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|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
CES
|
Ryba, Jakub Jan
|
N. XI. Na Manželku.
|
Libě plynuli mně dnové,
Rájem byl mně s tebou svět –
Choti má! v tvé společnosti
Každý den mě k štěstí ved;
K štěstí, o němž jen ten ví,
An se věrnou Ženou stkví.
Jaká věrnost – jaká láska
Plápolala v srdcy tvém!
Neřádný duch lstného světa
Zahanben pad v klamu svém:
Tys jen chtěla přítele
Míti svého manžele.
Pilnost, čistota a tichost
Celý dům tvůj slíčila;
Pravá křesťanská pak mravnost
Domácým ctně svítila.
Největší vyražení
Bylo dítek vedení.
Laskavou tvou výmluvností
Srdce y duch okříval,
Jehož ouklad nepřátelský
Truchlivostí odíval;
Lilas opět v srdce med,
V němž se sázel pomsty jed.
O mé dítky! – ejhle Matka –
Přítelkyně vaše – má!
Již jde od nás – smutný osud!
Tenť nám všecko odjímá.
Ta nám byla jedinou
Přítelkyní upřímnou.
Však ne dlouho! zas se sejdem,
A to v lepší radosti;
Tam se spolu bez vší změny
Těšit budem v celosti;
Tam se teprv přátelství
Věčně kochajícý stkví.
Pokoj tobě, Přítelkyně –
Pokoj svatý tobě buď!
Odpočívej tam, kde srdce
Nezžírá ni lest, ni blud!
S Bohem věčnou radost měj,
Mzdy svých ctností požívej!
Až pak čas – což chtivě čekám –
Někdy mně zde uplyne,
Duše blažená! tuť příjdiž
S Krystem k smrti hodině!
Tak mé bude skonání
Nevyslovné plesání.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
HIN
|
Nihal Singh
|
परिन्दा
|
सर्द प्रभा के आलम में
लता पर बैठा हुआ परिन्दा
पल- पल निहारता रहता है
अम्बर की ओर
कोई सूरज का टुकड़ा
तुरंत निकल आए बदली से
तो सेक लूँ अपनी पल्कों पर
बैठी हुई शब की नन्ही- नन्ही
बूँदों की टुकड़ियों को
जिस्म को थोड़ी उष्ण मिल
जाए तो उड़ जाऊँ
नीले गगन में
फिर चला जाऊँ उड़कर के
दूर कहीं ऐसे देश में
जहाँ न तेज धूप हो
न घनहरी छाँव हो
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
FRA
|
MAETERLINCK, Maurice
|
Après-midi
|
Mes yeux ont pris mon âme au piège,
Mon Dieu, laissez tomber, mon Dieu,
Un peu de feuilles sur la neige,
Un peu de neige sur le feu.
J’ai du soleil sur l’oreiller,
Toujours les mêmes heures sonnent ;
Et mes regards vont s’effeuiller
Sur des mourantes qui moissonnent…
Mes mains cueillent de l’herbe sèche.
Et mes yeux ternis de sommeil,
Sont des malades sans eau fraîche,
Et des fleurs de cave au soleil.
J’attends de l’eau sur le gazon
Et sur mes songes immobiles,
Et mes regards à l’horizon
Suivent des agneaux dans les villes.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
FAS
|
ناصرخسرو
|
بخش ۲۳ - طرابرزن، جبیل و بیروت
|
پس از این شهر همچنان بر طرف دریا روی سوی جنوب. به یک فرسنگی حصاری دیدم که آن را قلمون می گفتند، چشمه ای آب اندرون آن بود. از آن جا برفتم به شهر طرابرزن و از طرابلس تا آن جا پنج فرسنگ بود. نو از آن جا به شهر جبیل رسیدیم و آن شهری است مثلث چنان که یک گوشه آن به دریاست، و گرد وی دیواری کشیده بسیار بلند و حصین، و همه گرد شهر درختان خرما و دیگر درخت های گرمسیری.
کودکی را دیدم گلی سرخ و یکی سپید تازه در دست داشت و آن روز پنجم اسفندارمذ ماه قدیم سال بر چهارصد و پانزده از تاریخ عجم.
و از آن جا به شهر بیروت رسیدیم. طاقی سنگین دیدم چنان که راه به میان آن طاق بیرون می رفت، بالای آن طاق پنجاه گز تقدیم کردم، و از جوانب او تخته سنگ های سفید برآورده چنان که هر سنگی از آن زیادت از هزار من بود، و این بنا را از خشت به مقداری بیست گز جهد در آغوش دو مرد گنجد، و بر سر این ستون ها طاق ها زده است به دو جانب همه از سنگ مهندم چنان که هیچ گچ و گل د راین میان نیست، و بعد از آن طاقی عظیم بر بالای آن طاق ها به میانه راست ساخته اند به بالای پنجاه ارش، و هر تخته سنگی را که در آن طاق بر نهاده است هر یکی را هشت ارش قیاس کردم در طول و در عرض چهار ارش که هر یک از آن تخمینا هفت هزار من باشد ف و اطن همه سنگ ها را کنده کاری و نقاشی خوب کرده چنان که در چوب بدان نیکویی کم کنند، و جز این طاقی بنای دیگر نمانده است بدای حوالی. پرسیدم که این چه جای است گفتند که شنیده ایم که این در باغ فرعون بوده است و بس قدیم است، و همه صحرای آن ناحیت ستون های رخام است و سرستون ها و تن ستون ها همه رخام منقوش مدور و مربع و مسدس و مثمن و سنگ عظیم صلب که آهن بر آن کار نمی کند وبدان حوالی هیچ جای کوهی نه که گمان افتد که از آن جا بریده اند و سنگی دیگر همچو معجونی می نمود آن چنان که سنگ های دیگر مسخر آهن بود. و اندر نواحی شام پانصد هزار ستون یا سر ستون و تن بیش افتاده است که هیچ آفریده نداند که آن چه بوده است یا از کجا آورده اند.
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
RUS
|
Грибоедов Александр Сергеевич
|
Там, где вьется Алазань
|
Там, где вьется Алазань,
Веет нега и прохлада,
Где в садах сбирают дань
Пурпурного винограда,
Светло светит луч дневной,
Рано ищут, любят друга...
Ты знаком ли с той страной,
Где земля не знает плуга,
Вечно-юная блестит
Пышно яркими цветами
И садителя дарит
Золотистыми плодами?..
Странник, знаешь ли любовь,
Не подругу снам покойным,
Страшную под небом знойным?
Как пылает ею кровь?
Ей живут и ею дышат,
Страждут и падут в боях
С ней в душе и на устах.
Так самумы с юга пышат,
Раскаляют степь...
Что судьба, разлука, смерть!..
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T1
|
BOS
|
Hadžem Hajdarević
|
Proticanje vremena, prema Montaleu
|
Ako je poezija hvatanje suština u bijegu, šta, na koncu, ostaje pjesniku da pamti?
U pjesnikovu odsustvu ništa više prisutno nije.
Sve biva pokorno jeziku gluhih satova i skritih pijetlova što mahat će krilima i glasom kao da produžuju sudbinu svakom od nas.
Mrtvo je samo ono što je lišeno nježnosti… Živo je samo ono što može imati ranu… Ali, između tih općih smutnji u rečenicama negdje se gubi trag i onog što bježi i onog što uhodi mu miris i dah.
Zato traje panična potraga za suštastvom i po zlatnim cjediljkama hvata se muzga i mulj.
Samo je suština čista od Radosti i Bola.
A ona tek – nevidni melek!
– bježi pod prstima, uklanja se riječima, i glasno struji u nama i oko nas… (Iz knjige pjesama Sutrašnje putovanje brodom, , .)
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
SPA
|
Alí Chumacero
|
El sueño de Adán
|
Ligera fue tu voz, mas tu palabra dura
con vuelo de paloma sin más peso
que su inmóvil cruzar el mar del viento;
y persistes como un sonido bajo el agua,
desde mi piel al aire levantada,
ligera como fuiste, como esa ala
que olvidada del mundo se recrea,
convertida en ausencia y en olvido.
Vivo de oírme el cuerpo y de entregarme al tiempo
como a un rumbo sin luz la adormecida rosa,
como asoma en el sueño y luego muere
el cielo que una tarde contemplamos,
y oigo la vida en mí, su aliento te recuerda
ingrávida, en latidos desprendida,
con un temblor de silenciosas aguas
de su propia amargura renaciendo.
Sufres conmigo cuando sólo miro
que el amor es un cuerpo de imágenes poblado,
y caricia se llama al tocar el recuerdo,
a sentir las tinieblas en las manos
y en un esfuerzo inútil oponerse
a ese tiempo que arrastra nuestro duelo
hasta inclinar los labios a la nieve
y tender en ceniza nuestros cuerpos.
Te siente el corazón como un aroma
que en un eco perdiera sus imágenes,
y me palpo la piel tocando en ella
la tersura del agua donde yaces,
y después quedo solo, enamorado
de esta voz que del cuerpo se desprende
tornada en pensamiento, y en palabras te crea,
nacida nuevamente de mi sueño.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
滕翔
|
普照寺
|
海翻波浪遶危峰，
無盡巖前此界空。
不是灰心求佛者，
片時艱住寂寥中。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
張均
|
和尹懋秋夜遊㴩湖二首
|
遠水沈西日，
寒沙聚夜鷗。
平湖乘月滿，
飛棹接星流。
黃葉鳴淒吹，
蒼葭掃暗洲。
願移滄浦賞，
歸待潁川遊。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
TUR
|
Güven Turan
|
Kıyıda
|
Yel savuruyor birikintilerdeki
yusufcukları
öd yeşili bir yaz
damlatıyor karadutların suyunu
malta taşlarına
Ağaçları genleştiren bir
gülüş
çığlıklı
sıyrılıyor incirin yapraklarından
Kız! Esmer!
Gece olunca pencerelerdedir
soyunur uzun saçlarına
(deniz kaldırır erkekliğini)
kararan ve egemen tansık
serinletir kasıklarımı
/ Killeşmiş bir sevgi - -
Unutulmayan - -
Durur bir yanda daha /
Dinmez gürültüler diriltiyor
küçük kuşların kanı
erdiriyor gök yemişleri
kışın doğurduğu damarlarımda
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T1
|
T2
|
T2
|
FRA
|
[anonymous]
|
L'ESPRIT FORT
|
Aux pieds d'un Directeur, Climène, un beau matin,
Avec un repentir sincère,
Déclara nettement que le petit Colin
N'étoit pas le fils de son père.
‒ « Halte là ! » dit le Confesseur,
« Pour un Confiteor vous n'en serez pas quitte ;
» Il en faut deux au moins, ce crime fait horreur.
» Faut-il qu'injustement votre enfant déshérite
» Un légitime successeur ?
» Il faut, Madame, vous résoudre
» A confesser le fait à votre époux,» A confesser le fait à votre époux,
» Sans quoi je ne puis vous absoudre. »
L'avouer ne se pouvoit pas.
La voilà dans un embarras
Qu'on ne peut exprimer, car enfin l'aventure
Étoit à digérer trop dure.
Il fallut succomber, et, d'un mortel chagrin,
Tomber dans une maladie
Qui pensa lui coûter la vie.
Sur le rapport du Médecin,
Son époux connoissant que la mélancolie
Alloit couper la trame de ses jours,
La pria d'en dire la cause.
Elle veut l'en instruire, et jamais elle n'ose.
‒ « Ose tout, » dit-il, « mes amours :
« Rien ne me déplaira, pourvu qu'on te guérisse ;
» Quoi ! faut-il qu'un secret te donne la jaunisse,
» Et qu'une femme meure, à faute de parler ?
» Cela seroit nouveau. ‒ Je vais tout révéler,
» Puisqu'aussi bien, » dit-elle, « un repos favorable
» Doit terminer bientôt mon état déplorable.
» J'étois à la maison des champs,
» Où je faisois la ménagère,
» Quand la voisine Alix, par des discours touchants,
» Auxquels on ne résiste guère,
» Me prouva qu'avoir des enfants
» Étoit à vous chose impossible ;
» Me prôna les malheurs de la stérilité,
» Qui chez les Juifs passoit pour un défaut terrible ;
» Puis dans un jour charmant me fit voir la beauté
» D'une heureuse fécondité.
» Je me rendis, hélas ! à cette douce amorce,
» Et Lucas, le Valet de notre Métayer,
» Avec moi se trouvant un jour dans le grenier,
» Je me souvins d'Alix, et je manquai de force.
» Il est, cela soit dit sans vous mettre en courroux,
» A faire des enfants plus habile que vous.
» Je lui parlai d'amour, il comprit mon langage,
» Et sur un sac de blé, sac funeste et maudit !
» Faut-il en dire davantage ?
» De ce malheureux sac, notre Colin sortit.
» A Lucas je donnai, je pense,
» Quelques boisseaux de blé pour toute récompense.
» Si je vous ai trahi, je meurs, pardonnez-moi ;
» A cela près, toujours je vous gardai ma foi.
» ‒ N'est-ce pas de mon blé que tu payas l'ouvrage ? »
Lui répondit Damis, nullement effrayé.
« Cet enfant est à moi, puisque je l'ai payé ;
» Ne m'en parle pas davantage. »
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T4
|
T2
|
LZH
|
陳夢庚
|
唐刻石
|
長憶唐從天寶初，
開元氣象了無餘。
宮中已製霓裳曲，
刻石山靈失笑渠。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
CES
|
Leubner, František
|
ŽENA.
|
„Mistře, tisknu vděčně tvou žehnající ruku,
i tak věře v blaho dvou srdcí v jednom tluku.
Na divy se plní úst upřímných mi přání:
celý Eden v květu se nad hlavu mi sklání!
Co mám, vděčím otci; však od Boha je žena.
Plesám, jaký se mnou div děje se a změna!
Den mi smavě září a srdce slastně bije,
kdy mi něžná žena kol hrdla rámě vije.
Odhalil jsem závoj a oko v oko vhloubil
o toužný den svatby. Zřím: anděla jsem snoubil!
Není z dcer snad lidských; mně anděl jest to věru,
vděčně pravím sobě dní svatby ku závěru.“
Menachem ben Rekanat čelo v chmurné vrásky,
vyčítavě kývá, léč klade do otázky:
„Kolik trvá svatba dní, pověz, milý synu?“
– „Sedmero, jak mrav jest, dob dávných u pokynu.“
„Za dob dávných anděl i k dcerám lidským vcházel –“
– „Za choť já mám anděla, by žitím doprovázel!“
„Patříval jsi druhdy k mých bystrých učňů sněmu,
a čest malá z toho dnes rabbi Menachemu.
Myslím: ženu pojal's! Již pomni, láskou nesni:
Zda se za dní sedmero anděl neztělesní?
Sedm dní a nocí – duch tady v tělo hutní,
nevrátí se nebi, ač po něm stále smutní.“
Menachem ben Rekanat hladí shovívavě
sivou bradu dlaní, dál zvídavě mu pravě:
„Nejedl tvůj anděl až dosud z darů země,
ani na tvé hrudi se nerozplynul jemně?
Anděla jsi viděl rouch snubních pod závoji –
ruka s rukou, člověk jen s člověkem se pojí.“
Vážní kmet a co dí – tok klidný beze vzruchu.
Váhou svou plať slovo, jež dojíti má sluchu:
„Netrať nikdy víry v choť – anděla svých kroků,
byť jen dobrá žena šla v lásce po tvém boku.
Žádáš syna z ledví svých – manželkou jest žena,
která tobě před Bohem byla zasnoubena.
Víno pil jsi družně s ní ze svatební číše,
v bolestech jí rodních pak slzy slíbej tiše.
Jiná žena – sestra! Viz sestru ve své ženě,
jí když rady třeba, když tobě; trud jest denně.
A kdy tobě třeba snah podpory, v zlu těchy,
manželka ti matkou a žalu na oddechy.
Světicí jest matka a vášní bez rozporu
s důvěrou se sluní syn v matky čistém zoru.
A kdy ženě třeba jen vlídné z chyby výtky,
jest ti dcerou; naprav, hned nelam křivé snítky.
To jest žena. To buď: niv tvojich pilnou včelou,
nad tvou ve snu hlavou již bzučí péčí bdělou.
Žena ti buď révou, jež k domu se ti tulí,
byť se bouře nad ním až do oblaků vzduly.
Buď ti hvězdou jasnou, kdy země tmí se němá –
běda člověku, jenž ani hvězdy nemá.
Kořen – muž; a žena – buď korunou mu plodnou:
ovoce mu nese a chrání střechu rodnou.
Andělem jest dvakrát (znám k mladosti se svojí):
snubu pod závoji, smrt na prahu kdy stojí.
