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第十七首

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*17.EEB

第十七首

EBB "Sonnets from the Portuguese", No. XVII

我的诗人,在上帝的宇宙里,从洪荒

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes

到终极,那参差的音律,无一不能

God set between His After and Before,

从你的指尖弹出。你一挥手

And strike up and strike off the general roar

就打断了人世间熙熙攘攘的声

Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats

奏出清音,在空气里悠然荡漾;

In a serene air purely. Antidotes

那柔和的旋律,象一剂凉,把安慰

Of medicated music, answering for

带给痛苦的心灵。上帝派给你

Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour

这一个职司,而吩咐我伺候你。

>From thence into their ears. God's will devotes

的,你打算把我怎样安排?--

Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.

作为一个希望、给欢乐地歌唱?还是

How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?

绵的回忆、溶化入抑扬的音调?

A hope, to sing by gladly? ... or a fine

还是棕榈,还是松树--那一树绿荫

Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?

让你在底下歌唱;还是一个青冢,

A shade, in which to sing ... of palm or pine?

唱倦了,你来这里躺下?请挑吧。

A grave, on which to rest from singing? .. Choose.

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