诗歌:浪尖上的白鸟

THE WHITE BIRDS

——by W.B. Yeats

Would that we were，my beloved，white birds on the foam of the sea！

We tire of the flame of the meteor，before it can fade and flee；

And the flame of the blue star of twilight，hung low on the rim of the sky，

Has awakened in our hearts，my beloved，a sadness that may not die.

亲爱的，但愿我们是浪尖上一双白鸟！

流星尚未陨逝，我们已厌倦了它的闪耀；

天边低悬，晨光里那颗蓝星的幽光，

唤醒了你我心中，一缕不死的忧伤。

A weariness comes from those dreamers，dew-dabbled，the lily and rose；

Ah，dream not of them，my beloved，the flame of the meteor that goes，

Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew：

For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam：I and you！

露湿的百合、玫瑰梦里逸出一丝困倦；

呵，亲爱的，可别梦那流星的闪耀，

也别梦那蓝星的幽光在滴露中低徊：

但愿我们化作浪尖上的白鸟：我和你！

I am haunted by numberless islands，and many a Danaan shore，

Where Time would surely forget us，and Sorrow come near us no more；

Soon far from the rose and the lily，and fret of the flames would we be，

Were we only white birds，my beloved，buoyed out on the foam of the sea！

我心头萦绕着无数岛屿和丹南湖滨，

在那里岁月会以遗忘我们，悲哀不再来临；

转瞬就会远离玫瑰、百合和星光的侵蚀，

只要我们是双白鸟，亲爱的，出没在浪花里！