十方《莎士比亚十四行诗》第127、第128首
远山之巅，星穹之下。
邂逅君子，温其如玉。
十方：《莎士比亚十四行诗》第127、第128首
127
古时不以黑为美，
勉强算是，也不以美相称；
如今黑则成为美之继嗣，
由此其美招致私生之名；
自所有人均可将自然之力僭取，
以美容之名为粉饰垢污；
甜美便失却了声价与殿宇，
倘不忍辱偷生，也将遭亵渎；
故我的情人头发如如乌鸦般漆黑，
双睛亦如此，似是在悲泣；
在悼那些生而陋质而不乏美色，
僭用浮名而侮辱造物主之士；
这哀恸是如此教人怜惜，
众人皆道美本应如此。
Sonnet 127
In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
But now is black beauty's successive heir,
And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame:
For since each hand hath put on Nature's power,
Fairing the foul with Art's false borrow'd face,
Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,
But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace.
Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black,
Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem
At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,
Slandering creation with a false esteem:
Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe,
That every tongue says beauty should look so.
多少次，你，我的音乐，弹奏在，
幸福的琴键上，轻快的声音，
从你轻柔的指尖流出，当你轻轻摇摆，
丝弦与我的双耳自在和鸣；
我常羡那琴键，轻盈、跳跃，
吻着你温柔的手心；
那本该是我可怜的嘴唇的收获，
却只能羞红脸在一旁艳羡失神；
心痒难熬，我的唇也欲，
与那欢快的琴键相处易境；
你的手指在它们身上漫步，
让这死去的木头比鲜活的嘴唇更幸运；
既然那孟浪的琴键能得如此快乐，
那就把手指给它们，把你的唇给我。
Sonnet 128
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
To be so tickl'd, they would change their
And situation with those dancing chips,
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more blest than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
赞 (0)