本帖最后由 雨荷风 于 2015-10-7 21:00 编辑
要用怎样的丧钟来祭奠那些牲口一般死去的人?
只有凶暴的愤怒的机枪。
只有飞快的子弹的哒哒声才能发出急促的祷告。
对他们,再没有嘲笑,没有祈祷和丧钟
也没有哀悼,只有对他们的合唱,
那凄厉的弹壳发出的刺耳的癫狂的合唱,
以及来自忧伤的乡郡的呼唤他们的喇叭声。
还有怎样的蜡烛可以秉着,来祝福他们平安?
这些蜡烛将不在男孩们的手中,
而在他们的眼中闪动着告别的神圣的微光。
女孩们苍白的眉梢将是他们的灵衣,
她们的鲜花代表着坚忍心灵的温柔,
每个迟去的暮色都将是徐徐拉下的百叶窗。
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
By Wilfred Owen
2011年6月18日译
|