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LZH
|
朱谋堚
|
白下集沈生予明府席上赋得春草
|
芳杜夺幽色，
秦淮客路遥。
青莲邀笛步，
绿锁赛工桥。
柔雨生三径，
残烟认六朝。
梦归南浦里，
几个别魂消。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T2
|
T1
|
HIN
|
Sitakant Mahapatra
|
नियमगिरि, खाम्बसी गाँव की चौरासी वर्षीय बूढ़ी की अनकही कहानी
|
(1)
ये जितने लंबे- लंबे पेड़
ये जंगल , ये पहाड़
सात पुश्तों से, अति पवित्र !
देखने मात्र से घट जाती है भूख
उधर बंगा है बुरूबंगा
साथ निभाता है हर सुख- दुःख
गगनचुंबी साल के पेड़ के पत्ते
देते हैं बनाने के लिए तुम्हारे खाने की थाली और दोना
महुआ पेड़ के गिरे फूलों से महुली बनाना
और बालाओं के जूड़ों में सजाना
इसके चारों तरफ धरती के गर्भ में
सारी संपति, सारी खदानें
पहाड़ों में बॉक्साइट और अनगिनत खनिज
चाहे कल हो या परसों
निश्चय ही लोभी की संपति की तरह हो जाएँगी खत्म
एक मुट्ठी भर चावल कणों की तरह
चारों तरफ कलकल करते झरनों के पानी की
नहीं मिल पाएगी कल एक बूंद
सूख जाएगी सब तुम्हारे लोभ की गरमी से
कल खोजते समय
ये धुंधली आँखें देखेगी
वे पवित्र पेड़ नहीं
पेड़ के नीचे कुल देवता नहीं
झरणों में पानी नहीं
उन गीतों में, युवकों की बंसी में
मधुर रागिनी नहीं।
इस तरह नहीं- नहीं के भीतर होंगे
अभी तक जो ! सात पुश्तों
से बने छोटे से घर से
सर से टकराएगा, अलंदू काला
ध्यान से देखकर आओ, देख सकते हो
छत से लटकती हुई कोई माला
चट्टान के गीत सरस
बाजरा नहीं मिलने पर लेंगें आम की गुठलियों का रस।
(2)
जानती थी ,तुम सब दिन आओगे।
हमारे लिए रोओगे
ओजस्वी भाषण के सारे शब्द
अग्नि के स्फुलिंग होकर बिखर जाएंगे
डर लगता है झरनों में आग लग जाएगी ?
जानती थी,
किसी दिन भी जिन्हें देखा तक नहीं था
वे सब भी आएँगे।
ये कोई नई बात नहीं है
राजा- महाराजा समुद्र पार के शासक
तिरंगा लहराने के समय
तरह- तरह के शासक, शोषक
छोटे मोटे व्यापारियों से बड़े- बड़े व्यापारी
तक सभी आएँगे।
तुम्हारी आँखें होते हुए भी
देख नहीं पाओगे
कैमरे की आँखें तो अंधें की आँखें
तुम्हारे कान होने पर भी सुन नहीं पाओगे
सीने की धकधक
नहीं होने को शायद नहीं
समझ पाओगे।
उन सबसे क्या लेना- देना ?-
' दर्मू ' धर्म देवता छिपकर देख रहा है सब
बुरुबंगा नियमगिरि
चुपचाप कान लगाकर सुन रहा है सब
धरती माता समझ रही है
छोटी- मोटी बातें सब ।
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T1
|
DEU
|
Lenz, Jakob Michael Reinhold
|
2.
|
Was fang ich an? was räthst du Liebe mir?
Zu sterben wär es Zeit. Was zaudr' ich hier?
Madonna todt, mein Herz hinweg genommen,
Und muß ich Mörder seyn, zu ihr zu kommen?
Ja, ja, ich muß, weil ich sie nie
Mehr hoffen kann zu sehn; ach! ohne sie
Was ist das Leben? Tödtendlangsam Sehnen
Nach der Erlösung, was die Freude? – Tränen.
Du weißt es Liebe, kennest das Gewicht
Der grauenvollen Schmerzen alle.
Gescheitert unser Schiff, dahin das Licht,
Das uns geleitet. Diesem Trauerfalle
Vergleicht sich nichts. O Erde! wie entstellt,
Ach wie verwayset, undanckbare Welt!
Dein Reitz ist hin, elende Welt voll Thoren.
Ach, wüßtest du, was du an ihr verloren,
Du traurtest ewig. Nur durch sie noch schön:
Und sahsts nicht ein, du warsts nicht werth zu sehn,
Nicht werth, daß ihre Füsse dich berührten,
Die heiligen Füsse, die gen Himmel führten.
Der Himmel neidisch auf dein Glück
Nahm sein geliehnes Pfand zurück.
Und ich Verlaßner! der ich ohne
Sie weder Welt noch mich ertragen kann,
Ich sitze hier und weine. Ruffe
Vergeblich sie zurück. Trost, daß ich weinen kann!
Weh mir! ihr Antlitz Erde! ihre Mienen,
Auf denen Hofnungen des Himmels schienen
Die uns allein ihn glauben machten! Nein,
Die göttliche Gestalt kann nicht verweset seyn.
Den Schleyer hat sie abgelegt, der ihre Blüthe
Hier eingeschattet; ganz voll Lieb' und Güte
Schwebt sie im Paradiese – oder hier
O göttlich süsser Schaur! – unsichtbar neben mir – u.s.f.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
DEU
|
Durs Grünbein
|
In der Provinz 5
|
(Bei Aquincum) Wie vom Reisewagen gestreift eines fliehenden Siedlers Lag auf der Römerstraße die tote Amsel, zerfetzt.
Einer, der immer dabei war, den nie was anging, der Wind Hatte aus Flügelfedern ein schwarzes Segel gesetzt.
Daran erkanntest du sie, von fern, die beiseitegefegte, Beim Einfall der Horde an die Erde geschmiegte Schwester.
Ob Daker und Hunnen, Mongolenpferde und Motorräder – Schimpfend hatte sie abgelenkt von der Nähe der Nester.
Mehr war nicht drin.
Sieht aus, als sei sie gleich hin gewesen.
Der miserablen Sängerin blieb nur sich querzulegen.
Damals im Staub grober Quader, heute auf nassem Asphalt.
Immer war Völkerwanderung, meistens Gefahr auf den Wegen.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
庾承宣
|
賦得冬日可愛
|
宿霧開天霽，
寒郊見初日。
林疎照逾遠，
冰輕影微出。
豈假陽和氣，
暫忘玄冬律。
愁抱望自寬，
羈情就如失。
欣欣事幾許，
曈曈狀非一。
傾心倘知期，
良願自茲畢。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
ZHO
|
阿鲁
|
临沂大雾
|
刚醒来就遇到了
这场大雾。鸡未啼，太阳也没有
升起来。门外只传来
清扫大街的声音
你说你也听见了。耳朵可真是一个
小心眼的情人。我们干脆
闭上眼睛，然后躺在各自的床上等待
这是新的一天。桌子上的早餐奶
我买了两份
这是多年来的习惯，如今却要
独自享受。
我总喜欢在深夜抚摸
你油亮的头发，直到弄醒你
看着你发脾气，然后暗自得意
而现在的双手，沾满了雾水。
大雾深处，火车拉响了长笛——
是有人回家了，还是即将远行
我想，你一定猜不到
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ZHO
|
李魁贤
|
行出历史的监牢
|
咱的朋友行出监牢
堂堂男子汉
为着故乡打拼一世人
转来每日思念的台湾
却然未曾未踏着温顺的土地
就给人接入去黑牢内
折磨 变损
致使血压冲高
为着台湾无惜本
咱的朋友忍耐行出监牢
独裁政府未久长
土地是咱的
毋免据在人喊掠喊打
大家出声
大家讲出心里的愿望
踏出咱的脚步
在咱家己的土地上
做一个有尊严的新国家的主人
咱的朋友堂堂行出监牢
实在讲
咱爱了解
据在人蹍踏的社会
才是黑暗的重重叠叠的铁墙铜壁
咱若不敢举出家己国家的旗
复再一遍沦亡的时瞬
全部台湾人着爱陷落监牢内
离叶离枝永远未当超生
咱大家来凑阵行出历史的监牢
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ENG
|
Lytton, Edward Bulwer
|
IV.
|
The Hours steal on. Like spectres, to and fro
Hurry hush'd footsteps through the house of woe.
That nameless chill, which tells of life that dies,
Broods o'er the chamber where Calantha lies.
The Hours steal on — and o'er the unquiet might
Of the great Babel — reigns, dishallow'd, Night.
Not, as o'er Nature's world, She comes, to keep
Beneath the stars her solemn tryst with Sleep,
When move the twin-born Genii side by side,
And steal from earth its demons where they glide;
Lull'd the spent Toil — seal'd Sorrow's heavy eyes,
And dreams restore the dews of Paradise;
But Night, discrown'd and sever'd from her twin,
No pause for Travail, no repose for Sin,
Vex'd by one chafed rebellion to her sway,
Flits o'er the lamp-lit streets — a phantom day!
Alone sat Morvale in the House of Gloom,
Alone — no! Death was in the darken'd room;
All hush'd save where, at distance faintly heard,
Lucy's low sob the depth of silence stirr'd;
Or where, without, the swift wheels hurrying by,
Bear those who live — as if life could not die.
Alone he sat! and in his breast began
Earth's deadliest strife — the Angel with the Man!
Not his the light war with its feeble rage
Which prudent scruples with faint passions wage,
( The small heart-conflicts which disturb the wise,
Whom reason succours when the anger tries,
Such as to this meek social ring belong,
In conscience weak, but in discretion strong;)
But that known only to man's franker state,
In love a demigod — a fiend in hate,
Him, not the reason but the instincts lead,
Prompt in the impulse, ruthless in the deed.
And if the wrong might seem too weak a cause
For the fell hate — not his were Europe's laws.—
Some think dishonour, if it halt at crime,
A stingless asp,— what injury in the slime?
As if but this poor clay — this crumbling coil
Of dust for graves — were all the foul can soil!
As if the form were not the type ( nor more
Than the mere type ) of what chaste souls adore!
That Woman-Royalty, a spotless name,
For sires to boast — for sons unborn to claim,
That heavenly purity of thought — as free
From shame as sin, the soul's virginity,
If these be lost — why what remains?— the form?
Has that such worth?— Go, envy then the worm!
And well to him may such belief belong,
And India's memories blacken more the wrong;
In Eastern lands, by tritest tales convey'd,
How Honour guards from sight itself the maid;
Home's solemn mystery, jealous of a breath,
Screen'd by religion, and begirt with death:—
Again he cower'd beneath the hissing tongue,
Again the gibe of scurril laughter rung,
Again the Plague-breath air itself defiled,
And Mockery grinn'd upon his mother's child!
All the heart's chaste religion overthrown,
And slander scrawl'd upon the altar-stone!
And if that memory pause, what shapes succeed?
The martyr leaning on the broken reed!
The life slow-poison'd in the thoughts that shed
Shame o'er the joyless earth;— and there, the dead!
Marvel not ye, the soft, the fair, the young,
Whose thoughts are chords to Love's sweet music strung,
Whose life the sterner genius — Hate, has spared,
If on his soul no torch but Ate's glared!
If in the foe was lost to sight the bride,
The foe's meek child!— that memory was denied!
The face, the tale, the sorrow, and the love, }
All fled — all blotted from the breast: Above }
The Deluge not one refuge for the Dove! }
There is no Lethe like one guilty dream,
It drowns all life that nears the leaden stream;
And if the guilt seem sacred to the creed,
Between the stars and earth, but stands the Deed!
So in his breast the Titan feud began:
Which shall prevail — the Angel or the Man?
The Injurer comes! the lone light breaking o'er }
The gloom, waves flickering to the open door, }
And Arden's step is on the fatal floor! }
Around he gazed, and hush'd his breath,— for Fear
Cast its own shadow on the wall,— a drear
And ominous prescience of the Death-king there
Breathed its chill horror to the heavy air;
O'er yon recess — which bars with draperied pall
The baffled gaze — the unbroken shadows fall.
The lurid embers on the hearth burn low;
The clicking time-piece sounds distinct and slow;
And the roused instinct hate's suspense foreshows
In the pale Indian's lock'd and grim repose.
So Arden enter'd, and thus spoke; the while
His restless eye belied his ready smile:
“Return'd, I find thy mandate, and attend
To hear a mystery, or to serve a friend.”
“Or front a foe!”
A stifled voice replied.
O'er Arden's temples flush'd the knightly pride.
“What means that word, which jars, not daunts, the ear?
I own no foe,— if foe there be, no fear.”
“Pause and take heed — then with as firm a sound
Disdain the danger — when the foe is found!
What, if thou had'st a sister, whom the grave
To thy sole charge — a sacred orphan — gave —
What, if a traitor had, with mocking vows,
Won the warm heart, and woo'd the plighted spouse,
Then left — a scoff;— what, if his evil fame,
Alone sufficed to blast the virgin name,
What — hourly gazing on a life forlorn,
Amidst a solitude wall'd round with scorn,
Shame at the core — death gnawing at the cheek —
What, from the suitor, would the brother seek?”
“Wert thou that brother,” with unsteady voice,
Arden replied: “not doubtful were thy choice:
Were I that Suitor ——”
“Ay?”
“I would prepare
To front the vengeance, or — the wrong repair.”
“Yes” — hiss'd the Indian — “front that mimic strife,
That coward's die, which leaves to chance the life;
That mockery of all justice, framed to cheat
Right of its due — such vengeance thou wouldst meet!—
Be Europe's justice blind and insecure!
Stern Ind asks more — her son's revenge is sure!
‘ Repair the wrong!’ — Ay, in the Grave be wed!
Hark! the Ghost calls thee to the bridal bed!
Come ( nay, this once thy hand! ) — come!— from the shrine
I draw the veil!— Calantha, he is thine!
Man, see thy victim!— dust!— Joy — Peace and Fame, }
These murder'd first — the blow that smote the frame }
Was the most merciful!— at length it came. }
Here, by the corpse to which thy steps are led,
Beside thee, murderer, stands the brother of the Dead!”
Brave was Lord Arden — brave as ever be
Thor's northern sons — the Island Chivalry;
But in that hour strange terror froze his blood,
Those fierce eyes mark'd him shiver as he stood;
But oh! more awful than the living foe
That frown'd beside — the Dead that smiled below!
That smile which greets the shadow-peopled shore,
Which says to Sorrow — “Thou canst wound no more!”
Which says to Love that would rejoin — “Await!”
Which says to Wrong that would redeem — “Too late!”
That lingering halo of our closing skies
Cold with the sunset never more to rise!
Though his gay conscience many a heavier crime
Than this had borne, and drifted off to Time;
Though this but sport with a fond heart which Fate
Had given to master, but denied to mate,
Yet seem'd it as in that least sin arose
The shapes of all that Memory's deeps disclose;
The general phantom of a life whose waste
Had spoil'd each bloom by which its path was traced,
Sporting at will, and moulding sport to art,
With that sad holiness — the Human Heart!
Upon his lip the vain excuses died,
In vain his manhood struggled for its pride;
Up from the dead, with one convulsive throe,
He turn'd his gaze, and voiceless faced his foe:
Still, as if changed by horror into stone,
He saw those eyes glare doom upon his own;
Saw that remorseless hand glide sternly slow
To the bright steel the robe half hid below,—
Near, and more near, he felt the fiery breath
Breathe on his cheek; the air was hot with death,
And yet he sought nor flight — nor strove for prayer,
As one chance-led into a lion's lair,
Who sees his fate, nor deems submission shame,—
Unarm'd to combat, and unskill'd to tame,
What could this social world afford its child,
Against the roused Nemaean of the wild!
A lifted arm — a gleaming steel — a cry
Of savage vengeance!— swiftly — suddenly,
As through two clouds a star — on the dread time
Shone forth an angel face and check'd the startled crime!
She stood, the maiden guest, the plighted bride,
The victim's daughter, by the madman's side;
Her airy clasp upon the murtherous arm,
Her pure eyes chaining with a solemn charm:
Like some blest thought of mercy, on a soul
Brooding on blood — the holy Image stole!
And, as a maniac in his fellest hour
Lull'd by a look whose calmness is its power,
Backward the Indian quail'd — and dropp'd the blade!—
To see the foeman kneeling to the maid;
As with new awe and wilder, Arden cried,
“Out from the grave, O com'st thou, injured bride!”
Then with a bound he reach'd the Indian —
“Lo!
I tempt thy fury, and invite thy blow;
But, by man's rights o'er men,— oh, speak! whose eyes
Ope, on life's brink, my youth's lost paradise?
The same — the same — ( look, look! ) — the same — lip, brow,
Form, aspect,— all and each — fresh, fair as now,
Bloom'd my heart's bride!” —
Silent the Indian heard,
Nor seem'd to feel the grasp, nor heed the word!
As when some storm-beat argosy glides free
From its vain wrath,— subsides a baffled sea,—
His heaving breast calm'd back — the tempest fell,
And the smooth surface veil'd the inward hell.
Yet his eye, resting on the wondering maid,
Somewhat of woe, perchance remorse, betray'd,
And grew to doubtful trouble — as it saw
Her aspect brightening slowly from its awe,
Gazing on Arden till shone out commix'd,
Doubt, hope, and joy, in the sweet eyes thus fix'd;—
Till on her memory all the portrait smil'd,
And voice came forth, “O Father, bless thy child!”
As from the rock the bright wave leaps to day,
The mighty instinct forced its living way:
No need of further words;— all clear — all told;
A father's arms the happy child enfold:
Nature alone was audible!— and air
Stirr'd with the gush of tears, and gasps of murmur'd prayer!
Motionless stands the Indian; on his breast,
As one the death-shaft pierces, droops his crest;
His hands are clasp'd — one moment the sharp thrill
Shakes his strong limbs;— then all once more is still;
And form and aspect the firm calmness take
Which clothes his kindred savage at the stake.
So — as she turn'd her looks — the woe behind
That quiet mask, the girl's quick heart divined,—
“Father!” she cried — “Not all, not all on me
Lavish thy blessings!— Him, who saved me, see!
Him who from want — from famine — from a doom,
Frowning with terrors darker than the tomb,
Preserved thy child!”
Before the Indian's feet }
She fell, and murmur'd — “Bliss is incomplete }
Unless thy heart can share — thy lips can greet!” }
Again the firm frame quiver'd;— roused again,
The bruised eagle struggled from the chain;
Till words found way, and with the effort grew
Man's crowning strength — Man's evil to subdue.
“Foeman —‘ tis past!— lo, in the strife between
Thy world and mine, the eternal victory seen!
Thou, with light arts, my realm hast overthrown,
And, see, revenge but threats to bless thine own!
My home is desolate — my hearth a grave —
The Heaven one hour that seem'd like justice gave,
The arm is raised, the sacrifice prepared —
The altar kindles, and the victim's — spared!
Free as before to smite and to destroy,
Thou com'st to slaughter to depart in joy!
“From the wayside yon drooping flower I bore;
Warm'd at my heart — its root grew to the core,
Dear as its kindred bloom seen through the bar
By some long-thrall'd, and loneliest prisoner —
Now comes the garden's Lord, transplants the flower,
And spoils the dungeon to enrich the bower?
“So be it, law — and the world's rights are thine
Lost the stern comfort, Nature's law and mine!
She calls thee‘ Father,’ and the long deferr'd,
Long-look'd for vengeance, withers at the word!
Take back thy child! Earth's gods to thee belong! }
To me the iron of the sense of wrong }
Heaven makes the heart which Earth oppresses — strong!” }
“Not so,— not so we part! O husband!” cried
The Girl's full soul — “Divorce not thus thy bride!
Yes, Father, yes!— in woe thy Lucy won
This generous heart; shall joy not leave us one?”
A moment Arden paused in mute surprise
( How charm'd that outcast Beauty's blinded eyes? )
Then, with the impulse of the human thought,
Prompt to atonement for the evil wrought,
“Hear her!” he said — “her words her father's heart
Echoes.— Not so — nor ever, may ye part!
Nobly, hast thou an elder right than mine
Won to this treasure;— still its care be thine;
Withhold thy pardon if thou wilt,— but take
The holiest offering wrong to man can make!”
Slowly the Indian lifts his joyless head,
Pointing with slow hand to the present dead,
And from slow lips comes heavily the breath:
“Behold, between us evermore — is Death!”
“Maiden, recal my tale;— thou clasp'st the hand
Which shuts the Exile from the promised land;
Can the dead victim's brother, undefiled,
From him who slew the sister take the child!”
With that, he bent him o'er the shuddering maid,
On her fair looks a solemn hand he laid;
Lifted eyes, tearless still — but dark with all
The cloud, that not in such soft dews can fall:
“If to the Dead an offering still must be,
All vengeance calls for be fulfill'd in me!
I make myself the victim!— Thou dread Power
Guiding to guilt the slow chastising hour,
Far from the injurer's hearth by her made pure,
Let this lone roof thy thunder-stroke allure!—
“Go hence — ( nay, near me not! ) behold!— the kind
Oblivion closes round her darken'd mind;
If, when she wake, it be awhile for grief,
Soon dries the rain-drop on the April leaf!”
He said, and vanish'd, with a noiseless tread,
Within the folds which curtain'd round the dead!
So, the stern Dervish of the East inters
His sullen soul with Death in sepulchres!
