Wallian Bulter Yeats

When you are old and gray and full of sleep

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true;

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead,

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

当你老了

当你年老，鬓斑，睡意昏沉，

在炉旁打盹时，取下这本书，

慢慢诵读，梦忆从前你双眸，

神色柔和，眼波中倒影深深；

多少人爱你风韵妩媚的时光，

爱你的美丽出自假意或真情，

但唯有一人爱你灵魂的至诚，

爱你渐衰的脸上愁苦的风霜；

弯下身子，在炽红的壁炉边，

忧伤地低诉，爱神如何逃走，

在头顶上的群山巅漫步闲游，

把他的面孔隐没在繁星中间。

The White Birds

I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!

We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;

And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,

Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;

Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,

Or the flame of the blue star

That lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:

For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!

I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,

Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;

Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be,

Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!

白鸟

亲爱的，但愿我们是浪尖上一双白鸟!

流星尚未陨逝，我们已厌倦了它的闪耀；

天边低悬，晨光里那颗蓝星的幽光

唤醒了你我心中，一缕不死的忧伤。

露湿的百合、玫瑰梦里逸出一丝困倦；

呵，亲爱的，可别梦那流星的闪耀，

也别梦那蓝星的幽光在滴露中低徊：

但愿我们化作浪尖上的白鸟：我和你！

我心头萦绕着无数岛屿和丹南湖滨，

在那里岁月会以遗忘我们，悲哀不再来临；

转瞬就会远离玫瑰、百合和星光的侵蚀，

只要我们是双白鸟，亲爱的，出没在浪花里！