Sing
we for love and idleness,
Naught
else is worth the having. Though
I have been in many a land, There
is naught else in living. And
I would rather have my sweet, Though
rose-leaves die of grieving, Than
do high deeds in Hungary To
pass all men’s believing. 劣行一桩 埃兹拉·庞德 我们为爱和闲散歌唱, 享有这些抵得过一切。 虽说我到过许多地方, 生活中最妙就数这些。 尽管玫瑰瓣死于伤心, 我宁有恋人相伴相偕, 决计不肯远去匈牙利 干出令人难信的大业。 |
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