Stag
Not fountain whence you bathed, fair rose,
Can lose your thorny sting, nor the breath,
Nor the tantalizing song, nor the aroma frail.
I saw what I say, and I am that I am, once
A shooting, now shot by foes and friends alike,
Once chasing, now chased by fiery dogs,
Once favoured in both royal bloods, now
wooed in their hateful veins. Run! Run! I run
From chanced shames, and your naked thoughts
Of ruin; from malicious fangs I run, from light
In the woods and babbling spring, from terror
I run, until my life is dissolved in your rage.
我胡乱写的,不讲格律。出自希腊神话。 |