| The poem Nightingales by Robert Bridges
Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come,
And bright in the fruitful valleys the streams wherefrom
Ye learn your song:
Where are those starry woods? O might I wander there,
Among the flowers, which in that heavenly air
Bloom the year long!.
Nay, barren are those mountains and spent the streams:
Our song is the voice of desire, that haunts our dreams,
A throe of the heart,
Whose pining visions dim, forbidden hopes profound,
No dying cadence, nor long sigh can sound,
For all our art.
Alone, aloud in the raptured ear of men
We pour our dark nocturnal secret; and then,
As night is withdrawn
From these sweet-springing meads and bursting boughs of May,
Dream, while the innumerable choir of day
Welcome the dawn.
|
你一定来自山清水秀的林荫幽谷
从硕果累累的溪水旁学会歌唱
嗷，这千姿百态的景色在哪里？我想知道
在花丛中，在永远绽放的天堂里？
不，是光秃秃的山，平静的溪水
我们的歌是渴望之声，重复述说我们的梦想
是心中忧伤的倾述，是昏暗视力的呻吟，希望无法达到的祈祷
它也不是哀歌，没有长叹，是我们真实生活的全部
在属灵人的耳朵里，它是孤独中的震撼
我们唱出黑夜中深藏的秘密，而当长夜过去
从甜美芳香的灌木从中，孕育出春天、梦想、和美妙的旋律
黎明到来了！