Chladná víčka v důlky ti jemnou dlaní vtlačí
a jde v doprovody, kde hrob jí věčnost značí.“
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
جنوب الهذلية
|
قصيدة كُلُّ اِمرىءٍ بِطِوالِ العَيشِ مَكذوبُ
|
كُلُّ اِمرىءٍ بِطِوالِ العَيشِ مَكذوبُ
وَكُلُّ مَن غالَبَ الأَيّامَ مَغلوبُ
وَكُلُّ حَيٍّ وَإِن طالَت سَلامَتَهُم
يَوماً طَريقُهُم في الشَرِّ دُعبوبُ
وَكُلُّ مَن غالَبَ الأَيّامَ مِن رَجُلٍ
مودٍ وَتابِعُهُ الشُبّانُ وَالشيبُ
بَينَنا الفَتى ناعِمٌ راضٍ بِعيشَتِهِ
سيقَ لَهُ مِن دَواهي الدَهرِ شُؤبوبُ
أَبلِغ بَني كاهِلٍ عَنّي مُغَلغَلَةً
وَالقَومُ مِن دونِهِم سَعيا وَمَركوبُ
أَبلِغ هُذَيلاً وَأَبلِغ مِن يَبَلِّغَها
عَنّي رَسولاً وَبَعضُ القَولِ تَكذيبُ
بِأَنّ ذاَ الكَلبِ عَمراً خَيرُهُم نَسَباً
بِبَطنِ شَريانَ يِعوي عِندَهُ الذيبُ
الطاعِنُ الطَعنَةَ النَجلاءَ يَتبَعَها
مُثعَنجِرٌ مِن دِماءِ الجَوفِ أُثعوبُ
والتارك القرن مصفراً أنامله
كأنه من رجيع الجوف مخضوب
تَمشي النُسورُ إِلَيهِ وَهِيَ لاهِيَةٌ
مَشيَ العَذارى عَلَيهِنَّ الجَلابيبُ
المُخرِجُ الكاعِبَ الحَسناءَ مُذعِنَةً
في السَبيِ يَنفَحُ مِن أَردانِها الطيبُ
فَلَم يَرَوا مِثلَ عَمرٍو ما خَطَت قَدَمٌ
وَلَن يَرَوا مِثلَهُ ما حَنَّتِ النِيَبُ
فَاِجزوا تَأَبَّطَ شَرّاً لا أَبالَكُم
صاعاً بِصاعٍ فَإِنَّ الذُلَّ مَعتوبُ
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T4
|
T3
|
LZH
|
揭轨
|
秋日汴京同马希穆登上方琉璃塔
|
東出榛莽間，
宫城何窈窕。
悲涼懐故都，
秋日荒臺沼。
浮屠出苑邊，
上跨清虚表。
琉璃半莓苔，
五色猶皎皎。
罘罳映落花，
觚稜却飛鳥。
崑崙倚户隂，
海色當窓曉。
珮聲河漢落，
屐齒天香繞。
野夫方留滯，
萬染何時了。
去漢春已深，
游梁秋又杪。
登髙慨揺落，
令我憂心悄。
飄飄茂陵客，
髙興秋天杳。
綵豪不勝寒，
仙露知多少。
落日望江南，
一㸃青山小。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T3
|
T1
|
JPN
|
朝宗
| null |
かせのおとは またふきかへぬ くさのはの つゆにそあきの いろはみえける
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
ZHO
|
苏洪生
|
茶树花的白
|
一
温暖的阳光多了，总会有一些
色彩，打破沉默和寒冷
在凉态还未退去的静美之时
茶树花开出雪白的花朵
像阴暗的山间突然亮起了星光
茶树的枝条上一点一点地绽放
释放出冰和雪
白色总会到来，一切才刚刚开始啊
在我想念根须时
蜜蜂疯一样向我飞来
预示着某种真实
二
艰辛、无奈总是多于喜悦
茶树蓓蕾的膨大
依然在无声无息地发生着
仿佛一切都可以用来生长、开花、结果
端午节的小路上点缀着星星点点的野花
细雨将它们清洗得明亮而淡雅
父亲的双眼
填满这幅巨大的油画
天地如此之美
这一切让我和父亲像一次久别的重逢
茶树花嫩白的脸上反射出金黄的光晕
女儿的眼眸闪着花蕊鲜艳的色彩
三
与门有关的一切
涂抹得温暖而安逸
母亲如一株茶树坐在那里
坐在夕阳的光辉里
额头上雕琢般精致的皱纹
轻微渗出汗珠
母亲的脸上结着时光的茶树果
如果你闻到一丝茶香不要惊讶
花的白色替代了叹息和苍老
母亲说，随着期望的种子破土而出
人间的花总是会多于哀愁
四
浅白色的花在枝头上在枝杆上
紧挨着深绿色的叶片
看上去十分轻柔。蜜蜂在花蕊中滚动
它将身上的嘴和针扎在了这里
在茶树下，我有绿色的欲望
并将身体慢慢缩紧
我苦寻我灵魂的色彩
在夏天的新生事物中
绿色喷发出来的火焰
正撞击着思想固执的围墙
我爱一切绿色的幽暗
更爱绚丽的绿色开放
五
唱着正气歌的白
空里流霜不觉飞
看不见的白，让人有幽静
空灵的感觉。探讨白的美
茶树开花了，无声无息
一朵一朵的开了
一树一树的，开得那么耀眼
那么白
白过了一个冬天的冷冽
白过了一座山村的寂寞与空旷
那么白，白过了暗夜一盏盏不眠的灯火
白过了生命线上
一只只挣扎着始终不肯落下的手
茶树花的白
是玉的白，不是雪的白
是柔和的白，不是刺眼的白
一把汗水，洒在茶园里
南山的茶树开花了，北山的茶树也开花了
开得那么热切，那么白
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T2
|
T1
|
SPA
|
Eliodoro Aillón Terán
|
Simplemente
|
Si pudiéramos decir:
el árbol, simplemente,
sin viento que lo inquieten,
sin pájaros que lo pinten.
Y luego,
la mujer, simplemente,
sin adjetivos,
sin paisaje que la desnude.
Después,
el hombre, simplemente,
sin miedo que lo agigante
ni sombra que lo entretenga.
Si pudiéramos decir:
el árbol, la mujer y el hombre,
simplemente,
sin vientos, sin pájaros, sin adjetivos,
sin paisaje, sin miedo y sin sombra.
Simplemente.
|
T6
|
语言、艺术与创造
|
T6
|
T6
|
T3
|
CES
|
Buk, A. K.
|
LESNÍ IDYLKY
|
Stín se sklání na hory,
les se v soumrak halí,
na palouku tancují
trpaslíci malí...
Zpívají si písničky
jemné jejich hlásky,
sskupili se náhle teď
kolem zlatovlásky.
A víla jim povídá
báje všelijaké;
pojďte, pojďte rychle k nim,
poslechneme také...
Zpod hříbečku pod břízou
vyšel trpaslíček...
Nyní ještě shání sen
s ospalých si víček.
Podívá se na ten svět,
co se to tam děje:
kmotr pavouk až na zem
slét' krom obyčeje...
Muchomůrka růžnou líc
k veselosti ladí,
vánek bílý břízy kmen
z polehounka hladí...
Kapradiny hned se ptá,
ona na to praví:
„Zříš ty ohně na horách,
chasy bujné davy?
Svatojánský večer je...
Přijdou hledat léky,
proto dnes se šatí les
v nejkrasší své vděky...“
Zalez' v hříbek trpaslík,
zlost měl na ty doby. –
I v té lesů samotě
hloupý svět ho zlobí...
„To byl křik, to vám byl shon!
Ještě teď se třesu...
A tu zprávu čerstvou hned
kmotřičko vám nesu!“
Tak povídal malý hřib
k muchomůrce rudé:
„Z toho ještě válka as
u medáků bude...
Šlo vám deset medáků
do lesního stínu,
aby z malých kalíšků
pili medovinu.
Medáková seděla
nebylo s ní řeči...
Za to ale k půlnoci
stokrát křik byl větší...
Pil pan medák přespříliš,
očka jen mu hrála.
Kolik pil, to na proužcích
paní spočítala...
To byl křik, to vám byl shon,
stonek se mi třese...
S pánembohem – válka as
bude v celém lese...“
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
ENG
|
Eddy, Mary Baker
|
AUTUMN
|
Quickly earth's jewels disappear;
The turf, whereon I tread,
Ere autumn blanch another year,
May rest above my head.
Touched by the finger of decay
Is every earthly love;
For joy, to shun my weary way,
Is registered above.
The languid brooklets yield their sighs,
A requiem o'er the tomb
Of sunny days and cloudless skies,
Enhancing autumn's gloom.
The wild winds mutter, howl, and moan,
To scare my woodland walk,
And frightened fancy flees, to roam
Where ghosts and goblins stalk.
The cricket's sharp, discordant scream
Fills mortal sense with dread;
More sorrowful it scarce could seem;
It voices beauty fled.
Yet here, upon this faded sod,—
O happy hours and fleet,—
When songsters’ matin hymns to God
Are poured in strains so sweet,
My heart unbidden joins rehearse,
I hope it's better made,
When mingling with the universe,
Beneath the maple's shade.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
RUS
|
Капнист Пётр Иванович
|
Гусар
|
В его очах горит огонь,
На нём мундир как солнце блещет,
Под ним дрожит могучий конь,
И ментик в воздухе трепещет.
Сверкает сабля и гремит,
И сбруя в пене серебрится;
Красуясь, ловко он сидит
И в даль синеющую мчится...
Вот он – красавицы мечта!
Вот он – сияющий невежда!
России шаткая надежда,
И блеск, и шум, и пустота!..
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ITA
|
Felice Socciarelli
|
Poesia di Felice Socciarelli - La sveglia del gallo
|
Poesia di Felice Socciarelli
La sveglia del gallo
La mia mamma ha sei galline
vispe belle e canterine
quando fanno coccodè
c'è un bell 'ovo anche per me
Sei galline ed un bel gallo
di colore nero e giallo
che sul far della mattina
fa una bella cantatina
Con quel canto sveglia presto
l'uomo pigro l'uomo lesto
chi lavora chi va a scuola
e ogni mamma resta sola,
resta sola coi bambini
che son troppo piccolini
per andarsene anche loro
alla scuola o al lavoro.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
徐栢齡
|
春日
|
風聲起松末，
窈若萬壑深。
誰謂市井喧，
遂無天地心。
可惜天桃花，
不言萎空林。
明年縱復開，
顔色不如今。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T1
|
ARA
|
الشاعر لقيط بن يعمر الإيادي
|
قصيدة يا دار عمرة
|
يا دارَ عَمْرةَ من مُحتلِّها الجَرَعا
هاجتَ لي الهمّ والأحزانَ والوجعا
تامت فؤادي بذات الجزع خرعبة
مرت تريد بذات العذبة البِيَعا
فما أزال على شحط يؤرقني
طيفٌ تعمَّدَ رحلي حيث ما وضعا
ألا تخافون قوماً لا أبا لكم
أمسوا إليكم كأمثال الدّبا سُرُعا
فهم سراع إليكم بين ملتقطٍ
شوكاً وآخر يجني الصاب والسّلعا
وتلبسون ثياب الأمن ضاحيةً
لا تجمعون وهذا الليث قد جَمعَا
وقد أظلّكم من شطر ثغركم
هولُ له ظلم تغشاكم قطعا
جرت لما بيننا حبل الشموس فلا
يأساً مبيناً نرى منها ولا طمعا
إني بعيني ما أمّت حمولُهم
بطنَ السَّلوطحِ لا ينظرنَ مَنْ تَبعا
أبناء قوم تأووكم على حنقٍ
لا يشعرون أضرَّ الله أم نفعا
لو أن جمعهمُ راموا بهدّته
شُمَّ الشَّماريخِ من ثهلانَ لانصدعا
أنتمْ فريقانِ هذا لا يقوم له
هصرُ الليوثِ وهذا هالك صقعا
مالي أراكم نياماً في بلهنيةٍ
وقد ترونَ شِهابَ الحرب قد سطعا
طوراً أراهم وطوراً لا أبينهم
إذا تواضع خدر ساعة لمعا
أحرار فارس أبناء الملوك لهم
من الجموع جموعٌ تزدهي القلعا
في كل يومٍ يسنّون الحراب لكم
لا يهجعونَ إذا ما غافلٌ هجعا
فاشفوا غليلي برأيٍ منكمُ حَسَنٍ
يُضحي فؤادي له ريّان قد نقعا
بل أيها الراكب المزجي على عجل
نحو الجزيرة مرتاداً ومنتجعا
خُرْزاً عيونُهم كأنَّ لحظَهم
حريقُ نار ترى منه السّنا قِطعا
ولا تكونوا كمن قد باتَ مُكْتنِعا
إذا يقال له: افرجْ غمَّةً كَنَعا
أبلغ إياداً وخلّل في سراتهم
إني أرى الرأي إن لم أعصَ قد نصعا
لا الحرثُ يشغَلُهم بل لا يرون لهم
من دون بيضتِكم رِيّاً ولا شِبَعا
صونوا جيادكم واجلوا سيوفكم
وجددوا للقسيّ النَّبل والشّرعا
يا لهفَ نفسي إن كانت أموركم
شتى وأُحْكِمَ أمر الناس فاجتمعا
وأنتمُ تحرثونَ الأرضَ عن سَفَهٍ
في كل معتملٍ تبغون مزدرعا
اشروا تلادكم في حرز أنفسكم
وحِرْز نسوتكم لا تهلكوا هَلَعا
وتُلقحون حِيالَ الشّوْل آونةً
وتنتجون بدار القلعةِ الرُّبعا
ولا يدعْ بعضُكم بعضاً لنائبةٍ
كما تركتم بأعلى بيشةَ النخعا
اذكوا العيون وراء السرحِ واحترسوا
حتى ترى الخيل من تعدائها رُجُعا
فإن غُلبتم على ضنٍّ بداركم
فقد لقيتم بأمرِ حازمٍ فَزَعا
لا تلهكم إبلُ ليست لكم إبلُ
إن العدو بعظم منكم قَرَعا
هيهات لا مالَ من زرع ولا إبلٍ
يُرجى لغابركم إن أنفكم جُدِعا
لا تثمروا المالَ للأعداء إنهم
إن يظفروا يحتووكم والتّلاد معا
والله ما انفكت الأموال مذ أبدُ
لأهلها أن أصيبوا مرةً تبعا
يا قومُ إنَّ لكم من عزّ أوّلكم
إرثاً قد أشفقت أن يُودي فينقطعا
وما يَرُدُّ عليكم عزُّ أوّلكم
أن ضاعَ آخره أو ذلَّ فاتضعا
فلا تغرنكم دنياً ولا طمعُ
لن تنعشوا بزماعٍ ذلك الطمعا
يا قومُ بيضتكم لا تفجعنَّ بها
إني أخافُ عليها الأزلمَ الجذعا
يا قومُ لا تأمنوا إن كنتمُ غُيُراً
على نسائكم كسرى وما جمعا
هو الجلاء الذي يجتثُّ أصلكم
فمن رأى مثل ذا رأياً ومن سمعا
قوموا قياماً على أمشاط أرجلكم
ثم افزعوا قد ينال الأمن من فزعا
فقلدوا أمركم لله دركم
رحبَ الذراع بأمر الحرب مضطلعا
لا مترفاً إن رخاءُ العيش ساعده
ولا إذا عضَّ مكروهُ به خشعا
مُسهّدُ النوم تعنيه ثغوركم
يروم منها إلى الأعداء مُطّلعا
ما انفك يحلب درَّ الدهر أشطره
يكون مُتّبَعا طوراً ومُتبِعا
وليس يشغَله مالٌ يثمّرُهُ
عنكم ولا ولد يبغى له الرفعا
حتى استمرت على شزر مريرته
مستحكمَ السنِ لا قمحاً ولا ضرعا
كمالِك بن قنانٍ أو كصاحبه
زيد القنا يوم لاقى الحارثين معا
إذّ عابه عائبُ يوماً فقال له
دمّث لجنبك قبل الليل مضطجعا
فساوروه فألفوه أخا علل
في الحرب يحتبلُ الرئبالَ والسبعا
عبلَ الذراع أبياً ذا مزابنةٍ
في الحرب لا عاجزاً نكساً ولا ورعا
مستنجداً يتّحدَّى الناسَ كلّهمُ
لو قارعَ الناسَ عن أحسابهم قَرَعا
هذا كتابي إليكم والنذير لكم
لمن رأى رأيه منكم ومن سمعا
لقد بذلت لكم نصحي بلا دخل
فاستيقظوا إن خيرَ العلم ما نفعا
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ARA
|
الشاعر ابن الديبع الشيباني
|
قصيدة تنازع قوم في البخاري ومسلم
|
تنازع قوم في البخاري ومسلم
لديَّ وقالوا أي ذين يقدم
فقلت لقد فاق البخاري صنعة
كما فاق في حسن الصياغة مسلم
|
T6
|
语言、艺术与创造
|
T6
|
T6
|
T5
|
ARA
|
الشاعر تأبط شراً
|
قصيدة جَزَى اللَّهُ فِتْيَاناً عَلَى العَوْصِ أَمْطَرَتْ
|
جَزَى اللَّهُ فِتْيَاناً عَلَى العَوْصِ أَمْطَرَتْ
سماؤهمُ تحتَ العجاجة بالدمِ
وَقَدْ لاَحَ ضَوْءُ الْفَجرِ عَرْضاً كَأَنَّهُ
بلمحتهِ أقرابُ أبلقَ أدهمِ
فَإنَّ شَفَاءَ الدَّاءِ إدْرَاكُ نُحْلَةٍ
صياحٌ على آثارِ حومٍ عرمرمِ
وضاربتهمْ بالسَّفحِ إذ عارضتُهم
قبائلُ من أبناءِ بشرٍ وخثعم
ضراباً غدا منهُ ابنُ حاجزَ هارباً
ذُرَى الصَّخْرِ فِي جَدْرِ الرَّجِيلِ المُرَيَّمِ
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
馬知節
|
送張無夢歸天台山
|
暫至朝真主，
卻思歸舊峰。
只依三事布，
唯有一枝筇。
月上當孤室，
風生自古松。
陰功從此滿，
何處覓遺蹤。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
CES
|
Heyduk, Adolf
|
LODILOM.
|
Divoce, vztekle bije hrom,
v bouři se rodí lodilom,
kolébkou jsou mu ty chmury,
hrozný to silák pln zdůry...
Královno nebes, buď s námi!
Lapí-li koráb v náruč svou,
zahyne spoustnou záplavou;
jestliže v lanoví sedne,
za žezlo stěžen si zvedne...
Královno nebes, buď s námi!
Žalostná, hrozná bude věc,
loď-li si vezme na tanec,
při plesu s obřími skoky
rozdrtí korábu boky...
Královno nebes, buď s námi!
Blíží se s děsným chechtotem,
moře se peří, vzdychá zem,
žhavé, hle, vyvalil oči;
přeběda, po nás se točí...
Královno nebes, buď s námi!
