英美诗歌欣赏

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date:Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;But thy eternal summer shall not fadeNor lose possession of that fair thou owest;Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou growest:So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.(莎士比亚的第十八首十四行诗，也是非常有名的一首。

全诗诗意浓郁、音韵流畅，非常适合吟诵。

这也是我能够背诵的为数不多的英文诗之一。

我喜欢伴着轻柔的音乐轻轻念着这些经典的诗节，感受诗中所描述的那些亘古常新的主题：关于夏日之柔美，关于时间之流逝，关于诗篇之不朽，以及爱之永恒。

以上给出的译本一在意思上比较忠实于原作, 而译本二则显得更富有诗意。

但跟莎翁的原作比起来都差得远。

原作优美考究的韵律和音步实在无法在译作中加以体现。

所以说，诗歌是不可翻译的，实在很有道理。

)The Passionate Shepherd to His Love Array [ 2006-10-23 17:05:00 | By: chenshaolin ]The Passionate Shepherd to His Loveby Christopher Marlowe（1564-1593）热情的牧人对他的爱人Come live with me and be my love,And we will all the pleasures proveThat valleys, groves, hills, and fields,Woods, or steepy mountain yields.请与我同栖，为我最爱让我俩印证一切的欢悦——不论生於深谷之中，高峰之上不论来自山涯水湄，林间效野And we will sit upon rocks,Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,By shallow rivers to whose fallsMelodious birds sing madrigals.让我们俩闲坐大石之上一双便鞋衬里厚实足以过冬鞋扣由纯金打造绝不虚诳A belt of straw and ivy buds,With coral clasps and amber studs;And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.稻草与长春藤嫩芽编成的腰带有珊瑚环扣与玛瑙钉饰增彩如果这些喜乐能让你心动请与我同栖，为我最爱The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning:If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.俊俏的牧人会群起歌舞徘徊只为让你在五月的晨光中开怀如果这些欢悦能让你青睐请与我同栖，为我最爱The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherdby Sir Waler Raleigh（1552-1618）仙子对牧人的回应If all the world and love were young,And truth in every shepherd's tongue,欢喜时的春天，迅成悲伤的秋季Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posiesSoon break, soon wither, soon forgotten—In folly ripe, in reason rotten.你送的裙和鞋，你编的玫瑰床，你赠的众多花束、小帽与短裳转眼将折断、将枯萎、被遗忘——令我甘愿与你同栖，为你所爱But could youth last and love still breed, Had joys no date nor age no need,Then these delights my mind might move To live with thee and be thy love.A red red roseOh, my love is like a red, red rose,That's newly sprung in June.Oh, my love is like a melody,That's sweetly played in tune.As fair as you, my bonnie lass,So deep in love am I;And I will love you still, my dear,Till all the seas gone dry.Till all the seas gone dry, my dear,And the rocks melt with the sun;I will love you till, my dear,While the sands of life shall run.And fare you well, my only love!And fare you well, a while!And I will come again, my love,Though it were ten thousand mile.Spring, the Sweet SpringThomas NasheSpring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold does not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit,In every street these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!Spring! the sweet Spring!That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.In me thou seest the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west,Which by and by black night doth take away,Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.In me thou see'st the glowing of such fireThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,As the death-bed whereon it must expireConsumed with that which it was nourish'd by.This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.Amoretti (Sonnet 75) Array by Edmund SpenserOne day I wrote her name upon the strand,But came the waves and washed it away;Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,But came the tyde,and made my paynes his pray."Vayne man,"sayed she,"that does in vain assay.A mortal thing so to immortalize,For I my selve shall lyke to this decay,And eek my name bee wyped out lykewize.""Not I,"quod I,"let baser things devize,To dy in dust,but you shall live by fame:My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,And in the heavens wryte your glorious name.Where whenas death shall all the world subdew,Our love shall live,and later life renew."springW.ShakespeareWhen daisies pied and violets blueAnd ladysmocks all silver-whiteAnd cuckoobuds of yellow hueDo paint the meadows with delight,The cuckoo then, on every tree,Mocks married me; for thus sings he,Cuckoo;Cuckoo, cuckoo: Oh word of fear,Unpleasing to a married ear!When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,And merry larks are plowmen's clocks,When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,And maidens bleach their summer smocks,The cuckoo then, on every tree,Mocks married me; for thus sings he,Cuckoo;Cuckoo, cuckoo: Oh word of fear,Unpleasing to a married ear!