莎士比亚十四行诗第二十六、七、八首
26我的爱情之主,我已对你称臣你的美德和我的敬意紧密交织对你,我将以诗来传信不是逞露才华,而是向你述职我对你如此尊敬,辞采却如此贫瘠以至没有足够词汇,来做一点修饰但我仍期望着你对我的一丝好感能在你灵魂的思想中沉淀无论哪颗星指引我前行都能给我带来好运我以华服来掩饰荒芜的爱让我能配得上你甜蜜的期待届时我才敢说出多么爱你这之前,面对你的考验,我只能回避Sonnet 26Lord of my love,to whom in vassalageThy merit hath my duty strongly knit,To thee I send this written ambassageTo witness duty,not to show my wit; 4Duty so great,which wit so poor as mineMay make seem bare,in wanting words to show it,But that I hope some good conceit of thineIn thy soul's thought,all naked,will bestow it; 8Till whatsoever star that guides my movingPoints on me graciously with fair aspect,And puts apparel on my tattered loving,To show me worthy of thy sweet respect. 12Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;Till then,not show my head where thou mayst prove me.27我倒在床上,筋疲力竭让疲惫的肢体暂得安歇却又在脑海中展开新的旅程劳力始毕,又始劳心此时我的思念,不惧遥远热切的向你飞来朝谒令我睁开渴睡的眼帘凝视那盲人般的暗夜在我灵魂幻界的深处你的身影浮现在不可视的杳冥那圣洁的光芒驱散夜的恐惧黑夜也变得美丽,焕然一新看啊我白日劳形,夜里劳魂为你,也为自己,不得安宁Sonnet 27Weary with toil,I haste me to my bed,The dear repose for limbs with travail tired,But then begins a journey in my headTo work my mind,when body's work's expired. 4For then my thoughts,from far where I abide,Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,Looking on darkness which the blind do see, 8Save that my soul's imaginary sightPresents their shadow to my sightless view,Which like a jewel hung in ghastly night,Makes black night beauteous,and her old face new. 12Lo thus by day my limbs,by night my mind,For thee,and for myself,no quiet find.28如何能回到快乐中来在我被剥夺了休息的福利白天的苦累入夜都无法挣开心力交瘁而日夜相继日和夜虽统治着敌对的疆界却联起手来向我肆虐一个让我劳苦,一个让我抱怨我在远方罹难,却离你越来越远我讨好白天说,你是如此的辉煌哪怕乌云密布,也能将天空照亮我同样奉承黑夜说即便星淡无光,你也给夜空晖芒但白天天天延长我的苦痛而黑夜夜夜将这痛苦加重Sonnet 28How can I return in happy plight,That am debarr'd the benefit of rest?When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,But day by night and night by day oppress'd? 4And each,though enemies to either's reign,Do in consent shake hands to torture me,The one by toil,the other to complainHow far I toil,still farther off from thee. 8I tell the day,to please him thou art bright,And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven.So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,When sparkling stars twire not,thou glid'st the even. 12But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.
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