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T1
|
T5
|
LZH
|
支立
|
東作圖
|
一犁春雨盈田疇，
邨南邨北啼鈎輈。
陽和入土土脉潤，
穀種已見舒銀鈎。
朝来雨晴天氣燠，
大牛小牛泥滿腹。
蚊䖟亂集龍貝疎，
驅牛且向前溪浴。
浴罷起來勤著鞭，
趂暖且耕山後田。
山泉易涸時易過，
蒔秧肯讓他人先。
阿翁老倦扶不起，
阿婆日旰未梳洗。
鳶魚向人如道飢，
飛來啄盡盆中米。
婦且炊，
兒莫啼，
蠲租有詔矜黔黎。
五月不須糶新穀，
酒壓珍珠飯抄玉。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T1
|
T4
|
T4
|
ENG
|
Bryant, William Cullen
|
THE FOUNTAIN.°
|
Fountain, that springest on this grassy slope,
Thy quick cool murmur mingles pleasantly,
With the cool sound of breezes in the beach,
Above me in the noontide. Thou dost wear
No stain of thy dark birthplace; gushing up
From the red mould and slimy roots of earth,
Thou flashest in the sun. The mountain air,
In winter, is not clearer, nor the dew
That shines on mountain blossom. Thus doth God
Bring, from the dark and foul, the pure and bright.
This tangled thicket on the bank above
Thy basin, how thy waters keep it green!
For thou dost feed the roots of the wild vine
That trails all over it, and to the twigs
Ties fast her clusters. There the spice-bush lifts
Her leafy lances; the viburnum there,
Paler of foliage, to the sun holds up
Her circlet of green berries. In and out
The chipping sparrow, in her coat of brown,
Steals silently, lest I should mark her nest.
Not such thou wert of yore, ere yet the axe
Had smitten the old woods. Then hoary trunks
Of oak, and plane, and hickory, o'er thee held
A mighty canopy. When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip-tree, high up,
Opened, in airs of June, her multitude
Of golden chalices to humming-birds
And silken-winged insects of the sky.
Frail wood-plants clustered round thy edge in Spring.
The liverleaf put forth her sister blooms
Of faintest blue. Here the quick-footed wolf,
Passing to lap thy waters, crushed the flower
Of sanguinaria, from whose brittle stem
The red drops fell like blood. The deer, too, left
Her delicate foot-print in the soft moist mould,
And on the fallen leaves. The slow-paced bear,
In such a sultry summer noon as this,
Stopped at thy stream, and drank, and leaped across.
But thou hast histories that stir the heart
With deeper feeling; while I look on thee
They rise before me. I behold the scene
Hoary again with forests; I behold
The Indian warrior, whom a hand unseen
Has smitten with his death-wound in the woods,
Creep slowly to thy well-known rivulet,
And slake his death-thirst. Hark, that quick fierce cry
That rends the utter silence;‘ tis the whoop
Of battle, and a throng of savage men
With naked arms and faces stained like blood,
Fill the green wilderness; the long bare arms
Are heaved aloft, bows twang and arrows stream;
Each makes a tree his shield, and every tree
Sends forth its arrow. Fierce the fight and short,
As is the whirlwind. Soon the conquerors
And conquered vanish, and the dead remain
Mangled by tomahawks. The mighty woods
Are still again, the frighted bird comes back
And plumes her wings; but thy sweet waters run
Crimson with blood. Then, as the sun goes down,
Amid the deepening twilight I descry
Figures of men that crouch and creep unheard,
And bear away the dead. The next day's shower
Shall wash the tokens of the fight away.
I look again — a hunter's lodge is built,
With poles and boughs, beside thy crystal well,
While the meek autumn stains the woods with gold,
And sheds his golden sunshine. To the door
The red man slowly drags the enormous bear
Slain in the chestnut thicket, or flings down
The deer from his strong shoulders. Shaggy fells
Of wolf and cougar hang upon the walls,
And loud the black-eyed Indian maidens laugh,
That gather, from the rustling heaps of leaves,
The hickory's white nuts, and the dark fruit
That falls from the gray butternut's long boughs.
So centuries passed by, and still the woods
Blossomed in spring, and reddened when the year
Grew chill, and glistened in the frozen rains
Of winter, till the white man swung the axe
Beside thee — signal of a mighty change.
Then all around was heard the crash of trees,
Trembling awhile and rushing to the ground,
The low of ox, and shouts of men who fired
The brushwood, or who tore the earth with ploughs.
The grain sprang thick and tall, and hid in green
The blackened hill-side; ranks of spiky maize
Rose like a host embattled; the buckwheat
Whitened broad acres, sweetening with its flowers
The August wind. White cottages were seen
With rose-trees at the windows; barns from which
Came loud and shrill the crowing of the cock;
Pastures where rolled and neighed the lordly horse,
And white flocks browsed and bleated. A rich turf
Of grasses brought from far o'ercrept thy bank,
Spotted with the white clover. Blue-eyed girls
Brought pails, and dipped them in thy crystal pool;
And children, ruddy-cheeked and flaxen-haired,
Gathered the glistening cowslip from thy edge.
Since then, what steps have trod thy border! Here
On thy green bank, the woodmann of the swamp
Has laid his axe, the reaper of the hill
His sickle, as they stooped to taste thy stream.
The sportsman, tired with wandering in the still
September noon, has bathed his heated brow
In thy cool current. Shouting boys, let loose
For a wild holiday, have quaintly shaped
Into a cup the folded linden leaf,
And dipped thy sliding crystal. From the wars
Returning, the plumed soldier by thy side
Has sat, and mused how pleasant‘ twere to dwell
In such a spot, and be as free as thou,
And move for no man's bidding more. At eve,
When thou wert crimson with the crimson sky,
Lovers have gazed upon thee, and have thought
Their mingled lives should flow as peacefully
And brightly as thy waters. Here the sage,
Gazing into thy self-replenished depth,
Has seen eternal order circumscribe
And bind the motions of eternal change,
And from the gushing of thy simple fount
Has reasoned to the mighty universe.
Is there no other change for thee, that lurks
Among the future ages? Will not man
Seek out strange arts to wither and deform
The pleasant landscape which thou makest green?
Or shall the veins that feed thy constant stream
Be choked in middle earth, and flow no more
For ever, that the water-plants along
Thy channel perish, and the bird in vain
Alight to drink? Haply shall these green hills
Sink, with the lapse of years, into the gulf
Of ocean waters, and thy source be lost
Amidst the bitter brine? Or shall they rise,
Upheaved in broken cliffs and airy peaks,
Haunts of the eagle and the snake, and thou
Gush midway from the bare and barren steep?
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
ARA
|
الشاعر سليمان الصولة
|
قصيدة بشر سعيدا بأن الشمس قد ولدت
|
بشر سعيداً بأن الشمس قد ولدت
سعد السعود الذي أنواره ظهرت
وافى زليخة من بعد القنوط فقل
لقومها أرخوا بالسعد قد ظفرت
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T4
|
T2
|
LZH
|
沈应
|
将归山中留别李二公勉
|
三月风光尚夹衣，
暖云笼日午行迟。
杏园却近桃花坞，
寒食相兼上巳时。
芳草家家迷蛱蝶，
棠梨树树转黄鹂。
几回欲共行春乐，
南浦归舟已有期。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T2
|
T1
|
HIN
|
Chandrasakhi
|
4. होली खेलन आया श्याम
|
1 होली खेलन आया श्याम आज इसे रंग में बोरो री । कोरे-कोरे कलश मँगाओ, केसर घोरो री मुख पर इसके मलो, करो काले से गोरो री ॥ होली खेलन... पास-पड़ोसन बुला, इसे आँगन में घेरो री पीतांबर लो छीन, इसे पहनाओ चोली री ॥ होली खेलन... माथे पे बिंदिया, नैनों में काजल सालो री नाक में नथनी और शीश पे चुनरी डालो री ॥ होली खेलन... हरे बाँस की बाँसुरी इसकी तोड़-मरोड़ो री ताली दे-दे इसे नचाओ अपनी ओरी री ॥ होली खेलन... लोक-लाज मरजाद सबै फागुन में तोरो री नैकऊ दया न करिओ जो बन बैठे भोरो री ॥ होली खेलन... चन्द्रसखी यह करे वीनती और चिरौरी री हा-हा खाय पड़े पइयाँ, तब इसको छोड़ो री ॥ होली खेलन... (बोरो=डुबाओ, चिरौरी करे=गिड़गिड़ाए, हा-हा खाय=कान पकड़े, माफी माँगे) 2 होरी खेलन आयौ श्याम, आज याहि रंग में बोरौ री॥ कोरे-कोरे कलश मँगाओ, रंग केसर घोरौ री। रंग-बिरंगौ करौ आज कारे तो गौरौ री॥ होरी... पार परौसिन बोलि याहि आँगन में घेरौ री। पीताम्बर लेओ छीनयाहि पहराय देउ चोरौ री॥ होरी... हरे बाँस की बाँसुरिया जाहि तोर मरोरौ री। तारी दे-दै याहि नचावौ अपनी ओड़ौ री॥ होरी... ‘चन्द्रसखी’ की यही बीनती करै निहोरौ री। हा-हा खाय परै जब पइयां तब याहि छोरौ री॥ होरी...
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T5
|
ARA
|
خلف بن هذال
|
قصيدة قالوا توادع قلت يا صعب الوداع
|
قالوا توادع قلت يا صعب الوداع
وشلون أوداع من معه قلبي وديع
قلبي معه والسر من فرقاه ضاع
صحيح من يفقد زمام أمره يضيع
أليا ذكرت الخد والسود الوساع
تسابقت غارات عبارتي جميع
اصبر على الهجران قدر المستطاع
احمل همومي للخلا واشري وأبيع
أبيع شي بالجواهر ما يباع
بعته رخيص وضاق أمامي كل ذيع
بين الرجا واليأس يشتد النزاع
بعده دهر ومشاهده عندي ربيع
تستدرج الأيام مفتول الذراع
من حيث لا يعلم وترميه بالسريع
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
章曰慎
|
奉和徐心翁使君枉過南巖小酌留題佳韻
|
西郭南巖歲幾登，
月臺風榭此時興。
中丞鎮蜀推嚴武，
小隊看花過少陵。
父老喜瞻熊是軾，
迂疏故道壽爲朋。
留題剩有如椽筆，
取醉何妨酒似澠。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
CUSTOM:应酬唱和
|
ITA
|
Malatesta IV Malatesta
|
Fin che 'l spirto gentil soavemente
|
Fin che ’l spirto gentil soavemente
Movea le vaghe membra, ove natura
Puose per adornarle ogni sua cura,
Con tanta gravità sì dolcemente;
Sanza riparo ogni uom volgea la mente
E gli occhi a quell’angelica figura,
Posponendo ragion senno e misura
Che fa l’uom singolar dall’altra gente;
Chè nè matura età nè parca vita
Nè fredda stella aver potea valore,
Ch’ogni cor sano era ferito al varco:
Ma poi che morte l’ha da noi partita
Ben può permetter Giove ancor che Amore
Spezzi il turcasso il stral la corda e l’arco.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
POR
|
Angela Melim
|
Um amor impossível
|
Amanhã
este fogo cresce.
Amanhã, tremor
Amanhã, suspiro.
Insiste
um amor impossível
amanhã.
Insiste,
sim.
Um amor impossível pode ser amanhã.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
劉志遯
|
山中秋夜
|
洞簫聲動月明初，
滿地清霜一草廬。
白鶴飛來鳴夜半，
不知身在紫霞居。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T5
|
T1
|
CES
|
Kepka, Hugo
|
PŘI POHŘBU VRAHA.
|
Poznávám: píši... srdce s sebou cuká
a v jeden chaos všechno splývá tu.
Nekrolog vrahu píše moje ruka.
Pohřební průvod ruší samotu.
Ti zločinci na dlouho nevydrží,
zmírají dříve, nežli sestárnou.
Tak je ten průvod divný. Zřím jen mříží
jakousi hmotu černou beztvárnou.
A vleče se krok za krokem až k hrobu.
Formální slova odříkává kněz.
Vrah mrtvý vrahem nebyl dlouhou dobu.
Tím naučil se v životě prý kdes.
Prý na vojně... Či jinde možná taky.
To vězňové si aspoň šeptají:
Když jako hoch si hrával na vojáky,
prý rozkoš měl, jak šavle sekají.
Tož, vývoj, vývoj... Zprvu každý váhá
zbraň uchopit a zabít člověka.
Kdo znal jej kdysi, netušil, že vraha
se matka jeho v stáří dočeká.
Žaloba brzo klatbu nad ním vznesla.
Soud uznal případ za čin tragický.
Však nepletl se bohu do řemesla:
jen do vězení dal jej na vždycky.
A zemřel záhy. Ten zvon divně chřestí –
přichází černý průvod od márny.
Děs, hrůza, msta a vášeň nenávisti
se mísí v tenhle průvod beztvárný.
Ve výšce skřivan písní doprovází
tu cestu vraha... Úsměv rty mé stáh.
Cos’ v hloubi křičí: vrazi, děsní vrazi...
co ještě cest je v zkrvavených tmách!!!
A v úsměv trpký pláč se přiměšoval.
Beztvárnou hmotu jakous’ oči zří.
Již řadu let jsem čelo nekřižoval.
Teď učinil jsem náhle kříže tři.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T3
|
T4
|
BEN
|
শাহ মুহাম্মদ সগীর
|
দশ সহস্র উট মত্ত তরুণ সমান বর্ত
|
দশ সহস্র উট মত্ত তরুণ সমান বর্ত
চটক ফটক প্রতি চাল।
আভরণ রত্নসার শকট পূর্ণিত ভার
শোভন আম্বারি প্রতি পাল।।
সহস্র সুন্দর দাস সুরস লাবণ্য লাস
রত্নময় আভরণ বেশ।
অপছরা রূপগতি চলিলা বিবিধ ভাতি
সুগন্ধি আমোদ তাঁর কেশ।। [...]
সহস্র সন্দুক ভরি বসন ভূষণ পূরি
নেট পাট বিচিত্র রঙ্গিত।
বহুল বিবিধ বাস নাটি পাট শাড়ী লাস
চারু চির অঙ্গ সুরচিত।।
(কাব্য : ইউসুফ-জোলেখা)
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T2
|
T5
|
ARA
|
الشاعر القعقاع بن عمرو
|
قصيدة يدعون قعقاعاً لكل كريهة
|
يَدعونَ قَعقاعاً لِكُلِّ كَريهَةٍ
فَيُجيبُ قَعقاعٌ دُعاءَ الهاتِفِ
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T1
|
LZH
|
劉養微
|
遊東衝山
|
鮑子讀書處，
危峰坐翠微。
六朝孤石老，
千載到人稀。
衡嶽通元氣，
匡山對落暉。
登臺重回首，
懷古一沾衣。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T4
|
T3
|
LZH
|
薛夢雷
|
夜次弋陽
|
風塵何事只棲棲，
楚水茫茫去鳥低。
落日漸看人影盡，
平沙如雪弋陽谿。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T3
|
T1
|
DEU
|
Rückert, Friedrich
|
8.
|
Tag ist's, auf, steh auf, o Jüngling Muselmane!
Packe dein Gerät und komm zur Karawane.
Horch, o horch, sie ziehet schon, indes du schläfest.
Horch! ihr Glöcklein, daß es nicht zu spät dich mahne!
Wann der Wüste Sand verweht hat ihre Spuren,
Hoffe nicht, daß sie dein Fußtritt wieder bahne.
Auf dich raffe! sei ein Mann, ein Held, ein Kämpe,
Bringe nicht das Leben hin in eitlem Wahne.
Sei gedenk des Ahnenstammes, Perserjüngling,
Wie Rostem ein Held, wie Sal ein Pehlewane.
Mann des Lichtes, Held des Rechtes, Sonnenkämpe!
Falle nicht anheim dem dunklen Ahrimane.
Wenn du hast die ird'sche Seel' im Kampf getötet,
Schwingt die himmlische des Lebens Siegesfahne.
Wann du dich demütigtest zum Staub der Schwelle,
Wirst du Siegelring in unsres Schachs Diwane.
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
孙谟
|
辽东
|
辽阳形胜接幽燕，
关塞中分势极天。
渤海东流环一面，
浑河西去尽三边。
何年互市来良马，
此日屯耕有废田。
谷问开平旧功业，
野狐山北遍荒烟。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ARA
|
مجدي نجيب
|
قصيدة عروستي
|
الشمس انشقت في ضفيره يمين
وضفيره شمال
نازلين شلال
بيبوس الكتف
واتشعبطت بسرعه ف أول سكه
واتصورت الليل صاحب.. حانات الرقه
أشرب.. وأشرب.. وألف
فين هيا عروستي
هفت.. رفت ف هدومها التفتاه
الفرحة قالت: آه
مشيت ترقص وعيون خلخالها
بتبوس الأرض
مين هيه اللي عيونها الود؟!
دي عروستي اللي دراعها أجمل من عود الورد
ودراعها من غير الشوك
لكن مليان تعابير وحنان للشوق
مزيكه بتتنفس.. تهمس.. همس
مش عارف مين هيه اللي بتعزف باللمس
فوق ضلعي اللي ف لون الحس
وف ليله.. الليل اتهدل موال
سكران من ريحة فساتين المشمش والحنه
بصيت له سنه
أتاريه كان نور قبل ما أعدّ سنه
ونا لا عرفت أغني ولا أحس هنا
ما قدرتش أزغرد
وأتاريها عروستي اللي بتضحك
كات نجمه وراكبه حصان أبنوس
وشعورها المغسوله بريحة المشمش
بتبوس خطواتي التايهه بتتمزق
هيه عروستي اللي هدومها التفتاه الأزرق
ومخدتها قشر الرمان
ورموشها بحر حنان
دي عروستي ويبقى أبوها الليل
عارفينه؟!
الليل اللي بيبعت نسوانه تقول:
هاتوا المهر
دخان وسجاير وإرايه وصبر
والصبح.. ح نقيم الفرح
يا صحابي الليل كداب
وعيونه أبواب.. أبواب.. أبواب
ورموشه تراب
وبناته ديابا
آه يابا
دا مدينتي حكايه بترباس
لفيت شوارعها ورجعت لبيتنا
من غير.. راس
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ENG
|
Doesticks, Q. K. Philander
|
NOTHING TO SAY.
|
I, Q. K. P. DOESTICKS, of No Hall, Nowhere;
No Castle, no Villa, no Place, Court, or Terrace;
Who did n't write “Junius,” or “Nothing to Wear,”
Who never have visited London or Paris;
Who am not a phantom, a myth, or a mystery,
But a “homo,” as solid as any of history;
As real as Antony, Cæsar, or Brutus,—
A wide-awake Yankee, so “tarnation‘ cute” as
To always write Nothings, while Nothings will pay,
Am the author of this Nothing — Nothing to Say.
