While I, that reed-throated whisperer Who
comes at need, although not now as once A
clear articulation in the air, But
inwardly, surmise companions Beyond
the fling of the dull ass’s hoof, — Ben Johnson’s phrase — and find
when June is come At
Kyle-na-no under that ancient roof A
sterner conscience and a friendlier home, I
can forgive even that wrong of wrongs, Those
undreamt accidents that have made me — Seeing that Fame has perished
this long while, Being
but a part of ancient ceremony — Notorious,
till all my priceless things Are
but a post the passing dogs defile. 跋诗 威廉·巴特勒·叶芝 当我,从那嗓音似笛的低语之人—— 她应急需而来,尽管如今不象从前, 一串娇声在空中历历可闻 不过在内心里,推及那些伙伴 超然远离那笨驴的蹄子的踢跳—— 本•琼生的句子——并在六月到来之时 在凯尔纳诺在那古老的屋顶下找到 一个更严厉的良心和一个更友善的家时, 我甚至能够宽恕那百般侮辱的侮辱, 那些曾弄得我——看到名誉已经消逝了 这么久,不过是古老仪式的 一部分——臭名昭著的梦想不到的 意外事件,直到我所有的无价之物 都不过是一根被过路的狗弄脏了的柱子。 |
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