Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears
from the depth of some divine despair Rise
in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In
looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And
thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh
as the first beam glittering on a sail, That
brings our friends from the underworld, Sad
as the last which reddens over one That
sinks with all we love below the verge; So
sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah,
sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The
earlier pipe of the half-awaken’d birds To
dying ears, when unto dying eyes The
casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So
sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear
as remember’d kisses after death, And
sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign’d On
lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep
as first love, and wild with all regret; O
Death in life, the days that are no more.
泪水，无端地流 阿尔弗莱德·丁尼生
泪水，无端地流，我不知道为了什么， 从某种神圣而绝望的深渊， 泪水涌上心头，汇聚眼中 注视着那秋天幸福的原野， 思索着那一去不返的时光。
像洒在船帆上的第一缕阳光那般清新明亮， 从幽冥中带回我们的亲朋， 像铺在船帆上最后一抹残阳那般忧郁悲伤， 带着我们所有的爱沉入天际 如此悲伤，如此清新，那一去不返的时光。
啊，夏日里幽暗的黎明，那么哀伤，那么陌生， 睡眼朦胧的鸟儿，将最早的歌声 送入垂死的耳畔，窗格渐渐明亮， 将光芒送入垂死的眼睛。 那么哀伤，那么陌生，那一去不返的时光。
像死后记忆中的亲吻那般亲切， 像别人唇上的无望的幻想那般甜蜜， 像爱一般深沉， 像初恋一般深沉，悔恨而癫狂； 我生命中的死亡啊，那一去不返的时光。
（徐翰林 编译） |
/1 