I mention this fact in advance, that Miss P
May not strive to embezzle the laurels from me.
That her Reverend friend may attend to his Litany,
And leave me my fame, if perchance I shall get any.
I deemed it best, to set at rest,
This question before it was started, lest
Some terrible girl from the far countree,
Without proper regard to veracitee,
Should haste to town, to drag me down
From my envied post of poetic renown.
Miss P , I've a favor to ask.— If‘ tis true,
That “Nothing to Wear,” and “Nothing to Do,”
And “Nothing to Eat,” were all written by you,—
Let those three Nothings content you I pray,
Say nothing yourself; leave me “Nothing to Say.”
From time immemorial, people of fashion
Have been the target of poets and penny wits,
And been lampooned without stint or compassion,
From Dan to Beersheba — from Dublin to Dennevitz;
And our now-a-day rhymsters, taking the cue,
Have aimed all their shots at the Fifth Avenue,
Till the clever author of “Nothing to Wear,”
Fired his broadside at Madison Square.
Now I do n't consider this sort of thing personal,
I'm not a bit of a dandy or fop;
But the seed it is constantly sowing, is worse than all
Others, and bears a most plentiful crop;
For it all goes to strengthen the popular fallacy
That, because a man lives in a “brown stone palace” he
Must be a miser, a rogue and a knave,
Without soul enough to condemn or to save —
That a broadcloth coat argues sin, if not felony;
If a man has the tact in the world to get well on, he
Cannot be else than a thorough-paced scamp;
That the “villanous rich” wear a cloak and a mask, all,
And the greater the riches, the greater the rascal.
That the cardinal virtues only endure,
In the atmosphere with the “virtuous poor;”
That nowhere are found the true Christian graces,
Save closely allied to the dirtiest faces.
I shall not contradict this delightful tradition,
But beg — No, I wo n't, I will take it — permission,
To state, that I think there's a word to be said,
From a different text, on the opposite head.
And so I'll invent, as well as I'm able,
A new home-made, allegorical fable;
And my honest purpose shall be, to see
If the scoundrel rich have not borne a part
In those noble charities, which are
The pride of this jolly old city's heart.
And if I shall find that the virtuous mob
Have ever been known one farthing to pay,
Without hoping a hundred-fold profit to make:
Where the “rich man,” the “miser,” “aristocrat,” “snob,”
Has poured out his thousands for Charity's sake,
I'll lay down my pen, and have “Nothing to Say.”
I shall not describe the SPIRIT OF CANT,
Of popular humbug, and vulgar rant,
And tell how he looks in a tangible form,
And give the length of his horns and claws,
The spread of his wings, the width of his jaws,
And detail the other proportions grim,
Which belong to a powerful demon like him.
Go and look at the melodramatic stage,
When a “spectacle” piece is all the rage;
And there, in the midst of some “property” storm,
While the sheet-iron thunder is rattling its best,
And the rosin lightning, and all the rest
Of the elements are, for some tragedy-reason,
Making the “awfullest gale of the season —”
See, at the sound of the prompter's tap,
The fiend come up through the “Vampyre trap;”
Take a mental photograph then, and there,
Of that imp, with his “fixins” all complete —
The elfish grin, the tangled hair,
The dragon wings and the scaly feet —
And you'll have a notion of him I mean,
The demon of this, my opening scene.
I might go to Milton, and steal, bit by bit,
A description to suit my Spirit of Cant,
A second-hand suit, but a “shplendid fit,”
As a Jew would assure me — but then I sha'nt.
His work is to preach the humbug which passes
For gospel among the “down-trodden masses;”
And to prate of the “wrongs and indignities,” which
Are heaped on their heads by the “cold-hearted rich.”
This Spirit was busy at work one day,
Amongst a crowd of Bowery boys,
When CHARITY happened to come that way;
And she stopped to listen — though, sooth to say,
She seldom is fond of clamor and noise.
“Now, pray, Mr. Author, wait just a minute,
Stop!
Drop
Your subject, and do n't again begin it
Till you tell us: What did Charity wear?
Was her dress of moire antique, or satin;
Or was it plain muslin — just like that in
Which love-lorn maidens on the stage
Go raving crazy?— and had she a page?
Did she wear hoops? and what sort of a bonnet?
And tell us, what kind of trimming was on it?
What —” Stop, stop, dear ladies, it is n't fair
To question thus closely a modest young man.
If I could tell the items, I would, I declare;
For I always oblige you whenever I can.
I know that of dresses she has a variety,
Though vanity's not her predominant passion,
She was costumed, no doubt, with the greatest propriety,
In the very extreme of the reigning fashion.
Well! she stopped to listen, a minute or more,
To the fellow's mischievous harangue, before
She resolved what to do; then she stepped to the door
Of an Astor Place car, and beckoned to him,
And he followed at once, while his audience scattered;
To tell the truth, he felt quite flattered,
And he smiled a smile most heavy and grim,
For he thought he'd awakened a tender passion
In the heart of a belle, a lady of fashion.
And they sat side by side, this curious pair,
While they rode up to Eighth street — and she paid the fare.
They stepped from the car, and stood before,
The “COOPER INSTITUTE'S” new-painted door —
“Who hath done this?” asked Charity then;
“Who hath done this for his fellow-men?
Hath builded this house, that all may come —
The poor most welcome — to Learning's treasure,
And drink their fill without stint or measure?
Who hath so nobly used his thrift,
And bestowed on the world this priceless gift,
Free to all, whoever may come?
Was this noble work built up by the‘ masses,’
Or by one of the‘ miserly, upper classes’?”
To the Spirit, this speech was quite unexpected,
And he stood in a sort of stupid dismay;
And before his few scattered thoughts were collected,
She rightly concluded — he'd Nothing to Say.
Then she lifted her skirts with a masterly hand,
And out of the puddles and ruts kept them well up,—
Thus showed that she had the most perfect command
Of the crinoline mysteries of her envelope,
‘ Twas done with the daintiest grace all the while,
And discovered the daintiest possible gaiter,—
Then she turned to her friend with a nod and a smile,
And told him to follow — he straightway obeyed her.
As they hurried along, she kept ever before him,
And he kept his eye on the tempting prunella,
Secretly hoping there'd come such a shower
As would make a new Flood in half-an-hour —
That she, with a womanly care for her bonnet,
Which would “spot,” with the least drop of water upon it,
Might become condescending, and humbly implore him
To come along-side with his cotton umbrella.
But the shower did n't come, and without a disaster,
They reached the huge Library — christened of Astor.
Then she shook down her skirts to their natural latitude —
Ahem'd once or twice — struck out a nice attitude —
And then she struck into this little oration,
Though I'm sure I do n't know where she learned declamation.
“Spirit, behold! these bending shelves
Are groaning‘ neath the gathered store
Of every nation's varied lore.
Most welcome are the poor themselves
To freely turn these countless pages,
And gather from the words of sages
All the light of former ages.
Whoever wills is here a guest,
The poorest are the welcomest.
Who hath done this? your virtuous mob,
Or a‘ cold-hearted miser,’ a‘ pampered snob?’”
Here her Companion began to perceive
That her feminine tongue would have its own way;
That the cleverest thing he could do was to leave
The talking to her, and have Nothing to Say.
The lady had now been chattering so long,
She felt that her voice was beginning to fail her;
A punch would, she felt, be a blessing and boon,
The “dientical” thing with which to regale her,
So they pushed their way through the gathering throng,
And hurried away to Taylor's Saloon.
They seated themselves at the table together,—
The customers “staring their eyes out,” to see
Who this queer-looking couple could possibly be,—
Asking each other in whispers, whether,
It was n't the likeliest thing that she,
Was a Western Actress, and he an Editor;
And some were terribly frightened, because
They could n't help thinking there certainly was,
The Old Nick to pay, and that he was their creditor.
But the strangers composedly sat, never heeding
These stupid remarks, or taking offence,
And they quietly kept on their drinking and feeding,
Without the slightest regard to expense.
If an appetite sharp is a thing so delightful,
Charity had no occasion to sigh at hers;
Boarding-house keepers would say it was frightful,
And ruinous too, to the hotel proprietors.
They were sated at last, and turned from the door;
He, wondering whither she now would go —
And well he might — in an instant more
He was over shoes in the frozen snow;
While she coolly remarked, with a Camille cough,
That the North Pole was only a half a mile off.
How it was they got to their present location,
I'm sure I do n't know, and it's not my vocation
To give the details of their quick locomotion.
Electricity may have done it, or steam;
But motive powers are not my theme.
My heroes were there, near the frozen ocean.
The man had too much of “cold without,”
And the lady sighed for her tippet and muff;
For though they had come by a summary route,
The weather, they found, was wintry enough.
When they climbed an iceberg's loftiest height,
To the imminent danger of dresses and hoops,
Of ribbons and pins, and laces and loops,
The GRINNELL EXPEDITION was in sight.
Now the lady had been prepared to preach,
Or rather, to make a nice serious speech;
But it might as well have been written in Dutch for her,
For the wind and the weather, conspiring together,
Turned out to be, altogether too much for her;
One half she forgot, and she bungled the rest of it,
Though I finally managed to pick out the best of it.
She asked her companion, who stood in the lee of her,
For the wind spread her skirts to the bigness of three of her,
“Who sent these ships to the rescue of those,
Who have perilled their lives in these Northern snows?
Did he spring from the mob, the benevolent‘ masses,’
Or from the detestable‘ upper classes’?”
With a great deal more to the same effect,
Which I could n't exactly make out the sense of,
For I know that her sentences “failed to connect;”
And I suppose that her chattering teeth bit the ends off;
But‘ twas very conclusive, whatever she said.
He never disputed her; never said nay,
But only hung down his discomfited head;
And whatever he thought, he had Nothing to Say.
Chilled to the heart with the terrible cold,
Both to get back were most truly-solicitous,
Never before was the saying old,
“As cold as charity,” half so felicitous.
They hastened back to Broadway, when she said,
That one more journey that night she'd lead him,
Before she'd let him go home to bed.
And he, not caring to quibble or question,
At once fell in with the lady's suggestion,
Not thinking she'd “one more” lecture to read him.
This time they took a course rectilinear
Southward, and landed in Norfolk, Virginia.
Pestilence there was doing its worst,
Hundreds were dying, and hundreds were dead.
Many who should have been bravest, the first
Had deserted their trust, and shamelessly fled.
But men from the Northern cities were there,
Nursing the sick with the tenderest care,
Whose kindred had fled to less dangerous lands,
Leaving the dying to strangers’ hands.
While the two stood quiet beside the bed
Of a patient sufferer, Charity said:
“Who hath sent these strangers here,
These dying men to soothe and cheer?
To do what mortal skill may do
To lighten their burdens of grief and woe;
To shrive these dying souls of blame,
To bid them hope in Heaven above.
Who hath sent these in my dear name
To do this holiest work of love?
Hath the treasure here given been paid by those
Whose‘ wrongs’ are so earnestly plead by you?
Or hath it been done by their‘ natural foes,’
The wealthy, the rich, the opulent few
Of Madison Square and the Fifth Avenue?”
During this lengthy interrogation
The Spirit had been pretending to doze,
But he waked himself up at the peroration,
And most ungallantly turned up his nose,
And turned on his heel, and turned him away,—
Sulkily saying, he'd Nothing to Say.
Dear Readers, I'll ask one question of you —
Do n't you think it may possibly chance to be true,
That Charity, really, not merely in fables,
May apparel herself in satins and sables,
And costliest ribbons, and fragilest laces,
Like the daintiest beauties of Madison Square,
And may take up a home in the loftiest places,
With those who've, satirically, Nothing to Wear?
And in that blissful realm above,
Where the poor and the rich meet in meekness and love:
Where the works of each heart are unveiled to the light,
And Humbug and Cant yield to Truth and to Right —
Where the trickster lays off his mask of deceit,
And the cloak of the hypocrite drops to his feet,
And Honor is given, where Honor is due —
We may see that some from the Fifth Avenue,
Most nobly will speak in that great reckoning day,
While their earthly detractors have NOTHING TO SAY.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
陳可禹
|
秋日遊桃川
|
山徑斜臨水，
溪流曲抱沙。
偶移青雀舫，
來訪白雲家。
坐石埽蒼蘚，
憑高望落霞。
秋林亦自媚，
何必問桃花。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
BEL
|
Siarhiej Prylucki
|
Tabula rasa - I. радзільня
|
акушэркаю яна прысутнічала на маіх народзінах хударлявая маўклівая кабета няпэўнага веку з павутой ружовых прожылак на мармуровым чэрапе і прыгожым тварам мулаткі без касы з кароткай фрызурай прымаючы роды яна была падобная да сукубы што высачыла спажыву я згадаў яе бо гэта яна адцяла мне пупавіну зубамі яна выцягнула зь цёмнай і цёплай кануры у гэты сьвет ідыётаў і мянтоў але заўсёды і ўсе згадваюць рукі маці гэты імправізаваны “Тытанік” што закалыхваў на неспакойных хвалях і старая савецкая радзільня рабілася тваёй alma mater тваім першым флэшбэкам што сьпее зіготаю болю там штомесяц па даўгіх і халодных кафэльных калідорах на мэталічных вазках вывозілі маленькіх чырвоных пацучкоў падобных на кавалачкі сьвежага мяса на пурпуровыя гронкі папрыкі на зіхоткім падносе але зьблізу у белых каламутных слоіках кунсткамэры яны страшылі розум занураныя ў сон хаця які там быў розум у мяне смаркача што сікаў у пялюшкі і смактаў цыцку самім сваім існаваньнем дамагаючыся няўцямнага і толькі чорны балахон старое мулаткі маёй госьці з будучыні яе ссохлыя рукі-палачкі й круглыя вочы уладна гіпнатызавалі паціху забіраючы па кавалку спачатку пальцы потым нагу левую правую руку левую й правую геніталіі ныркі пячонку лёгкія страўнік вантробы мячык сэрца і толькі ў апошні момант ад нястачы кіслароду са страху знутры вырываўся ратавальны крык
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
ITA
|
Ippolito Pindemonte
|
templa serena, despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre errare, atque viam palanteis quærere vitæ
|
templa serena,
Despicere nude queas alios, passimque videre
Errare, atque viam palanteis quærere vitæ.
Lucrezio. l. ii. v. 8.
„Mentre con tarde ed allungate note
„Il solenne, profondo, maestoso
„Organo soffia.
„S’odan ivi del cupo organo al soffio
„Le piene voci del soggetto coro
„Rispondere in solenni alte parole
„D’antifone e di salmi, onde ne bea
„Tanta dolcezza il provocato orecchio,
„Che l’alma sciolta mi rapisca, e innanzi
„Visibilmente il ciel tutto mi porti!
„Nell’ampie ville popolose, in cui
„T’assembri, umana stirpe, il numeroso
„Organo soffi la profonda voce,
„E agli acuti temprando i bassi modi
„Le gravi pose ricrescente allunghi.
Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno et inertibus horis
Ducere sollicitæ jucunda oblivia vitæ:
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
IND
|
Faidul Wizari
|
BANI ADAM
|
BANI ADAM
Oleh Faidul Wizari
Bersebaran anak cucu Adam
Di tanah lapang subur,
Di gurun gersang bergunung.
Bersebaran anak cucu Adam
Di gubuk halaman desa,
Di tepi jalanan kota.
Langit membumi kemari
Ke dalam dada Sang bani.
Dari debu menggema seru
"Duhai engkau anak cucu
Akulah kumpulan lumpur,
Darikulah bapakmu meluncur"
Dan pikir
Maka dzikir!
Manusia adalah debu-debu kecil.
Dan pikir
Maka dzikir!
Di bumi Bani Adam dan takdir.
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T3
|
T5
|
LZH
|
蔡用之
|
龍泉秩滿題
|
昨日新官對舊官，
吏民一半冷相看。
夜來惟有前灘水，
依舊多情到枕寒。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T3
|
T4
|
T4
|
ENG
|
John Donne
|
Phryne
|
Thy flattering picture, Phryne, is like thee,
Only in this, that you both painted be.
|
T6
|
语言、艺术与创造
|
T6
|
T6
|
T6
|
LZH
|
王偉
|
闲中偶成简杜大尹
|
岸帻披襟酒乍醒，
久居林下已忘形。
侵寻老景双蓬鬓，
流落天涯一草亭。
春涨水添千顷绿，
云开山拥半空青。
年来博得闲中趣，
一任浮生迹似萍。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
SPA
|
María Cinta Montagut
|
De «Volver del tiempo»
|
-Víspera
Víspera
Junto a Ca’ Pesaro el agua se divierte,
Juguetea y se esconde en la quilla de barcos
Que atónitos contemplan el devenir del aire.
Nunca ha sido tan camino el agua.
Nunca como esta tarde incierta
El bermellón y el ocre la acarician
Y hasta mueren en ella. Se diría
Que el tiempo ha detenido su carrera.
Junto a Ca’ Foscari tus ojos o tus labios,
Tal vez la enredadera de tus manos, tiemblan
Ante el prodigio de la piedra viva
Que traduce el saber y la belleza.
Entonces contemplarte es desear la vida,
Asumir la locura que detiene los besos
Perseguir tu mirada que se oculta radiante
En el rojo matiz del agua móvil.
* * *
-Poseer la verdad…
Poseer la verdad
¿qué es sino soñar que existe un cuerpo?
Uno solo.
Puro, desnudo, con un río de sangre.
Con un río de angustia escondida.
Con un río sin mar.
* * *
-Bajo tu desnudez de arena…
Bajo tu desnudez de arena
Bajo tu inmóvil horizontalidad sentida
Como un río o un mar de límite preciso
En mis manos que como llama te acarician.
Bajo el confín de tu piel como el agua,
Delicadísimo cristal que me refleja
Uniendo un mismo fuego en su pulida sombra,
Vivir.
* * *
-Hoy puedo amarte como nunca…
Hoy puedo amarte como nunca.