His new-found prize, while yet th’ unconscious sense
Sleeps in the mercy of the brief suspense,
With gliding feet, the Father steals away.
Grief bends alone above the lonely clay;
But over grief and death th’ Eternal Eye
Shines down,— and Hope lives ever in the sky.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T3
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر مصطفي الصمادي
|
قصيدة هُنّيتَ لك الشفا والسُقمِ عداك
|
هُنّيتَ لك الشفا والسُقمِ عداك
والضيرُ مع الشقاءِ نالَته عِداك
لو كان سواكَ روضاً يا أمَلي
بالروح جميعُنا وبالنفسِ فِداك
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
鮑壽孫
|
維揚懷古
|
江北江南水一涯，
迷樓結綺兩堪悲。
雷塘草綠人安在，
曾見黄奴坐井時。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
SPA
|
Francisco Rodríguez Zapata
|
Ofrenda a la Santísima Virgen
|
Al pie de nuestras aras la rodilla,
de vuestro dulce amor al vivo fuego,
esta guirnalda a presentaros llego,
donde tu nombre enaltecido brilla.
No desoigáis al que ante Vos se humilla,
acoged tierna mi piadoso ruego,
con las flores que dio en fecundo riego
de otra España mejor la Fe sencilla
A ellas, que ostentan variedad hermosa
y en mística fragancia el aire inundan,
pobres mirtos enlazo reverente.
Aceptarlos también, reina gloriosa,
y con los puros rayos que os circundan,
prez de eterna salud, bañad mi frente.
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
張舜民
|
郴州送許叔獻員外赴道州
|
嶺下為遷客，
人中得老成。
傳經漢丞相，
授講魯諸生。
五斗青衫色，
三湘白髮莖。
話言猶未盡，
要作道州行。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر سنية صالح
|
قصيدة فصل الحب
|
نعيش فصل الحب
كالحشائش،
نبحث عن أرض صغيرة
وعن حلم صغير.
وحين يأتي المساء
ننهض كالضباب فوق الأعشاب
نبحث عن أشعارنا
وعن دموعنا الذابلة.
إطْوِني كما تَطوي أوراق الشِّعر،
كما تطوي الفراشات ذكرياتها
من أجل سفر طويل.
وارحلْ إلى قمم البحار
حيث يكون الحُبُّ والبكاءُ مُقَدَّسَين.
***
أبداًَ نحمل فوانيس الندم
نبحث عن ذاكرة الطفولة.
لسنا الجسد،
ولسنا الجريمة المحمولة،
ولا الرُّوحَ الإلهية.
حيث تتعرى الأحلام
ويستعر حوار الدم
ارسم وجهي،
وأرسو..
... الليل نشيدٌ شجيٌ
وليلة المحبين غابة مسحورة
لنشهد لليل الصمت.
وليكن ذلك عربون الجنون.
لتكن أبواب الانفلات واسعة.
واسعة أبواب الهرب
فالزمان ضيق،
وأضيق منه جسد المحبين.
***
.. أنطوي فوق جروحي
لأفكر برائحة البحر والغابات
برائحة الحزن والمطر
بالرائحة المنسية فوق الجلد
وأترك كلماتي ترحل
خارج الروح
حاملة سهامها الأخيرة
من أجل مجد الحب.
***
... الحلم يرتعش في طيات القلب
فأية وداعة تنهبني
حين أعبرك من الممرات الخلفية؟
أي طائر سيغرد أنشودته؟
***
النهار غريب
في مرافئ العاصفة.
والبحر يهدر
في سفن المساء.
لكنني أرسو بجناح النسيان،
خشبة تحمل عروقاً،
تلتهب،
ثم أرجعك إلى صيحتي
وأتعفن في انتظارك.
***
كان النهار يحوم حولنا
كما يحوم الطائر
ساعة الاحتضار،
ويفرش جناحيه الثلجيين
كما ينشر البركان رماده الملتهب
بين النجوم.
كنا نسرع تحت المطر
نسرع ولا شمس لنا
ننشر تحتها أجسامنا الرطبة،
لا شمس لهذه البنفسجات
ذات الأعناق الملوية.
بأقدامنا المنهكة
كشفنا الصقيع عن وجوه الموتى
حين كان الليل يحمل بيارق الزهو.
***
وتمر أجراس الكآبة
مع المساء
حين تفتح المرارات عيون القرى
كفوهات مليئة بالدم
أنحني لصخب المياه الخفية
وأرفض عبودية الدمع
وعبودية النار.
لا شيء غير الجمر
كُلُّ أحِبّائي فيه
أو راحلون إليه...
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ENG
|
Walker, William Sidney
|
BOOK II.
|
Day's golden eye had closed, his ruddy light
Expiring on the bosom of the night;
And solitary twilight's deepening shade
In dusky robe the firmament array'd.
The moon, resplendent, fill'd her glittering throne,
And tipp'd with yellow gems all ether shone.
The breeze was silent on the glassy deep,
And half the world was sinking into sleep:
Save where the shepherd led his fleecy train
To crop the verdure of the moon-light plain;
Save where the warder on the turret's height
Trimm'd his weak lamp, and watch'd the bell of night,
And the lone captive, in the dungeon's gloom,
With beating pulse look'd forward to his doom.
Still Harfagar refused the gift of rest;
His country's cares lay brooding in his breast:
And many a gloomy pang his heart assail'd,
But fortitude at each assault prevail'd.
So stands in British woods a broad-bough'd oak,
That braved three centuries every stormy stroke;
While howling winds the scatter'd forest rend,
He rears his aged trunk, and scorns to bend;
So stood, serenely stood the godlike man,
And thus, deep musing, inwardly began.
“Now silent night, the parent of repose,
O'er half the earth her shadowy pinion throws.
Hail, sleep, restorer of the tortured mind,
Balm of the soul, and friend to human kind!
The toils and tumults of our earthly scene
Subside, and melt into thy sway serene.
Life's sweetest cup, with purest blessings fraught,
Were, without thee, a vapid joyless thought!
My fellow captives all thy pleasures taste;
Their fears, their sorrows, all in sleep are past; }
Oh! be it peaceful still, for this may be the last! }
Now, borne in vision to those airy plains }
Where fancy undisturb'd by reason reigns,
Where thron'd in rainbow light she sits serene,
And flings her sportive glories o'er the scene;
The first tumultuous ocean wafts them o'er,
And lands them safe upon the flowery shore.
This seems to see his utmost wishes crown'd,
Rebellion spread to Sweden's farthest bound;
Beneath his banners the whole country flies;
On swarming myriads, swarming myriads rise:
He leads the van: the tyrant shrinks for fear,
Hides in his native den, and trembles there.
This, weary of our present vale of tears,
Draws back the chain of time five thousand years:
Delightful visions swim before his view, }
Of peaceful pleasures, joys for ever new, }
When time was young, and mortals were but few: }
When man, content, his freedom never sold,
Nor fear'd for poverty, nor hoped for gold.
Joyful he wanders, and expects to see
Ten centuries of peace and liberty.
This seems to meet within some moonlight glade
His ancient friend, but now an empty shade:
The beckoning phantom stretches toward the skies:
He strives to follow, and the vision flies.
This bold ferocious spirit, madly strong,
Supporter of his country e'en to wrong,
Impetuous to extremes, now longs to dart
The point of vengeance into Christiern's heart:
A whetted dagger in his hand display'd }
He waves in air, and, o'er and o'er survey'd, }
Smiles grimly at the visionary blade. }
“Thrice happy you! for fancy's shadowy power,
Unfailing friend of sorrow's darkest hour,
O'er your dim state a transient gleam can throw,
Like twilight glimmering on a waste of snow!
“But me, condemn'd alone to wake and weep,
My country's doubtful ills forbid to sleep:
Each night the agonizing theme renews,
And bathes my cheek in sorrow's bitterest dews.
Where art thou, Stenon? whose resistless hand
Stretch'd like a shield o'er this deserted land!
Say, does that hand still turn a nation's doom,
Or sleeps its valour in the silent tomb?
Heroes and chieftains! whither are ye fled,
Whose powerful arm collected Sweden led?
I saw you glorious, from the field of fight,
When Denmark shrunk before your stormy might:
And now, perhaps, your buried ashes sleep,
And o'er your honour'd tombs your country's sorrows weep.
Illustrious senators! whose wisdom view'd
Th’ approaching storm, and oft its strength subdued:
And thou, young Vasa! once renown'd in war,
Thy country's hope, and freedom's northern star:
Too true, alas! I fear, a tyrant's hand
Has swept your glories from the darken'd land.
Why else these walls resign'd to Christiern's powers,
And I a captive in these mournful towers?
Stockholm once lost, can Sweden yet remain,
Or freedom linger in her desert plain?
Yet, unextinguish'd by the conquering foe,
Some spark in distant provinces may glow;
( As the swift lightning, weary of its course,
On some low distant cloud collects its scatter'd force )
Prepared ere long to burst in tenfold wrath,
And dart destruction on the hostile path.
“Thou too, Ernestus! what protecting doom
Has guided thee thro’ fate's tremendous gloom?
Unhappy relic of a patriot line,
Dost thou with all their ancient glory shine,
And, unappall'd by labour or by fear,
Lift for thy country the protecting spear?
Or, wrapt in fetters, and in darkness lost,
Say, dost thou languish for thy native coast?
Perhaps, unnoted, by the tyrant's eyes,
In unknown solitude secure he lies —
Whate'er his fate, nor terror's base control,
Nor hostile bribes, can e'er have moved his soul,
No! taught by me, Ernestus nobly spurns
Each vulgar aim, and for his country burns.
“Why art thou sad, my soul? the eye divine
Still looks on all; to grieve is to repine!
And tho’ destruction cover all the shore,
Tho’ heroes, kings, and statesmen be no more,
Tho’ Stenon, vainly mild, and vainly brave,
Fill the dark bosom of the dreary grave,
Tho’ Sweden's sons no earthly hope retain,
Tho’ not one spark of ancient fire remain,
Tho’ hostile banners crowd her blazing sky,
And stretch'd in dust her smoking castles lie:
Yet, Lord of all! from ruin's blackening ware,
Thy arm is till omnipotent to save:
Thy arm can stop the whirlwind's rushing breath,
And light with hope the funeral shades of death!
“The gloom dissolves! and Sweden's glories old
With added lustre to my sight unfold;
He comes! the doom'd deliverer, from afar,
Gathers his rushing thousands to the war!
His generous might uniting factions greet,
And crush'd oppression groans beneath his feet:
From each bright year successive glories spring,
And shouting millions hail a patriot king!
“For me — these joys assured, in calm repose,
With trembling hope, I wait my end of woes.
Long vers'd in sufferings, I no more complain,
Nor shall one tear my former patience stain.
Long, long, has time, slow rolling, swept away
The dear companions of my earlier day;
So long, that memory scarce their names retains,
And blank oblivion o'er my bosom reigns.
Ernestus, now, alone sustains their part,
( Loved more than all ) within this widow'd heart:
And thou, my God, wilt hear my prayers, and spread
A guardian veil o'er youthful virtue's head.
Thy hand supreme, an ever watchful guide,
Has steer'd me safe o'er life's uncertain tide;
Has led me on thro’ danger's various forms,
Thro’ faithless sunshine, and thro’ whelming storms:
Thy kind indulgence now unfolds the page
Of future time to my desponding age.
On thee I call, with grateful joy oppress'd,
To speed my passage to eternal rest!
I am alone on earth — at heaven's bright gate,
Perhaps my friends their kindred spirit wait;
E'n now they wait, to bid my labours cease,
And point my journey to the realms of peace.
As the swift eagle seeks the fields of light,
When rolling clouds invest his mountain height,
My soul, on fiery pinion, upward flies,
And swell'd with grateful hope anticipates the skies.”
Nor less Ernestus, from his friend apart,
In lengthen'd thought explored his secret heart.
Far from the rest, in fetters wrapt he lay,
Where the wan moonlight threw a slanting ray
Thro’ the dim grate; his rapture beaming eyes
On this he fixes, and in transport cries —
“Oh, sacred lamp! since last on thee I gazed,
What joy unthought this drooping soul has raised!
In deep amaze I view my alter'd state,
And scarce believe the wonders of my fate.
My heart, so late the slave of vice and fear,
Now smiles at death, and thinks no fate severe.
Drop, infamy from thy neglecting hand
My name; deny it a perennial brand;
And cast a friendly veil on the disgrace
A deed like mine entails on human race.
What said I? No.— Pour all thy floods of shame
Thro’ future ages on Ernestus’ name;
Say, that with cool untrembling hand he spilt
His master's blood, and gloried in his guilt:
So shall the sons of earth in other times,
Know my disgrace, and tremble at my crimes.
Oh Stenon! could my ceaseless tears restore
Thee, patriot chief to Sweden's widow'd shore!
How would I joy, amidst thy martial train,
To mow the adverse ranks, and sweep along the plain,
Tread in thy daring steps with equal fire,
Or at thy feet triumphantly expire!
But vain the wish — let hope's unfading ray
Lead my firm steps in duty's arduous way;
Pain, shame, and death, at heaven's all righteous call
I meet, and in its strength shall conquer all.”
So mused the captives; while, in lordly state,
Smiling amidst his peers the monarch sate.
O'er the vast roof, with gilded rafters gay,
Unnumber'd lamps effused a mingled ray:
The dancing glory fill'd the spacious hall,
Play'd on the roof, and cheer'd the pictured wall,
With glancing beams the golden goblets shine,
The red light trembles on the sparkling wine.
Here sat the chiefs, in stormy war renown'd,
Or with the senate's peaceful honours crown'd
On various themes their mingled converse ran,
‘ Till Trollio to the monarch thus began.
“Your nice experience, prince, and art combined,
Famed thro’ the north, long charmed my wondering mind:
This morn, I deem'd it lost; and scarce believ'd
Th’ unwonted words my doubtful ear receiv'd.
Can then a mighty monarch eye with fear
The feeble motions of the mountaineer?
Is Christiern dazzled with the empty boast
Of Dalecarlia, and her rugged host?
A fiery race, undisciplined and loud,
They move to war, no army, but a crowd:
Hot from the bowl they stagger to the fight,
And rush impetuous with ungovern'd might.
Shall such resist us? I expect as soon
A midnight rainbow, or a star at noon.
Their quickly muster'd force will quickly yield,
And quit in momentary flight the field.
Or if some deep-mouth'd demagogue should blow
The flame of war, and bid its fury glow,
Yet well-told fiction and inventive art
With milder force can turn the vulgar heart.
Rais'd by a breath their swelling clamours rise,
And with a breath their vain opinion dies.”
He spoke; attention sat on every eye,
And all in silence watch'd their king's reply.
“Sees not my Trollio thro’ the thin disguise,
Form'd only to deceive Ernestus’ eyes?
Vers'd in the changeful temper of mankind,
From day to day I watch'd his varying mind;
I saw, where'er he roved, unsettled thought
In his weak mind a storm of passion wrought;
At length, this morn, he cast a scowling eye
Upon his prince, and pass'd disdainful by.
This theme, I knew, the moody youth would fire,
And rouse to rage his long collected ire.
Enough of this; a weightier care demands
Our keen reflection, and our active hands.
While here we feast, increasing dangers lower,
And artful Frederic shakes my tottering power.
Impatient of their lawful monarch's sway
Full twenty towns sedition's flag display.
Th’ ambitious brother of my martial sire
In every bosom fans the growing fire:
His throne he rais'd on Jutland's faithless coast,
Thence o'er the country spread his factious host.
Each day, each hour, the ripening tumult grows,
And discord's torch with added fuel glows.
Ev'n now, perhaps, their midnight council wait
‘ Till their wise chief shall close some dark debate.
Of this let Trollio tell: my anxious breast,
Oft worn with thought, demands its wonted rest;
And thro’ yon western window's chequer'd height,
The setting planets shoot a ruddier light.’
He spoke; departing thro’ the unfolded gate
The long procession glides in lordly state;
Then each, with eyes in balmy slumber closed,
From the day's revels and its cares reposed.
Among the ruffians that, allured by gain,
Lurk'd round the dwellings of the royal Dane,
The horrid eminence a Swede might claim,
A lawless wretch — Olaus was his name:
His name, with darkest brand exalted high,
Glared on the towering pitch of infamy.
Twice, o'er his head ere thirty suns had roll'd,
With shameless hand his freedom had he sold,
And twice in battle drawn his venal sword
Against a generous and forgiving lord.
Successive crimes o'er nature soon prevail'd,
And Denmark's king the perfect villain hail'd;
Bade his known skill each midnight treason guide,
And o'er each murdering band preside.
Him to a room the tyrant call'd by night,
Where thick and gloomy grates shut out the light;
From the low roof a smoky taper hung,
And wide around its fitful lustre flung.
“Haste, brave Olaus!” ( Scandia's monarch spoke,
And on the ruffian cast a gracious look )
“Haste, to the castle's lofty walls repair,
And find Ernestus, lock'd in fetters there,
Him and his friend from their dark cell convey,
And lead them secret o'er the watery way;
Thou know'st the rest.” No more the tyrant said;
And, at his word, th’ obedient felon sped.
The stars now gliding down th’ ethereal blue,
O'er earth and air a shadowy lustre threw;
When, by relentless avarice led to fate,
Olaus issued from the royal gate.
The ruffian centinels their brother knew,
And at his word the portals open flew.
Then to the tower he moved with silent speed,
And smiled, exulting in the future deed.
So to the town where weary riot sleeps
On purple clouds some dark contagion creeps:
From eastern climes proceeding swift and fell,
Where torrid suns the ripen'd poison swell;
Borne on infected gales along the skies
Th’ ethereal store of vast destruction flies,
O'er interposing deserts wins its way,
Blasts the green vale, and withers cheerful day;
Then settling on the walls, with steaming breath
Pours thro’ the thicken'd air disease and death.
And now in view the ancient castle frown'd,
With many a dim-appearing turret crown'd:
Here, round the gloomy doors, the warder-band
( A watchful train ) in silent order stand.
The jarring gates unfold: two torches play
Thro’ the broad gloom, and point the darksome way.
First to Ernestus’ cell his way he took,
And from th’ astonish'd youth his fetters shook.
Next to the sage, now wrapp'd in slumber, sped, }
Loos'd his firm chain, and rais'd his sleeping head; }
And thro’ the echoing valves the noble captives led. }
With kindling eye the hoary sire survey'd
The stars careering thro’ the nightly shade,
Fix'd on the long-lost heavens his raptured sight,
And drank with joy the flowing gale of night.
Then thus Olaus: “To my anxious king,
Illustrious Swedes, your nightly steps I bring.
He knows your worth, and deems his power were vain,
Should souls like your's a captive doom sustain.
Secret his purpose, to the farther coast
Of Bothnia's gulph he leads his gather'd host.
When first gray twilight spread her glimmering shade,
On the broad main his streamers were display'd:
And soon th’ auspicious breeze shall waft you o'er
To meet your monarch on the destined shore.”
He spoke, but neither answer'd — wonder hung
On either mind, and silenced either tongue;
Fix'd for a space, each other's form they view'd;
Then, wrapp'd in thought, their unknown guide pursued.
O'er the dark streets with half-extinguish'd beam,
The scatter'd lamps diffused a quivering gleam;
At distant intervals the ruddy light
Half mingles with the dusky robe of night:
While, as they past, with loud repeated stroke
A midnight bell the solemn stillness broke.
At length they reach the borders of the deep,
Where a selected band in silence keep
Perpetual watch. Before Olaus’ stride,
Ere yet he spoke, th’ obedient crowd divide.
A lonely boat amidst the harbour stood,
And cast its shadow o'er the neighbouring flood.
This from the strand he loos'd, and bade the sail
Spread its white bosom to th’ indulgent gale:
They take their seats, and from the lessening shore
It flies; the parted billows foam before:
On each wan cheek the freshening breezes play,
And speed their passage o'er the watery way.
The silver splendors of the lunar beam }
Dance on the waves, and in the quiet stream }
The twinkling stars with faint reflection gleam }
Now on the guide Ernestus turn'd his eyes,
The gloomy look, and the gigantic size;
Now on his friend, involv'd in new amaze,
Fix'd the keen ardour of his silent gaze:
Each thought reflected on his brow was seen,
And all his soul seem'd centred in his mien.
Meanwhile the felon, exercised in ill,
Watch'd the due time to work his master's will;
At length his sable robe aside he threw,
And from its dark concealing mantle drew
A dagger's well-tried point. The moonshine play'd
On the smooth surface of the polish'd blade.
Ernestus saw: his heart-blood quicker flow'd;
On his bold cheek the mounting courage glow'd:
Inspired by Heaven, a sudden vigour strung
His youthful limbs; high from the deck he sprung,
And grasp'd the steel, then, wheeling swiftly round,
On the astonish'd ruffian dealt a wound:
Th’ unerring blade, with nervous force impell'd,
Deep thro’ his neck its bloody passage held,
Prone falls the staggering wretch: the wary foe
With added strength inflicts a second blow;
Then heaves his prostrate bulk with forceful strain,
And hurls him headlong in the flashing main.
High o'er his head the booming surges sweep,
And his soul bursts amidst the roaring deep.
Now on the deck distain'd with recent blood,
Involv'd in thought the silent victor stood,
And turn'd to Harfagar — when on his view
Successive wonders burst, and all around him grew.
