爱的悱恻
刃船/译
走进历史的垃圾堆，酷刑
纠结于美丽的幻想
矫情地抒写生活的序曲
真是如幽灵般神妙莫测
走吧，编织的正义打包出卖
真相柔弱地被驱赶出家园
太阳依旧玩着镀金游戏
猛然，它成就了毁灭的力量
亲赴苦难的年纪让我变老
最终注视到兴奋不已的人潮
喷涌出社会沉默之后的怒浪
你的一切是该民族的写照
诚实的面目沉浸在罪恶之中
坚强的企盼刻满你的身躯
顷刻猫头鹰献上泛灰的头颅
因为它，遗忘蹲守在黑暗角落
出离的愤怒强制地赋予你生命
长久传承的希望不会消失
揉捏着感觉和情欲的谜团
世界总是统治着我们的悲伤
打出一道肤浅的理念之光
就如燃烧陌生者胸膛的烈火
晨昏之间，不知不觉见到黑暗
是在传输生命的圣谕
学习生命粗糙的不成文的腔调
孩子把父亲的爱装裱
奉献，他收获了最有意义的教养
抒写思情的旋律—为悲伤和耻辱!
见识在你的一生中越发成熟
郁结在心头的欲望萎靡着—
攀援起心扉悲喜的藤蔓
他们源于欢希和悲惧的种子—
多少日子，我们镀着金辉
愚钝使各种情绪愈发沉重—
曾经任何你们所历之苦难—
不会是像孤儿对父爱的渴盼!
矫饰被无情的言喻消磨
枯柄粘上开放的花朵
感情的弧度是让身体受到委屈
母亲哼着摇篮曲赞颂坟墓—
不走这必然的途径，宁愿一番沼泽
身上满是悲、愤、罪的污点
你把欺骗强加在别人的失误之上—
幻想争取到正在风化的权力—
海礁石生在欲流、暗流汹涌的环境—
咽下你的泪水—生成金子的魔戒—
所等待的吉祥是别致的陷阱—
美丽地企盼着出栏的牲畜—
你们死一般讥笑，靠它—
脑袋里构思着面部的杂耍
哈—这悲情不比鳄鱼的眼泪—
掺和着虚伪—那些纪念大脑的人家—
一定有多余的愤怒向父亲发泄—
世间的阴悚磨灭了他的真情—
礼貌地炫耀着经典的味道
自然之高于无力—你吗—绝望啊—
呀，这种绝望赶不上父亲的呻吟
泣道“我还是不是有孩子—
流淌血脉的或许将我拥有
哦—霸主—灵魂竟是你的血迹—
拒绝吧—虽然罪该万死—聪明人!
如若你阻止世界吞噬自己
驯化自己吧，不必为死亡悲哀
努力拒绝吧。心之迷恋!
To the Lord Chancellor
－Percy Bysshe Shelley / 文
1. Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest Of that foul, knotted, many-headed worm Which rends our Mother's bosom—Priestly Pest! Masked Resurrection of a buried Form!
2. Thy country's curse is on thee! Justice sold, Truth trampled, Nature's landmarks overthrown, And heaps of fraud-accumulated gold, Plead, loud as thunder, at Destruction's throne.
3. And whilst that sure slow Angel which aye stands Watching the beck of Mutability Delays to execute her high commands, And, though a nation weeps, spares thine and thee,
4. Oh, let a father's curse be on thy soul, And let a daughter's hope be on thy tomb; Be both, on thy gray head, a leaden cowl To weigh thee down to thine approaching doom.
5. I curse thee by a parent's outraged love, By hopes long cherished and too lately lost, By gentle feelings thou couldst never prove, By griefs which thy stern nature never crossed;
6. By those infantine smiles of happy light, Which were a fire within a stranger's hearth, Quenched even when kindled, in untimely night Hiding the promise of a lovely birth:
7. By those unpractised accents of young speech, Which he who is a father thought to frame To gentlest lore, such as the wisest teach—
8. By all the happy see in children's growth— That undeveloped flower of budding years— Sweetness and sadness interwoven both, Source of the sweetest hopes and saddest fears-
9. By all the days, under an hireling's care, Of dull constraint and bitter heaviness,— O wretched ye if ever any were,— Sadder than orphans, yet not fatherless!
10. By the false cant which on their innocent lips Must hang like poison on an opening bloom, By the dark creeds which cover with eclipse Their pathway from the cradle to the tomb—
11. By thy most impious Hell, and all its terror; By all the grief, the madness, and the guilt Of thine impostures, which must be their error— That sand on which thy crumbling power is built—
12. By thy complicity with lust and hate— Thy thirst for tears—thy hunger after gold— The ready frauds which ever on thee wait— The servile arts in which thou hast grown old—
13. By thy most killing sneer, and by thy smile— By all the arts and snares of thy black den, And—for thou canst outweep the crocodile— By thy false tears—those millstones braining men—
14. By all the hate which checks a father's love— By all the scorn which kills a father's care— By those most impious hands which dared remove Nature's high bounds—by thee—and by despair—
15. Yes, the despair which bids a father groan, And cry, 'My children are no longer mine— The blood within those veins may be mine own, But—Tyrant—their polluted souls are thine;—
16. I curse thee—though I hate thee not.—O slave! If thou couldst quench the earth-consuming Hell Of which thou art a daemon, on thy grave This curse should be a blessing. Fare thee well!
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发表于 2013-2-12 21:23
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楼主
发表于 2013-2-13 00:16
