诗人和鸟
伊丽莎白•巴瑞特•布朗宁
翻译:潘学峰
一人对一个诗人说---“从我们中间直接出去!
当我们思考人间事,你却唱神性。
有一只褐色夜莺小巧又玲珑,此时,他正坐在走廊中
它发出舒适音乐传到我们耳中,比你任何一首歌曲都要悦耳动听!“
诗人走出去难掩放悲声---夜莺于是也停止吟咏;
现在,你,夜莺呀,你的甜蜜都做了些什么?”
我不能唱我的世俗的事,天堂的诗人想,
它的最高和谐包括太阳底下的最低平庸。”
诗人走出去难掩放悲声,---他最终死在国外,永远离开了那里---
那只鸟飞到他的坟墓后死了,唤起千声痛:---
当我最后一次走过那个地方时,我发誓,那里留下的音乐
只有诗人的歌,而不是夜莺的歌。
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The Poet And The Bird
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Said a people to a poet---" Go out from among us straightway!
While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine.
There's a little fair brown nightingale, who, sitting in the gateways
Makes fitter music to our ears than any song of thine!"
The poet went out weeping---the nightingale ceased chanting;
"Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?"
I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,
Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun."
The poet went out weeping,---and died abroad, bereft there---
The bird flew to his grave and died, amid a thousand wails:---
And, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there
Was only of the poet's song, and not the nightingale's.
伊丽莎白•巴瑞特•布朗宁
翻译:潘学峰
一人对一个诗人说---“从我们中间直接出去!
当我们思考人间事,你却唱神性。
有一只褐色夜莺小巧又玲珑,此时,他正坐在走廊中
它发出舒适音乐传到我们耳中,比你任何一首歌曲都要悦耳动听!“
诗人走出去难掩放悲声---夜莺于是也停止吟咏;
现在,你,夜莺呀,你的甜蜜都做了些什么?”
我不能唱我的世俗的事,天堂的诗人想,
它的最高和谐包括太阳底下的最低平庸。”
诗人走出去难掩放悲声,---他最终死在国外,永远离开了那里---
那只鸟飞到他的坟墓后死了,唤起千声痛:---
当我最后一次走过那个地方时,我发誓,那里留下的音乐
只有诗人的歌,而不是夜莺的歌。
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
The Poet And The Bird
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Said a people to a poet---" Go out from among us straightway!
While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine.
There's a little fair brown nightingale, who, sitting in the gateways
Makes fitter music to our ears than any song of thine!"
The poet went out weeping---the nightingale ceased chanting;
"Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?"
I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,
Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun."
The poet went out weeping,---and died abroad, bereft there---
The bird flew to his grave and died, amid a thousand wails:---
And, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there
Was only of the poet's song, and not the nightingale's.


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