Faint and more feint the billowy roar became,
And sunk, and died at last.— With lessening flame
The starry host along th’ ethereal way,
Unknown the cause, successive die away.
For yet the morn was far, nor had the sky
With reddening blush proclaimed the solar glory nigh.
Amidst the swiftly-changing scene, amazed,
They stood, and on the brightening ether gazed:
They gazed, but trembled not: some power unseen
Confirmed their hearts to meet the awful scene.
O'er the wide skies, and o'er the ocean's bed,
A growing stream of wavy splendor spread,
As if another sun with bright control
Had changed heaven's motions, and revers'd the pole.
Nature was in alarm: with sudden dread }
To his dark nook the screaming sew-mew fled: }
The murmurs of the midnight breeze were dead. }
Wider and wider spread th’ unusual glare,
And the last cloud at length dispers'd in air.
When, as a flame bursts broad thro’ azure smoke,
From the bright cloud a dazzling vision broke.
Like some tall dome, that shoots its towers on high,
His airy stature mingled with the sky:
Terror and might stood blended in his mien,
And his blue eye-balls shone with flames serene.
A wreath of light his fulgent brows array'd,
That, shifting, with a thousand colours play'd.
His star-bespangled robe, of sparkling blue,
O'er sea and air reflected glories threw:
The moon, the skies, the golden stream of rays,
Seem'd lost and dimm'd in that all-conquering blaze.
His yellow locks sail'd on the clouds afar,
And o'er his temples flamed the northern star.
His better hand sustain'd a spacious shield,
Round as nocturnal Cynthia's argent field;
On whose enormous surface stood emblazed
A mighty realm, with towers and turrets rais'd.
Here, a broad lake in mimic waves extends;
There, a tall mountain's sloping summit bends.
O'er many a river many a navy rode,
With commerce rich, and thro’ the yielding flood
With outspread sails proceeded — all around,
Huge untamed rocks, and giant castles frown'd.
The vault above serenely calm appear'd,
And cloudless light the short-lived summer cheer'd.
Here, fell marauders wasting far and near
Spread their wild ravage o'er the yellow year:
There, towers and walls and lofty works extend;
Victorious legions the scaled walls ascend.
Last stretch'd along a valley's shadowy length,
Appear'd two realms’ consolidated strength.
Wide fly the glowing balls, swift falchions glare,
And whizzing arrows hide the clouded air.
The sculptured kings pursue their trembling foes,
And, where they move, the imaged tumult grows.
Another scene — the toil of war is past;
This seems to triumph, that to groan his last:
Blood covers all, refulgent trophies rise,
And shouts of conquest seem to rend the skies.
In silent reverence stood each wondering Swede,
Unmoved by terror: thrice the youth decreed
To speak, and thrice upon his fetter'd tongue,
Restrain'd by awe, th’ imperfect accents hung,
When the dread form the boundless stillness broke;
Ocean and air stood listening as he spoke.
“The power who reins the whirlwind's stormy force,
And guides the wheeling planets in their course,
Provoked by crimes, o'er Sweden's guilty land
Stretch'd wide the terrors of his flaming hand:
Her venal priests, her kings in luxury lost,
Her factious nobles, and seditious host,
Call'd down th’ unwilling bolt; and many a year
Beheld it blaze, and shrunk beneath its flames severe.
His angry thunder on a blasted shore }
Has wreak'd its vengeance; the collected store }
Of wrath is spent, and the last peal is o'er. }
Now o'er the land, rich with a new-born spring,
Returning Mercy waves her golden wing:
Obedient fate draws back its sable line, }
And bright events in long succession shine: }
Consenting years roll on, and crown the great design. }
Unnumber'd arts, more glorious from decay,
Rise one by one, and gild the land with day.
No more shall Sweden mourn her fetter'd doom,
The sport of despots, and the slave of Rome:
Slanderers of Heaven, betrayers of mankind
By passion bloated, and to reason blind,
Her prelates shall oppress the land no more;
But Liberty, with charms unknown before,
Break forth effulgent; and protecting Peace,
For a long age, bid battle's trumpet cease.
Her guardian genius, from th’ empyreal plain }
I come, to bid primeval blessings reign, }
And exiled Science lift her sacred lamp again. }
“Thou, Harfagar, allied to earth no more,
Pursue my flight, and seek our friendly shore.
Thy term of care is past: thy clouded day
Dissolves at length in heaven's eternal ray.
Th’ almighty Parent calls thee, from on high,
To fill the seats of immortality.
His eyes the labours of mankind regard,
And suffering virtue claims her late reward.
There may'st thou sit, and far removed from thence
Behold the clouds of passion and of sense:
Smile at the tumults of the world below,
And triumph in the weakness of thy foe.
“And thou, Ernestus — thou, to whom‘ tis given
To bear the tidings of benignant Heaven,
Aided by me, pursue the watery road,
And seek Gustavus in his dark abode.
Where swift Dal-Elbe his wandering current leads
Thro’ barren mountains and uncultured meads,
Resign'd to cold despair, the hero lies,
Nor knows the favour of th’ indulgent skies.
For twenty months unwearied has he traced
The town, the province, and the watery waste:
No aiding friend his patriot labours found;
Fear master'd all, and all were slaves around.
Each hope of liberty and Sweden lost,
He now resolves to seek a foreign coast,
In Albion or in Gaul secure to rest,
And cling to Freedom's warm maternal breast.
Such his intent — Ernestus! be it thine
To tear the warrior from the rash design!
Bid him to arms the free-born peasants move,
Safe in the conduct of the powers above!
Swift as from hill to hill the beacon flies,
In every heart the patriot flame shall rise:
From Wermeland's hills the war-cry shall rebound,
And Sudermania echo back the sound:
The frank Westmanian's generous heart shall glow,
And join the sterner Goth to crush the foe.
Bid him his standard in mid Sweden rear,
And check th’ oppressor in his fell career:
Say, that, impatient of unjust command,
Indignant Denmark spurns him from her land!
He builds a lofty tower; the basis stands
Fix'd in the stormy ocean's moving sands:
The turrets in unstable grandeur rise,
The baseless fabric shoots into the skies,
Soon shall the glories of the ponderous hall
Come thundering down, to crush him in their fall!
“Cheer'd with this hope let gallant Vasa raise
His daring soul, to meet immortal praise.
Graced with hereditary virtue shine,
And vindicate the glories of his line.
From age to age that generous line shall reign,
‘ And sons succeeding sons the lasting race sustain.’”
The mighty seraph ceas'd. While thus he said,
Without a sigh, the old man's spirit fled.
Ere yet, enfranchis'd, thro’ the air it past,
On the lov'd youth one parting look it cast,
And gazed on Sweden, then, no more confined,
Soar'd thro’ the clouds, and mingled with the wind.
Th’ angelic power his sacred arm applied
To push the vessel o'er the yielding tide,
And swifter than the eagle's noon-day flight
It flew: while, melting from the dazzled sight,
O'er the wide heavens a radiant line he drew,
The track still glittering where the glory flew.
And now‘ twas silence all: the pale stars shone;
The moon, declining, fill'd her ruddy throne.
But wrapt in deepest trance Ernestus lay,
‘ Till Phosphor's lamp restored the purple day.
Meanwhile, ere yet on Stockholm's towery height
The morning-planet shed its trembling light,
A troop, with Bernheirn, thro’ the portals past,
Whose polish'd arms a glimmering splendor cast.
No single breath the general stillness stirr'd;
Their trampling feet alone the warder heard,
And follow'd with his sight the dusty cloud,
That in its mantle wrapp'd the marching crowd.
O'er crackling bushes scud the warrior train
And pass with haste the solitary plain;
‘ Till the broad sun discover'd from afar
The dawning lustre of his golden car.
Beneath the covert of a neighbouring wood
They paus'd awhile, and their swift march renew'd.
Now, driven by force celestial o'er the tides,
With lightning speed the rapid pinnace glides:
‘ Till, having finish'd its predestined way,
Its winged motions silently decay.
And now, from slumber rous'd, Ernestus spied
A river, branching from the ocean tide;
The mighty stream roll'd on its darksome flood
Thro’ mossy cavern and thro’ tangled wood;
Thence in soft mazes drew its humid train,
To feed the verdure of a lonely plain.
He furl'd the sail, and grasp'd the labouring oar,
And sped to Dalecarlia's welcome shore.
The oar, light-stretching, breaks the sparkling tide.
And scatters the reflected sunbeam wide.
And now, by Trollio sent, without delay
From Stockholm's towers a herald took his way,
Amidst his idle fleet where Norbi slept,
And on the ocean's verge his station kept.
Amongst those peers, whom matchless talents rais'd
To shine in Christiern's court, their names emblazed
With glittering infamy, and splendid shame,
This naval chief held no inglorious fame.
In his firm heart ambition fix'd her reign,
But led celestial mercy in her train.
While others joy'd to crush the yielding foe,
And bid the torch of ruin ceaseless glow,
‘ Twas his alone, to bid th’ uplifted dart
Recoil unsated from the victim's heart,
The wounds of misery and despair to heal,
And smile upon the griefs he could not feel.
A lawless pirate, by his king's command
His numerous navy on the hostile strand
Pour'd their incessant force, and o'er his head
Her wings for many a year bold triumph spread:
‘ Till, doom'd at length the chance of war to feel,
Entangled in ambition's broken wheel,
Crush'd by his falling master's hapless fate,
Awhile he struggled with th’ opposing weight:
In vain; of every hope and power bereft,
Expell'd from Sweden, and by Denmark left,
The chief whose barks once hid the Baltic wave,
In Russian fetters pined a haughty slave.
From lord to lord by envious fortune toss'd,
He join'd at last imperial Charles's host.
An exile, doom'd to waste in joyless strife
The poor remainder of an ill-spent life,
There long he mourns — and adverse fates deny,
His last remaining wish, with fame to die;
Condemn'd amidst the vulgar dead to fall,
And sink obscure beneath a foreign wall.
So perish all, impell'd by thirst of fame
To seek in crimes the lustre of a name;
Who the bright path of genuine greatness seek,
But, having found it, take a course oblique,
Where glittering rainbows rise from far, to cheat
Their wondering eyes, and tempt their eager feet;
And lead them forward o'er forbidden ground, }
Where pleasures still decrease, and pains abound, }
Till in a miry lake, or whelming torrent, drown'd. }
Thus form'd by art, a fancied meteor flies
On glowing wings, and sails along the skies,
Shoots to the stars with imitative blaze
Of feeble splendor, rivalling their rays;
With many a glittering track indents its way,
Wastes as it shines, and sparkling fades away;
‘ Till having spent at length its noisy fires,
The mimic glory drops, and in a flash expires.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ARA
|
الشاعر عز الدين بن الوزير العلقمي
|
قصيدة سماء انارت للفضائل انجما
|
سماء انارت للفضائل انجما
وبحر أثار الدر فذّا وتوأما
جلا أوجه الآداب زهرا مضيئة
فثقف عود العلم حتى تقوّما
آثار خفيات الفضائل فانثنى
سناها مضيئا بعد أن كان مظلما
وألف من بعد التفرق شملها
على أن فيه حسنها متقسّما
تضمن أسماء ينير بها الدجى
ويهدى بها الغاوي ويجلى بها العمى
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
ENG
|
Wilcox, Ella Wheeler
|
THE TRIP TO MARS
|
Oh! by and by we shall hear the cry,
‘ This is the way to Mars.’
Come take a trip, on the morning Ship;
It sails by the Isle of Stars.
‘ A glorious view of planets new
We promise by night and day.
Past dying suns our good ship runs,
And we pause at the Milky Way.’
I am almost sure we will take that tour
Together, my dear, my dear.
For, ever have we, by land and sea,
Gone journeying far and near.
Out over the deep — o'er mountain steep,
We have travelled mile on mile;
And to sail away to the Martian Bay,
Oh! that were a trip worth while.
Our ship will race through seas of space
Up into the Realms of Light,
Till the whirling ball of the earth grows small,
And is utterly lost to sight.
Through the nebulous spawn where planets are born,
We shall pass with sails well furled,
And with eager eyes we will scan the skies,
For the sights of a new-made world.
From the derelict barque of a sun gone dark,
Adrift on our fair ship's path,
A beacon star shall guide us afar,
And far from the comet's wrath.
Oh! many a start of pulse and heart
We have felt at the sights of land.
But what would we do if the dream came true,
And we sighted the Martian strand?
So, if some day you come and say,
They are sailing to Mars, I hear.
I want you to know I am ready to go, -
All ready, my dear, my dear.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T1
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر ابن زاكور
|
قصيدة مقام ابن داودإذا حله العبد
|
مَقَامُ ابْنِ دَاوُدٍإِذَا حَلَّهُ الْعَبْدُ
أَلَظَّ بِهِ الإِقْبَالُ وَالْيُمْنُ وَالسَّعْدُ
وَآنَسَ أُنْساً بِالْفُؤَادِ مُضَاعَفاً
تَزْيدُ بِهِ السَّلْوَى وَيَنْقَشِعُ الْحِقْدُ
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
FRA
|
Émile Nelligan
|
Caprice blanc
|
L'hiver, de son pinceau givré, barbouille aux vitres
Des pastels de jardins de roses en glaçons.
Le froid pique de vif et relègue aux maisons
Milady, canaris et les jockos bélîtres.
Mais la petite Miss berline s'en va,
Dans son vitchoura blanc, une ombre de fourrures,
Bravant l'intempérie et les âcres froidures,
Et plus d'un, à la voir cheminer, la rêva.
Ses deux chevaux sont blancs et sa voiture aussi,
Menés de front par un cockney, flegme sur siège.
Leurs sabots font des trous ronds et creux dans la neige ;
Tout le ciel s'enfarine en un soir obscurci.
Elle a passé, Tournant sa prunelle câline
Vers moi. Pour compléter alors l'immaculé
De ce décor en blanc, bouquet dissimulé,
Je lui jetai mon cœur au fond de sa berline.
Émile Nelligan
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
林鸣莺
|
县署绛雪堂
|
自有红梨树，
还存绛雪堂。
绕阶栏槛赤，
极目送斜阳。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
LZH
|
殷文圭
|
省試夜投獻座主
|
闢開公道選時英，
神鏡高懸鑒百靈。
混沌分來融間氣，
欃槍滅處炫文星。
燭然蘭省三條白，
山束龍門萬仞青。
聖教中興周禮在，
不勞干羽舞明庭。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
HUN
|
Roland Orcsik
|
Hullámtörés
|
majd egy emelkedő hullámsornak vetődtem utána nyílegyenesen előre mohón markoltam a sós víztömeget a habzó gomolygásba nyomulva a víz alatt nem mertem lesni a halak a rákok a növények a kövek a kagylók kozmoszát féltem kimarja a só a szemem ahogy a tiszában sem nyitom ki ott a homoktólgyulladna be és alig is látnék így elképzeltema felszín alatt a formákat ahogyan a belső szerveimet a bolygókat az úszástól kimerülten az előttem tornyosuló hullámhadra pillantottam gyűrődő szőnyegként terült elém adria ám türkiz mintázatában magamat sehogy pusztán adriát láttam a sodró tiszában tanultam meg úszni az erős áramlástól irtóztam míg rá nem hangolódva a tengerben lebegtem mintha olvadna az izomzatom a csontozatom adriával átitatódva mint egy áztatott papíron a tintakék foltokká mosódtam hanyatt fekve a vízen percekig kitárulkozva a napnak majd egy emelkedő hullám elé vetettem magam nyaldosott a víz pezsdült a bőrömegyre távolodtam a parttól mikor meghallottamkislányom hívogatását hátra a tátogó sziklák felé fordultam lassan csillapodott nyögött a víz ahogy haladtam apró fodrokat keltve a fehér kavicsos parton a térdig érő vízben lányom a nyakamba csimpaszkodott te pedig aggódtam mondtad sehol sem láttunkmintha eltöröltek volna a hullámok otthon órákig éreztem még egész testem egyenletesen zsongó ütőér mindenütt a csupasz tengermondtad én pedig mint aki elfelejtette anya-nyelvét szólni sem tudtam hirtelennyelvemen sós pikkelyek nőttek állkapcsomban vergődött ki akart törni szilánkosra a koponyaakváriumota nyelvedet a füledet a libabőrös nyakadat falni falni falnifokozódó hullámrángásokkalcombjaid közti kagylóként rózsálló öbölbe ömölve
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
LZH
|
陸瀹原
|
被放
|
宦途寵辱未須驚，
歸去南山尚足耕。
眼底誰青與誰白，
胸中無我并無卿。
柴門候月惟搜句，
竹逕迎風獨舉觥。
栩栩北牕高卧穏，
折腰久已薄時名。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
CES
|
Langer, Josef Jaroslav
|
1. Z křoví do křovíčka
|
Z křoví do křovíčka
Honí ptáček ptáčka –
A já vám začínám
Zpívat krakováčka.
Milá mi ta strana,
Kde slunečko vzchodí,
Ale ta mílejší,
Kde má milá chodí.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر عروة الرحال
|
قصيدة ثمانين حولاً لا أرى منك راحةً
|
ثمانين حولاً لا أرى منك راحةً
لهِنَّكِ في الدنيا لباقية العمرِ
فإن انقلبَ من عمر صعبةَ سالماً
تكن من نساء الناس لي بيضَة العقر
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
釋希雅
|
寄禮導師
|
掩關名自遠，
鯨浪阻相尋。
講罷唯澄慮，
孤峰祇此心。
柏烟秋榻靜，
蓮漏夜堂深。
盡仰鄞江上，
清風繼道林。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
ZHO
|
西域谷子
|
站着，或躺下
|
我在这中间，站着或躺下
试图探测天空与大地的厚度，和深度
我躺下来。天空也软软地落在我身上
我站起来剁它，它就退走。它的脾气
让我气恼和喜欢
只有大地，一直坚实承受着我的起卧
它努力地把我垫高
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T1
|
ROH
|
Leta Semadeni
|
Vuolp da cità
|
Mincha not maglia la vuolp il rest dal di pulischa la coppa sgiazza vi da mia sön glischa sco ün spejel
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
ARA
|
الشاعر راشد بن إسحاق
|
قصيدة خَليلَيَّ اِنظُرا مُتَعَجِّبَينِ
|
خَليلَيَّ اِنظُرا مُتَعَجِّبَينِ
لِأَحسَنِ مَنظَرٍ مَقَلَتهُ عَيني
لِفَرضٍ لَيسَ يُقبَلُ فيهِ إِلّا
أَسيلُ الخَدِّ حُلوُ المُقلَتَينِ
وَإِلّا كُلُّ أَشقَرَ أَكثَمِيّ
قَليلِ نَباتِ شَعرِ العارِضَينِ
يُقَدِّمُ دونَ مَوقِفِ صاحِبَيهِ
بِقَدرِ جَمالِ ذاكَ وَقُبحِ ذَينِ
يَقودُهُم إِلى الهَيجاءِ قاضٍ
شَديدُ الطَعنِ بِالرُمحِ الرُدَيني
تَخَيَّرَهُم عَلى بَصَرٍ وَعِلمٍ
لِيَومِ سَلامَةٍ لا يَومِ حَينِ
إِذا شَهِدَ الوَغى مِنهُم شُجاعٌ
تَجَدَّلَ لِلجَبينِ وَلِليَدَينِ
يَظَلُّ الشَيخُ مُنحَنِياً عَلَيهِ
بِغُرمولٍ يَجوزُ الرُكبَتَينِ
يُغادِرُهُم عَلى الأَذقانِ صَرعى
وَكُلُّهُم صَريعُ الخُصيَتَينِ
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
傅翕
|
独自诗二十章
|
独自好，
决求菩萨道。
万行为众生，
未取泥洹宝。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
RUS
|
Andreevskij S.A.
|
Эхо | «Я громко сетовал в пустыне...»
|
Я громко сетовал в пустыне:
«Кто будет близок мне отныне,
Как были близки сердцу вы?»
Мне эхо вторило: «Увы!»
«Как буду жить больной и скучный,
Томим печалью неотлучной
И рядом горестных годин?
Мне эхо вторило: «Один!»
«Но где укрыться? Мир -- могила.
Мне жизнь бесцельная постыла.
Где прежний блеск, и шум, и рай?»
Сказало эхо: «Умирай!»
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
LZH
|
汪应轸
|
题百雀图
|
百雀不如凤，
胡为占琅玕。
朋雏碎语不可听，
六月搅动清风寒。
我欲挟金弹，
巧避千万端。
徘徊恐落一枝翠，
矫首待凤栖阑干。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T5
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
元絳
|
賀王禹玉
|
前殿聽宣中禁制，
南宮看集外朝班。
星辰影落三階下，
桃李陰成四海閒。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
IND
|
Azzahra Shabira
|
SAHABAT
|
SAHABAT
Oleh Azzahra Shabira
Sahabat..
tanpa kau, aku tiada gunanya..
kau yang selalu menghiasi hari-hariku..
dimana ada kau, disitu aku selalu berada...
Sahabat..
aku tak peduli bagaimana rupamu..
aku tak peduli, kau miskin atau kaya..
kau selalu menghiburku di kala hatiku sedang sedih...
Kau adalah sahabatku..
sahabat yang tak terlupakan...
Terima kasih, sahabatku
tanpa kau, aku tak akan ada di dunia ini...
