夜莺
英国 约翰•济慈 1795—1821
1
夜莺歌声绕耳畔,诗人为何会悲伤?
玉体困倦没精神,如同毒品吸三轮,
迷迷糊糊发昏章,落入遗忘河流中。
不是诗人嫉妒你,你的歌声太迷人。
你是快乐小精灵,躲在郁郁树林中,
整个夏天唱不停,宇宙充满天籁声。
2
给我一杯葡文酒,地下冷藏了三百年,
味道醇厚又甘甜。使我想起了葡文岛,
那里的花草和深林,阳光,少女和歌声,
这是一杯灵感的酒,帮我写出好诗篇。
带着南方暖气息,紫色泡沫满杯沿,
喝了这杯葡文酒,我要和可爱的小夜莺,
暂时离开人世间,消失在莽莽森林中。
3
和她漫游大森林,忘记人间坏事情。
困倦,热病和烦恼,人民的痛苦和呻吟。
虚弱少年要夭亡,白发老人蹒跚行,
爱情逝去无踪影,少女凋零更痛心。
人间种种伤心事,不爱看来不爱听。
4
离开白叔豹子车,酒神让我醉醺醺,
插上诗歌的翅膀,和你一同去远行。
月色幽幽平安夜,夜莺陪伴好温馨。
满天星斗无光彩,神秘天风吹不停,
5
林中绿草和苔藓,闪闪发光寄幽情。
夏天森林香玉夜,灌木丛中草青青,
四面八方芬芳花,黑灯瞎火看不清,
到底是些什么花,要根据季节来推定:
快要凋谢的紫罗兰,躲在密密树叶里,
白枳花和野玫瑰,万搂清香醉我心。
五月早开的麝香花,叶子接满花露水。
爬满蜜蜂和苍蝇。
6
半夜听到夜莺声,我心不知在何方,
如果现在就死亡,我不会再有悲伤。
我对死神来哀求,把她称为美少女,
我愿和她到天空,消失在灿烂云海中。
夜莺歌声永不停,宇宙充满天籁声。
即使我到黄泉下,再也不能听到您。
你的清纯海豚音,还要响彻大森林。
7
你是一只不死鸟,暴民不能奴役你,
你今晚的歌唱声,好似从远古传过来。
凯撒大帝和农民,也曾把你来聆听,
可怜的露西也听过您,那时候,
她站在异国玉米田,思念家乡泪涟涟。
在那远方极乐园,惊涛骇浪拍岸边,
悬崖上的古堡里,站着一位女天使,
窕窕婷婷迷众生, 孑然一身好孤单,
俯视茫茫大海原, 你的歌声传过来,
中邪的古堡得新生。
8
孤单!这个字眼惊醒我,如同半夜丧钟鸣。
我离开夜莺娇嫩身,重新变回文化人。
再见吧,幻想终究要结束,黄粱美梦一场空。
你的迷人海豚音,飘到牧场那一边,
小溪山峦的后面,消失在在远方山谷中。
9
夜莺啊,你的歌声已消失,你的芳踪无处寻。
你是幻觉,还是梦,我是做梦,还是醒,
如今谁也分不清。如今你已消失去,何时还能见到您。
我为夜莺长叹息,歌成余意尚彷徨。
Ode To A Nightingale
John Keats
1795—1821
1
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards, had sunk;
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness ---
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
2
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-strained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim;
3
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond tomorrow.
4
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! Tender is the night,
And haply the Queen Moon is on her throne,
Clustered around by all her starry fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
5
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
6
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain
--- To thy high requiem become a sod.
7
Thou wast not bonr for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperors and clown;
Perhaps the selfsame song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that ofttimes hath
Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
8
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hilside; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley glades.
9
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music --- Do I wake or sleep?