大海
无人森林情趣多,无人海滩有激情,
大海滔滔波浪声,胜过皇家音乐厅。
不是我不爱全人类,我对自然情更深。
只有面对大自然,才能找回好心情,
只有融化在宇宙里,才能写出好诗篇,
伟大冷峻的大自然,永远是我的好朋友。
我把心灵交给你,此身不知在何方。
George Gordon Byron
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is a society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar;
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can never express, yet can not all conceal.
茫茫大海波浪翻 ,浩瀚无边显威严,
无数海船来经过,未留痕迹在眼前。
人类在陆地穷捣乱,制造了废墟和荒原,
可是他的破坏力,止步在你的海水边。
他们如果来捣蛋,海船就会被打翻,
水手纷纷落海里,好像无助的小雨点,
哼哼吟吟两三声,没入深渊无处寻,
没有葬礼和棺材板,孤儿寡妇泪涟涟。
The Ocean by Byron
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean——roll!
Ten thousands fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin——his control
Stops with the shore; upon the wat'ry plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's revage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths, with bubbling groan
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffin'd and unknown.. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2012-3-9 10:44 标题: 想从前我们俩分手
When we two parted
George Gordon Byron
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long year,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
The Isles of Greece
by George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. 1788–1824
The Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece !
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of War and Peace,
Where Delos rose and Pheobus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their Sun, is set.
2
The Scian and Teian muse,
The Hero's harp, the Lover's lute,
Have found the fame your shores refuse:
Their place of birth alone is mute
To sounds which echo further west
Than your Sires' "Islands of the Blest."
3
The mountains look on Marathon ---
And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free;
For standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.
4
A King sate on the rocky brow
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,
And men in nations; --- all were his!
He counted them at break of day ---
And, when the Sun set, where were they?
5
And where are they? And where art thou,
My country? On thy voiceless shore
The heroic lay is tuneless now ---
The heroic bosom beats no more !
And must thy Lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?
6
'T is something, in the dearth of Fame,
Though linked among a fettered race,
To feel at least a patriot's shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
For what is left the poet here?
For Greeks a blush --- for Greece a tear.
7
Must we but weep o'er days more blest?
Must we but blush? --- Our fathers bled.
Earth ! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead !
Of the three hundred grant but three,
To make a new Thermopylæ !
8
What, silent still? and silent all?
Ah ! no; --- the voices of the dead
Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
And answer, "Let one living head,
But one arise, --- we come, we come ! "
'T is but the living who are dumb.
9
In vain -- in vain: strike other chords;
Fill high the cup with Samian wine !
Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,
And shed the blood of Scio's vine !
Hark ! rising to the ignoble call ---
How answers each bold Bacchanal !
10
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The noblier and manlier one?
You have the letters Cadmus gave ---
Think ye he meant them for a slave?
11
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
We will not think of themes like these !
It made Anacreon's song divine:
He served --- but served Polycrates ---
A Tyrant; but our masters then
Were still, at least, our countrymen.
12
The Tyrant of the Chersonese
Was Freedom's best and bravest friend;
That tyrant was Miltiades !
Oh ! that the present hour would lend
Another despot of the kind !
Such chains as his were sure to bind.
13
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore,
Exists the remnant of a line
Such as the Doric mothers bore;
And there, perhaps, such seed is sown,
The Heracleidan blood might own.
14
Trust not for freedom to the Franks ---
They have a king who buys and sells;
In native swords, and native ranks,
The only hope of courage dwells;
But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
Would break your shield, however broad.
15
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
Our virgins dance beneath the shade ---
I see their glorious black eyes shine;
But gazing on each glowing maid,
My own the burning tear-drop laves,
To think such breasts must suckle slaves.
16
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die;
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine ---
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine !. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2012-3-9 10:51 标题: 乔治·戈登·拜伦