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
HIN
|
Muhammad Asif Ali
|
फिर वही क़िस्सा सुनाना तो चाहिए
|
बहर - 2122 2122 2212
फिर वही क़िस्सा सुनाना तो चाहिए
फिर वही सपना सजाना तो चाहिए
यूँ मशक़्क़त इश्क़ में करनी चाहिए
जाम नज़रों से पिलाना तो चाहिए
अब ख़ता करने जहाँ जाना चाहिए
अब पता उसका बताना तो चाहिए
दिल जगाकर नींद में ख़्वाबों को सुला
ये जहाँ अपना बनाना तो चाहिए
दिन निकलते ही जगाते हो तुम किसे
शाम को आ कर बताना तो चाहिए
रोकती है गर नुमाइश थकने से तब
इस अता से घर बनाना तो चाहिए
आपबीती, आदतन या बीमार है
दर्द कितना है बताना तो चाहिए
आसमाँ से गुफ़्तुगू होती ही नहीं
लड़ झगड़ने को ज़माना तो चाहिए
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ZHO
|
李婵娟
|
一棵开花的树
|
母亲总是没来由地问
云南到底在哪
看不到女儿的日子
母亲将自己长成一棵树
皮还在，褶皱很深
流水亦流泪，
心已抽空
像花已落尽的枝桠
而我的力量比叶更轻，比花更弱
甚至连一双手的温暖
都无法穿过长夜，安然抵达
我只能用悲伤豢养孤独
让孤独长成一棵千里之外的树
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
GLE
|
Greágóir Ó Dúill
|
Stráinséir
|
Earc bheag luachra, fireann donn ar an leac ghlas, Ag siúl an urláir ó bhalla na síne go balla na díne, Casann sé a eireaball go mall, tógann a cheithre uillinn, Ceann i ndiaidh a chéile os cionn a choirp, Cúig mhéar ar gach láimh ag méirínteacht an bhealaigh.
Tá óg, mo dhragan beag, chomh hóg léis an fhrog A rinne an turas céanna ag tús an tsamhraidh, (Buachaillí bó a dhiúltaíonn don tsreang dheilgneach is mise, Trasna na machaire ba theach tais folamh leis na blianta.) Glacaim leis na feithidí – gach cliabh móna, is long choilínithe.
Lucha agus leamhain ní miste a roinnt den spás liom.
Aithním gur sona na péisteanna seo, frog is earc, Ach na mílte glún ó shin níor chairde iad Agus nuair a chuirim cúl mo mhéire lena gcraiceann, craithim.
Tógaim cárta poist, fanaim go dtránn a amhras, go dtéann sé air, Tugaim amach chun na fearthainne, chun na sráide é, Tiontaím an cárta sa dorchadas, Guím nach dtiteann sé ar a dhroim, go ritheann chun foscaidh.
Is oth liom gur theip orm fáilte a chur roimhe.
Nó bheith múinte roimh a fháiltesean.
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
DEU
|
Logau, Friedrich von
|
78.Das Vergangene und Künfftige
|
Was weg ist, lässet Reu;
Was kummen soll, macht Scheu.
Die Jugend die zerran;
Das Alter dringt heran.
Drum dencke man dahin,
Wo Jugend stets bleibt grün,
Wo Alter immer steht,
Wo Leben nie vergeht.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
BUL
|
Мария де Вентадоур
|
Тенсона
|
Отчайвате ме вие, Ги д’Юйсел,
че се простихте лесно с песента,
желая пак да ви подмами тя,
че съчинител вие сте умел.
Кажете ми решението сам
за дама, точно влюбена до грам:
дали тя да обича своя мил,
щом вече той й се е посветил.
Изглежда, На Мария, бог е взел[1]
от мен и плама, а и сръчността;
да пея днес бих имал дързостта,
щом нечия молба съм възприел.
Но нека първо отговор ви дам:
ответност в любовта е нужна нам,
но без да си е някой наумил,
че другия би лесно подчинил.
Каквото, Ги, да би и предприел
любовник, той ще прости милостта,
ала понявга дамата и тя
изпросва нещо с реверанс умел.
Че в любовта се различава, знам,
жената от любимата едвам.
И дамата почита своя мил,
че е другар, не че сеньор е бил.
Но няма, скъпа, в любовта предел:
приеме ли жената любовта,
тя пази на любимия честта,
щом двамата Амор ги е у плел.
И чист ли е любовният й плам,
в дела и думи нека блесне там,
но ако оня мъж й е немил,
в преструвката си да покаже стил.
Но влюбеният, извинете, Ги д’Юйсел,
така не си признава любовта.
Ръцете са прибрани на гръдта,
той коленичи, скромно поглед свел:
„О, нека бъда ви служител ням“ —
и чак тогава тя го взима, знам.
Е, щом слуга да бъде е решил,
за равен с мен не би се прогласил.
От вас едва ли бих аз възприел
на тази проста мисъл грубостта;
щом двамата едно са в обичта,
как едного от тях бих предпочел.
А може би ще кажете, за срам,
че той дължи й порив по-голям,
а равни че са, щом е преценил,
с любов той само би се издължил.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
CES
|
Kulda, Beneš Metod
|
Skála.
|
Oh, ty skálo holá,
s tebe hlas můj volá;
volá do vůkolí,
co mne v duši bolí.
Bolí mne a pálí
svět, jenž pořád šálí,
štve a kolem všudy,
seje lži a bludy.
K tobě, skálo tichá,
krok můj často spíchá;
dole svět se šklebí,
blaze jest jen v nebi.
K nebi vroucně zírám,
slzu s oka stírám;
vzduchem z rajské říše
hruď má lehce dýše.
Sviť mi pravda, světlo,
by mi blaho květlo;
na Petrově skále
v blahu žiju stále.
Zlý duch pravdu boří,
lidstvo v bludy noří;
spása nám se chystá
v Církvi Jezu Krista.
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
吴谦
|
冤雪还乡重游惠山
|
一剑新从万里还，
偷生已过鬼门关。
身离桂岭云千叠，
迹寄梁溪屋半间。
圣世幸全终隐计，
人生难得老来闲。
春风陆羽祠前路，
笑汲清泉洗瘴颜。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T1
|
ITA
|
Rainer Maria Rilke
|
Annunciazione (Le parole dell’Angelo)
|
Tu non sei piú vicina a Dio
di noi; siamo lontani
tutti. Ma tu hai stupende
benedette le mani.
Nascono chiare a te dal manto,
luminoso contorno:
io sono la rugiada, il giorno,
ma tu, tu sei la pianta.
Sono stanco ora, la strada è lunga,
perdonami, ho scordato
quello che il Grande alto sul sole
e sul trono gemmato,
manda a te, meditante
(mi ha vinto la vertigine).
Vedi: io sono l’origine,
ma tu, tu sei la pianta.
Ho steso ora le ali, sono
nella casa modesta
immenso; quasi manca lo spazio
alla mia grande veste.
Pur non mai fosti tanto sola,
vedi: appena mi senti;
nel bosco io sono un mite vento,
ma tu, tu sei la pianta.
Gli angeli tutti sono presi
da un nuovo turbamento:
certo non fu mai cosí intenso
e vago il desiderio.
Forse qualcosa ora s’annunzia
che in sogno tu comprendi.
Salute a te, l’anima vede:
ora sei pronta e attendi.
Tu sei la grande, eccelsa porta,
verranno a aprirti presto.
Tu che il mio canto intendi sola:
in te si perde la mia parola
come nella foresta.
Sono venuto a compiere
la visione santa.
Dio mi guarda, mi abbacina...
Ma tu, tu sei la pianta.
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
CES
|
Sova, Antonín
|
PELHŘIMOVSKU
|
Tím krajem zatichlým jsem bloudil rád,
kde vedle panských drobná selská pole
jen mohla zbožně, zakřiknutě zrát,
s těch mírných vršků zřena v širém kole;
s malými potoky a lesy ztemnělými,
kde střídají se háje přelíbezných luk
a maličkých měst slabě tenké dýmy
vždy poblíž křížových cest, božích muk.
Svou tichou lásku, časem zakřiknutou
já z odříkaných ctností tvých si zachránil,
té drsné pokoře tvých lidí na kov zkutou
já od dětství se učil, žil s ní, o ní snil,
ty koute, kde se rodí drobní dělníci
jen z prostředků a potřeb, jež jsou nejskromnější,
dle kamenitých polí v kopce jež se vejší
dle drsných větrů v nečasy ne měnící.
Že lidé z drobných políček tu žili tíž
a z drobných řemesel pár vykřísli jen grošů,
chudého bratrství jim Kristus nesl kříž,
nic nevzali si v Káni Galilejské z košů
a vzešel-li kdos z ducha toho – básníci
to byli narození v chudobě, jež zebe,
básníci ráje duší ohlašující,
jež lidé nenajdou však nikdy – mimo sebe.
Těm, kteří vytrvali v městech Tvých a vsích,
sedřeni prací, mnohdy při políčku v pláni
a pří své koze, bramborech a při ovsích,
ti strážci nového jsou milování,
jsou drahocennější než mízy čerstvých míz,
uniklé kdysi v Ameriku do ciziny,
neb Vídní strávené, jí pohlcené kdys
a zhrdavě pak mžourající do otčiny.
Těm, jimž je kráčet zapadlostí tou
tak líbeznou, tak vzdálenou, tak svěží,
ořeším po mezích, lučinou svítivou
až k městu starodávnému s tou štíhlou věží,
již neubrání se a z duše dojati
si spředou chlapectví své z radosti i žalů,
svých druhů podoby i svojich učitelů
a mnohokrát se ještě vděčně obrátí.
A bude zdát se jim, že nový duch a čas
jak doléhá sem vlnami, cos křísí
v nadějích lidských a že na polích ten hlas
všem pracovníkům náleží, ne čísi
jen výsadě, ne zámkům, pýše církevní,
ne cizincům, již neznali tvé řeči,
ty, město, vévodící krajině a v ní
skromnému lidu, pevností jenž křemen předčí.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T1
|
LZH
|
張大程
|
缽池山
|
王子求仙入此山，
九華煉就謝人間。
吹笙七月歸何許，
跨鶴千年竟未還。
緱嶺閒雲空渺渺，
缽池流水自潺潺。
共言丹竈多遺餌，
可與頹齡復駐顏。
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
BUL
|
Джек Линдзи
|
Отговорът на хората
|
Слънцето — борец от дните
на съпротивата — пред полицая пръсна
куп златни позиви и скрито
разлепи други по стени и щори.
Събират се пред позивите хора.
И те живота пред смъртта избират,
това е изборът на хората обикновени.
Онези, гдето служат на смъртта, не спират,
високомерно тъпчат позивите по земята
и отминават този манифест на светлината.
Мирът е на живота днес живеца.
Мирът — това е изобилието земно.
Мирът е вдъхновението на твореца,
разресвани от вятъра пшеници,
в дървета утринни запели птици.
Мирът е на стоманата стопена съскането,
турбината, пулсираща във планината,
набъбнала от мляко гръд до пръсване,
във късна нощ на влюбени ръцете,
залети с песни и лъчи дървета.
Във речите за мир се чува ехо
от шумното ни всекидневие:
от парка, от дома, от цеха.
Мирът живот е! — глас могъщ се чува.
Животът трябва да се завоюва!
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ENG
|
Gwen Harwood
|
The Wound
|
The tenth day, and they give
my mirror back. Who knows
how to drink pain, and live?
I look, and the glass shows
the truth, fine as a hair,
of the scalpel's wounding care.
A round reproach to all
that's warped, uncertain, clouded,
the sun climbs. On the wall,
by the racked body shrouded
in pain, is a shadow thrown;
simple, unchanged, my own.
Body, on whom the claims
of spirit fall to inspire
and terrify, there flames
at your least breath a fire
of anguish, not for this pain,
but that scars will remain.
You will be loved no less.
Spirit can build, make shift
with what there is, and press
pain to its mould; will lift
from your crucible of night
a form dripping with light.
Felix culpa. The sun
lights in my flesh the great
wound of the world. What's done
is done. In man's estate
let my flawed wholeness prove
the art and scope of love.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
ARA
|
الشاعر ابن الوردي
|
قصيدة لا تصحبن أعورا
|
لا تصحبنَّ أعوَرا
وإنْ تناهى زينُهُ
لوْ كانَ فيهِ راحةٌ
ما فارقتْهُ عينُهُ
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T2
|
T5
|
T5
|
CES
|
Neruda, Jan
|
MANŽELÉ ADAM A EVA BLÍŽNÍ
|
Pan Blížný dobrák – cti jej, paní Evo!
On myslí vždy, že sukovitá hůl,
jež na tom onom leží žití půl,
je hotovoučké sladké dřevo.
A paní Blížná měkká, jako z dýmu.
Když zlomíš nohu, příjde návštěvou –
„Ach, každý máme tady bídu svou,
já třetí den už, považte, mám rýmu!“
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T4
|
T2
|
RUS
|
Рылеев Кондратий Федорович
|
Давно мне сердце говорило
|
Давно мне сердце говорило:
Пора, младый певец, пора,
Оставив шумный град Петра,
Лететь к своей подруге милой,
Чтоб оживить и дух унылый,
И смутный сон младой души
На лоне неги и свободы,
И расцветающей природы
Прогнать с заботами в тиши.
Настал желанный час - и с тройкой
Извозчик ухарской предстал,
Залился колокольчик звонкой -
И юный друг твой поскакал...
Едва заставу Петрограда
Певец унылый миновал,
Как разлилась в душе отрада,
И я дышать свободней стал,
Как будто вырвался из ада...
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T1
|
T2
|
T2
|
ZHO
|
阳阳
|
黄昏
|
黄昏时你还在途中歌声传得比秋天更远鸽子停在更远的的秋天的树上家园的夕照如大片红色的羽毛那个黄昏总会来临而游牧变得更加寂静你骑马经过树下样子如一首歌黄昏时你仍在途中牧号唱晚叶片缓缓地由树上飘落山的北面人们沿着怀念上路
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T1
|
LZH
|
俞朝士
|
游春黄胖
|
兩脚捎空欲弄春，
一人頭上又安人。
不知終入兒童手，
筋骨翻爲陌上塵。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
ARA
|
الشاعر طارق عبد الفضيل
|
قصيدة توهم
|
لكأني لست أنا
وفؤادي ليس فؤادي
في بحر توهمنا
المرسوم على شفة الليل
لكأني حلم مصلوب في كتفيّ
وبريق الساعة تخنقهُ
أنفاس الضيّ
مهلا
فأنا يا راحلة اليوم غريب
وأنا يا ذاكرة الأمس قريب
اللحظة بعد اللحظةِ
دقات صارخة تفجؤني
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
LZH
|
祁頤
|
會試下第
|
未將環佩玉階鳴，
回首鄉關計舊程。
寶劍尚存光焰氣，
酒杯難盡別離情。
數莖白髮驚吟苦，
一路青春作伴行。
最是月明清夜永，
相思愁重夢難成。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T3
|
T2
|
RUS
|
Кайсаров Михаил Сергеевич
|
К Лизете
|
Лизета! тайну я давно твою узнал,
Которую в душе своей ты сокрывала.
Всегда искусство ты прельщать предпочитала
Приятности любить.
Я мщение всегда готовил для тебя.
Когда глаза твои победой похвалялись,
То новые мои неверности являлись;
И я доволен был.
Когда ты нежностью притворною своей
Меня воспламенить из гордости хотела,
Тут притворялся я. - Ты лишь прельщать умела,
А я умел любить.
Лизета! уж пора, пора нам перестать.
Я выберу себе прелестную Аглаю;
Тебе же я любить Аминта позволяю.
Довольней будем мы.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
BUL
|
Петър Андасаров
|
Катеричка
|
В зеления смях на дървета
гмурка се палаво, тича —
ту близне с опашка небето,
ту хитро от клони наднича.
Ту слънчево снопче прегризе,
ту вейчица някъде люшне.
Изкачи се, после заслиза
и пак до зелено се гушне.
Тъй с танца си цял ден люлее
зеления смях на дървета.
Додето звездици над нея
залюшкат хорце по небето.
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
DEU
|
Engelke, Gerrit
|
Romanze in allen Regenbogenfarben
|
Komm auf mein Schiff! Heut bin ich der Baas, der Herr meines Tages!
Menschlich und warm wie aufgestanden vom Tisch des Gelages – –
Unter deinen weißglacéenen Schühchen, wundervoll,
Schaukelt würzig braungeteerte Planke hohl –
Schau: die nackten, bronzebraunen Ruderknechte!
Manche tausend Rupien wert, die magren Hechte,
Wie sie listig laustern, blinzelnd gieren, stieren,
Die in Schweiß und Bravheit an der Eichenbank vertieren,
Sehn sie nur dein gelbes Bast-Rohseidenkleid,
Deine elegant umbauschte, damenhafte Zierlichkeit,
Und dein blaupariser Hütchen mit der riesigroten Pluderrose –
„Vorwärts! Lümmels! Ruder raus! Daß ich mich nicht um euch erbose!
Denn ihr wißt, die Nilpferdpeitschenriemen
Ziehen höllisch heiße, sichtbarliche Striemen!“ – –
Blähend wölbt wie eine Wolke lichtes Segel straff am Mast.
Rasselnd, knirschen schwenken Hebeprähme Tonnenlast.
Orlog-Flagge, Wimpel hoch! Es kommt der anmutbleiche Gast!
„Platz! Platz! ihr schwarzbequalmte, ölbekleckste Trimmer!
Saht ihr je solch Eiderdaunchen, solch ein Frauenzimmer?
Liebste Dame, schnell! Wie mich dein blondes Kopfoval berückt,
Würden diese zahmen Biester sicherlich aus Rand und Band verrückt,
Sähen sie die Sonne deines Lächelns deinem Angesicht erblühn,
Deine kleinen Mandelaugen, deiner elfenbeinern Zähne Sprühn –
Hier spürst du schon vom Speisen-Vielerlei aus der Kombüse
Süßen Ruch von Butterfischen, Reisgeflügel und Gemüse –
Und diese blankpolierte Treppe fällt zu meiner Friedenshütte,
Tief im warmen Bauch des Schiffes: Oase mein, Kajüte!
Ledersessel drinnen, Delfter Teller, Haarlem-Tulpen,
Java-Batiks. Katze aus Angora und Brabanter Stulpen,
Koran, Bibel und Petrarkas Oden an die Laura –
‚Vaer saa good, kom ind: kaere Monna Guttadaura!‘
Ich weiß, du liebst die satten Purpurweine aus Burgund,
Und ich lieb deinen appetitlich kleinen, rosa Muschelmund!
Fort mit Logbuch, Karten und Sextanten!
In diese blumiggrüne Kapsel zwischen Wanten, Spanten
Kommt mir niemand, Pedro! Du stehst Posten!“
Braver Kerl, kam aus Nova das Glut, salzig Wasser mal zu kosten.
Träume, trinke – säume, sinke – küsse, küsse!
In dem Weltmeer wimmeln einig tausend Flüsse – –
Du weißt nicht, wie smaragden Blumenquallen schimmern,
Wie abends unterm Deck zum Dudelsack die Neger wimmern,
Wie toller Gischt, den Vordersteven überschießend, brüllt,
Wie unter dem Äquator Wahnsinn in den heiseren Kehlen krüllt,
Wie überblühte Tropennächte gläsern tief erhellen,
Wie wilde, zerknüllende Luftzyklone schnellen,
Wie Sonnenbrände irrsinnig-göttlich über Welten gellen – –
Doch wenn der große Südpassat vom Horizonte schwillt,
Sanft auffliegend, wiegend, warm und mild,
Zugvögelschwärme, Flatterfische mit sich gießend,
Von Zimt, Vanille, gutem Erdgeruche überfließend –
Da wird uns Ahnung zärtlich schauern von Paradies und Eiland:
Ein Abendpfühl und Heimatbett und aller Sonne Freiland!
Schaumumtanzter Lotos: Otaheiti du, Palpete!
Kindlich grüner Palmenbüschel, Hasen mit Kanugewimmel –
Darüber: tönend, lichtzerspringend ungeheuer blauer Himmel.
Dort wollen wir leben, einfaltfroh, ergötzlich animalisch.
Wir werden, ein Urmenschenelternpaar, patriarchalisch
Unter steinzeitaltem Mangobaume sitzen,
Braune Kindeskinder werden Klappern oder Pfeile schnitzen –
Einmal morgens, wenn schon draußen Lichter auf den Wellen blitzen
Und wir aus sattem Schlaf vom warmen Leib die Arme lösen,
Kommt stöhnend, fern von fern, ein feines Rauschen von Getösen,
Wird voller, kommt und kommt, allmächtig wie Trompetenton –
Wellen wühlen schwärzer, Sturzschaumzacken drohn –
Brausend Wesen bäumt sich jäh empor –
Ferne Sintflut rauscht Weltuntergangschor.
Und aus dem Sturm hebt eine große Stimme an, sonor: – Einst – war – Europa – – –
Wir sitzen klein und unbeweglich, träumen, staunen –
Leichte Dünung plätschert wieder – fern: gedämpftes Raunen –
Aus stiller Brust rührt scheues Stammeln an den Gott.
Sonne schwebt, Mittagsonne höher, höher füllend
Stirnen, Schultern heiß betropfend hüllend.
– Bis aus den Mattenhütten unsre Kinder brechen
Und trällernd, plappernd,
Mit Rasseln klappernd,
Vom riesengroßen Haifischfange sprechen.
Komm schnell aufs Schiff! fix gesputet!
