One Word Is Too Often Profaned
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother;
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love;
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the heavens reject not, --
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?
良宵复良宵，
情狂似火烧；
无缘与君共，
相思债未了。
心已泊深港，
风摧不动摇；
罗盘有何用，
海图远远抛。
泛舟伊甸园，
天海万里遥；
愿君化港湾，
今夜好停靠！
Wild Nights---Wild Nights
Wild Nights---Wild Nights
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile---the winds---
To the heart in port---
Done with the compass---
Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden---
Ah, the sea!
Might I but moor Tonight---
In Thee!
I dare not ask a kiss,
I dare not beg a smile,
Lest having that, or this,
I might grow proud the while.
No, no, the utmost share
Of my desire shall be
Only to kiss that air
That lately kissed thee.
《四》
选择
爱米丽•伊丽莎白•狄金森(Emily Elizabeth Dickinson1830—1886)美国诗人
I hid my love when young till I
Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly；
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light：
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place；
Where’er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good-bye．
I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells；
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee’s song
She lay there all the summer long．
I hid my love in field and town；
Till e’en the breeze would knock me down；
The bees seemed singing ballads o’er,
The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar；
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long；
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love．
你有王族的遗风，
你有神仙的姿容；
你善良贤淑，
你优雅庄重；
人类的语言怎能把你赞颂？
一切词句都变得苍白平慵。
我夜夜不得安眠，
我日日睡眼惺忪；
罗斯·艾尔默，
虽然不能与你见面，
我总为你泪如泉涌；
我为你通宵长叹，
我为你彻夜心痛。
Rose Aylmer
Ah what avails the sceptred race,
Ah what the form divine!
What, every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine．
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of sorrows and of sighs
I consecrate to thee．
