W. B. Yeats - Three Songs to the One Burden (III) 汉译

Come gather round me, players all:

Come praise Nineteen-Sixteen,

Those from the pit and gallery

Or from the painted scene

That fought in the Post Office

Or round the City Hall,

Praise every man that came again,

Praise every man that fell.

From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

Who was the first man shot that day?

The player Connolly,

Close to the City Hall he died;

Carriage and voice had he;

He lacked those years that go with skill,

But later might have been

A famous, a brilliant figure

Before the painted scene.

From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

Some had no thought of victory

But had gone out to die

That Ireland’s mind be greater,

Her heart mount up on high;

And no man knows what’s yet to come

But Patrick Pearse has said

In every generation

Must Ireland’s blood be shed.

From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.