Man schlägt das Gong – die große Heulsirene tutet...
Abfahrt nach: Irgendwo – Flutenland...
So! – Reich mir deine Hand...
Spring!
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
万斯同
|
述旧
|
我昔九龄时，
慈母中道弃。
此时赤日颓，
风尘匝地沸。
艰难营一殡，
辛苦且逃避。
昼行岩壑间，
夜宿虎豺际。
弱儿可怜人，
性命讬足弟。
穴居逾三年，
脱粟常不继。
重返西皋居，
遂作灌园计。
田圃久成芜，
桑麻亦已废。
再葺耕耨基，
复理桔槔器。
时或从父兄，
荷锄畦边憩。
渐成田舍儿，
颇谙村居味。
谓当谢俗氛，
终事田家利。
不谓志难谐，
复迫居城内。
念兹释耕耘，
欲识诗书字。
父意怜少儿，
亲为解章义。
晨夕寒松斋，
呼儿捧箧笥。
或时使应门，
间亦执巾屣。
穷愁寥泬中，
父怀每欣慰。
久侍少谴责，
亦自多欢睡。
饥寒相逼迫，
父往游岭外。
日夕望还期，
中秋果返辔。
途次九江滨，
奄忽一夕逝。
寄信至江乡，
恸绝中肠碎。
易篑在何时，
盖棺在何地。
含殓儿不亲，
汤药儿不侍。
天长日月久，
此恨终吾世。
返柩江西滨，
结庐西山次。
迄今已三年，
魂魄犹飞坠。
叹息我生涯，
忧患何遭备。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ARA
|
ورقة بن نوفل
|
قصيدة رحَلَت قُتيلةُ عيرَها قبل الضحى
|
رحَلَت قُتيلةُ عيرَها قبل الضحى
وإخالُ أن شحطت بجارتك النوى
أو كلما رحلت قُتيلة غدوة
وغدت مفارقةً لأرضهمُ بكى
ولقدر كبتُ على السفين ملجِّجاً
أذَرُ الصديقَ وأنتحي دار العدى
ولقد دخلتُ البيت يُخشى أهلهُ
بعدَ الهدُوِّ وبعدما سقطَ الندى
فوجدتُ فيه طفلةً قد زيّنت
بالحلي تحسَبه بها جمرَ الغَضا
فنعمتُ بالاً إذ أتيتُ فراشها
وسقطتُ منها حينَ جئتُ على هوى
فبتلك لذّات الشبابِ قضيتُها
عنّي فسائل بعضهم ماذا قَضى
قَدحَ الذُباب فليس يوري قَدحهُ
لا حاجةً قضى ولا مالاً نما
فارفَع ضعيفكَ لا يَحُل بك ضعفهُ
يوماً فتُدركَه العواقبُ قد نَما
يَجزيك أو يُثني عليك وإن مَن
أثنى عليك بما فعلتَ كمَن جزى
أرعى أمانتَهُ وأحفظُ غيبهُ
جهدي فيأتي بعد ذلك ما أتى
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ZHO
|
沈尹默
|
月夜
|
霜风呼呼的吹着，月光明明的照着。我和一株顶高的树并排立着，却没有靠着。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
LZH
|
袁桷
|
次韻馬伯庸春思兼簡繼學二首
|
洛花千萬朵，
一一為君開。
粟暈排金縷，
酥凝爛玉杯。
美人乘馬至，
仙子抱琴來。
莫學飛紅侶，
隨風喚不回。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
LZH
|
冒愈昌
|
崔幼輿邀同孫伯觀游珍珠泉
|
我聞珠泉廿五年，
今始來游意豁然。
不異纍纍珠在貫，
真同皎皎月初圓。
欲問源從何處吐，
孤亭俯瞰泉之滸。
龍宮遂擬作珠宮，
江浦仍兼為合浦。
神女隋矦競獻奇，
跳波濺沫總離離。
寘將魚目應難溷，
探向龍頷秖自癡。
坐對移時心骨冷，
萬山迥合開靈境。
源流詎必苦相窮，
人世由來皆泡影。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T3
|
T1
|
FRA
|
VERLAINE, Paul
|
Le Rossignol
|
Comme un vol criard d’oiseaux en émoi,
Tous mes souvenirs s’abattent sur moi,
S’abattent parmi le feuillage jaune
De mon cœur mirant son tronc plié d’aune
Au tain violet de l’eau des Regrets
Qui mélancoliquement coule auprès,
S’abattent, et puis la rumeur mauvaise
Qu’une brise moite en montant apaise,
S’éteint par degrés dans l’arbre, si bien
Qu’au bout d’un instant on n’entend plus rien,
Plus rien que la voix célébrant l’Absente,
Plus rien que la voix — ô si languissante ! —
De l’oiseau que fut mon Premier Amour,
Et qui chante encor comme au premier jour ;
Et dans la splendeur triste d’une lune
Se levant blafarde et solennelle, une
Nuit mélancolique et lourde d’été,
Pleine de silence et d’obscurité,
Berce sur l’azur qu’un vent doux effleure
L’arbre qui frissonne et l’oiseau qui pleure.
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
DEU
|
Leopardi, Giacomo
|
I. An Italien.Fußnoten
|
Mein Vaterland, ich seh' die Mauern ragen,
Die Bogen, Säulen, Bildnisse, die leeren
Thürme der Väterzeit;
Doch seh' ich nicht den Ruhm,
Den Lorbeer und das Schwert, die sie getragen,
Die großen Ahnen. Machtlos, dich zu wehren,
Mit nackter Brust und Stirne trägst du Leid.
Weh, welche Wunden seh' ich
Und Todesblässe! Muß ich so dich schauen,
Du aller Frauen schönste? Sagt, o sagt,
Euch, Erd' und Himmel, fleh' ich:
Wer hat ihr das gethan? und wer – o Grauen! –
Belastet' ihr mit Ketten beide Arme,
Daß sie gelös'ten Haars, von Gram zernagt,
Am Boden sitzt, verlassen, schleierlos,
Und ihr Gesicht, die Arme,
Im Schooße birgt und weint?
Ja, wein', Italien! Du hast Grund zu weinen;
Dir fiel das herbe Loos,
An Glück und Elend unerreicht zu scheinen!
Und wären deine Augen Wasserbäche,
Nie könntest du mit Zähren
Den Abgrund füllen deiner Noth und Schmach.
Die Herrin war, nun trägt sie Magdgewand.
Wer schriebe oder spräche
Von dir, der nicht, gedenk der alten Ehren,
Wehklagte: Klein ward, die wir groß genannt!
Warum? Warum? Ging deine Kraft in Stücke?
Wo sind die Waffen, wo dein Siegerglauben?
Wer nahm das Schwert dir ab?
Und welcher Macht gelang es, welcher Tücke,
Den Mantel dir zu rauben
Und deiner Stirn das goldne Band, du Schöne?
Wie stürztest du hinab
So tief von solcher Höh' und brachst zusammen?
Und Niemand schirmt dich? Keiner deiner Söhne
Steht für dich auf? Ha, Waffen! Ich allein
Will in den Kampf, will kämpfend für dich fallen;
Du aber, Herr, laß Flammen
Aus meinem Blut in alle Herzen wallen!
Wo sind sie, deine Söhne? Hör' ich nicht
Von Waffen, Schlachtruf, Pauken helle Klänge? –
Ach, fern von dir verspritzen
Ihr Herzblut deine Kinder.
Auf, auf, Italien! Ist's ein Traumgesicht?
Nein! Dort zu Fuß, zu Rosse – welch Gedränge,
Und Rauch und Staub und heller Klingen Blitzen,
Wie Wetterstrahl am Himmel!
Ist dir's kein Trost? Bang kehrst du vom Gefechte
Die Augen ab, noch eh' Entscheidung winkt?
Was soll dort das Getümmel
Italischer Jugend? O ihr ew'gen Mächte,
Dort kämpft für fremdes Land Italiens Schwert! –
Weh dem Unsel'gen, den der Krieg verschlingt
Nicht kämpfend um die heimischen Gefilde,
Für Weib und Kind und Herd,
Nein, gegen Feinde Fremder
Und fern; nicht sinkt er mit dem Rufe nieder:
O Heimath, hehr und milde,
Dies Leben, dein Geschenk, – hier nimm es wieder!
Ihr holden, glücklichen, gepries'nen Tage
Der Vorzeit, wo in Schaaren
Das Volk zum Tod fürs Vaterland sich drängte,
Und du, Thessaliens Bergschlucht, stets umflutet
Von Ruhmeshauch und Klage,
Wo Persien und das Schicksal schwächer waren
Als jenes Häuflein, frei und hochgemuthet!
Hört nicht der Wandrer hier Gesträuch und Flut
Und Fels und Bergeshöhe sich erzählen
Mit heimlich dunkler Stimme,
Daß hier die Schaar der Unbesiegten ruht,
Die hochgesinnten Seelen
Der ihrem Hellas heilig Zugeschwor'nen?
Damals in feigem Grimme
Floh Xerxes durch den Hellespont zurück,
Ein Spott und Hohn den fernsten Nachgebor'nen,
Und von Antela's Hügel, wo im Tode
Die heil'ge Schaar ein ew'ges Leben fand,
Sah mit erhobnem Blick
Simonides hinaus auf Meer und Land.
Und beide Wangen überthaut von Zähren,
Die Brust beklemmt, indeß die Füße wanken,
Die Leier in der Hand,
Singt er; „O ihr Beglückten,
Die ihr die Brust preisgabt den Feindesspeeren
Für sie, der ihr das Leben habt zu danken,
Euch preis't die Welt, euch segnet Griechenland.
Wie heiße Liebe trieb
Euch junge Seelen fort in die Gefahr,
O welche Lieb' in euer herbes Loos!
Und wo, ihr Söhne, blieb
Das Todesgrauen, daß ihr jauchzend gar
Hinströmtet zu dem düstren Felsenpasse,
Als ob zum Tode nicht, zum Tanze bloß,
Zu heitrem Mahl man euch geladen hätte?
Ihr aber zogt die Straße
Hinab zum Fluß der Todten,
Eh' scheidend Weib und Kinder ihr umfasstet,
Da ihr auf hartem Bette
Ach, ohne Thränen, ohne Kuß erblasstet!“
„Doch erst, nachdem ihr Züchtigung und Grauen
Und Schmach dem Feind gebracht.
Wie in der Rinderheerd' ein Löwe wüthet,
Bald auf den Stier sich stürzt und ihm den Rücken
Zerfleischt mit wilden Klauen,
Bald hier, bald dort die Zähne braucht mit Macht,
So schlägt ins Heer der Perser breite Lücken
Hellenengrimm, von hehrem Muth entbrannt.
Ha seht, wie häuptlings Roß und Reiter fallen,
Wie Wagen und Gezelt
In wirrem Sturz die Flucht der Perser bannt,
Und bebend, weit vor Allen,
Flieht mit gelös'tem Haarschmuck der Despot.
Seht, wie vom Blut entstellt,
Das sie vergossen, Griechenlands Heroen
Den Persern schaffen unermessne Noth,
Eh' Mann an Mann, besiegt von seinen Wunden,
Dahinsinkt in den Staub. Heil euch, ihr Helden!
Von eurer That, der hohen,
Wird Zung' und Griffel noch den Enkeln melden.“
„Eh' wird, ins Meer gestürzt, der Sternenreigen
Auslöschend in der Tiefe Schlund verzischen,
Bevor der Nacht zum Raube
So heller Ruhm erblaßte.
Eu'r Grab ist ein Altar. Den Kindern zeigen
Dereinst die Mütter hier die ewig frischen
Spuren von eurem Blut. Und hier im Staube
Knie' ich, ihr Benedeiten,
Und küsse diese Schollen, dies Gestein,
Die unvergänglich heller Glanz verklärt
Durch alle Erdenweiten.
O läg' auch ich hier unten! Hätt' auch mein
Geopfert Blut getränkt die theure Erde!
Doch wenn ein feindlich Schicksal nicht gewährt,
Daß für mein Hellas brechend im Gefechte
Mein Aug' umnachtet werde,
So möge doch der keusche
Ruhm eures Sängers blühn in fernsten Tagen
Durch Gunst der Himmelsmächte,
So lang von euch man singen wird und sagen!“
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ZHO
|
丁当
|
回忆
|
回忆起某个日子不知阴晴我从楼梯摔下，伤心哭泣一个少年的悲哀是摔下楼梯我玩味着疼痛、流血、摔倒的全部过程哭泣的时间很长哭到天黑直到遍地日色改变了我的处境直到我用心了解这一天的大便才安然无恙，动身回家此时轻佻地想起那伤心的一段幸灾乐祸直到天明我用下流的腔调抚弄这桩往事想摆弄一只捉到手的麻雀
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
CUSTOM:回忆与情绪玩味
|
ZHO
|
恩施溪语
|
向日葵的爱情
|
在北方的田野上
向日葵举起风中黄金色的盘子
这些高出头颅 高出玉米的家伙
让整个野外燃烧起来
灿烂而耀眼 它们自身是平静的
点燃的是随动车一晃而过的心
那些躲在花朵之下的籽粒
是幸福的 和花朵挤在一个盘子里
挤在同一时间里
向着同一片天空张望
将是他们离别后
照亮一生的晨光和日出
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T1
|
T2
|
T2
|
DEU
|
Ludwig Giesebrecht
|
Glockengeläute
|
Hörst du der Glocken tiefatmendes Läuten,
Wie von der Höhe zur Tiefe es sinkt?
Fühlst du den tauigen Sabbat sich breiten,
Wie ihn die Seele voll Seligkeit trinkt?
Der ist der Sonntag der gründenden Palmen,
Dunklem Karfreitag das lachende Tor:
Siehe, so grenzen die jubelnden Psalmen
Und Miserere im klagenden Chor.
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
李黙
|
秋夜泊下邳值雨
|
濁河元楚塞，
古驛自秦城。
旅泊河山異，
飄零風雨生。
波濤喧獨枕，
鐘鼓暗深更。
秋事方蕭索，
應知嵗晏情。
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T1
|
T3
|
T3
|
ARA
|
الشاعر محمد علي زين الدين
|
قصيدة أصبحت بعدكم في زي غانية
|
أصبحت بعدكم في زي غانية
ما مس زينتها جن ولا بشر
كحلي سهادي وغسلي مدمعي ودمي
خضاب كنفي ومن ذكراكم العطر
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T2
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爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ZHO
|
董喜阳
|
透析
|
隐藏肉身最好的地方
是人海，芸芸众生
隐藏树叶最好的方式
是树林，再大一点的森林
一块木头上悬挂肉身
或是树叶，像是深秋哼着一首
荒凉的歌谣。那声音中
躲着一滴树上的水
来如风雨，去则无声
我想把自己比喻点什么
烘云托月的操盘手
或是现实的敌人？可能
我们什么都不是。只是一个
惯有的名字，在石碑上
出现，又被橡皮擦掉
更或者，我们
就是大自然的力工，晚风中
倾斜的十字架
被黄昏托起，还是被黎明
轻松的扶正？
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T3
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生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
ENG
|
Rudyard Kipling
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The Two-Sided Man
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Much I owe to the Lands that grew--
More to the Lives that fed--
But most to Allah Who gave me two
Separate sides to my head.
Much I reflect on the Good and the True
In the Faiths beneath the sun,
But most to Allah Who gave me two
Sides to my head, not one.
Wesley's following, Calvin's flock,
White or yellow or bronze,
Shaman, Ju-ju or Angekok,
Minister, Mukamuk, Bonze--
Here is a health, my brothers, to you,
However your prayers are said,
And praised be Allah Who gave me two
Separate sides to my head!
I would go without shirt or shoe,
Friend, tobacco or bread,
Sooner than lose for a minute the two
Separate sides of my head!
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T5
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神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
ZHO
|
郁雯
|
店铺小哥
|
把昏暗的天色从身上扯下
像脱掉一件雨衣。他硬邦邦的五官
被梅雨的潮湿泡得柔软
他卖新鲜水果和一些日常用品
小小的店面，他臃肿的体型在其间穿针引线
一点骄傲，他备用着，否则他会被艰难
不止一次地绊倒
他将痛苦细细地缝在贴身的小口袋里
从遥远的家乡出来时，母亲曾把几张纸币
同样细细地缝入口袋，他记得清晰
当他在哐当哐当行驶的绿皮火车上
站了那么久，困意一把一把地抓他
就在他即将躲进黑夜的睡袋
他下意识地摸一摸胸口，幸好还在
那几张纸币微微凸起，他能深切感受
微妙的厚度，他热爱，他立誓追求
那一夜，雄心使他与广阔的夜空相拥
他把睡眠打个结，挂在车窗外的一棵树上
一会儿它就不知去向
过年他回老家，忍不住炫耀
在发达城市购买的房子，虽然房子很小
他还会惊喜地发现自己与发小之前拉开了距离
“你们应该出去看看”他说，“外面的世界
不一样啊”
他们有点羡慕他，他的得意一闪一闪的
随即他捂住胸口
微妙的厚度——一沓痛苦，他将它
细细地藏好
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T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
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林鸿年
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杨忠愍公墓道
|
殿前员外击神奸，
遗属传观泪尽潸。
狄道君恩思强起，
容城乡梦断生还。
东楼云黯无佳气，
西市风香有笑颜。
手笔淋漓曾仰止，
焦山山上拜椒山。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ENG
|
Newman, John Henry
|
ASSISTANTS
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Jesu, Maria — I am near to death,
And Thou art calling me; I know it now —
Not by the token of this faltering breath,
This chill at heart, this dampness on my brow,
( Jesu, have mercy! Mary, pray for me! ) —
‘ Tis this new feeling, never felt before,
( Be with me, Lord, in my extremity! )
That I am going, that I am no more.
‘ Tis this strange innermost abandonment,
( Lover of souls! great God! I look to Thee,)
This emptying out of each constituent
And natural force, by which I come to be.
Pray for me, O my friends; a visitant
Is knocking his dire summons at my door,
The like of whom, to scare me and to daunt,
Has never, never come to me before;
‘ Tis death,— O loving friends, your prayers!—‘ tis he!...
As though my very being had given way,
As though I was no more a substance now,
And could fall back on nought to be my stay,
( Help, loving Lord! Thou my sole Refuge, Thou,)
And turn no whither, but must needs decay
And drop from out the universal frame
Into that shapeless, scopeless, blank abyss,
That utter nothingness, of which I came:
This is it that has come to pass in me;
O horror! this it is, my dearest, this;
So pray for me, my friends, who have not strength to pray.
Kyrie eleïson, Christe eleïson, Kyrie eleïson.
Holy Mary, pray for him.
All holy Angels, pray for him.
Choirs of the righteous, pray for him.
Holy Abraham, pray for him.
St. John Baptist, St. Joseph, pray for him.
St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Andrew, St. John,
All Apostles, all Evangelists, pray for him.
All holy Disciples of the Lord, pray for him.
All holy Innocents, pray for him.
All holy Martyrs, all holy Confessors,
All holy Hermits, all holy Virgins,
All ye Saints of God, pray for him.
Rouse thee, my fainting soul, and play the man;
And through such waning span
Of life and thought as still has to be trod,
Prepare to meet thy God.
And while the storm of that bewilderment
Is for a season spent,
And, ere afresh the ruin on thee fall,
Use well the interval.
Be merciful, be gracious; spare him, Lord.
Be merciful, be gracious; Lord, deliver him.
From the sins that are past;
From Thy frown and Thine ire;
From the perils of dying;
From any complying
With sin, or denying
His God, or relying
On self, at the last;
From the nethermost fire
From all that is evil;
From power of the devil;
Thy servant deliver,
For once and for ever.
By Thy birth, and by Thy Cross,
Rescue him from endless loss;
By Thy death and burial,
Save him from a final fall;
By Thy rising from the tomb,
By Thy mounting up above,
By the Spirit's gracious love,
Save him in the day of doom.
Sanctus fortis, Sanctus Deus,
De profundis oro te,
Miserere, Judex meus,
Parce mihi, Domine.
Firmly I believe and truly
God is Three, and God is One;
And I next acknowledge duly
Manhood taken by the Son.
And I trust and hope most fully
In that Manhood crucified;
And each thought and deed unruly
Do to death, as He has died.
Simply to His grace and wholly
Light and life and strength belong,
And I love, supremely, solely,
Him the holy, Him the strong.
Sanctus fortis, Sanctus Deus,
De profundis oro te,
Miserere, Judex meus,
Parce mihi, Domine.
And I hold in veneration,
For the love of Him alone,
Holy Church, as His creation,
And her teachings, as His own.
And I take with joy whatever
Now besets me, pain or fear,
And with a strong will I sever
All the ties which bind me here.
Adoration aye be given
With and through the angelic host,
To the God of earth and heaven,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Sanctus fortis, Sanctus Deus,
De profundis oro te,
Miserere, Judex meus,
Mortis in discrimine.
I can no more; for now it comes again,
That sense of ruin, which is worse than pain,
That masterful negation and collapse
Of all that makes me man; as though I bent
Over the dizzy brink
Of some sheer infinite descent;
Or worse, as though
Down, down for ever I was falling through
The solid framework of created things,
And needs must sink and sink
Into the vast abyss. And, crueller still,
A fierce and restless fright begins to fill
The mansion of my soul. And, worse and worse,
Some bodily form of ill
Floats on the wind, with many a loathsome curse
Tainting the hallowed air, and laughs, and flaps
Its hideous wings,
And makes me wild with horror and dismay.