Esconderme en la caverna joven de tu cuerpo
Buscar el río profundo que la cruza
Liberar las palomas que anidan en tu pecho
Para enterrar el nombre de las cosas
Y volver a morir.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
RUS
|
Шагинян Мариэтта Сергеевна
|
Ветер в степи
|
Гудит трава за розовым плетнем,
Под ветром степь, как море, ходит зыбко,
И в небесах, изнеможенных днем,
Зареяла кровавая улыбка.
Закат багров; к утру пророчит он,
Как продолженье чьей-то сказки давней,
Свист ковыля, трубы зловещий стон,
Треск черепиц и стук разбитой ставни.
Под вой ветров, повязана платком,
Гляжу, прищурясь, в даль из-под ладони:
Клубится ль пыль? Зовет ли муж свистком
В степи коней? Не ржут ли наши кони?
Вой, ветер, вой! Степям моим пророчь,
Под свист твоей неугомонной пляски, --
Без устали, без сна, всю эту ночь,
Как судорга, взвивающие ласки!..
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
LZH
|
赵象
|
于前庭独坐赋诗
|
绿暗红藏起暝烟，
独将幽恨小庭前。
沉沉良夜与谁语，
星隔银河月半天。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
BUL
|
Родриго Каро
|
Развалините на Италика
|
Полетата пустинни, Фабио, и оня
гол хълм, що виждаш ти с душа опечалена,
били са някога Италика[1] преславна.
На Сципион[2] победоносната колония
намирала се тук. Жестоко повалена,
страхотната стена лежи с земята равна,
една останка стародавна,
която скръб и жалост буди.
От войнствените древни люде
възпоминания остават погребални,
велики сенки нам за пример и поука.
Туй място е било стъгда и храм бил тука;
до нас са стигнали едни следи печални.
От баните и от игрището голямо
във въздуха се носи лека пепел само.
И кулите, на малко ветрове надвили,
под свойта тежест днес са рухнали без сили.
А този срутен запустял амфитеатър,
на боговете чест, която оскърбява
със жълтите си цветове лопенът прашен,
се е превърнал във трагически театър,
където времето единствено представя
триумфа прежен и разгрома му сегашен.
Защо и днеска с крясък страшен
навалицата разярена
не пълни пустата арена?
Щом равнината с хищници е още пълна,
где гладиаторът? Где силните атлети?
Изчезна всичко, а смехът и гласовете,
звучали някога, мълчание погълна;
но още времето с останки от стените
ужасни зрелища поднася на очите
и гледат те руината така смутени,
че пред печалния й вид душата стене.
Тук се роди светкавицата на войната,
велик баща на нашата родина скъпа,
победния Траян[3], благочестив отрано,
в нозете на когото се простря земята,
която вижда Изгревът, която къпе
кадикското море с талази непрестанно.
Тук някога на Адриано,[4]
на Кайо[5]… странникът известен,
и Теодосия[6] божествен
били люлени люлките от кост и злато.
Тук, щедро увенчани с лаври и ясмини,
са ги посрещали уханните градини,
сега потънали във къпинак и блато.
Дворците мраморни, за Цезаря градени,
са грозно жилище на гущери зелени.
Дворци и цезари умрели са отдавна
и даже камъните с името им славно.
Ако не плачеш, Фабио, при таз обида,
тогава взри се в улиците разрушени,
виж арките и мраморите разпилени,
виж тези статуи, които Немезида[7]
е повалила ничком, как лежат прострени
и спят погребани в дълбокото мълчание
прославените им стопани.
Такава си представям Троя,
злочеста във съдбата своя,
и Рим, от който името едва остава,
отечество на боговете и царете,
и тебе, за която нямаше обети,
ни справедлив закон, Атина величава,
съперница на вековете неуморна,
днес само пепелище, пустота просторна,
която ни смъртта, ни ориста помилва,
макар че мъдра бе, макар че бе и силна.
Ала защо така умът се уморява
да търси за тъга и жал причини нови?
Достатъчно е и това да го принуди,
щом още дим се вие, още тлей жарава,
звучат стенания и плачове сурови!
Поверие ли или някой гений буди
ума на тукашните люде,
та те разправят възхитени,
че чуват в тиха нощ да стене
един печален глас от миналото време:
„Падна Италика“, а Ехо[8] жалостива
отвръща му „Италика“ в гората дива,
която шепотом с листата си подема
„Италика“, и чули името любимо,
въстават сенки, множество неизброимо,
и стона подновяват в тъмната руина.
Тъй простолюдието жали и проклина!
Тез стихове, които, гостенин доволен,
дължа на твойте прадеди свещени,
тям посвещавам аз, Италико ревнива.
Ти (ако моя глас и тоя дар неволен
са угодили на руините студени,
отдето нося тая вест тъй жалостива)
ми дай като благочестива
отплата тази милост още
да видя тук светите мощи
на кардинал Геронцио[9] многострадален.
Къде е неговият гроб, ми покажи ти,
ще издълбая с топли сълзи канарите,
укрили саркофага му от камък дялан.
Но всуе прося аз единствено утеха
за благото, що небесата ти отнеха.
Със злак и хвойна си краси развалините
за завист на света, за завист на звездите.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
LZH
|
李時秀
|
觀洲夕照
|
獨上高樓豁醉眸，
風清煙淡蓼花洲。
波搖落影明千嶂，
鴉閃餘光抹半樓。
征旆山前停去騎，
飛帆天外急歸舟。
隱綸未入熊羆夢，
莫學磻溪相對愁。
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T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T3
|
T1
|
ARA
|
الشاعر فردوس النجار
|
قصيدة أحتاجُكَ
|
أحتاجُكَ:قصيدة نثر
أريدُك..كي أرسلَني إليك!
لو....أنَّكَ سَبَّقْتَ مجيءَ قصيدتِكَ
أو..دخلتَ عَيْنَيَّ خِلْسَة
لوووو أنكَ
أتيتَ حلماً أمياً
أو وَلَجْتَ خلايا المجرَّةَ العجوز
إذن..لاختصَرتَ المسافَة
ولازدادت..أعشاشُ الكناري
ولازدادَتْ مساحاتُ قلبيَ المتوتِّرِ دائماً
من عتمةِ الإياب
موحشٌ غيابُ مانتمنى أن نُحِب!
وقَصيَّةُ سماءُ الانتظار
وجاااافٌّ برجُ الحياة
.تخرجُ البحارُ من عينيها مراوغة
وقبعاتٌ تمر كقطاراتِ الحجاز
حاسرة من اصحابها
تهيءُ للكواكبِ وليمةَ انبهار
لا تواصل لرياحِ الأمسِ مع اليوم
لوووو أنكَ صَنَعْتَ الحدائقَ باكراً
وعَلَّقْتَ.. أ رجوحةَ الغناءِ على كتفي
إذن لحَمَلْتُها مطمئنة
لو أنكَ ضَمَمتَ الكمانَ إلى سوادِ السراب
وكنتَ قابضاً رؤاك
وسَرَحتَ أقلَّ مما أنت عليه بي
واستيقظتَ ساعةََ الوميض
وطحنتَ التوابلَ جيداً
وتبعتَ صِراطَ النمل
إذن لعرفتَ سعةَ الزمنِ الباقي
أكرهُ غباءكَ يومئذٍ
يومَ فَرَدتَ عشقَكَ في ثنايا حقيبةِ باشقٍ كسول
وتركتَها لدوري الصباح
لقمرٍ لا يعرفُ الأرضَ أبدأً
كيف لي أن أسوقَ الشمسَ لجيبِكْ؟!
لحقيبتكَ التي نسيتَ مضجعَهَا!
أحتاجُ صمتَكَ الفرعوني
نعم أحتاجُ صمتَكَ المثقلَ بإشاراتِ نحلٍ شاردٍ
أهزوجة لقافلةِ الأقحوان
لتكتبَ ما سقطَ من عطرٍ مُنْهَكٍ تَعَمَّدَ التخلف
لا أستطيعُ الطيران
ربما تقذفني البتلاتُ الخاوية
فأعومُ مُرغَمَة فوقَ قناطرِ أوفٍ أزلية
أتَسَلَّقُ فضاءً غريبَ الأطوار
ربما أعتنق الَّلا انتماء
فأقفُ فوقَ الريحِ بكل أشكالها
ربما أحيطُ العمرَ عمراً آخَرَ
أرفُلُهُ بتثاؤبٍ طفولي
لأمكثَ في طياتِ الفرحِ المفترض
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
URD
|
Aadil Rahi
|
اسے تم سے محبت ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہنا
|
اسے تم سے محبت ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہنایہ بس دل کی شرارت ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہناتمہی کو دیکھ کر وہ مسکراتا ہے تو حیرت کیااسے ہنسنے کی عادت ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہناہوئے برباد تو اب آہ و زاری کر رہے ہو تمکہا بھی تھا سیاست ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہنامیں تجھ کو چاہتا ہوں بات یہ سچ ہے مگر پھر بھیمجھے تیری ضرورت ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہنا ہیجھکی نظروں سے تکنا اور خموشی سے گزر جانامحبت کی روایت ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہناکیا کرتا ہوں راہیؔ اس کی تعریفیں سبب یہ ہےوہ مجھ سے خوب صورت ہے غلط فہمی میں مت رہنا
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
陆炳
|
寄茂州张左虚使君
|
离情何所极，
满眼尽关山。
芳草通千里，
孤城绕百蛮。
功名边地远，
心事鬓毛斑。
雨露春应足，
无愁镜里颜。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر حبيب الأعلم
|
قصيدة لَمّا رَأَيتُ القَومَ بِال
|
لَمّا رَأَيتُ القَومَ بِال
عَلياءِ دونَ قِدى المَناصِب
وَفَريتُ مِن فَزَعٍ فَلا
أَرمي وَلا وَدَّعتُ صاحِب
يُغرونَ صاحِبَهُم بِنا
جَهداً وَأُغرى غَيرَ كاذِب
أُغرى أَبا وَهبٍ لِيُع
جِزَهُم وَمَدّوا بِالحَلائِب
مَدَّ المُجَلجِلِ ذي العَما
ءِ إِذا يُراحُ مِنَ الجَنائِب
يُغرى جَذيمُةُ وَالرِدا
ءُ كَأَنَّهُ بِأَقَبَّ قارِب
خاظٍ كَعِرقِ السِدرِ يَس
بِقُ غارَةَ الخوصِ النَجائِب
عَنَّت لَهُ سَفعاءُ لُك
كَت بِالبَضيعِ لَها الخَبائِب
وَخَشيتُ وَقعَ ضَريبَةٍ
قَد جُرِّبَت كُلَّ التَجارِب
فَأَكونُ صَيدَهُم بِها
وَأَصيرُ لِلضُّبعِ السَواغِب
جَزَراً وَلِلطَيرِ المُرِبَّ
ةِ وَالذِئابِ وَلِلثَّعالِب
وَتَجُرُّ مُجرِيَةٌ لَها
لَحمي إِلى أَجرٍ حَواشِب
سودٍ سَحاليلٍ كَأَنَّ
جُلودَهُنَّ ثِيابُ راهِبِ
آذانُهُنَّ إِذا اِحتَضَر
نَ فَريسَةً مِثلُ المَذانِب
يَنزِعنَ جِلدَ المَرءِ نَز
عَ القَينِ أَخلاقَ المَذاهِب
حَتّى إِذا اِنتَصَفَ النَها
رُ وَقُلتُ يَومٌ حَقٌّ دائِب
رَفَّعتُ عَيني بِالحِجا
زِ إِلى أُناسٍ بِالمَناقِب
وَذَكَرتُ أَهلي بِالعَرا
ءِ وَحاجَةَ الشُعثِ التَوالِب
المُصرِمينَ مِنَ التِلا
دِ اللامِحينَ إِلى الأَقارِب
وَبِجانِبَي نَعمانَ قُل
تُ أَلَن يُبَلِّغَني مَآرِب
دَلجى إِذا ما اللَيلُ جَن
نَ عَلى المُقَرَّنَةِ الحَباحِب
ما شِئتَ مِن رَجُلٍ إِذا
ما اِكتَظَّ مِن مَحضٍ وَرائِب
حَتّى إِذا فَقَدَ الصَبو
حَ يَقولُ عَيشٌ ذو عَقارِب
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T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T2
|
LZH
|
崔致远
|
七言记德诗三十首谨献司徒相公
|
俗眼难窥冰雪姿，
终朝共咏小山词。
此身依托同鸡犬，
他日升天莫弃遗。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T4
|
T2
|
LZH
|
文岡
|
入洋縣道中
|
玉冊遙瞻太白嶺，
赤書近渡小龍溪。
偶舒望眼便開豁，
況覺征軺離險躋。
沃野平平千里去，
金城歷歷四山齊。
閒情更羨村居美，
春綠池塘水滿堤。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
RUS
|
Зоргенфрей Вильгельм Александрович
|
Был как все другие. Мыслил здраво
|
Был как все другие. Мыслил здраво,
Покупал в субботу "Огонек",
К Пасхе ждал на шею Станислава
И на самой Вербной занемог.
Диагност в енотовой шинели
Прибыл в дом, признал аппендицит
И потом простился еле-еле,
Получив пятерку за визит.
На Святой поведала супруга
С чувством скорби и без лишних слов,
Что в итоге тяжкого недуга
Умер муж, Иван Фомич Петров.
На кладбище ехал он по чину --
По расчету на шесть лошадей.
Провожала доброго мужчину
Группа сослуживцев и друзей.
И, калошей попирая ельник,
Говорил фон-Штрупп, правитель дел:
"Странно, право... Жив был в понедельник,
Нынче ж мертв. Печален наш удел!".
Собеседник ухмылялся тупо.
С крыш текло. Весенний жидкий луч
Отразился от калош фон-Штруппа
И стыдливо спрятался меж туч.
Был Петров чиновником в Синоде,
Жил с женой, стоял за "Огонек".
Ты совсем в другом, читатель, роде --
Адвокат, профессор, педагог.
Веришь только в толстые журналы,
Ждешь реформ, чины не ставишь в грош
И, как все другие либералы,
Просто так -- с подругою живешь.
Болен был Петров аппендицитом,
То есть воспалением простым.
Ты умрешь, сражен сухим плевритом,
Осложненным чем-нибудь другим.
И твоя кончина будет чище:
О тебе заметку тиснет "Речь",
Ляжешь ты на Волковом кладбище,
Где Петров не догадался лечь.
Прах твой к месту вечного покоя
На руках поклонники снесут,
Скажут речь о недостатках строя
И тебя их жертвой назовут.
И погода будет не такая,
И другой, конечно, будет гроб,
Лития особая, другая,
И особый, либеральный поп.
Если там ты встретишься с Петровым,
Ты ему не подавай руки --
Чинодралу с Станиславом новым,
С гнусным воспалением кишки.
Легким взмахом серебристых крыльев
Отделись и пребывай суров:
Ты -- Иванов, Яковлев, Васильев,
Не какой-нибудь Петров.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
BEN
|
আবদুল লতিফ
|
সোনা সোনা সোনা
|
সোনা সোনা সোনা, লোকে বলে সোনা
সোনা নয় তত খাঁটি
বলো যত খাঁটি, তার চেয়ে খাঁটি
বাংলাদেশের মাটি রে আমার
জন্মভূমির মাটি।।
ধন জন মন যত ধন দুনিয়াতে
হয় কি তুলনা বাংলার কারো সাথে
কত মার ধন মানিক রতন
কত জ্ঞানী গুণী কত মহাজন
এনেছি আলোর সূর্য এখানে
আঁধারের পথ পাতি রে
আমার বাংলাদেশের মাটি
আমার জন্মভূমির মাটি।।
এই মাটির তলে ঘুমায়েছে অবিরাম
রফিক, শফিক, বরকত কত নাম
কত তিতুমীর, কত ঈশা খান
দিয়েছে জীবন, দেয় নি তো মান।।
রক্তশয্যা পাতিয়া এখানে
ঘুমায়েছে পরিপাটি রে
আমার বাংলাদেশের মাটি
আমার জন্মভূমির মাটি।
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T4
|
T2
|
FAS
|
ریموند کارور
|
ترس
|
ترس از ماشین پلیس و توقیف در مسیر
ترس از به خواب رفتن در شب
ترس از به خواب نرفتن
ترس از گذشتهی بازگشته
ترس از این دَمی که پر میگیرد
ترس از تلفنی که نیمه شب زنگ میخورد
ترس از صاعقهها
ترس از نظافتچی با لکه ای بر گونهاش
ترس از سگهایی که گفته شده گاز نمیگیرند
ترس از تشویش
ترس از شناسایی جسد یک دوست
ترس از بی پول شدن
ترس از ثروتمند بودن، اگر چه مردم این را باور نمیکنند
اِکولالیا در اینستاگرام
ترس از نمایههای روانشناسانه
ترس از دیر رسیدن و ترس از رسیدن پیش از دیگران
ترس از دستخط فرزندانم روی پاکتهای نامه
ترس اینکه آنها قبل از من میمیرند و من احساس گناه میکنم
ترس از زندگی با مادرم در پیرسالی او و خودم
ترس از سرگشتگی
ترس اینکه امروز با یادداشتی غم انگیز پایان میگیرد
ترس از بیدار شدن و فهمیدن اینکه تو رفتهای
ترس از فقدان عشق و ترس از عاشق نبودن به کفایت
ترس اینکه آنچه دوست دارم برای آنانکه دوستشان دارم مهلک است
ترس از مرگ
ترس از عمری طولانی
ترس از مرگ
یکبار گفته ام این را.
■
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
IND
|
Chairil Ambya
|
SENYUMMU
|
SENYUMMU
Oleh Chairil Ambya
Satu kotak yg penuh dengan memori indah masa itu ...
Penuh dengan senyum beriring canda tawa...
Penuh cerita
duka..
Sering pula bahagia
meski tak seberapa...
Yang aku tau...
Lewat tawa hatimu terbuka...
Lewat senyum hatimu berkata...
Setidaknya sampai waktu itu...
Karna ternyata aku tak begitu tau...
Sampai terang menutup gulita..
