Sudden Light 頓悟
BY Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
我曾來過這裡，
但是說不清是何時何故：
我記得門外的野草
和他們那清甜的味道，
海潮的歎息和岸邊的燈火。
You have been mine before,—
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turn'd so,
Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.
你曾經屬于我，
是多久之前我已記不得：
但就在燕子騰空的一刹那，
你回頭看見了我，
面紗也随之垂落——但那已經是很久以前的事了。
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
是早已如此？
還是因為經曆了時間的漩渦，
我們的愛随着生活的過往開始修複。
就算置生死于不顧，
還能否在日夜的更替間再尋得一絲歡愉？
The Old Walk
像往常一樣的散步
by William Nicholson (writer/director)
I began by thinking I could save you,
but in the end all I can do is honor you.
My mother, first among women,
my warmth and my comfort, my safety, my pride.
You are the one I want to please,
you are the one I want to applaud me.
開始我以為能拯救你，
但最後隻能贊頌你。
我的母親，我最愛的女人，我的溫暖和安逸，安全和自豪。
我隻想取悅你，
我隻想讓你為我驕傲。
My father first among men,
my teacher and my judge,
the man I know I will become.
You grow older now,
you are still ahead of me as you will always be, forever further down the road.
我的父親，我最愛的男人，
我的老師，我的裁判，
是我以後會成為的那個人。
雖然你已經不再年輕，
但你還是一如往常地走在我的前面，走在比我遠的路上。
Forgive me for needing you to be strong forever.
Forgive me for fearing your unhappiness.
As you suffer so I shall suffer.
As you endure I shall endure.
Hold my hands and walk the old walk one last time, then let me go.
原諒我對你的需要，需要你永遠堅強。
原諒我對你的擔心，擔心你的不快樂。
因為你痛苦我就痛苦
你難受我就難受
請握着我的手
最後一次
像往常一樣去散步
然後讓我走。
For The Fallen
by Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
Say not the Struggle nought Availeth
BY arthur Hugh Clough
Say not the struggle nought availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
by W. B. Yeats
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
An Exequy to His Matchless Never to be Forgotten Friend (1657)
Henry King
Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed,
Never to be disquieted!
My last goodnight! Thou wilt not wake
Till I thy fate shall overtake;
Till age, or grief, or sickness must
Marry my body to that dust
It so much loves, and fill the room
My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Stay for me there, I will not fail
To meet thee in that hollow vale.
And think not much of my delay;
I am already on the way,
And follow thee with all the speed
Desire can make, or sorrows breed.
Each minute is a short degree,
And every hour a step towards thee.
At night when I betake to rest,
Next morn I rise nearer my west
Of life, almost by eight hours’ sail,
Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale.
Thus from the sun my bottom steers,
And my day’s compass downward bears;
Nor labour I to stem the tide
Through which to thee I swiftly glide.
‘Tis true, with shame and grief I yield,
Thou like the van first took’st the field,
And gotten hath the victory
In thus adventuring to die
Before me, whose more years might crave
A just precedence in the grave.
But hark! my pulse like a soft drum
Beats my approach, tells thee I come;
And slow howe’er my marches be,
I shall at last sit down by thee.
The thought of this bids me go on,
And wait my dissolution
With hope and comfort. Dear, (forgive
The crime) I am content to live
Divided, with but half a heart,
Till we shall meet and never part.