O Jesu, help! pray for me, Mary, pray!
Some angel, Jesu! such as came to Thee
In Thine own agony....
Mary, pray for me. Joseph, pray for me.
Mary, pray for me.
Rescue him, O Lord, in this his evil hour,
As of old so many by Thy gracious power:— ( Amen. )
Enoch and Elias from the common doom; ( Amen. )
Noe from the waters in a saving home; ( Amen. )
Abraham from th’ abounding guilt of Heathenesse; ( Amen. )
Job from all his multiform and fell distress; ( Amen. )
Isaac, when his father's knife was raised to slay; ( Amen. )
Lot from burning Sodom on its judgment-day; ( Amen. )
Moses from the land of bondage and despair; ( Amen. )
Daniel from the hungry lions in their lair; ( Amen. )
And the Children Three amid the furnace-flame; ( Amen. )
Chaste Susanna from the slander and the shame; ( Amen. )
David from Golia and the wrath of Saul; ( Amen. )
And the two Apostles from their prison-thrall; ( Amen. )
Thecla from her torments; ( Amen. )
— so, to show Thy power,
Rescue this Thy servant in his evil hour.
Novissima hora est;and I fain would sleep,
The pain has wearied me.... Into Thy hands,
O Lord, into Thy hands....
Proficiscere, anima Christiana, de hoc mundo!
Go forth upon thy journey, Christian soul!
Go from this world! Go, in the name of God,
The omnipotent Father, who created thee!
Go, in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord,
Son of the living God, who bled for thee!
Go, in the Name of the Holy Spirit, who
Hath been poured out on thee! Go, in the name
Of Angels and Archangels; in the name
Of Thrones and Dominations; in the name
Of Princedoms and of Powers; and in the name
Of Cherubim and Seraphim, go forth!
Go, in the name of Patriarchs and Prophets;
And of Apostles and Evangelists,
Of Martyrs and Confessors; in the name
Of holy Monks and Hermits; in the name
Of holy Virgins; and all Saints of God,
Both men and women, go! Go on thy course;
And may thy place to-day be found in peace,
And may thy dwelling be the Holy Mount
Of Sion:— in the Name of Christ, our Lord.
I went to sleep; and now I am refreshed.
A strange refreshment: for I feel in me
An inexpressive lightness, and a sense
Of freedom, as I were at length myself,
And ne'er had been before. How still it is!
I hear no more the busy beat of time,
No, nor my fluttering breath, nor struggling pulse;
Nor does one moment differ from the next.
I had a dream; yes:— some one softly said
“He's gone”; and then a sigh went round the room.
And then I surely heard a priestly voice
Cry “Subvenite”; and they knelt in prayer.
I seem to hear him still; but thin and low,
And fainter and more faint the accents come,
As at an ever-widening interval.
Ah! whence is this? What is this severance?
This silence pours a solitariness
Into the very essence of my soul;
And the deep rest, so soothing and so sweet,
Hath something too of sternness and of pain,
For it drives back my thoughts upon their spring
By a strange introversion, and perforce
I now begin to feed upon myself,
Because I have nought else to feed upon.
Am I alive or dead? I am not dead,
But in the body still; for I possess
A sort of confidence which clings to me,
That each particular organ holds its place
As heretofore, combining with the rest
Into one symmetry, that wraps me round,
And makes me man; and surely I could move,
Did I but will it, every part of me.
And yet I cannot to my sense bring home,
By very trial, that I have the power.
‘ Tis strange; I cannot stir a hand or foot,
I cannot make my fingers or my lips
By mutual pressure witness each to each,
Nor by the eyelid's instantaneous stroke
Assure myself I have a body still.
Nor do I know my very attitude,
Nor if I stand, or lie, or sit, or kneel.
So much I know, not knowing how I know,
That the vast universe, where I have dwelt,
Is quitting me, or I am quitting it.
Or I or it is rushing on the wings
Of light or lightning on an onward course,
And we e'en now are million miles apart.
Yet... is this peremptory severance
Wrought out in lengthening measurements of space,
Which grow and multiply by speed and time?
Or am I traversing infinity
By endless subdivision, hurrying back
From finite towards infinitesimal,
Thus dying out of the expansive world?
Another marvel: someone has me fast
Within his ample palm;‘ tis not a grasp
Such as they use on earth, but all around
Over the surface of my subtle being,
As though I were a sphere, and capable
To be accosted thus, a uniform
And gentle pressure tells me I am not
Self-moving, but borne forward on my way.
And hark! I hear a singing; yet in sooth
I cannot of that music rightly say
Whether I hear or touch or taste the tones.
Oh what a heart-subduing melody!
My work is done,
My task is o'er,
And so I come,
Taking it home,
For the crown is won,
Alleluia.
For evermore.
My Father gave
In charge to me
This child of earth
E'en from its birth,
To serve and save,
Alleluia,
And saved is he.
This child of clay
To me was given,
To rear and train
By sorrow and pain
In the narrow way,
Alleluia,
From earth to heaven.
It is a member of that family
Of wondrous beings, who, ere the worlds were made,
Millions of ages back, have stood around
The throne of God:— he never has known sin;
But through those cycles all but infinite,
Has had a strong and pure celestial life,
And born to gaze on th’ unveiled face of God
And drank from the eternal Fount of truth,
And served Him with a keen ecstatic love.
Hark! he begins again.
O Lord, how wonderful in depth and height,
But most in man, how wonderful Thou art!
With what a love, what soft persuasive might
Victorious o'er the stubborn fleshly heart
Thy tale complete of saints Thou dost provide
To fill the thrones which angels lost through pride!
He lay a grovelling babe upon the ground,
Polluted in the blood of his first sire,
With his whole essence shattered and unsound,
And, coiled around his heart, a demon dire,
Which was not of his nature, but had skill
To bind and form his opening mind to ill.
Then was I sent from heaven to set right
The balance in his soul of truth and sin,
And I have waged a long relentless fight,
Resolved that death-environed spirit to win,
Which from its fallen state, when all was lost,
Had been repurchased at so dread a cost.
Oh what a shifting parti-coloured scene
Of hope and fear, of triumph and dismay,
Of recklessness and penitence, has been
The history of that dreary, lifelong fray!
And oh the grace to nerve him and to lead,
How patient, prompt, and lavish at his need!
O man, strange composite of heaven and earth!
Majesty dwarfed to baseness! fragrant flower
Running to poisonous seed! and seeming worth
Cloking corruption! weakness mastering power!
Who never art so near to crime and shame,
As when thou hast achieved some deed of name;—
How should ethereal natures comprehend
A thing made up of spirit and of clay,
Were we not tasked to nurse it and to tend,
Linked one to one throughout its mortal day?
More than the Seraph in his height of place,
The Angel-guardian knows and loves the ransomed race.
Now know I surely that I am at length
Out of the body: had I part with earth,
I never could have drunk those accents in,
And not have worshipped as a god the voice
That was so musical; but now I am
So whole of heart, so calm, so self-possessed,
With such a full content, and with a sense
So apprehensive and discriminant,
As no temptation can intoxicate.
Nor have I even terror at the thought
That I am clasped by such a saintliness.
All praise to Him, at whose sublime decree
The last are first, the first become the last;
By whom the suppliant prisoner is set free,
By whom proud first-borns from their thrones are cast,
Who raises Mary to be Queen of heaven,
While Lucifer is left, condemned and unforgiven.
I will address him. Mighty one, my Lord,
My Guardian Spirit, all hail!
All hail, my child!
My child and brother, hail! what wouldest thou?
I would have nothing but to speak with thee
For speaking's sake. I wish to hold with thee
Conscious communion; though I fain would know
A maze of things, were it but meet to ask,
And not a curiousness.
You cannot now
Cherish a wish which ought not to be wished.
Then I will speak. I ever had believed
That on the moment when the struggling soul
Quitted its mortal case, forthwith it fell
Under the awful Presence of its God,
There to be judged and sent to its own place.
What lets me now from going to my Lord?
Thou art not let; but with extremest speed
Art hurrying to the Just and Holy Judge:
For scarcely art thou disembodied yet.
Divide a moment, as men measure time,
Into its million-million-millionth part,
Yet even less than that the interval
Since thou didst leave the body; and the priest
Cried “Subvenite," and they fell to prayer;
Nay, scarcely yet have they begun to pray.
For spirits and men by different standards mete
The less and greater in the flow of time.
By sun and moon, primeval ordinances —
By stars which rise and set harmoniously —
By the recurring seasons, and the swing,
This way and that, of the suspended rod
Precise and punctual, men divide the hours,
Equal, continuous, for their common use.
Not so with us in the immaterial world;
But intervals in their succession
Are measured by the living thought alone,
And grow or wane with its intensity.
And time is not a common property;
But what is long is short, and swift is slow,
And near is distant, as received and grasped
By this mind and by that, and every one
Is standard of his own chronology.
And memory lacks its natural resting-points
Of years, and centuries, and periods.
It is thy very energy of thought
Which keeps thee from thy God.
Dear Angel, say,
Why have I now no fear at meeting Him?
Along my earthly life, the thought of death
And judgment was to me most terrible.
I had it aye before me, and I saw
The Judge severe e'en in the crucifix.
Now that the hour is come, my fear is fled;
And at this balance of my destiny,
Now close upon me, I can forward look
With a serenest joy.
It is because
Then thou didst fear, that now thou dost not fear.
Thou hast forestalled the agony, and so
For thee the bitterness of death is past.
Also, because already in thy soul
The judgment is begun. That day of doom,
One and the same for the collected world —
That solemn consummation for all flesh,
Is, in the case of each, anticipate
Upon his death; and, as the last great day
In the particular judgment is rehearsed,
So now too, ere thou comest to the Throne,
A presage falls upon thee, as a ray
Straight from the Judge, expressive of thy lot.
That calm and joy uprising in thy soul
Is first-fruit to thee of thy recompense,
And heaven begun.
But hark! upon my sense
Comes a fierce hubbub, which would make me fear,
Could I be frighted.
We are now arrived
Close on the judgment court; that sullen howl
Is from the demons who assemble there.
It is the middle region, where of old
Satan appeared among the sons of God,
To cast his jibes and scoffs at holy Job.
So now his legions throng the vestibule,
Hungry and wild, to claim their property,
And gather souls for hell. Hist to their cry.
How sour and how uncouth a dissonance!
Low-born clods
Of brute earth,
They aspire
To become gods,
By a new birth,
And an extra grace,
And a score of merits.
As if aught
Could stand in place
Of the high thought,
And the glance of fire
Of the great spirits,
The powers blest,
The lords by right,
The primal owners,
Of the proud dwelling
And realm of light,—
Dispossessed,
Aside thrust,
Chucked down,
By the sheer might
Of a despot's will,
Of a tyrant's frown.
Who after expelling
Their hosts, gave,
Triumphant still,
And still unjust,
Each forfeit crown
To psalm-droners,
And canting groaners,
To every slave,
And pious cheat,
And crawling knave,
Who licked the dust
Under his feet.
It is the restless panting of their being;
Like beasts of prey, who, caged within their bars,
In a deep hideous purring have their life,
And an incessant pacing to and fro.
The mind bold
And independent,
The purpose free,
So we are told,
Must not think
To have the ascendant.
What's a saint?
One whose breath
Doth the air taint
Before his death;
A bundle of bones,
Which fools adore,
Ha! ha!
When life is o'er,
Which rattle and stink,
E'en in the flesh.
We cry his pardon!
No flesh hath he;
Ha! ha!
For it hath died,
‘ Tis crucified
Day by day,
Afresh, afresh,
Ha! ha!
That holy clay,
Ha! ha!
This gains guerdon,
So priestlings prate,
Ha! ha!
Before the Judge,
And pleads and atones
For spite and grudge,
And bigot mood,
And envy and hate,
And greed of blood.
How impotent they are! and yet on earth
They have repute for wondrous power and skill;
And books describe, how that the very face
Of the Evil One, if seen, would have a force
Even to freeze the blood, and choke the life
Of him who saw it.
In thy trial-state
Thou hadst a traitor nestling close at home,
Connatural, who with the powers of hell
Was leagued, and of thy senses kept the keys,
And to that deadliest foe unlocked thy heart.
And therefore is it, in respect to man,
Those fallen ones show so majestical.
But, when some child of grace, angel or saint,
Pure and upright in his integrity
Of nature, meets the demons on their raid,
They scud away as cowards from the fight.
Nay, oft hath holy hermit in his cell,
Not yet disburdened of mortality,
Mocked at their threats and warlike overtures;
Or, dying, when they swarmed, like flies, around,
Defied them, and departed to his Judge.
Virtue and vice,
A knave's pretence.
‘ Tis all the same;
Ha! ha!
Dread of hell-fire,
Of the venomous flame,
A coward's plea.
Give him his price,
Saint though he be,
Ha! ha!
From shrewd good sense
He'll slave for hire;
Ha! ha!
And does but aspire
To the heaven above
With sordid aim,
And not from love.
Ha! ha!
I see not those false spirits; shall I see
My dearest Master, when I reach His throne;
Or hear, at least, His awful judgment-word
With personal intonation, as I now
Hear thee, not see thee, Angel? Hitherto
All has been darkness since I left the earth;
Shall I remain thus sight bereft all through
My penance time? If so, how comes it then
That I have hearing still, and taste, and touch,
Yet not a glimmer of that princely sense
Which binds ideas in one, and makes them live?
Nor touch, nor taste, nor hearing hast thou now;
Thou livest in a world of signs and types,
The presentations of most holy truths,
Living and strong, which now encompass thee.
A disembodied soul, thou hast by right
No converse with aught else beside thyself;
But, lest so stern a solitude should load
And break thy being, in mercy are vouchsafed
Some lower measures of perception,
Which seem to thee, as though through channels brought,
Through ear, or nerves, or palate, which are gone.
And thou art wrapped and swathed around in dreams,
Dreams that are true, yet enigmatical;
For the belongings of thy present state,
Save through such symbols, come not home to thee.
And thus thou tell'st of space, and time, and size,
Of fragrant, solid, bitter, musical,
Of fire, and of refreshment after fire;
As ( let me use similitude of earth,
To aid thee in the knowledge thou dost ask ) —
As ice which blisters may be said to burn.
Nor hast thou now extension,with its parts
Correlative,— long habit cozens thee,—
Nor power to move thyself, nor limbs to move.
Hast thou not heard of those, who, after loss
Of hand or foot, still cried that they had pains
In hand or foot, as though they had it still?
So is it now with thee, who hast not lost
Thy hand or foot, but all which made up man;
So will it be, until the joyous day
Of resurrection, when thou wilt regain
All thou hast lost, new-made and glorified.
How, even now, the consummated Saints
See God in heaven, I may not explicate.
Meanwhile let it suffice thee to possess
Such means of converse as are granted thee,
Though, till that Beatific Vision thou art blind;
For e'en thy purgatory, which comes like fire,
Is fire without its light.
His will be done!
I am not worthy e'er to see again
The face of day; far less His countenance
Who is the very sun. Nathless, in life,
When I looked forward to my purgatory,
It ever was my solace to believe,
That, ere I plunged amid th’ avenging flame,
I had one sight of Him to strengthen me.
Nor rash nor vain is that presentiment;
Yes,— for one moment thou shalt see thy Lord.
Thus will it be: what time thou art arraigned
Before the dread tribunal, and thy lot
Is cast for ever, should it be to sit
On His right hand among His pure elect,
Then sight, or that which to the soul is sight,
As by a lightning-flash, will come to thee,
And thou shalt see, amid the dark profound,
Whom thy soul loveth, and would fain approach,—
One moment; but thou knowest not, my child,
What thou dost ask: that sight of the Most Fair
Will gladden thee, but it will pierce thee too.
Thou speakest darkly, Angel! and an awe
Falls on me, and a fear lest I be rash.
There was a mortal, who is now above
In the mid glory: he, when near to die,
Was given communion with the Crucified,—
Such, that the Master's very wounds were stamped
Upon his flesh;and, from the agony
Which thrilled through body and soul in that embrace
Learn that the flame of the Everlasting Love
Doth burn ere it transform....
... Hark to those sounds!
They come of tender beings angelical,
Least and most childlike of the sons of God.
Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise:
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!
To us His elder race He gave
To battle and to win,
Without the chastisement of pain,
Without the soil of sin.
The younger son He willed to be
A marvel in his birth:
Spirit and flesh his parents were;
His home was heaven and earth.
The Eternal blessed His child, and armed,
And sent him hence afar,
To serve as champion in the field
Of elemental war.
To be His Viceroy in the world
Of matter, and of sense;
Upon the frontier, towards the foe,
A resolute defence.
We now have passed the gate, and are within
The House of Judgment; and whereas on earth
Temples and palaces are formed of parts
Costly and rare, but all material,
So in the world of spirits nought is found,
To mould withal and form into a whole,
But what is immaterial; and thus
The smallest portions of this edifice,
Cornice, or frieze, or balustrade, or stair,
The very pavement is made up of life —
Of holy, blessed, and immortal beings,
Who hymn their Maker's praise continually.
It is because
Then thou didst fear, that now thou dost not fear.
Thou hast forestalled the agony, and so
For thee the bitterness of death is past.
Also, because already in thy soul
The judgment is begun. That day of doom,
One and the same for the collected world —
That solemn consummation for all flesh,
Is, in the case of each, anticipate
Upon his death; and, as the last great day
In the particular judgment is rehearsed,
So now too, ere thou comest to the Throne,
A presage falls upon thee, as a ray
Straight from the Judge, expressive of thy lot.
That calm and joy uprising in thy soul
Is first-fruit to thee of thy recompense,
And heaven begun.
There was a mortal, who is now above
In the mid glory: he, when near to die,
Was given communion with the Crucified,—
Such, that the Master's very wounds were stamped
Upon his flesh;and, from the agony
Which thrilled through body and soul in that embrace
Learn that the flame of the Everlasting Love
Doth burn ere it transform....
... Hark to those sounds!
They come of tender beings angelical,
Least and most childlike of the sons of God.
Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise:
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!
To us His elder race He gave
To battle and to win,
Without the chastisement of pain,
Without the soil of sin.
The younger son He willed to be
A marvel in his birth:
Spirit and flesh his parents were;
His home was heaven and earth.
The Eternal blessed His child, and armed,
And sent him hence afar,
To serve as champion in the field
Of elemental war.
To be His Viceroy in the world
Of matter, and of sense;
Upon the frontier, towards the foe,
A resolute defence.
Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise:
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!
Woe to thee, man! for he was found
A recreant in the fight;
And lost his heritage of heaven,
And fellowship with light.
Above him now the angry sky,
Around the tempest's din;
Who once had angels for his friends,
Had but the brutes for kin.
O man! a savage kindred they;
To flee that monster brood
He scaled the seaside cave, and clomb
The giants of the wood.
With now a fear, and now a hope,
With aids which chance supplied,
From youth to eld, from sire to son,
He lived, and toiled, and died.
He dreedhis penance age by age;
And step by step began
Slowly to doff his savage garb,
And be again a man.
And quickened by the Almighty's breath,
And chastened by His rod,
And taught by Angel-visitings,
At length he sought his God:
And learned to call upon His name,
And in His faith create
A household and a fatherland,
A city and a state.
Glory to Him who from the mire,
In patient length of days,
Elaborated into life
A people to His praise!
The sound is like the rushing of the wind —
The Summer wind among the lofty pines;
Swelling an rd dying, echoing round about,
Now here, now distant, wild and beautiful;
While, scattered from the branches it has stirred,
Descend ecstatic odours.
Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise:
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!
The Angels, as beseemingly
To spirit-kind was given,
At once were tried and perfected,
And took their seats in heaven.
For them no twilight or eclipse;
No growth and no decay:
‘ Twas hopeless, all-ingulfing night,
Or beatific day.
But to the younger race there rose
A hope upon its fall;
And slowly, surely, gracefully,
The morning dawned on all.
And ages, opening out, divide
The precious and the base,
And from the hard and sullen mass,
Mature the heirs of grace.
O man! albeit the quickening ray,
Lit from his second birth,
Makes him at length what once he was,
And heaven grows out of earth;
Yet still between that earth and heaven —
His journey and his goal —
A double agony awaits
His body and his soul.
A double debt he has to pay —
The forfeit of his sins,
The chill of death is past, and now
The penance-fire begins.
Glory to Him, who evermore
By truth and justice reigns;
Who tears the soul from out its case,
And burns away its stains!
They sing of thy approaching agony,
Which thou so eagerly didst question of:
It is the face of the Incarnate God
Shall smite thee with that keen and subtle pain;
And yet the memory which it leaves will be
A sovereign febrifuge to heal the wound;
And yet withal it will the wound provoke,
And aggravate and widen it the more.
Thou speakest mysteries; still methinks I know
To disengage the tangle of thy words:
Yet rather would I hear thy angel voice,
Than for myself be thy interpreter.
When then — if such thy lot — thou seest thy Judge,
The sight of Him will kindle in thy heart,
All tender, gracious, reverential thoughts.
Thou wilt be sick with love, and yearn for Him,
And feel as though thou couldst but pity Him,
That one so sweet should e'er have placed Himself
At disadvantage such, as to be used
So vilely by a being so vile as thee.
There is a pleading in His pensive eyes
Will pierce thee to the quick, and trouble thee.