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر راشد الرشيدي
|
قصيدة تبقى شموخ
|
تبقى شموخ وجيتى عزم واصرار
رغم الظروف ورغم بعد المسافه
ورغم اليال وماحملنه من اسرار
ورغم العناء فى غربتى والكلافه
جيتك سفير الغربه بكل الاقطار
جيتك خوى اليل باول مطافه
جيتك رسول الشوق من دار لدار
جيتك حلوم النهرويا ظفافه
جيتك نوادر شعر عن كل الاشعار
جيتك فراسة ذهن ماهى طرافه
جيتك وحيد الذات واسرار تذكار
جيتك بطل قصه ولالى حسافه
جيتك شريدة قوم مطلوبً الثار
من اخصماه ومابقاله لحافه
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
HUN
|
István Kemény
|
AZ APA A NAGYKÖNYVBEN
|
Mondj egy udvart.
Egy titkot.
Vagy adj tanácsot.
Mondj egyetlen udvari titkos tanácsost.
Egy olyan régit, szakállast, testeset, realistát és jelentőségteljeset, rég halott festők diákcimboráját, bölcs, öreg színészek szerepálmát, olyat, aki titkon tetszik a tömegnek, viccek hőse, de a poénon röhögnek, kétszer volt gyűlölve, négy-ötször megunva, de lehet, hogy holnap miniszterelnök újra, nem is olyan régen még nőügyei voltak, és egy kicsit mindig részeg, állítólag, fecseg a bálokon nagy élvezettel, de nem él vissza a rábízott közhelyekkel, a filozófussal hetente együtt étkezik, de inkább amatőrmód történészkedik, nevet ad egy kornak, egy pipának s emellett még egy egyszerű kis német fejedelemnek, tudja, hogy volt rossz, és hogy nem tette jóvá, s nem is a bűnbánat – s nem is tette jóvá, nem is tévedhetne, de azt is tudja, téved, de most is megöletne engem vagy téged.
Tudnám, hogy gondja van rám, pedig nem szeretne, én meg végre lennék bármi, csak szabad ne.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T2
|
LZH
|
朱萬年
|
賢牧堂
|
師𢍰使衆作祠堂，
要學朱張與鄭王。
大家飛上梧桐樹，
自有旁人說短長。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
劉爚
|
挽蔡西山先生
|
知君嬰世患，
垂白竄南方。
四海皆稱屈，
群兒苦中傷。
天資隨世殞，
遺恨與天長。
但誦箕山曲，
招魂葬故鄉。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T2
|
HUN
|
Berzsenyi, Dániel
|
VITKOVICS MIHÁLYHOZ
|
Midőn mosolygó bölcsességedet
Belém enyelgi szép epistolád,
Melyet barátunk, Horvát érdemelt,
Melyben Horáccal fested a mezőt
S annak szelíden bájoló nyugalmát,
Vigabban érzek s boldogabb vagyok.
Szebbnek találom puszta lakhelyem,
Kertem virági szebben illatoznak,
Szebben nevetnek szőlőm fürtjei,
És kazlaimnak árnya hívesebb.
Igen, de minthogy minden verselők
Homér atyánktól fogva ekkorig
Falut dicsértek, engedd meg nekem,
Hogy én Budáról s Pestről énekeljek.
Midőn Budának roppant bércfokáról
Szédülve Pestnek tornyait tekintem
S a száz hajókat rengető Dunát,
A nagy Dunának tündér kertjeit
És a habokkal küzdő szép hidat,
Melyen zsibongva egy világ tolong;
Midőn körültem minden él s örül,
S újabb meg újabb érzelemre gyújt:
Itt a tanult kéz nagy remekjei,
Ott a dicső ész alkotásai
Az élet édes bájait mutatják,
S mindazt előttem testesülve látom,
Amit magamban csak képzelhetek:
Kívánhat-é még többeket szemem?
Hát amidőn majd véled s Helmeczinkkel
Virághoz együtt ballagunk karöltve,
S a bölcs öregtől új lelket veszünk!
Onnét tehozzád s nyájas asztalodhoz,
Hol a kinyílt szív s józan ész kinál,
S vidám szabadság s tréfa a szakács;
Ornnét Palinkhoz, Pécel dallosához
És mindazokhoz, kik barátaink,
S velünk egyenlőn tudnak érzeni.
Hol majd hazánknak ó s új dolgait,
Majd a világnak főbb történeteit
Száguldjuk által, és mustrára intjük
A föld királyit s büszke nagyjait;
Vagy majd Kopernik égi útjain
Vizsgáljuk e nagy Minden titkait,
És a világok systemáit oldjuk;
Majd a morálnak mély törvényein
Platónkkal újabb s szebb respublikákat
Alkotva, Solont s a dicső Lykurgust
Lehozzuk embert boldogítani.
Ha azt megúnjuk, mert mindent megún
Az ember, s édes a változtatás,
Szemünk legelhet Thespis bájvilágán
S a táncolóknak szárnyas rendein,
Szívünk örömre olvadozva repdez
A zengzeteknek szép koncertjein;
S ha kell, közel van kert, szőlő, liget,
Horáccal untig ott kapálhatunk,
S nevetni fognak ott is a bohók.
Mi kell tehát több? Élni és örülni
S használni célunk, nem pedig heverni;
S a bölcs nyugalma háboríthatatlan
A pesti bálban s csörtetés között,
Mint a magányos rejtek árnyain.
Nyugodni, enni, inni és alunni
Lehet mezőn is; oh, de mint örüljek
Fákkal, füvekkel, ökrökkel sokáig?
Csupán szememnek tárgyi mindezek.
Szivemnek ember és rokon kebel kell,
Kivel vegyítse érzeményeit;
Elmémnek elme, mely megértheti,
S melyben sugárit tűkröztetheti.
Van itt is ember, mondd, de millyen ember?
Inség, gonoszság néz ki vad szeméből,
S lesujt pipádért, hogyha nem vigyázsz,
Szemét sötétség, vállát terh sanyarja,
S utálja mindazt, aki boldogabb.
S mi szép mulatság látni izzadását?
Mi szép nekem még rajta szántanom,
S aszott kezéből lesni sültemet?
Nem szebb-e Pesten vígan perleni
Werbőczi hajló nyelvén, és merészen
A szent igazság mellett harcra kelni?
Barátom! a bölcs boldog mindenütt,
Az Hortobágyon, az Pesten, Budán,
Mert ő magával hordja kincseit;
De boldogabb ott mégis, hol körűlte
A nyájas élet hinti kellemeit,
És szíve, lelke tárgyát lelheti,
Mint hol magába zárva él magának,
S csak álma tündérképét kergeti,
Mint egy vadonban bujdosó fakír.
Rendeltetésünk nem magányos élet
S örök komolyság és elmélkedés,
Hanem barátság és társalkodás.
S nem a világi jókat megtagadni,
De józan ésszel vélek élni tudni
A bölcseségnek titka és jele.
Maradj s perelj te Pesten, s élj vidáman
Barátid édes társaságiban,
S ne kérj az égtől többet, mint adott.
Van annyi, mennyi kell, s ha ez kevés,
Kevés lesz a föld minden kincse is.
A vízikórság szomját el nem oltja
Minden Dunáknak s tengereknek árja;
S az ép gyomornak egy pohár elég.
Ha van mit ennünk, innunk és szeretnünk,
Ha józan elménk, s testünk nem beteg,
Kivánhatunk-e s lelhetünk-e több jót,
S adhatnak-é mást a királyi kincsek? -
Így ír, így érez, így él most barátod,
Ki téged, édes Miskám, megkeres
Az új Zephyrrel s első fülmilével,
S veled csevegni és nevetni fog.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
王紳
|
夜坐呈正學方先生
|
□簷傍流水，
栁巷夾荒堤。
燈火川上眀，
日落行人稀。
勝遊固足樂，
荒亡古所譏。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T1
|
ZHO
|
伊夫
|
一棵树，或空灵之门
|
一棵树可以长在悬崖峭壁，也可以长在手心
它甚至可以住进一个人的心里
一棵树在森林中是孤独的
它金属的身体全让时间掏空了
它是善良的。它的胸怀博大
它包容自然界的一切事物
比如飞禽，比如走兽
在它的记忆里，没有邪恶没有仇恨
没有暴力没有战争，草地上只有和平的种子
我不去想恐龙是如何灭绝的
我不会去翻一本老黄历
我只关心正在消亡的事物
猎人和猎物在世纪的纪念碑前
角逐一场毫无悬念的游戏
猎物没了，猎枪自然成为一种摆设
森林会孤独死去
一棵树将自己埋在故土
风吹进地底
它竟然变身为一块化石
和我所看到的贝壳化石一样
纹路清晰，有些沉重
隐约听到脉搏的跳动
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T1
|
JPN
|
為秀
| null |
わかるらむ なこりならても はるのかり あはれなるへき あけほののこゑ
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
LZH
|
方张登
|
温武忠墓
|
名士谁当第一流，
孤臣独共主君忧。
已看甲马趋金殿，
别少风帆到石头。
洒泪三军争敌忾，
论功诸将亦封侯。
过江延誉真无忝，
北望并州万古愁。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
黄漢章
|
坡南塘
|
吁嗟從古行路難，
長亭短日天風寒。
舟膠馬隤憂欲死，
朱門歌舞誰辦此。
一朝邂逅滎陽君，
首倡開土囊俱傾。
五丁未具飯能幾，
羣毛不集裘安成。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ARA
|
الشاعر تميم الفاطمي
|
قصيدة بعثت بصفرة لون المحب
|
بعثتُ بصفرة لونِ المحبِّ
وحمرةِ توريد خدّ الحبيبِ
وأبردَ من لَثْم ثَغرِ الحبيب
على مهجة المُستهام الكئيب
ويَحْكي ودادَك في حسنه
ومحضَ وفائك طِيباً بِطيب
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر محمد عبد الوهاب
|
قصيدة جِمَالُ الْحَنِينْ
|
آَنَ لِي أَنْ أُعَرِّيَ صَدْريَ للرِّيحِ..
والبَرْقِ..
والأتْربَهْ!
آَنَ أَنْ يخرج الثَّمَرُ المُتَسَتِّرُ فِي أَيْكَتِي..
ويَصِيحُ:
أنَا العَلْقَمِيُّ الشَّهِيُّ!
أنَا المُتَهَدِّلُ مِنْ شَجَرِ الخُلْدِ..
مُنْتِظراً أَوَّلَ القَاطِفِينْ!
آَنَ لِي أَنْ أُبِينْ
وَأُسَمِّيكِ رَغْمِيَ بِالمُتَأَوَّلِ وَالمُشْتَبَهْ!
يا جِمَالَ الحَنِينِ..
حَنَانَيْكِ!
مَنْ دَخَلَ الدَّارَ..
ثُمَّ أَهَاجَكِ ضِدِّي..
وَأَغْرَاكِ بالأَهْلِ وَالأَحْجِبَهْ؟!
آَنَ أَنْ تَتَحَدَّثَ عَنْ سِرِّهَا الأَشْرِبَهْ!!
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
梁濟平
|
滄洲歌
|
嶙峋海上青芙蓉，
白雲翠靄浮空濛。
野橋斷岸問津處，
松根瀟灑蒼苔封。
郊原霏露濕芳草，
燁燁紫芝春未老。
洲中結屋歲月長，
江邊放棹風光好。
個中自是神仙宅，
豈比蓬萊杳無跡。
雲漢低垂縹緲連，
銀河倒掛三千尺。
長江滔滔飛弱流，
攜琴幾度來追遊。
昔年曾作溪山侶，
跨鶴飛上青雲頭。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
ARA
|
الشاعر الوتار
|
قصيدة مَا أبْصر النَّاس وَلم يبصروا
|
مَا أبْصر النَّاس وَلم يبصروا
فِي عصرهم مثل ابْن مَرْزُوق
من جَهله يحكم فِي عَزله
كهارب يضْرب بالبوق
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
CES
|
Bitnar, Vilém
|
Snem božských gigantů...
|
Snem božských gigantů Jsi, věčná Kniho knih,
o bojích nesmírných a valných pochodech,
Jsi velkou pohádkou, jež v bílém šeru tká
svých reků touhy dětské, štěstím zlacené,
kde ničím jejich Já, kde Boží ruka vším.
Ó vonná kniho svaté čisté lyriky,
již básnil národ v žhavých extasích,
tvých pěvců vínem mystickým se opájím,
jenž pěli na nivách při bílých stádech svých
a spali na smetí a s trůnu hřímali
a vadli touhou v dálných vodách Chobary...
Kde Memnon končí, Sfinx a stíny pyramid,
jak mladá královna ty vstáváš růžová,
těm vlídně kynouc rukou, v hájích platanů
před božstvem z mramoru jenž čela sklánějí.
Máš krále nádherné a velké proroky
a cudné ženy máš a sladké pastýře,
dech Iliad tě schvívá, idyll slunečno,
neb Sinai objímáš a boříš Kanaan
a hněvy Sary znáš a Rachel svárlivých
i únos Sabinek, jež v Sílo tančily,
když slavnost výroční jásala z révoví.
V sny božských gigantů zpěv luzný vine se
tvých bílých pohádek a idyll zlacených,
ó věčná Kniho knih!
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T6
|
T5
|
T5
|
CES
|
Fučík, Milan
|
***
|
Dnes nechce se mi spát. Je večer plný smíru,
v mém nitru klidno je, pohoda přívětivá,
tak jako tenkráte, když v pochyb sterých víru
svou sílu najdu zas, mně v duši sladko bývá.
Tak, mnil jsem, bude mi... Před krátkým ještě časem,
když žena zardělá mi příští slibovala
velkého zázraku, až naplní svým jasem
ráj štěstí našeho dvě modrá očka malá...
Tak, mnil jsem, bude mi, až přijde klidu chvíle,
v útulném pokoji noc usídlí se tichá:
ssát budu v rozkoši v své smysly štěstím spilé,
jak žena s dítětem ve sladkém spánku dýchá...
Zda možno?... Zdá se mi, tu hudbu čarnou slyším,
dech dvojí tichounký to vedle v síňce zpívá,
tak, ano, právě tak... Až k bezdechu se tiším,
bych slyšel, kterak zní ta píseň opojivá...
Oh, ne!... To byl jen klam té dobré noci, hochu,
by žalem zjitřené se srdce utěšilo...
Měj, Noci, vděčnost mou za iluse té trochu,
když je to jediné, co ze všeho mi zbylo...
Je kdesi u Prahy sad širý, smutný, kletý,
kde člověk s prahmotou se nejúžeji stýká...
Tam prstí hromádka a na ní svadlé květy.
To co je pod nimi?... To těžko se mi říká...
Je půlnoc blízka již a něco v oku tlačí.
Já za to nemohu, že teď již také pláči:
vždyť slyším nocí dech zas již jen spící matky!
A kde’s ty, synku můj, mé krve květe sladký?...
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T3
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر عبد الصمد الحكمي
|
قصيدة الوعد المؤجل أبدًا
|
ألقاكِ في الصمت؟ أم ألقاكِ في الصخبِ؟
أم في الصحائف من صبري ومن نَصَبي؟
خمسٌ عجافٌ سؤالي ظَلّ مُنتصبًا
كقامة الريح لم يهدأْ ولم يَتُبِ
قوافلُ الظن لم تَرحمْ تَوَسُّلَهُ
وكُلّ هذا الفضاءِ الرَّحْبِ لم يُجِبِ
تلك المواجدُ ما قامت زعامتُها
إلا على وعدِكِ الغافي على الرُّتَبِ
أتسألينَ تُرى ما زلت تهجِس بي؟
فكان صمتيَ إشهادًا على عَجَبي
إذ فيكِ من فِتْنةِ الأشياء أقدرُها على الغوايةِ
ما في النفس سَمْتُ نَبِيْ
أَجَلْ أفزُّ إلى حلواكِ
في ضِلَعي طفلٌ وفي شفتِيْ بَلٌّ، كمغتربِ
لاحَتْ له في جدار الغيبِ نافذةٌ
تزُفّه للقاءٍ غير مُرتَقَبِ
فبات ليلتَهُ هل ثَمّ أجنحةٌ
لفرحةٍ تصِلُ الشُّطآنَ بالسُّحُبِ
يغفو فتحمله الأحلامُ
متّكِئًا إلى لُبانةِ ثَغرٍ باردٍ رَبَبِ
يصحو وللوعد في عينيه أفئدةٌ
تَنِزُّ فوق متون الغيمِ من طرَبِ
شوقي إليكِ مساءاتٌ أكابدُها
جرحٌ يضِجُّ وجرحٌ قَطُّّ لم يَطِبِ
شوقي إليكِ تباريحٌ على كبدٍ
ما ارتاح من رَغَبٍ إلا إلى رهَبِ
شوقي إليكِ ضرامٌ ليس يُطْفِئُهُ إلا لمَاكِ
وما أحراكِ أن تَهَبِي
*
2000
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ZHO
|
余子昧
|
我可以这样干净下去
|
我可以这样干净下去
对你说话时，我可以再天真一些
再狡黠一些
做一个想象中的小母亲
在一片破瓦上，我执意种满芭蕉
你知道我爱这些
时髦的女人耻笑我说
“作秀”
我为什么要在乎
这些终将入土为安的名誉
它总是想活埋我
没有人注意灰尘中赶路的女子
但我可以这样干净下去
高贵得像一片叶子
我可以爬上落雪的山岭
挥挥手，让俗世的风纷纷落马
让互相追逐的纸筝
栽倒在我脚下
不需要担忧，不需要叫出我的名字
我可以这样干净下去
不要用灰尘活埋我
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
CUSTOM:内心纯粹坚守
|
ZHO
|
叶舟
|
我对祁连山并不见外
|
山中，藏着这个人世上所有的根苗：
山中，藏着这个人世上所有的根苗：
铁，灯台，因缘，袈裟，蘑菇，豹子与佛法，
铁，灯台，因缘，袈裟，蘑菇，豹子与佛法，
儒典，后人，以及一场泪水。
儒典，后人，以及一场泪水。
我来到的第一天，和最后一日，
我来到的第一天，和最后一日，
其实什么也不曾看见。
其实什么也不曾看见。
我对此并不见外，因为佛龛空了，
我对此并不见外，因为佛龛空了，
往后的日子，挑水劈柴，才是一门殷勤的课业。
往后的日子，挑水劈柴，才是一门殷勤的课业。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
IND
|
Mila D.S
|
TERHENTI DALAM DO'A
|
TERHENTI DALAM DO'A
Oleh Mila D.S
Awan putih seputih kapas
Bunga indah terangkai hias
Kusendiri terpaku malas
Hidup penuh rasa ikhlas
Sekejap kuterbayang
Rasa ini yang pernah datang
Dalamnya rasa ini telah kukenang
Meskipun tak selamanya hilang
Malam sunyi ku sendiri
Tuk bersujud kepada sang ilahi
Dalam do'a kuterhenti
Menyebut namamu dalam hati
Menangis raga ini
Melihatnya tak disisi lagi
Tapi apalah daya ini
Dia sudah tak berasama lagi
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
鄒浩
|
次韻胡秀才遺桃花
|
灼灼桃源數朵紅，
青禽傳到蓽門中。
傍人只喜窺春色，
達士元來寄祖風。
謾說幾經千歲賞，
會須一笑萬緣空。
沉香散處圓蒲穩，
花自蕃鮮體自同。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
李殿图
|
番行杂咏
|
昭靖当年自请缨，
纳麟七站出奇兵。
依稀癭嗉成禽处，
伟绩千秋说沐英。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
張樞
|
宮詞十首
|
堯殿融春大宴開，
山呼纔了樂聲催。
侍臣宣勸君恩重，
宰相親王對舉杯。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
DEU
|
Georg Heym
|
Frühjahr
|
Die Winde bringen einen schwarzen Abend.
