狄兰·托马斯诗8首
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.
My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
I think, that if I touched the earth,
Fierce colours fled about the branches,
Enveloping the ragged leaves unseen and strewn.
Hazardous reflections dipped in evening
Hover, making the forest fluctuantly vague.
Something austere hides, something uncertain
Beneath the deep bark calls and makes quiet music.
I have come to catch your voice
I have come to catch your voice,
Your constructed notes going out of the throat
With dry, mechanical gestures,
Although it is so straight and unbending;
The light will come in an unwavering line.
Wading through her dark cave on ferocious wings.
And take away your exotic plumage,
Although your anger is not a slight thing,
Where the frost can never fall,
Nor the petals of any flower drop.
Admit the sun
Admit the sun into your high nest
Where the eagle is a strong bird
And where the light comes cautiously
To find and then to strike;
Let the frost harden
And the shining rain
Drop onto your wings,
Bruising the tired feathers.
I build a fortress from a heap of flowers;
Wisdom is stored with the clove
And the head of the bright poppy.
I bury, I travel to find pride
In the age of Lady Frankincense
Lifting her smell over the city buildings.
Where is there greater love
For the muscular and the victorious
Than in the gull and the fierce eagle
Who do not break?
Take heed of strength!
It is a weapon that can turn back
From the well-made hand
Out of the air it strikes.
准许阳光
准许阳光射入你高高的巢穴，
鹰是一只强壮的鸟，
光小心翼翼地射入巢穴，
寻觅随后撞击；
让寒霜硬化，
闪闪发亮的雨
落在你的翅翼之上，
挫伤疲惫不堪的羽毛。
我从一堆花中建起一座堡垒；
智慧储存丁香
以及那一簇闪亮的罂粟。
我埋葬，我旅行，自豪地
在乳香女士这样的年龄，
香气四溢，弥漫城市的建筑。
哪里有更大的爱，
肌肉发达，大获全胜，
甚过鸥鸟和凶猛的鹰，
谁又不能打破？
留意一种力量！
一种武器可以止步向前
从做工精良的手
从撞击的空气中。
The air you breathe
The air you breathe encroaches
The throat is mine I know the neck
Wind is my enemy your hair shant stir
Under his strong impulsive kiss
The rainbow's foot is not more apt
To have the centaur lover
So steal her not O goat-legged wind
But leave but still adore
For if the gods would love
They'd see with eyes like mine
But should not touch like I
Your sweet inducive thighs
And raven hair.
你呼吸的空气
你呼吸的空气侵入
我脖子上的喉咙
风是我的敌人，你的毛发不会
因他冲动有力的吻而骚动
彩虹之足不会更倾向于
那半人半兽的恋人
因而窃不走她，哦色迷迷的风
却会留下她，依然爱慕她
如果众神爱上了她
他们会用像我一样的眼神凝视
但不会像我一样去触摸
你那美妙而诱惑的大腿
以及乌黑的毛发。
It's not in misery but in oblivion
It's not in misery but in oblivion,
Not vertically in a mood of joy
Screaming the spring
Over the ancient winter,
He'll lie down, and our breath
Will chill the roundness of his cheeks,
And make his wide mouth home.
For we must whisper down the funnel
The love we had and glory in his blood
Coursing along the channels
Until the spout dried up
That flowed out of the soil
All seasons with the same meticulous power,
But the veins must fail.
He's not awake to the grave
Though we cry down the funnel,
Splitting a thought into such hideous moments
As drown, over and over, this fever.
He's dead, home, has no lover,
But our speaking does not thrive
In the bosom, or the empty channels.
Our evil, when we breathe it,
Of dissolution and the empty fall,
Won't harm the tent around him,
Uneaten and not to be pierced
By us in sin or us in gaiety.
And who shall tell the amorist
Oblivion is so loverless.
不在痛苦中而在遗忘中
不在痛苦中而在遗忘中，
更绝非怀着喜悦的心情
大声呼喊着春天
越过那古老的冬天，
他躺下歇歇，我们的呼吸
必将冷却他那圆鼓鼓的脸颊，
并让他宽阔的嘴回了家。
我们必须低声走下狭窄的小道
我们拥有的爱和他血液中的荣耀
沿着管道流淌
直到从土壤里
涌出的喷口干涸
带着同样精准的力越过所有的季节，
而脉管一定会衰退。
他对墓穴尚未有所警觉
尽管我们轻视狭小的空间
点滴想法分割成如此可怕的瞬间
有如反复溺毙这场热病。
他死了，回家了，没有任何恋人，
而在内心，或空空的通道，
我们也没有更多的话要说。
我们消融的不幸，呼吸到它时，
我们的堕落，空空如也，
不会伤害到他四周的帷幕，
不会被吞吃、被刺入
被我们的罪或欢乐所伤。
而谁会告诉这群好色之徒
遗忘何等无情。
Since, on a quiet night
Since, on a quiet night, I heard them talk
Who have no voices but the winds'
Of all the mystery there is in life
And all the mastery there is in death,
I have not lain an hour asleep
But troubled by their curious speech
Stealing so softly into the ears.
One says: There was a woman with no friend,
And, standing over the sea, she'd cry
Her loneliness across the empty waves
Time after time.
And every voice:
Oblivion is as loverless;
Oblivion is as loverless.
And then again: There was a child
Upon the earth who knew no joy,
For there was no light in his eyes,
And there was no light in his soul.
Oblivion is as blind.
Oblivion is as blind,
I hear them say out of the darkness
Who have no talk but that of death.
推荐阅读：