And thou wilt hate and loathe thyself; for, though
Now sinless, thou wilt feel that thou hast sinned,
As never thou didst feel; and wilt desire
To slink away, and hide thee from His sight
And yet wilt have a longing aye to dwell
Within the beauty of His countenance.
And these two pains, so counter and so keen,—
The longing for Him, when thou seest Him not;
The shame of self at thought of seeing Him,—
Will be thy veriest, sharpest purgatory.
My soul is in my hand: I have no fear,—
In His dear might prepared for weal or woe.
But hark! a grand mysterious harmony:
It floods me, like the deep and solemn sound
Of many waters.
We have gained the stairs
Which rise towards the Presence-chamber; there
A band of mighty Angels keep the way
On either side, and hymn the Incarnate God.
Father, whose goodness none can know, but they
Who see Thee face to face,
By man hath come the infinite display
Of Thy victorious grace;
But fallen man — the creature of a day —
Skills not that love to trace.
It needs, to tell the triumph Thou hast wrought,
An Angel's deathless fire, an Angel's reach of thought.
It needs that very Angel, who with awe,
Amid the garden shade,
The great Creator in His sickness saw,
Soothed by a creature's aid,
And agonised, as victim of the Law
Which He Himself had made;
For who can praise Him in His depth and height,
But he who saw Him reel amid that solitary fight?
Hark! for the lintels of the presence-gate
Are vibrating and echoing back the strain.
Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise:
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!
The foe blasphemed the Holy Lord,
As if He reckoned ill,
In that He placed His puppet man
The frontier place to fill.
For even in his best estate,
With amplest gifts endued,
A sorry sentinel was he,
A being of flesh and blood.
As though a thing, who for his help
Must needs possess a wife,
Could cope with those proud rebel hosts,
Who had angelic life.
And when, by blandishment of Eve,
That earth-born Adam fell,
He shrieked in triumph, and he cried,
“A sorry sentinel;
The Maker by His word is bound,
Escape or cure is none;
He must abandon to his doom,
And slay His darling son.”
And now the threshold, as we traverse it,
Utters aloud its glad responsive chant.
Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise:
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!
O loving wisdom of our God!
When all was sin and shame,
A second Adam to the fight
And to the rescue came.
O wisest love! that flesh and blood
Which did in Adam fail,
Should strive afresh against the foe,
Should strive and should prevail;
And that a higher gift than grace
Should flesh and blood refine,
God's Presence and His very Self,
And Essence all divine.
O generous love! that He who smote
In man for man the foe,
The double agony in man
For man should undergo;
And in the garden secretly,
And on the cross on high,
Should teach His brethren and inspire
To suffer and to die.
Thy judgment now is near, for we are come
Into the veiled presence of our God.
I hear the voices that I left on earth.
It is the voice of friends around thy bed,
Who say the “Subvenite” with the priest.
Hither the echoes come; before the Throne
Stands the great Angel of the Agony,
The same who strengthened Him, what time He knelt
Lone in the garden shade, bedewed with blood.
That Angel best can plead with Him for all
Tormented souls, the dying and the dead.
Jesu! by that shuddering dread which fell on Thee;
Jesu! by that cold dismay which sickened Thee;
Jesu! by that pang of heart which thrilled in Thee;
Jesu! by that mount of sins which crippled Thee;
Jesu! by that sense of guilt which stifled Thee;
Jesu! by that innocence which girdled Thee;
Jesu! by that sanctity which reigned in Thee;
Jesu! by that Godhead which was one with Thee;
Jesu! spare these souls which are so dear to Thee,
Who in prison, calm and patient, wait for Thee;
Hasten, Lord, their hour, and bid them come to Thee,
To that glorious Home, where they shall ever gaze on Thee.
I go before my Judge. Ah!...
... Praise to His Name!
The eager spirit has darted from my hold,
And, with the intemperate energy of love,
Flies to the dear feet of Emmanuel;
But, ere it reach them, the keen sanctity,
Which with its effluence, like a glory, clothes
And circles round the Crucified, has seized,
And scorched, and shrivelled it; and now it lies
Passive and still before the awful Throne.
O happy, suffering soul! for it is safe,
Consumed, yet quickened, by the glance of God.
Take me away, and in the lowest deep
There let me be,
And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,
Told out for me.
There, motionless and happy in my pain,
Lone, not forlorn,—
There will I sing my sad perpetual strain,
Until the morn.
There will I sing, and soothe my stricken breast,
Which ne'er can cease
To throb, and pine, and languish, till possest
Of its Sole Peace.
There will I sing my absent Lord and Love:—
Take me away,
That sooner I may rise, and go above,
And see Him in the truth of everlasting day.
Now let the golden prison ope its gates,
Making sweet music, as each fold revolves
Upon its ready hinge. And ye great powers,
Angels of Purgatory, receive from me
My charge, a precious soul, until the day,
When, from all bond and forfeiture released,
I shall reclaim it for the courts
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
SLV
|
Šalamun, Tomaž
|
Gute Nacht liebe Baberle
|
Rožmarin nadoknadi najvišjo
višavo. Če ga v lončkih na terasi
zgradiš v stolpce, niti ni treba
brati fusnot. Greben! To sem vendar
lakirala. Rekla sem:
vse kar je iz pletenega vrbovja
spravljati pod napušč.
Naj dihajo morilci in kiti.
Opazila sem mufo na škrlatu
in štirku, in molja in pajka
v drevesni jamici gospe Bluhm.
Imela je tiste hripavo
zjokane oči kot gospa Hanska.
Iz same nevroze ne naroči
olja za vrat. Njen skelet tako
poka, da se jo gostje bojijo.
Vsi smo na shore. Sedimo in pojemo
žure. Religiozen mir zanaša v Boutique.
Also, sfižilo se je tudi zašukati
Kristusove krempeljčke, ki sem jih
dobila za dar na jamboreju v Sofiji.
In smo se z majhno trabakulo pomikali
proti Missolunghiju, kjer naj nas bi
pričakal šofer poljskega ambasadorja.
In so potem s ščipalkami sterilizirali
naše spodnje hlače, zastavice na avtu
so bile trikotne. Fides me je
fotografirala, ko sem bila
avšasta, to je neglige.
V zbornik sem dala tisto fotografijo,
kjer mi lasje stojijo pokoncu.
Živel gris! avtentično podoben
grški tragediji.
Želela sem si, da bi Daguša
študirala rastline in bila
arhitekt za vrtove.
Hana ni šla z njimi kot
gardedama, ampak kot
Putzfrau. Na Cavtatu so
neprestano druga drugo podile
spat.
G. se je pred naravo
zgražal in je imel metrese.
Oh, kako sem bila nesrečna,
ko ga je tista punca kompromitirala.
Prečudovite metrese ...
Gute Nacht, liebe Baberle ...
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T2
|
ZHO
|
陆苏
|
老鼠偷走了一本书
|
它是想要里面的黄金垒窗还是想要里面的新娘吹灯做伴它半夜里急着翻书的声响多么让人同情真想告诉它我已这么找了十年若有意外也早已发生
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
ITA
|
Angiolo Silvio Novaro
|
Poesia di Angiolo Silvio Novaro - Il viaggio della luna
|
Limpida e fresca più ch'acqua di palle
fuori del cuore dormente d'un pino
usci la luna alla cima del colle:
scosse all'aria il bel velo d'oro fino,
porse al sereno la semplice faccia
e soletta si mise al suo cammino.
Or mentre andava per l'antica traccia
giu della costa alle conche ed ai divi
riguardava com'una che s'affaccia.
E vide: vide nelle conche ulivi
devotamente lor terra. abbracciare
con atti di filiale amore vivi;
e rivoletti in fretta dirocciare
con tenui risa e con sommessi pianti
per desio di lor vecchio padre mare;
e pe' clivi, siccome puri amanti
vicini star si i pini e le mortelle
contenti sol d'avere il ciel davanti;
e proni sassi regger lor sorelle
rupi, con muta carità, fissando,
negli alti azzurri solitarie stelle.
Vide l'intenta luna: e un riso blando
gittò sugli alti dossi e i grembi bassi,
e di gioia tremò di quando in quando:
baciò rivi ed ulivi ed erbe e sassi:
indi riprese il tacito viaggio
ch'era già l'alba, affrettando i suoi passI.
E giunse alfine al piccolo villaggio
disteso lungo il mare, e dentro quello
pallida spinse il faticato raggio;
e vide: vide a una porta il fratello
con pio sorriso il fratello aspettare
dentro le mani celando un coltello ...
Allora, smorta, si calò nel mare.
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
JPN
|
実衡女
| null |
ここにさへ あらしふけとは おもはすよ みのかくれかの のきのやままつ
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T2
|
LZH
|
魏必復
|
百門山
|
建瓴視中原，
清輝天下最。
井邑抱林泉，
靜深兼秀麗。
靈源遡方輿，
漕輸厯年嵗。
秔稌厚人生，
碓磑具神恵。
奠祠扣奫□，
飛甍闖黮䨴。
雲雷泣鮫人，
礫石動鱗貝。
潠出驪龍珠，
爛瀉海藏祕。
滌慮鑑湖明，
齊心辟氣沴。
湧金儷百泉，
芙蓉媚薜茘。
淨㳙香坐隅，
解愠風衣袂。
沈迷簿領間，
漸息登臨際。
閭閻逺近民，
煙霞咫尺地。
躊躇旌斾還，
倥偬鸞聲噦。
循循爾吏兵，
黙黙予心㑹。
諒非泥醉唫，
公餘可同詣。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T1
|
DEU
|
Paul Celan
|
Stimmen
|
Stimmen, ins Grün der Wasserfläche geritzt.
Wenn der Eisvogel taucht, sirrt die Sekunde: Was zu dir stand an jedem der Ufer, es tritt gemäht in ein anderes Bild.
* Stimmen vom Nesselweg her: Komm auf den Händen zu uns.
Wer mit der Lampe allein ist, hat nur die Hand, draus zu lesen.
* Stimmen, nachtdurchwachsen, Stränge, an die du die Glocke hängst.
Wölbe dich, Welt: Wenn die Totenmuschel heranschwimmt, will es hier läuten.
* Stimmen, vor denen dein Herz ins Herz deiner Mutter zurückweicht.
Stimmen vom Galgenbaum her, wo Spätholz und Frühholz die Ringe tauschen und tauschen.
* Stimmen, kehlig, im Grus, darin auch Unendliches schaufelt, (herz-) schleimiges Rinnsal.
Setz hier die Boote aus, Kind, die ich bemannte: Wenn mittschiffs die Bö sich ins Recht setzt, treten die Klammern zusammen.
* Jakobsstimme: Die Tränen.
Die Tränen im Bruderaug.
Eine blieb hängen, wuchs.
Wir wohnen darin.
Atme, daß sie sich löse.
* Stimmen im Innern der Arche: Es sind nur die Münder geborgen.
Ihr Sinkenden, hört auch uns.
* Keine Stimme – ein Spätgeräusch, stundenfremd, deinen Gedanken geschenkt, hier, endlich herbeigewacht: ein Fruchtblatt, augengroß, tief geritzt; es harzt, will nicht vernarben.
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
DEU
|
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor
|
[Und lange Zeit verfloß. Verdorrt]
|
Und lange Zeit verfloß. Verdorrt
War jeder Gaum'. Wie Glas
Die Augen! Lange, lange Zeit!
Die Augen all' wie Glas!
Da blickt' ich westwärts – schau! da sah
Am Horizont ich was!
Zuerst war es ein kleiner Fleck!
Der ward zum Nebel bald
Und regte und bewegte sich
Und wurde zur Gestalt.
Ein Fleck, ein Nebel, dann Gestalt,
Und näher kommt es stets;
Als neckt' es einen Wassergeist,
So schießt es und so dreht's.
Mit trocknem Gaum', die Lippen kaum
Noch rot stehn wir; kein Laut
Erschallt – sind stumm; hin ist der Mut!
Da biß den Arm ich, saugte Blut
Und rief: Ein Segel! schaut!
Mit trocknem Gaum', die Lippen kaum
Noch rot, sehn sie mein Winken;
Vor Freude weinte Groß und Klein,
Und alles zog den Atem ein,
Als ob sie wollten trinken.
Seht! rief ich, seht! es dreht nicht mehr!
Es naht uns, bringt uns Heil!
Und ohne Flut und ohne Wind
Schwimmt's auf uns zu in Eil.
Des Westens Flut war eine Glut;
Der Tag war bald verronnen!
Und sinkend ruht auf Westens Flut
Das breite Rund der Sonnen!
Und die Gestalt stellt zwischen uns
Sich und das Rund der Sonnen.
Und schwarze Streifen treten stracks
Vor des Ozeans goldne Braut;
Und glüh'nd, wie durch ein Kerkertor,
Ihr brennend Antlitz schaut.
Ach, dacht' ich, und mein Herz schlug laut,
Denn näher kam es immer;
Das seine Segel, blitzend hell
Wie Mettenfädenschimmer?
Das seine Rippen, so die Sonn'
Durchscheint so feuerrot?
Und ist nur jenes Weib an Bord?
Ist das ein Tod? sind zweie dort?
Ist ihr Gemahl der Tod?
Rot ist ihr Mund; frei her sie schaut;
Ihr Haupthaar golden wallt;
Weiß ist, wie Aussatz, ihre Haut!
Die Nachtmahr ist's, die Totenbraut,
Macht Menschenblut so kalt!
Der Schiffsrumpf kommt, legt Bord an Bord;
Da würfelten die Zwei.
Der Würfel fiel! Gewonnen Spiel!
Spricht sie und pfeift dabei.
Die Sonne sinkt, die Sterne glühn,
Die Nacht kommt stracks heran;
Mit leisem Flüstern übers Meer
Schießt fort der Geisterkahn.
Wir horchen, sehn ihn seitwärts fliehn;
Die Furcht aus meinem Herren schien
Das Lebensblut zu trinken.
Die Nacht dick, trüb der Sterne Kreis;
Des Steurers Antlitz stier und weiß
Bei seiner Lamp'; – es sinken
Vom Segel Tropfen Taues; fern
Im Osten steht der Mond, ein Stern
Schimmernd zu seiner Linken.
Und alle, bei des Mondes Schein,
Mit stierem, gräßlichem Blick
Sehn grinsend mich und klagend an:
Mir flucht ihr Schmerzensblick!
Viermal fünfzig Menschen wohl,
Sie sinken leblos nieder.
Sie stöhnen nicht, sie seufzen nicht.
Aufstehn sie nimmer wieder.
Die Seelen fliehn der Leiber Haft;
Glück harrt auf sie und Grausen;
Und jede mir vorüberschwirrt,
Wie meiner Armbrust Sausen.“
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
PAN
|
حسین سحر
|
قصے تے کہانیاں
|
قصے تے کہانیاں
گلاں نیں پُرانیاں
اوکھے سوکھے ہو کے
عمراں لنگھانیاں
ہنجواں دے ہار نیں
اوہدیا ں نشانیاں
ساڈیاں گلاں وچ
غم دیاں گانیاں
لنگھنا اے اک دن
پُلاں ہیٹھ پانیاں
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T3
|
RUS
|
Кологривова Лидия Александровна
|
Молитва (Не оставь нас, Господь, в эти дни испытания)
|
Не оставь нас, Господь, в эти дни испытания,
Ты Всесильный, победу на брани дарующий,
Ниспошли нам терпенье в борьбе и страдании,
Вознеси в лучезарном небесном сиянии
Пред врагами неверными крест торжествующий.
Осени́ наших воинов мощной Десницею,
Дай им бодрость душевную, стойкость в лишениях,
Да воздастся за доблесть им слава стори́цею
А для павших да будет смерть ясной зарницею
Незакатного счастия в райских селениях.
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
ARA
|
الشاعر علي الدرويش
|
قصيدة علم لعلم يعمل
|
علم لعلم يعمل
نيِّر برٍّ برُّ
مدح ممدّ دَيّنٌ
آملٌ منيرٌ حرُّ
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
ZHO
|
圻子
|
公共汽车驶向黄昏
|
比一个人的背影更模糊,它带着灰色的脸庞消耗着,穿过一条大道、一条河流驶向黄昏，驶向忧伤的夜色多少次我看到离别的泪花，在车窗前闪过黄昏把爱悄悄掩藏，又把她投向远方我诵读过，公共汽车深入黄昏就象一只蚂蚁消逝在地图的经络里一种无法说出的阴影和寂寞
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
T2
|
LZH
|
高大衡
|
七月五日季大参妙高阁修社次韵
|
秋清词客赋林坰，
高阁凭虚万籁停。
夜近佳期喧喜鹊，
筵开白社聚文星。
凝神可摄招提境，
漫兴能辞梓泽醽。
颁玉却忘淹达曙，
疏梧垂露滴中庭。
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
CUSTOM:文人雅集
|
URD
|
Dagh Dehlvi
|
Kahte hain jis ko huur vo insaan tumhiin to ho
|
कहते हैं जिस को हूर वो इंसाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
जाती है जिस पे जान मिरी जाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
मतलब की कह रहे हैं वो दाना हमीं तो हैं
मतलब की पूछते हो वो नादाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
आता है बाद-ए-ज़ुल्म तुम्हीं को तो रहम भी
अपने किए से दिल में पशेमाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
पछताओगे बहुत मिरे दिल को उजाड़ कर
इस घर में और कौन है मेहमाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
इक रोज़ रंग लाएँगी ये मेहरबानियाँ
हम जानते थे जान के ख़्वाहाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
दिलदार ओ दिल-फ़रेब दिल-आज़ार ओ दिल-सिताँ
लाखों में हम कहेंगे कि हाँ हाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
करते हो 'दाग़' दूर से बुत-ख़ाने को सलाम
अपनी तरह के एक मुसलमाँ तुम्हीं तो हो
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
RUS
|
Маяковский Владимир Владимирович
|
Прозаседавшиеся
|
Чуть ночь превратится в рассвет,
вижу каждый день я:
кто в глав,
кто в ком,
кто в полит,
кто в просвет,
расходится народ в учрежденья.
Обдают дождем дела бумажные,
чуть войдешь в здание:
отобрав с полсотни -
самые важные!-
служащие расходятся на заседания.
Заявишься:
"Не могут ли аудиенцию дать?
Хожу со времени она".-
"Товарищ Иван Ваныч ушли заседать -
объединение Тео и Гукона".
Исколесишь сто лестниц.
Свет не мил.
Опять:
"Через час велели прийти вам.
Заседают:
покупка склянки чернил
Губкооперативом".
Через час:
ни секретаря,
ни секретарши нет -
голо!
Все до 22-х лет
на заседании комсомола.
Снова взбираюсь, глядя на ночь,
на верхний этаж семиэтажного дома.
"Пришел товарищ Иван Ваныч?" -
"На заседании
А-бе-ве-ге-де-е-же-зе-кома".
Взъяренный,
на заседание
врываюсь лавиной,
дикие проклятья дорогой изрыгая.
И вижу:
сидят людей половины.
О дьявольщина!
Где же половина другая?
"Зарезали!
Убили!"
Мечусь, оря.
От страшной картины свихнулся разум.
И слышу
спокойнейший голосок секретаря:
"Оне на двух заседаниях сразу.
В день
заседаний на двадцать
надо поспеть нам.
Поневоле приходится раздвояться.
До пояса здесь,
а остальное
там".
С волнением не уснешь.
Утро раннее.
Мечтой встречаю рассвет ранний:
"О, хотя бы
еще
одно заседание
относительно искоренения всех заседаний!"
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ARA
|
الشاعر صالح يوسف
|
قصيدة إلى أبطال الحدّ الجنوبي
|
١ على الحدِّ ارْتقى الصِّيدُ
رجالاتٌ صناديدُ
٢ لأجل اللهِ ما وهنوا
وهذا العزُّ منشودُ
٣ تُصافحُهُمْ صواريخٌ
تُعانقُهُمْ بواريدُ
٤ على ثغْرِ الرّدى صعدوا
لهم ذابتْ جلاميدُ
٥ فليس العيدُ ما نحيا
بواسِلُنا هُمُ العيدُ
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T2
|
ARA
|
الشاعر عبد العزيز الزمزمي
|
قصيدة وانه قطب هذا الوقت دون مرا
|
وانه قطب هذا الوقت دون مرا
به الوجود ازدهى عطفا وانتظما
سمي خير البرايا سبط عترته
ونجل صديقه من فضله عظما
قد عنه واسمع به وانظر إليه تجد
ما قد ملا مسمعاً مع مقله وفما
حدث عن البحران حدثت عنه ولا
عليك من حرج تخرج به التهما
بحر يفيض علوماً من جوانبه
بالبحث في كل فن موجه التطما
من حضرة القدس فيضاً حل عن
الشيخ تلقه إلا بتخصيص له قسما
مواهب باكتساب لا تنال إذا
ادراكها اعجز الحفاظ والفهما
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
LZH
|
李新
|
觀梁輔之曉閱
|
羽林出戍死忘家，
坐作行趨聽虎牙。
碧月初生弓入抱，
青蛇不動劍藏花。
風吹細柳旗陰轉，
日過寒谿陣脚斜。
回笑書生頭白早，
空將筆硯戰年華。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T3
|
FRA
|
SOULARY, Joséphin
|
LE RÉACTIONNAIRE
|
C'est fini ! D'Artagnan dans sa tombe repose
Avec Aramis et Porthos.
