯隆起；
等她来到这快乐山谷，
当她在这里和我同住，
我要开导她——露西。”
造化说过了，便着手施行——
好快呵，露西走完了旅程！
她死了，给我留下来
这一片荒原，这一片沉寂，
对往日欢情的这一片回忆——
那欢情永远不再。
[Untitled]
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
如今的她呢，不动，无力，
什么也不看不听；
天天和岩石树木一起，
随地球旋转运行。
Song for the Spinning-wheel
Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel!
Night has brought the welcome hour,
When the weary fingers feel
Help, as if from faery power;
Dewy night o'ershades the ground,
Turn the swift wheel round and round!
Now, beneath the starry sky,
Couch the widely-scattered sheep;
Ply the pleasant labour, ply!
For the spindle, while they sleep,
Runs with speed more smooth and fine,
Gathering up a trustier line.
Short-lived likings may be bred
By a glance from fickle eyes;
But true love is like the thread
Which the kindly wool supplies,
When the flocks are all at rest,
Sleeping on the mountain's breast.
天上星儿亮又多，
地下羊儿睡满坡；
加劲干！时辰莫错过——
羊儿睡了好干活：
纺锤转起来快又稳，
毛线捻出来牢又紧。
推荐阅读：