W. B. Yeats - The Hawk 汉译

‘Call down the hawk from the air;  

Let him be hooded or caged  

Till the yellow eye has grown mild,  

For larder and spit are bare,  

The old cook enraged,     

The scullion gone wild.’  

‘I will not be clapped in a hood,  

Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist,  

Now I have learnt to be proud  

Hovering over the wood   

In the broken mist  

Or tumbling cloud.’  

‘What tumbling cloud did you cleave,  

Yellow-eyed hawk of the mind,  

Last evening? that I, who had sat   

Dumbfounded before a knave,  

Should give to my friend  

A pretence of wit.’