Robert Burns - Mary Morison 汉译

O Mary, at thy window be,<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

It is the wish’d, the trysted hour!

Those smiles and glances let me see

That make the miser’s treasure poor:

How blythely was I bide the stour

A weary slave frae sun to sun

Could I the rich reward secure

The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string

The dance gaed thro’ the lighted ha’,

To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat but neither heard nor saw:

Tho’ this was fair and that was braw,

And yon the toast of a’ the town,

I sigh’d, and said among them a’

“Ye are na Mary Morison.”

Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,

Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?

Or canst thou break that heart of his,

Whase only faut is loving thee?

If love for love thou wilt na gie,

At least be pity to me shown;

A thought ungentle canna be

The thought o’ Mary Morison.