Die Wege zittern mit den kalten Bäumen
Und in der leeren Flächen später Öde
Die Wolken rollen auf die Horizonte.
Der Wind und Sturm ist ewig in der Weite,
Nur spärlich, daß ein Sämann schon beschreitet
Das ferne Land, und schwer den Samen streuet,
Den keine Frucht in toten Sommern freuet.
Die Wälder aber müssen sich zerbrechen
Mit grauen Wipfeln in den Wind gehoben,
Die quellenlosen, in der langen Schwäche
Und nicht mehr steigt das Blut in ihren Ästen.
Der März ist traurig. Und die Tage schwanken
Voll Licht und Dunkel auf der stummen Erde.
Die Ströme aber und die Berge decket
Der Regenschild. Und alles ist verhangen.
Die Vögel aber werden nicht mehr kommen.
Leer wird das Schilf und seine Ufer bleiben,
Und große Kähne in der Sommerstille
In grüner Hügel toten Schatten treiben.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T1
|
T3
|
T3
|
ITA
|
[anonymous]
| null |
Tenesti, Amor, gran tempo in man le chiavi
Del mal'accorto mio tenero cuore,
Quando in sul primo giovenil errore
Parvermi i lacci tuoi dolci e soavi.
Ma poich'in me sospir penosi e gravi
Fra le varie speranze e 'l van timore
Creasti, disleale, empio signore,
Odiai il tuo falso ben, che mi mostravi.
Ond'io ringrazio quel motor superno,
Che creò questo e quell'altro emisfero,
Che da' tuoi duri lacci il cuor mi scinse.
Errarno ben col tuo cieco governo
I sensi, e l'occhio mai non scorse il vero;
Ma voglia in me ragion giamai non vinse.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر ابن أبي الحسين البعلبكي
|
قصيدة فديتك لَا تعجب لطرفك أَن كبا
|
فديتك لَا تعجب لطرفك أَن كبا
وخامره ضعف فَلَيْسَ لَهُ ذَنْب
وَمن فَوْقه طود وبحر سماحة
عَن شامخ كَيفَ لَا يكبو
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
曇域
|
贈島雲禪師
|
遠庵枯葉滿，
羣鹿亦相隨。
頂骨生新髮，
庭松長舊枝。
禪高太白月，
行出祖師碑。
亂後潛來此，
南人總不知。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
楊仲玉
|
呈伯兄萬九
|
一水盈盈隔，
中宵耿耿思。
雀環非望報，
鴻羽漫爲儀。
生德乃如此，
斯文期在茲。
昕宵同淬礪，
寸念判危微。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ENG
|
Maya Angelou
|
On Aging
|
When you see me sitting quietly,
Like a sack left on the shelf,
Don’t think I need your chattering.
I’m listening to myself.
Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me!
Hold! Stop your sympathy!
Understanding if you got it,
Otherwise I’ll do without it!
When my bones are stiff and aching,
And my feet won’t climb the stair,
I will only ask one favor:
Don’t bring me no rocking chair.
When you see me walking, stumbling,
Don’t study and get it wrong.
‘Cause tired don’t mean lazy
And every goodbye ain’t gone.
I’m the same person I was back then,
A little less hair, a little less chin,
A lot less lungs and much less wind.
But ain’t I lucky I can still breathe in.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
ARA
|
الشاعر جابر آل عبد الغفار
|
قصيدة ألا قم سعدُ كي نقضي المصابا
|
ألا قم سعدُ كي نقضي المصابا
لفقد الدين فالمهديُّ غابا
الا يا سعد خلِّ حديث سعدى
ودع ذكراك فأذهبها ذهابا
معاهد جيرة أصفتك وداً
فأودى للزمان بها اغترابا
ولا تأبه لداعٍ أو لناعٍ
أبيتَ اللوم خطباً أو خطابا
فما في الدهر بعد اليوم خطب
سوى خطب دهى الدنيا فنابا
ألمَّ بوقعه خبر فظيع
فدكَّ بثقل فادحه الهضابا
وأركم في القلوب جبال هم
فأرساها وقد كانت سرابا
غداة نعى الهدى المهدي ناع
فجرَّعنا من الأكدار صابا
نعى بدر الفقاهة اذ رماه
بغيهبه الردى خسفاً فغابا
نعى بحر العلوم به وكم ذا
لوارده حلا عذباً شرابا
فحقَّ لمثل هذا الندب ندب ال
علوم الغر حزناً واكتئابا
وقلَّ بأن تصاب به فهذا
عميد العلم عاد به مصابا
لذاك محمد الحسن المفدى
ولي الأمر والداعي المجابا
فريد على له ايدي المعالي
على أوج السما ضربت قبابا
فذلَّل جامحات الدهر حتى
قسرا وقد كانت صعابا
اخو عزم بحزم لو يلاقي
بشدة بأسه صلداً لذابا
ورأي لم يزل أبداً مصيبا
اذا ما السهم أخطأ أوأصابا
فكم كشف الغطا عن وجه رمز
فأبداه وكم رفع الحجابا
وكم من مجمل في العلم أبدى
فعاد مفصلاً باباً فبابا
فقم عز الأعزة من قريش
فقد فقدت أعزَّ أبٍ مهابا
وخصَّ به المهذب من بنيه
خليفته الزكي المستنابا
ومن قد جاء للمجد المعلى
لعمرك صالحاً كهلاً شبابا
أبرَّ ابنٍ لخير أب أبى
أحق فتى مناب ابيه نابا
حوى ما قد حوى شرفا وعزا
علياً عزَّ أن يلفى طلابا
وكيف ولا وهم شرع سواء
بنيل المجد شيباً أو شبابا
وشهب كلما استخفى شهاب
رأيت مكانه منهم شهابا
فيا رب المفاخر والمزايا
وصالحها وراجحها ثوابا
تعز ولا تدع صبراً جميلاً
فقد أضحى لديك دابا
وثق باللَه أنت وثوق حر
ولا تجزع اذا ما الخطب نابا
سقى الرحمن تربته بغيث
من الرضوان ينسكب انسكابا
ولا برحت تضوع شذاً وطيباً
فقد طابت كما حسنت مآبا
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
ENG
|
Lyne, Joseph Leycester
|
THE HOLY ISLE.
|
I WATCHED the sea waves ebbing,
Beneath the crimson glow,
Which sunset light was pouring,
Upon their soft, sweet flow.
The wavelets looked liked dancers,
Upon the sun-lit sea,
They sung in whispering chorus,—
I thought they sung to me
Of fair and far off landscapes
Beyond that molten tide,
Of better joys, and gladness
Beyond those waters wide.
The wavelets all seemed passing
On, to some other strands,
And following the sun's-glow,
To ever sun-lit lands.
But as I thought these fancies,
Again I raised mine eyes
And saw the sunset tinting
The glorious western skies.
Now‘ mid the farewell glories
“Of Sol's departing ray,”
I saw an Island resting
Upon his golden way.
There, misty mid the Sunshine,
The far off Isle appears,
Right out among the sea waves
Its rocky coast uprears.
And as I gaze, the sunset
Seems lighting up its shore,
Bathing the isle in glory
And then is seen no more.
Sweet, soothing calm fell o'er me
I watched the Islet still,
All round me heard I voices
Which seemed the air to fill.
Said one, “That Isle is holy,
For Saints are sleeping there,
Now lonely and deserted,
T'was once an Isle of prayer.”
“O Man! say would'st thou tremble,
To come away and see,
In vision, strange, sweet pictures
Which I can shew to thee?”
The Angel was so lovely,
So sweet the Angel's smile,
I easily consented,—
He pointed to the Isle!
“Then will I bear thee thither,
One thousand years ago;—
I speak to aid thy weakness,
No time can Angels know.
The present, past, and future,
All one they are to me,
I pass along their boundaries,
Unlimited, and free.”
A strange, calm change stole o'er me,
My spirit seemed to rise
In gentle, tireless motion,
Just as the sea-bird flies.
My Angel-guide was leading
My spirit o'er the sea
One moment — and we rested,
Upon the Islet's lea.
Soft gloaming filled the air,
Deep peace lay all around,
Hushed voices seemed to whisper,
A wavelike, murmuring sound.
“Sweet Angel, say, where am I,—
Say me the Island's name,
And tell me why such glory,
Enwraps it as a flame?
Say, too, what is that chanting,
So sweet, so very near,
The strangeness of this beauty
It fills my soul with fear?”
“This Holy Place is Bardsey,
Jesus, He loves it well,
‘ Tis wrapped in God's own brightness,
Safe from the power of Hell.
Those voices are the Virgins,
In yonder Abbey Choir,
Praises to Jesus singing,
Of which they never tire.
Hush! mid the shades of evening,
How restfully they sing,
Their Vesper praise-wreaths bringing
To Jesus Christ their King.
‘ Mid lights of sunset glowing,
St. Mary's Abbey stands;
But see! t'is wrapped in glories,
From far off better Lands.”
I looked again, and started,
For lo! another scene.
The Convent is surrounded
With Heaven's own brightest sheen.
And choirs of Angels hover
High in the sunset air,
While th’ holy monks are chanting
Their peaceful, evening prayer.
The Monastery is glowing,
Like heaps of molten gold;
The walls seem all transparent,
With majesty untold.
T'is strange; my spirit enters
St Mary's Sacred Shrine,
I see the cowled figures,
In many a white rob'd line,
Filling the stalls, but facing
The hallow'd Altar Throne,
Where Jesus makes His dwelling,
Untended and alone.
O peaceful, happy Bardsey,
Sweet Islet of the Sea!
I would for ever rest me,
All joyfully in thee!
O dear St. Marys Abbey,
On Bardsey's northern shore;
Would I could bide within thee,
And part from thee no more!
O happy Monks and Virgins,
Singing by night and day,
Your hymnals to Sweet Jesus,
In dearest, fondest lay!
How can I speak your glory,
How can I tell your worth?
Ye are the Church's safeguard;
Ye are the “Salt of earth.”
Ye live the life of Angels;
Ye never cease from praise,
To Heaven your intercedings
For sinners ceaseless raise.
Ah! well may throngs of sinners
Seek this most Sacred Isle,
Well may ten thousand pilgrims
Visit St. Mary's pile.
Well may'st thou, Aberdaron,
Loving to Bardsey be,
And daily turn thy glances
To the Islet out at sea.
For Bardsey is the lighthouse
Of many a shipwrecked soul;
To many a way-worn wanderer
Is Bardsey's Isle the goal.
The glow of Bardsey's brightness,
Illumes wild Cambria's shores,
Across the Irish Channel,
Her Heavenly light she pours.
And blessed saints in thousands
Have dwelt on Bardsey's hill,
Sending her countless Virgins
Celestial choirs to fill.
How Jesus must love Bardsey,
And prize her sacred soil;
Here Saints in countless numbers
Have rested from earth's toil:
Have laid aside the burden
Of poor mortality,
And entered on the Sabbath
Of glad eternity.
While thus I dream, the Organ
Is pealing forth its wave,
The Holy Monks are marching
All slowly down the Nave.
“Dear Angel! may I follow
Them, down the Cloister still,
And join their recreation,
On yonder mossy hill?”
The Angel smiled permission;
I willed myself along,
Until unseen, I joined me
To th’ happy, Virgin throng.
Here, there were boys most lovely;
And there, old hoary men;
And youths, and those of mid-age;
Here joyous boys again.
I followed one young novice,
Who held an old man's hand;
I listened,— they were speaking,
Of some dear, distant Land.
The boy I saw was pointing
Away, right out to sea,
Where moonlight made a pathway,
Of silver radiancy.
The silver way seemed joining
Together sea and sky,
The stars seemed trembling o'er it,
Like lightlets from on high.
“Dear Father Cadfan, look now,”
— Said the bright and lovely boy,—
“I'm sure that silver roadway
Leads to our Home of Joy.”
“No, no, my Son, t'is only
An emblem of the way,
Across time's changing storm-tide,
To regions of the day.”
And then the old man turning,
Towards Cambria's rock bound shore,
Pointed the boy to Barmouth,
But then called Abermawr.
“My son,” said he, “‘ tis yonder,
Long years ago I tried
To bring poor souls to Jesus,
Who once for sinners died.
But there the Druids held them
In error's iron chain,
They would not hear of Jesus,
And drove me thence again.
Yet though at Abermawr I failed
‘ Mid Towyn's marshes drear,
The people bowed before the Cross,
And sought the Saviour dear.
My son, one day thou must away,
If Father Abbot wills,
And build a Shrine to Christ Divine,
‘ Mid Barmouth's rocky hills.
The idols which they worship
Thou boldly must destroy,
Promise old Father Cadfan this,
My brave, my darling boy!”
The boy's bright eyes were flashing,
He grasped the old man's hand,—
“Father, I will preach Jesus
Upon that darkened strand.
Only, my father, pray for me,
When thou hast past the sea,
And reignest with our Jesus,
In the‘ kingdom of the free.’”
St. Cadfan smiled, and blessed the lad,
His heart's desire seemed gained,
From idol worship for the Lord
Should Abermawr be claimed.
The Compline Bell tolled solemnly
From out St. Mary's Tower,
Calling the Monks to worship
At day's last hallowed hour.
Dubritius, the novice boy,
Stood meekly in his stall,
The fathers and the novices
Chanted the Office all.
But Father Cadfan was not there,
Calmly his body lay;
Upon the mound by Bardsey Sound,
His spirit passed away.
His work was done, his prize was won,
The holy Monk was gone,
To join the virgin song notes,
Before th’ Eternal Throne.
The boy, so beautiful and pure,
Grew up to manhood's bloom,
And ofttimes visited for prayer
The Blessed Cadfan's Tomb.
One night the sun was sinking
Behind the Western wave,
Dubritius was kneeling
Beside St. Cadfan's grave.
The Compline chants were over,
The twilight almost gone,
The youth was startled by a voice
Which cried — “My son! my son!”
A gentle light shone round the grave,
He raised his eyes, and lo!
St. Cadfan stood beside him,
Amid the weird-like glow;
“My son, make haste, thy solemn vows
Thou speedily must make,
Then to the men of Abermawr
The Cross of Jesus take.
The Banner and the Gospel,
With holy Chant and Psalm,
Straight to the Druid's Temple go,
Nor fear, nor feel alarm.
For Jesus must be Cambria's God,
The night must hie away,
Thyself must be the harbinger
Of Everlasting Day.”
The youth sprung forward to embrace
The friend he loved so well,
But he was gone; no sound was heard,
Save the lone ocean's swell.
How beautiful! how beautiful!
Is now the Convent Choir;
All deck'd for some high festival
In exquisite attire.
Most precious gems are gleaming
Upon the frontal fair,
The Mass Priests too are vested
In garments passing rare.
The sacred tapers glisten
The Altar all along;
The holy Monks are chanting
Some sweet — some wedding song!
And tall white lilies, scenting
The Incense laden air,
Are bending down their petals,
T'wards a novice bow'd in prayer.
Yes! there before the Altar,
I see Dubritius bow,
Pure as the virgin lilies,
Encircling his fair brow.
His vows are said — the Cowl is given,
His live-long promise made;
All earthly loves are buried now,
Within the Cloister's shade.
“Unfurl the sail! unloose the chain!
That links us to the shore —
To our own precious Island home
Which we may see no more!”
Thus spake Dubritius; and the tide
Fast wafted him away,
Out t'wards the rocky Cambrian coast
Of Cardigan's fair bay.
The sea was calmly resting,
Lit by the summer's sun;
In three short hours the Convent boat
Her little voyage had run.
Dubritius and his monkish band
At once pursued their way,
Reaching the town of Abermawr
Just at the close of day.
The evening's hush was resting
So peacefully around,
Alone was heard the shrill sea bird,
And the waves’ soft murmuring sound.
When all at once through th’ restful air,
Dread shrieks of anguish rung
From the idol temple near the town,
While Druid choirs sung
Fierce hymns to their false savage gods,
Around the kindling flame,
Prepared for sacrificial rites,
Too terrible to name.
A fair young mother brings her babe,
A warrior brings his boy,
The Druids bind their victims
With fierce, fanatic joy!
The weeping mother hears the wail
Well from her darling's breast;
The father sees the Druids bind
His boy with savage zest.
The lad was fair to look upon,
Ah! must he really die,
Oh! shall such sacrifice pollute
That calm blue evening sky?
The boy, though brave, is trembling now,
He nears the dreadful fire,
He feels its scorch, yet gives his life,
To still the idol's ire.
The father's cheek grows blanched and pale,
The poor young mother stands,
Yearning to snatch her precious one
From the stern Druid's hands.
