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英汉对照|王尔德诗选:金银柳之恋

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2018年12月11日

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Γλυκύπικρος Ëρως



Sweet I blame you not for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common clay

I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the larger day.



From the wildness of my wasted passion I had struck a better, clearer song,

Lit some lighter light of freer freedom, battled with some Hydraheaded wrong.



Had my lips been smitten into music by the kisses that but made them bleed,

You had walked with Bice and the angels on that verdant and enamelled mead.



I had trod the road which Dante treading saw the suns of seven circles shine,

Ay! perchance had seen the heavens opening, as they opened to the Florentine.



And the mighty nations would have crowned me, who am crownless now and without name,

And some orient dawn had found me kneeling on the threshold of the House of Fame.



I had sat within that marble circle where the oldest bard is as the young,

And the pipe is ever dropping honey, and the lyre's strings are ever strung.



Keats had lifted up his hymenæal curls from out the poppyseeded wine,

With ambrosial mouth had kissed my forehead, clasped the hand of noble love in mine.



And at springtide, when the apple-blossoms brush the burnished bosom of the dove,

Two young lovers lying in an orchard would have read the story of our love.



Would have read the legend of my passion, known the bitter secret of my heart,

Kissed as we have kissed, but never parted as we two are fated now to part.



For the crimson flower of our life is eaten by the cankerworm of truth,

And no hand can gather up the fallen withered petals of the rose of youth.



Yet I am not sorry that I loved you—ah! what else had I a boy to do,—

For the hungry teeth of time devour, and the silent-footed years pursue.



Rudderless, we drift athwart a tempest, and when once the storm of youth is past,

Without lyre, without lute or chorus, Death a silent pilot comes at last.



And within the grave there is no pleasure, for the blind-worm battens on the root,

And Desire shudders into ashes, and the tree of Passion bears no fruit.



Ah! what else had I to do but love you, God's own mother was less dear to me,

And less dear the Cytheræan rising like an argent lily from the sea.



I have made my choice, have lived my poems, and, though youth is gone in wasted days,

I have found the lover's crown of myrtle better than the poet's crown of bays.


金银柳之恋



亲亲,我不会因为我的过失而责备你,倘若我并非出自普通的泥土,

我曾经登上阒无人迹的高峰,见过更丰沛的空气、更开阔的时光。



从我虚掷激情的野性里,我找到了一段更美妙、更清越的旋律,

点亮更光明的光明和更自由的自由,去战胜某个九头蛇的错误。



我的双唇被亲吻击打成音乐,因此而残留着一丝丝殷红的血迹,

你曾经陪同贝雅特丽采和天使们漫步于珐琅似葱郁的草地。



我曾经走过但丁走过的道路,看见七个太阳置身于七重光环,

啊!或许我已目睹天庭豁然开启,正如它曾经向佛罗伦萨人敞开。



而那些强大的国家将为我加冕,尽管我仅是寂寂无名的一介布衣,

而某一个东方的黎明将会发现我正跪拜在荣誉之宫殿的门槛前。

我坐在一圈大理石雕像中间,那里最年迈的游吟诗人跟年轻人一样,

那一枝竖笛不断流淌着蜂蜜,七弦琴弹奏出悠扬的乐声直抵云霄。



济慈抬起他那一头赞美诗般美丽的卷发,放下罂粟粒浸泡的美酒,

以品尝过仙品的嘴唇亲吻我的额头,用高贵之爱的手握紧我的手。



伴随着春潮涌动,当苹果花轻拂鸽子那白得耀眼的胸脯,

在果园里躺下的两个年轻人将读到关于我的爱情掌故。



他们将读到我激情的传奇,了解蕴藏在我内心苦涩的秘密,

像我们曾经亲吻的那样亲吻,但绝不会像我们命定分离那样分离。



因为我们生命的彤红之花已被真理的蛆虫所吞噬,

没有一只手能够捡拾起青春四下凋零的玫瑰花瓣。



但我不后悔曾经爱过你,——唉!除此,我一个少年还可做什么?——

因为时间饥饿的牙齿吞食着一切,蹑足的岁月在后面穷追不舍。



失去了船舵,我们在风浪中颠簸,那时已不再有青春的风暴,

没有竖琴,没有笛管与合唱队的歌声,死亡这舵手最终来引导。



坟墓里没有任何欢愉可言,盲目的蛆虫噬咬着我的根部,

情欲战战兢兢地化为灰烬,激情之树结不出任何水果。



啊!除了爱你,我还能做什么,你比上帝之母更令我感到亲近。

哪怕像银色的百合花缓缓升起在海面的阿佛洛狄忒也没有如此亲近。



我做出了自己的选择,以诗为生,尽管青春已在虚掷的光阴里消逝,

我发现,情人的桃金娘花冠要比月桂树编织的诗人桂冠更有魅力。
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