本帖最后由 雨荷风 于 2015-10-7 14:49 编辑
我从来不觉得您需要施粉黛，
所以，没有粉饰您的美貌；
我发现，或者自以为发现，
您比诗人无力的颂扬美丽得多；
于是，我沉睡在对您的赞美里，
因为您自己的存在，会让
普通的鹅毛笔自愧不如，
他们无法盛赞您增长的美德。
您曾经怪罪我没有把您夸赞，
而沉默却是我最大的荣耀；
因为沉默让我没有破坏您的美貌，
而给事物赋予生命的人，也带来坟墓。
您的明眸里放出来的光彩，
比我和那诗人描绘的多得多。
I never saw that you did painting need,
And therefore to you fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt;
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself, being extant, well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;
For I impair not beauty, being mute,
When others would give life, and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
|
|Archiver|手机版|小黑屋|中诗网
( 京ICP备：12024093号-1|
京公网安备 11010502045403号 )
发表于 2010-2-18 20:11:00