春之歌——莎士比亚当五颜六色的雏菊开放，蓝色的紫罗兰、银白的剪秋罗，杜鹃花的蓓蕾吐露娇黄，整个原野描出一片欢乐，布谷鸟却栖息在每棵树上，讽嘲娶妻的呆男，它们这样唱：“苦苦！苦苦，苦苦！”——啊，可怕的声音，做丈夫的听了何等伤心！当牧羊人把麦笛吹奏，欢快的云雀把农夫唤醒，斑鸠和乌鸦忙着觅侣求偶，姑娘们洗涤夏季的衣裙，布谷鸟却栖息在每棵树上，讥嘲娶妻的呆男，它们这样唱：“苦苦！苦苦，苦苦！”——啊，可怕的声音，做丈夫的听了何等伤心！WinterAnd Dick the shepherd blows his nailAnd Tom bears logs into the hall,And milk comes frozen home in pail, Array When blood is nipped and ways be foul,Then nightly sings the staring owl,Tu-who;Tu-whit, Tu-who: a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.When all aloud the wind doth blow,And coughing drowns the parson's saw,And birds sit brooding in the snow,And Marian's nose looks red and raw,When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,Then nightly sings the staring owl,Tu-who;Tu-whit, Tu-who: a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.To AutumnJohn Keats1. Array Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and blessWith fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shellsWith a sweet kernel; to set budding more,And still more, later flowers for the bees,Until they think warm days will never cease,For Summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cells.2.Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may findThee sitting careless on a granary floor,Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook;Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.3.Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloftOr sinking as the light wind lives or dies;And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble softThe red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils,Beside the lake, beneath the treesFluttering and dancing in the breeze.Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the Milky Way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glanceTossing their heads in sprightly dance.The waves beside them danced, but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee: -A poet could not but be gayIn such a jocund company:I gazed -and gazed -but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought.In vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fillsAnd dances with the daffodils.The Solitary Reaper孤独的割麦女BEHOLD her, single in the field,Yon solitary Highland Lass!Reaping and singing by herself，Stop here, or gently pass!Alone she cuts and binds the grain,And sings a melancholy strain;O listen! for the Vale profoundIs overflowing with the sound.No Nightingale did ever chauntMore welcome notes to weary bandsOf travelers in some shady haunt,Among Arabian sands:A voice so thrilling ne'er was heardIn spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,Breaking the silence of the seasAmong the farthest Hebrides.Will no one tell me what she sings?—Perhaps the plaintive numbers flowFor old, unhappy, far-off things,And battles long ago:Or is it some more humble lay,Familiar matter of to-day?Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,That has been, and may be again?Whate'er the theme, the MaidensangAs if her song could have no ending;I saw her singing at her work,And o'er the sickle bending;——I listen'd, motionless and still;And, as I mounted up the hill,The music in my heart I bore,Long after it was heard no more. 看，一个孤独的高原姑娘，在远远的田野间收割，一边割一边独自歌唱，请你站住．或者俏悄走过！她独自把麦子割了又捆，唱出无限悲凉的歌声，屏息听吧！深广的谷地已被歌声涨满而漫溢！还从未有过夜莺百啭，唱出过如此迷人的歌，在沙漠中的绿荫间抚慰过疲惫的旅客；还从未有过杜鹃迎春，声声啼得如此震动灵魂，在遥远的赫布利底群岛打破过大海的寂寥。