High leaps the flame, loud swells the song,
From the Druids’ choirs around;
But suddenly the evening wind
Fills with another sound!
‘ Tis “Miserere Domine,”
Sung by the Monkish train,
“Exurgat Deus Dominus,”
A grand and glorious strain!
With Crucifix and banner bright,
The bold brave monks appear;
And then among the heathen crowd,
Christ's mighty Cross they rear.
“Cease, cease, ye sons of wickedness,
This useless wicked rite;
The God of Heaven has sent me here,
Of Majesty and Might!”
Dubritius spoke, and seized the boy
Straight from the altar's side;
And caught the infant from the flame,
Or ere the darling died!
While this was done, some novices
Had hurl'd the idol down;
“Jesus is God!” the Monks proclaim,
“Your King with homage crown!
Ye Druids move not, or we call
God's Angels to our aid.
The hour has come. By Abermawr
Worship must now be paid
To Jesus Christ, and Him alone,
Crown Him ye people all;
He bought you with His Precious Blood,
Prostrate before Him fall!”
Dubritius, with mighty power,
Told of the love so free,
That made God Man to die to save,
And bring true liberty.
God gave the Monks the victory,
The power of Jesus’ Name
Prevailed among those savage hearts,
Put out the cruel flame;
Rescued the boy, and snatched the babe
From that dread altar's side;
Plunged them in gentle mercy's stream,
The blest Baptismal tide.
The days and weeks passed swiftly,
New converts owned the Lord,
Ere long, all Abermawr became
Obedient to the Word.
Seventy long years had flown away,
See! Aberdaron weeps;
Forth from her Church beside the shore,
A long procession sweeps.
See crowds of pilgrims waiting
From all Carnarvon round,
The hushing of the sea roar,
To cross the dangerous sound.
The Church at Aberdaron
Is wet with mourners’ tears;
Dubritius has entered
Upon the Eternal years.
His body rests so calmly
Before the Altar high,
The Priests are softly wailing
The mournful Requiem's sigh.
Upon the Altar glisten
The waxen tapers tall,
And summer flowers are lying
Upon the snow-white pall.
Sweet Incense clouds are rising
Around the hallowed bier;
From many an eye is falling
The sad, the loving tear.
Dubritius left Bardsey,
His lov'd — his peaceful home,
For fifty years mid war-strife,
This valiant Saint did roam.
But now, in peace, he cometh,
In Bardsey's Isle to rest,
His spirit calmly dwelling
In regions of the blest.
Lower your crest, ye foam waves,
Wail adverse winds no more,
Dubritius must pass over
To Bardsey's sainted shore.
‘ Tis evening, and the sun glow
Is lighting up the sea:
The tiny waves are dancing,
For merriment and glee.
They bore Dubritius to toil,
To the fight at Abermawr,
And now they sing his lullaby,
And hush their noisy roar.
The boats are filling quickly
At Aberdaron's quay,
The Bardsey bells are pealing,
Across the crimson sea.
The Aberdaron Canons
Are chanting their sweet Psalm,
The blessed Saint is passing
Across those waters calm.
The Bay of Aberdaron
Seems full of peace and life,
Dubritius the Warrior,
As victor from the strife,
Is coming full of glory,
To his Island Home again;
The welcome bells are ringing,
Athwart the calm blue main.
Hark! how the chant is rising
From a hundred boats and mo’,
Mingling its soft sweet requiem,
With the murmuring wavelet's flow.
And now the fleet of mourners
Reaches the haven still,
And th’ Monks’ slow, sad procession
Is winding down the hill.
The sacred banners waving,
In th’ restful evening air,
Borne by some weeping novices,
Wrought in devices rare.
And Incense-clouds ascending,
And many a taper's light,
Burst on the pilgrims’ vision,
A fair and holy sight.
“Requiem aeternam,”
The aged Abbot sings;
“Dona ei Domine,”
The loud response-note rings.
He comes! he comes! the victor!
We'll welcome him with song;
Another Saint now perfect,
To Bardsey doth belong!
The dread Pelagian heresy
He trampled from our land,
And drove the Druid's tyranny
From Cambria's noble strand.
He joined his Alleluia
With countless thousands more,
And drove the heathen foemen,
The Holy Cross before.
“Now that thou reign'st with Jesus,
A glorious Saint above,
O pray, dear St. Dubritius,
For the island of thy love!”
The Abbey Church was glistening
With incense, lights, and gold,
The organ's peal of welcome,
Through aisle and choir rolled.
The hooded Monks are bearing
Slowly the bier along,
The choristers are chanting
A glad triumphant song.
“Rest for thy toil is o'er,
The battle's shout no more
Shall break thy spirit's calm,
Or mar thy peaceful Psalm;
Of praise to Christ the King,
Whose beauty thou shalt sing,
Throughout the ages long,
In one unbroken song.
For ever, and for aye,
In everlasting Day.”
The lichens and the ivy
Are creeping up the wall,
And growing round the casements,
And o'er the towers tall.
The Abbey hath grown hoary,
With centuries of age,
St. Mary's Abbey stories
In many an ancient page.
And yet her grand old praise notes
Linger in her choir,
For of the praise of Jesus,
Her Monks can never tire.
Now round the hallowed precincts
Saint's ashes crowd her sod,
Here thousands, and ten thousands
Have passed away to God.
Men call the Holy Island
“The Gate of Paradise,”
And crowd her shores with pilgrims,
Who offer Sacrifice,
In Holy Eucharist, and tears,
And penance for their sin,
And pray that through sweet Jesus
God's pardon they may win.
A pilgrimage to Bardsey,
If faithfully twice made,
Brings blessings all as gracious,
As if to Rome once paid.
So thought the Faithful in that day,
Of Bardsey's Sacred Isle,
And sought her weal devoutly,
For Jesu's sake the while.
A maiden fair was weeping;
Her warrior lover gone,
Yet not for noisy war-strife,
He leaves her thus alone.
Valiant in battle — bravely
The gory plains he trod,
Nor feared the deadly sword-thrust,
Nor th’ battles death-strewn sod.
And ofttimes‘ mid the strife-clang,
He thought of his fair bride;
Whom he should press in triumph,
So closely to his side.
When all at once he altered,
He laid his armour by,
He said, his eyes were opened
To see earth's vanity.
Eternity seemed opening
Her vista to his view,
He trembled at the prospect,
Graver he daily grew.
Men tried their skill all vainly
To dissipate his fear;
But Rudolph only answered —
“Eternity is near!
They say this life is joyous,
‘ Tis all too short for me,
I must seek joys that fade not,
Throughout Eternity.
All — all of earth I'll banish,
Its hopes, its loves, its smile;
And live alone for Jesus,
In Enlli's sainted isle.”
This stern resolve all firmly,
Rudolph right soon did make;
And parents, lover, glory,
For Christ he did forsake.
“These things for money promptly,
Earth's servants oft forego,
Then I, for years eternal,
Relinquish all below.
I'll live alone for Jesus
In the Monastic Life,
And in the sacred cloister
I'll wage the wondrous strife
With Satan, like our Master,
Amid the desert wild,
I'll give my will to Jesus,
Just as a little child,
That thus I soon‘ may enter
The Kingdom’ of the Lord,
As said our Saviour Jesus,
In His own Holy Word.”
But Mabel pines; young Rudolph,
She pineth sore for thee;
To thee her troth she plighted,
In love's first purity.
Within her bower she waiteth,
Her eyes with weeping sore,
They cannot stay her sorrow,
She mourneth more and more.
“Go, tell her,” said young Rudolph,
“Go, tell the lady fair,
That I have found a Lover,
Of Beauty wondrous rare.
Yes, tell her He is chiefest
‘ Among ten thousand’ too,
Yea,‘ altogether lovely,’
His Love is ever true.
Tell her, my Love is Jesus,
The Prince of Peace — the King,
Whose Beauty all the Angels
Eternally do sing.”
But Rudolph, list! she pineth,
Oh, canst thou break her heart?
Wilt thou prove false to Mabel,
So cruelly thus part?
Her rosy blush is waning,
Her cheek is growing pale,
Her maiden heart is breaking,
Soon will her young life fail.
As Rudolph listened, tear drops
Flashed in his dark blue eye,
His manly breast was heaving
A deep, a piercing sigh.
Oh! tell her, brother, tell her,
She must not weep for me;
Say that I long to meet her
Where parting may not be.
My love is all unaltered,
But the eternal years
Have stole my heart from Mabel,
And earth's sad vale of tears!
And now a boat is waiting
The resting of the tide,
One hour — Rudolph is landing
On Bardsey's southern side.
And quick his steps are seeking
The Abbey's quiet shade;
Three months — the princely Rudolph
His novice vows had made.
‘ Twas the Corpus Christi Spring Feast,
That now was hard at hand,
And Pilgrim crowds are waiting
On Aberdaron's strand.
The sea was gaily sparkling,
Beneath the May-day sun,
The Aberdaron boatmen
A race to Bardsey run.
Now, in all haste the pilgrims
Are landing on the isle,
For crowds at Aberdaron
Are waiting all the while.
The boats return to fetch them,
Across the sparkling bay,
In time for the First Vespers
Of Corpus Christi Day.
The grand old Abbey Temple
Was throng'd both aisle and nave,
The Vespers from the choir
Roll'd forth their choral wave.
And then a grand procession,
With lights, and incense, came
From out the choir; the old Church
Seem'd one bright blaze of flame.
For all the congregation
A lighted taper bore,
In honour of the Victim,
Once slain in days of yore.
But now with solemn worship
Borne in procession long,
Mid incense-clouds, and tapers,
And bursts of triumph song.
The Fathers and the Novices
Came first in order due,
Then choir-boys with banners,
All marching two and two.
The people fall back reverently,
As th’ holy Monks draw near,
One maiden there is trembling,
As if for very fear.
Or p'r' aps it's her devotion
That palsies all her frame,
But then she would most surely
Be bow'd for virgin shame.
It is not thus, for, see now,
She pushes through the crowd,
Close to the Monks’ procession,
She kneels and sobs aloud.
She marks young Brother Rudolph,
And wails a long deep cry;
He knew her voice, but turns not,
Nor lifts his downcast eye;
He chants his grand old love-song
To Jesus Christ the King,
Borne in the slow procession,
As the glad joy bells ring:—
“Tantum ergo Sacramentum,
Veneremur cernui;
Et antiquum documentum,
Novo cedat ritui;
Praestet fides supplementum,
Sensuum defectui.”
“O Jesus! my sweet Jesus!”
The warrior-monk doth pray,
“Shew her Thine Own great Beauty,
Make her Thine Own to-day;
Be Thou her glorious Bridegroom,
Be Thou her only Choice,
Ravish her with Thy Beauty,
Make her to hear Thy voice.”
But as the long procession
Did wind its joyous way,
Making the evening twilight
Almost as bright as day,
The countless tapers glittered
Like hosts of meteors round,
And sent a glow of radiance
Athwart the Bardsey Sound.
Right round the Islet pealing,
The gladsome songs ascend,
And with the evening breezes
The clouds of incense blend.
But what was Mabel doing,
Where was the maiden now?
O joy! at Mary's altar,
She plights another vow!
Yes! while the girl was weeping,
Her Rudolph lost and gone,
The Sacred Host drew near her,
There from strange glory shone.
And there as if in vision,
All wondrous, and most clear,
Mabel beheld the Saviour,
His voice fell on her ear.
“Arise, my love, my fair one,
Arise, and come away;
The winter's past, the rain gone,”
The sunbeams strew thy way.
In lily vales the virgins
Are waiting now for thee,
“Arise my love, my fair one,
Arise, and follow Me.”
Hush! softly in the distance,
I hear the nuns’ sweet song,
‘ Tis floating through the Cloister,
Its fretted roofs along.
And mingling with the echoes
Of nature's own sweet praise,
Which the lowing herd, and the sweet song-bird,
With insects hum doth raise.
How peacefully, how restfully,
Such sounds as these combine
To soothe the weary spirit,
A weary one like mine.
But now my spirit wanders,
Woo'd by that distant hymn,
Through the hallow'd door, o'er the storied floor,
To the steps of the chancel dim.
The nuns’ sweet hymn was dying
In faintest tones away,
While prostrate at the altar,
A maiden's figure lay.
Two years had pass'd since Mabel
Had heard the Bridegroom's voice,
In Bardsey's Holy Island,
And made her happy choice.
And now before His Altar,
She lays her young life down,
And from the hands of Rudolph
Receives the virgin crown!
Yes! Father Rudolph blesses,
The Virgin-Crown and Veil
Adorn the brow of Mabel,
With wreaths of lilies pale.
Her vows, like his, are plighted,
For ever and for aye,
To One Whose Love and Beauty
Can change not or decay.
O happy youths and virgins!
In cloister homes that dwell,
For ever and for ever
Your joyous songs shall swell —
Upon the soft sweet breezes
Of Zion's sun-lit lands —
Upon the lily hill-slopes,
With all the virgin bands.
And so Carnarvon Convent
Enclosed another bride,
For Jesus Christ, the Bridegroom,
The Virgins Joy and Pride.
It was a calm sweet festal,
In joyous, summer time,
And Bardsey's Abbey bell-notes
Rang out a merry chime.
The Island seem'd rejoicing,
With holy joy and mirth,
The Monks are going to honour
St. John the Baptist's birth.
For John shines forth as Primate
Of Monkish Choirs above,
On earth he dwelt in deserts,
And knew no earthly love.
The poor, the sad, the orphans,
All love St. Mary's shrine,
And venerate her Cloister,
Fill'd with the Love Divine.
The Fathers, and the Novices,
They count as loving friends,
Whom Jesus in His Mercy,
The poor and helpless sends.
They teach their children sweetly,
The Gospel's glorious tales,
And tend their sick and dying
With care that never fails.
No poor's rates, and no workhouse,
Were needed in those days,
The monks were all they wanted,
They work'd for Jesu's praise.
The Holy Mass was over,
The Abbot seeks his cell,
His heart is strangely trembling,
Wherefore he cannot tell.
‘ Tis some foreboding sorrow
That makes his spirit sad,
Though all around is sunshine
And everything seems glad.
A strange, a chill forewarning,
Shakes the old man with fear,
Some dread, some dire affliction,
Too surely must be near.
That night, ere hushful Compline
Had closed the sacred day,
Two boats the Point were rounding,
Of Aberdaron's Bay.
In one brief hour there landed,
On Bardsey's holy shore,
Ten men from Windsor, bringing
Tidings most sad and sore.
They seek at once admission,
Telling the news they bring,
The Monks must, ere the morrow,
Surrender to the king
The Abbey and its treasures,
Its Church, its relics rare,
Its Vestments and its Chalices,
Its Shrines with jewels fair.
The Monks must sign surrender,
Acknowledge many a sin
They never could have dreamt of,
If they would safety win.
And call the tyrant merciful,
For driving them away,
Making them leave their Abbey
To ruin and decay.
The Compline Bell was tolling
Its last dear Compline call,
To-morrow death-like ruin
Would o'er the Convent fall.
That night the holy Fathers
Held consultation long,
And all agreed — Surrender
Would be unjust and wrong.
“Then die we at God's Altar,
Sooner than yield the right
Which God Himself has given us,
To sacrilegious might.”
And true to their confession
The holy Monks remained,
And with their virgin life-blood
The Altar-steps are stained.
The poor arose right bravely,
Their much-loved Monks to aid,
And many thus right gladly
Their lives a forfeit made.
Now having done all thoroughly,
Their work of cruel wrong,
They left the Island weeping,
All hushed the Holy Song,
Which for so many ages,
By night as well as day,
Had praised the Love of Jesus,
In one long ceaseless lay.
And now the poor are seeking,
Among the ruins drear,
The bodies of the Martyrs,
So holy, and so dear.
Ah! there before the Altar,
The brave old Abbot lies;
And there, too, Father Rudolph,
With fixed and glassy eyes.
But oh! a calm serenest
Enfolds the Martyrs blest,
Strange joy lights up their faces,
Their spirits are at rest.
The dear old Abbey crumbles
All swiftly to decay:
Oh! for its restoration!
Cadfan! Dubritius! pray!
Ye thousand Saints of Bardsey,
Lift up your pleading song,
That Jesus may avenge you,
Of this most cruel wrong!
A hundred years are over,
Two stranger pilgrims steal,
To Bardsey's Abbey ruins,
To pray for Bardsey's weal.
The night was stormy, darksome,
No moonlight's silver ray
Lit up the desolation
That all around them lay.
The hour was lonely midnight,
See! now beside the tomb,
Where holy Cadfan resteth,
A light steals through the gloom,
And‘ mid the light a figure,
In holy Monk's attire,
And smiling sweetly, brightly,
Points to the ruined choir.
“Pilgrims faithful, Pilgrims true,
List to that I tell to you.
Years three hundred shall not end,
Ere the King of Heaven shall send,
Saints to rear this sacred fane,
And restore her walls again.
Saints above cease not their cry,
Unto Christ the Lord Most High,
That His ceaseless praises may
Here arise by night and day.
Newborough's Lord shall own this soil;
Ere he resteth from life's toil,
Jesus, for His servants’ sake,
Bids him restoration make.
And if Newborough's Lord obey,
That which Jesu's servants say,
He shall gain a blessing bright,
In the realms of Morning Light.
If he do not grant their prayer,
He shall lose a blessing rare,
When he lies on his last bed,
Sad regret shall crown his head.
To his son shall then be given,
Choicest blessings from High Heaven,
For he shall restore to God,
Through the Monks this sacred sod.”
Saying thus he sought repose,
In the tomb whence he arose.
The Angel shewed me these things,
In pictures bright and true;
I woke!— my eyes were resting
Upon the waters blue.
But oh! the waves seem sighing
For sorrow at my tale,
The sea-birds floating o'er them.
Sent forth a piteous wail.
Oh happy waves! no tyrant
Can hush your endless song.
May ye again comingle
With Bardsey's chants ere long.
Then Heaven, and Earth, and Nature,
In unison shall raise,
One grand joy-peal of gladness,—
One mighty shout of praise!
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T5
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神圣、超验与智慧
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T5
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T5
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T5
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