A leur place ont paru les Jourdain de la prose
Et les Eschyle du pathos.
On ne jonglera plus, aux cadences du nombre,
Avec les fleurs d'une chanson ;
Car au beau pays bleu passe un fantôme sombre
Qui donne aux Muses le frisson.
Ce monstre au prix de qui l'Ogre était débonnaire
A mis le rire en interdit.
On l’appelle tout bas : LE RÉACTIONNAIRE !
Ce nom seul n'est-il pas maudit ?
C'est lui le grand coupable et le bouc émissaire
Chargé des crimes d'Israël !
En lui s'est incarné ce fléau nécessaire :
« Le conspirateur éternel ! »
Il conspire depuis que les voleurs de terre
De leur ombre se sont émus.
Quand Romulus fondait sa borne autoritaire,
Il conspirait avec Rémus.
Il surgit tout armé dans les heures de crise
Dès chausse-trapes du trottoir,
Ainsi qu'on voit sortir d'une boîte à surprise
Une tête de diable noir.
Nul au juste ne sait les mœurs, la façon d'être
De ce formidable assassin ;
Mais on croit l’avoir vu sous la forme d'un prêtre,
D'un chimiste ou d'un médecin.
Nul ne pourrait jurer qu'on ait surpris l'infâme
La torche aux mains, le fer aux dents ;
Mais qu'un maçon se tue ou qu'un toit prenne flamme,
Le monstre a trempé là-dedans !
Qu'un financier, touché des plaintes amoureuses
Qu'on soupire à son coffre-fort,
Porte en Suisse le nid de ses valeurs peureuses,
Le monstre est dans son passe-port !
Nos combattants, si fiers de leur mise soignée,
Voient-ils, dès le premier bouton,
Leurs tuniques partir en toile d’araignée,
Et leurs souliers fondre en carton ;
Ce n'est là qu'une ruse au monstre familière ;
Et c'est encore un de ses tours,
Lorsque nos bataillons avancent en arrière,
Toujours battant, battus toujours.
Si la cité n'est plus qu'une immense caserne ;
Si, pour garder on ne sait quoi,
Tout un camp de bourgeois, la nuit venue, hiverne
En plein nord, loin du doux chez-soi ;
Si Prudhomme, en public, roule, risible Alcide,
Des yeux qui voudraient être craints ;
S'il laisse fièrement sur sa face placide
Germer une barbe à tous crins ;
La poitrine en avant, le doigt sur la couture,
S'il va, raide comme un épi,
Visiter ses clients, le sabre à la ceinture,
Et s'il couche avec, son képi ;
Si Bébé même est pris de vaillance mutine ;
Si, laissant carlins et coucous,
Le bonhomme Noël a mis dans sa bottine
Un revolver à douze coups ;
C'est qu'on a dit : « Le monstre a redressé la tête !
« Veillons bien ! sus au réprouvé ! »
Or Prudhomme, bon père et citoyen honnête,
Croit toujours que c'est arrivé.
Je veux vous confier un secret qui me pèse.
Sommes-nous seuls ? baissons la voix.
Eh bien, j’ai vu le monstre !… oui, vu, ne vous déplaise,
En plein jour, comme je vous vois !
Sachez tous les forfaits de ce Croquemitaine !
Bravant frimas, neige et glaçons,
Le lâche ! il arborait des gants chauds de futaine, '
Un cache-nez et des chaussons !
Corrompant jusqu’au fisc, ce suppôt des despotes
Revenait allègre et furtif
De solder au Trésor le montant de ses cotes
Doublé par ordre impératif !
A chaque pas semant son or, — le misérable !
On le voyait, les yeux baissés,
Sournoisement glisser, dans un tronc charitable,
Son offrande pour les blessés !
Comme il est coutumier d’audaces merveilleuses,
On insinuait quelque part
Qu'il aurait, — le brigand, — fourni deux mitrailleuses
A notre légion qui part !
Mille indices font voir ses féroces pensées :
Il met parfois du linge blanc ;
Il déteste la foule, — à cause des poussées,
Et le ronge, — a cause du sang.
Si le pays, parmi ses sauveurs de tout grade,
Ne l’a pas vu se faufiler,
C'est qu'il juge, à part lui, bien malade un malade
Que tant de Purgon font aller.
Sur tout chef-d’œuvre il a l'incroyable manie
De noter quelques errata ;
A cela près, il donne un bon point de génie
Au lyrisme de Gambetta.
Envers tous citoyens, riches ou pauvres hères,
Il professe un profond respect ;
Même il les nommerait volontiers « très-chers frères »,
Si ce titre n'était suspect.
Il admet le crayon narquois jetant sa gourme
En des dessins d'un trait gaillard ;
Mais il aimerait l'Art sentant moins la chiourme
Et respirant un peu plus l’art.
Doux par tempérament, pour les fureurs d'Oreste
Il a des partions indulgens ;
Seulement il voudrait le voir un peu moins leste
A fusiller les braves gens.
Il lui plaît qu'à son gré chacun se règle en somme
Sur Machiavel ou Proudhon ;
Mais il ose avouer que le Christ est son homme,
Et que l'Évangile a du bon.
« Arrêtez ! me dit-on ; nous prenez-vous pour d’autres ?
« Mais ce monstre est de nos cousins ;
« Dans ses gestes et faits vous racontez les nôtres,
« Et même ceux de nos voisins. »
Il est vrai. Ce gredin, ce gueux, cet être immonde
Qu'écorcher vif serait trop doux,
Lecteur, c'est vous, c'est moi, c'est lui, c'est tout le monde !
— Je m'en doutais ; embrassons-nous.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ASM
|
পলাশ প্ৰান্তিক
|
হেৰুৱা সপোনৰ তিনিটা স্কেছ্
|
(১)
চিগাৰেটৰ ধোঁৱাৰ কুন্ডলিৰ পাকত
মই আঁকি যাওঁ
তোমাৰ ধুনীয়া চুলি ,নাক
চকুৰ চেলাউৰি
জেতুকা বুলিয়া ওঁঠ
(২)
তোমালৈ আজি বৰকৈ মনত পৰিছে
তপত তেজৰ লুনীয়া সোঁতত
উজাই ভটিয়াই বঠা মাৰি মাৰি
বিছাৰি ফুৰিছো
হেৰুৱা সপোনৰ ঠিকনা
(৩)
এদিন কানিমুনি পৰত
গেজেপনি মৰা বাঁহনিডৰাৰ তলতে
তোমাক লগ পাইছিলো
তোমাৰ ওঁঠৰ ৰুমালেৰে মচি দিছিলা
মোৰ সমস্ত দুখ
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
ENG
|
Nikki Giovanni
|
Legacies
|
her grandmother called her from the playground
"yes, ma'am"
"i want chu to learn how to make rolls" said the old
woman proudly
but the little girl didn't want
to learn how because she knew
even if she couldn't say it that
that would mean when the old one died she would be less
dependent on her spirit so
she said
"i don't want to know how to make no rolls"
with her lips poked out
and the old woman wiped her hands on
her apron saying "lord
these children"
and neither of them ever
said what they meant
and i guess nobody ever does
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
CES
|
Bezruč, Petr
|
1925. Prosinec – den teskný, těsný,
|
Prosinec – den teskný, těsný,
prosinec – sníh, ostrý mráz:
ale sladký úsměv vesny
z jihu jde přes ledu hráz.
Krásný den provázej život,
krásný den provázej Vás!
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T1
|
T1
|
T2
|
DEU
|
Kretschmann, Karl Friedrich
|
Zweites Lied
|
Der entstellt die Rose nicht,
Wer sie mit der bleichern Blume
Zu einem Kranze flicht.
Krieg ist mein Sang, und jauchzt nach Ruhme:
Doch schändet's Bardenlieder nicht,
Wenn sie sich kühn darnieder schwingen,
Von deutscher Zucht und Sitte singen;
Und welcher Sinn des Siegers war.
Lerne Nachwelt, daß in Blöße
Reichthum, und in Unschuld Größe,
Tapferkeit bey Tugend war.
Von eignen lieben Söhnen groß,
Von eigner Tugend warm,
Lag unser Mutterland im Schoos
Des Glücks, der Ruh im Arm:
Indeß schlaflose Tapferkeit
Um unsre Freiheit wacht,
Indeß der Ruhm die frohbedeckten Hütten
Ehrwürdig macht,
In welchen, schon seit Thuiskons Zeit,
Die götteralte Redlichkeit
Und Gnüge, die sich selbst belohnet,
In schwesterlicher Eintracht wohnet.
Rom staunt: denn schön und groß,
Frisch wie der Eichenbaum,
Wächst Teutschlands Jugend auf.
Der Knabe wandelt kaum,
So stärkt ihn Kampf und Lauf;
Dann, zwischen spielenden Lanzen,
Lernt er den Waffentanz
Schlank wie die Schlange tanzen:
Und er bekömmt den Kranz.
Am Tische seiner ältern Brüder
Sitzt er nun stolz im Rath,
Und horcht auf Bardenlieder
Voll von der Väter That;
Und, Sieg an Sieg, lernt er sie bald;
Dann pocht sein Herz ihm mit Gewalt,
Dann weckt ihn oft ein Traum vom Streit;
Er sucht des Bildes Ähnlichkeit,
Und eilt, sobald der Hahn den Morgen angesagt,
Hinaus zur kriegerischen Jagd. –
Er kömmt: seht, wie die Bären ihn,
Seht wie die Wölfe heulend fliehn!
Habt ihr des Bäres Stärke,
Habt ihr des Wolfes Muth,
Tyrannen, die ihr dürstet
Nach freyer Völker Blut?
Ihr habt sie nicht! o rettet euch:
Denn seine Jagd ist hinter euch! –
Ermüdet sinkt er dann
Am Felsenbache nieder,
Und ruht bey seiner Beut' im Gras;
Er singet mit der Lerche Lieder,
Und ruft der zaudernden Sonne zu,
Ob sie in träger Ruh
Des Morgenrothes vergaß?
Auf einmal tritt mit Siegerpracht
Die Sonn' empor, und vorger Nacht
Lezte graue Nebel fliehen;
Er fühlt der sanften Wärme Macht,
Er sieht im Thau die Wiesen blühen,
Er athmet frische Frühlingsluft
Durchbalsamt durch der Blüten Duft.
Da strahlet Freud' aus seinen Blicken!
Da ist Andacht, da ist Entzücken!
Da feyert er den Vater der Natur!
Er ist Druid' und Altar ist die Fluhr.
Still! – ihn stört aus frommer Phantasey
Ein Rauschen neben ihm vorbey.
Die Schritte seiner Jungfraun eilen
Daher; sie ging, als es getagt,
Mit ihrem Bogen, ihren Pfeilen,
Gleich einer Göttin auf die Jagd.
All ihres Reizes Knospen sind entfaltet,
Die edle Stirne krönt mit goldnen Locken sich,
Und über ihren Herzen spaltet
Ein reifer Busen sich:
So steht sie vor ihm da,
Mit röthlichem Gesicht,
Und heimlicht ihr Ergötzen nicht.
„Ach“, sagt sie endlich; „dort an jener Höhe
Beschlich ich die entschlafnen Rehe;
Ich ging, es hatte kaum getagt:
Doch sieh, ich habe nichts gejagt.“ –
Treuherzig fodert sie, ein Theil von seiner Beute:
Er, bietet Beut' und Herz und Hand.
Da sinkt sie hin an seine Seite:
Und Freya knüpft ihr Band.
O segne Mana dich mit Frieden,
Mit Ehre Thuisko dich!
O pflege Hertha deine Felder
Und speis' und tränke dich!
Werd' alt und grau, an Kindern reich,
Dem Vater und der Mutter gleich!
So leben sie ein selig Leben.
Der Wald, das Feld, die Quelle geben
Genug für morgen und für heut.
Ihr Götter, kontet ihr dem Leben
Des Sterblichen mehr Fülle geben,
Als die Genügsamkeit? –
Drum magst du noch so stolz
Von schwererstiegnen Höhen,
O Rom, hohnlächelnd niedersehen
Auf unsre Hütten her:
Hast du viel Glück? Wir haben mehr!
Ich habe dich gesehn, du Stadt,
Die Könige zu Knechten hat:
Es rief dein lauter Ruhm, auch mich
Mit Hermans Bruder Gilberich,
Den Ort zu sehn, wo vorger Zeit
Dir Herman seinen Arm geweiht.
Ich kam und sah: auf sieben Höh'n
Stieg ich und blieb verwundernd stehn.
Ich sah hinunter: weit und breit
War alles groß, war Herrlichkeit.
Ich dacht' an meine Hütte zurück,
Schämte mich einen Augenblick,
Und eilte voll wallender Freude hin
Wie die Helden zu Thuisko ziehn.
Hier, dacht' ich, wird die Tugend wohnen,
Hier wird man Tapferkeit belohnen,
Da wird das Gastrecht heilig seyn,
Und Weisheit sich der Fülle freun. –
Doch wie ganz anders fand ich dich!
Ha, Falsche, wie betrogst du mich!
Ich fragt' im Thal und auf der Höhe:
Wo herrscht die Heiligkeit der Ehe?
Wo wohnet Liebe sonder List?
Wo Freundschaft ohne Falsch? Wo ist,
Auch ohne Lohn und ohne Schwert,
Das Recht gesichert, Tugend werth? –
Wohl aber sah ich unter Schwelgerfesten
Den Unterdrücker feist gedeihn,
Und in bewachten Goldpalästen
Den Feigen kühn bey tapfrem Wein:
Auch gaben feile Bardenchöre
Dem stolzen Imperator Ehre,
Daß er zu seinen Sklaven
Herab vom Himmel kam;
Daß er, der Sohn der Götter,
Daß er die Freiheit ihnen nahm!
Ha, fort! Hinaus aus dieser Stadt,
Wo selbst das Laster Barden hat!
Hinweg, hinweg von diesen Mauern
Wo Tugend, Unschuld, Redlichkeit
In Staub getreten trauern
Und weinen; wie man heimlich spricht:
Denn selber sah ich sie dort nicht.
Schnell floh dieß Otternest mein Fuß.
Mich jagten Jammer und Verdruß,
Daß Gilbrich mein Gefährt
Von dannen nicht mit mir geflohen:
Denn Troz den Bitten, Troz dem Drohen,
Blieb er, und hieß nun Flavius;
Und ward ein schimmernder Krieger
Um Sold und um Gewinn,
Und schwelgt in Üppigkeiten
Die knechtischen Tage dahin!
O streut dem Knaben Rosen!
O komm, ihm liebzukosen,
Du West, doch schone des jungfräulichen Gesichts! –
Und so zerdampf' er in sein Nichts!
Er fliehe seines Landes Sitte;
Er fliehe seines Vaters Hütte;
Doch ist er nicht der Rach' entflohn;
Ist Hermans Bruder nicht und ist nicht Siegmars Sohn;
Er ist nur Flavius. –
Wie selig aber fließt das Leben
Des freyen Enkels Teut,
Dem es großmüthig gnügt was gute Götter geben,
Ja den die Gnüg' erfreut!
Am Abend eilt der edle Mann,
Mit dem was ihm die Jagd gewann,
Zu seines Weibes Honigseim,
Zum Willkomm seiner Kinder heim.
Dann sammelt sich zu seinem Freudentische
Freund oder Nachbar, gleich an Ruhm
Ihm, wie an guten Herzen:
Da geht der vertrauliche Becher herum;
Die Eintracht würzt den Honigwein
Und mischet Ernst und Rathschlag drein.
Hier wars: bey solchem Freudentische
Ward jüngst in tiefverschwiegner Nacht,
Varus, dein Untergang erdacht.
So wie die selgen Götter sitzen
In ihrem Himmel, Thron an Thron,
Wenn sie Gedanken ihrer Größ' erhitzen,
Daß ihre himmlisch blauen Augen
Gleich ihren Siegesschwertern blitzen,
Sah ich Siegmarn, und seinen Sohn,
Und neben ihnen andre Rächer
Der Freiheit. Da ergriff im Zorn
Der Silberhaarigte den Becher:
So möge gleich dem Schirlingsaft
Mich dieser Becher tödten!
So mög' einst vor der Rechenschaft
Der Götter ich erröthen!
Wenn ich, o Vaterland, nicht noch
Mit Strömen Bluts dich räche;
Wenn ich dieß schändlich schwere Joch
Des Römers nicht zerbreche!
Er sprachs. Sein Auge funkelt
Rings um den Becherrand.
Er tranks. Ihm bebt vor Alter,
Noch mehr vor Zorn die Hand.
Dann füllte Herman seinen Becher,
Dem Vater nach;
Hob ihn vor seine stieren Blicke
Empor, und sprach:
So sey im Becher das Verderben!
So möge Herman namlos sterben,
Wenn ich nicht, Vater, deinen Harm,
Mit scharfem Schwerte räche!
Wenn ich nicht morsch den frechen Arm
Der Tiranney zerbreche!
Da reichten alle Gäste dir,
Greiß Siegmar, ihre Hände;
Und jeder rief: „Verderben mir!
Wenn ich nicht, Bruder Herman, dir
Mein Gut und Blut verpfände!“
Nun eilten wir rathsuchend
Zur göttlichen Velleda Thurm.
Die Nacht war tief, die Sterne bebten;
Denn in den Lüften flog der Sturm,
Und Sausen war im alten Haine
Wo niemals Axt noch Bogen klang.
Da fanden wir des Thurms
Zusammengebirgten Steine:
Da hub ich an, den Bardengesang.
Mein Lied drang in die mosigte Höle,
Wo sie, die Rune Velleda war:
Und wer der Höle nahet,
Den faßt der Schaur beim Haar.
Heil uns! Hier sahn wir sie; die Locken
Fliegend, im weißen Gewand;
Sie schwang die nakten Arme,
Fackel und Dolch in der Hand:
Sie flog im Zaubertanze
Rings um die heilge Lanze
(Mich schaudert noch!) und sang
Daß uns die Herzen bebten,
Und Felß und Wald erklang.
Krieg! (schwoll ihr Lied empor:) und Krieg!
Dort, die Hügel hinüber!
Nah an meinen Gränzen!
Ah, die Schwerter glänzen!
Freiheit, Ruhm, und Sieg!
Deß ist euch Velleda Bürge:
Löse, Herman, löse mich!
Schaffe daß ich Opfer würge:
Oder ich erwürge dich!
Bald stand sie in Gedanken tief,
Gab Siegmarn ihre Hand und rief:
„Segne Tohro, grüße Mannen,
Vater, denn sie riefen dich! –“
So sprach das weise Weib, und wich
In leiserm Tanze von dannen.
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
ZHO
|
小安
|
大路上
|
大路上
碰到一个流浪汉
唱各种小曲
站着听了二十分钟
他还不停止
来了一只老虎
也站着听
北风吹完西风又吹
我听的饿了
拿出零食来吃
流浪汉问吃的什么
给他看一眼
叫红枣核桃
给老虎吃一个
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T3
|
CUSTOM:荒诞偶遇
|
ARA
|
الشاعر جواد العاملي
|
قصيدة يا بقعة بزغت كالشمس في أفق
|
يا بقعة بزغت كالشمس في أفق
قد ضم خير سراة الأرض ناديك
أصبحت في فرح والناس في ترح
تبارك اللَه مرضينا ومرضيك
أصبحت كالبيت بيت اللَه محتشداً
فالأنس والجن والأملاك تأتيك
ما أنت سرداب سامراء زاد علا
وليس ناصب شمراخ الهدى فيك
فكيف أمسى بك المهدي واتسقت
فيك الملايك أملوك باملوك
لِلّه من سبب بِاللَه متصل
وبحر علم أصاب اليوم واديك
هادي رشاد وبرهان ومعتصم
ولا حب برشاد النهج مسلوك
قد ذاب فيك فؤاد الدين من حزن
فأرخوا غاب مد للهدى فيك
|
T5
|
神圣、超验与智慧
|
T5
|
T5
|
T5
|
ZHO
|
余光中
|
寻李白——痛饮狂歌空度日飞扬跋扈为谁雄
|
那一双傲慢的靴子至今还落在
高力士羞愤的手里，人却不见了
把满地的难民和伤兵
把胡马和羌笛交践的节奏
留给杜二去细细的苦吟
自从那年贺知章眼花了
认你做谪仙，便更加佯狂
用一只中了魔咒的小酒壶
把自己藏起来，连太太也寻不到你
怨长安城小而壶中天长
在所有的诗里你都预言
会突然水遁，或许就在明天
只扁舟破浪，乱发当风
树敌如林，世人皆欲杀
肝硬化怎杀得死你？
酒放豪肠，七分酿成了月光
余下的三分啸成剑气
口一吐就半个盛唐
从一元到天宝，从洛阳到咸阳
冠盖满途车骑的嚣闹
不及千年后你的一首
水晶绝句轻叩我额头
当地一弹挑起的回音
一贬世上已经够落魄
再放夜郎母乃太难堪
至今成谜是你的籍贯
陇西或山东，青莲乡或碎叶城
不如归去归哪个故乡？
凡你醉处，你说过，皆非他乡
失踪，是天才唯一的下场
身后事，究竟你遁向何处？
狼啼不住，杜二也苦劝你不住
一回头四窗下竟已白头
七仙，五友，都救不了你了
匡山给雾锁了，无路可入
仍炉火示纯青，就半粒丹砂
怎追蹑葛洪袖里的流霞？
樽中月影，或许那才你故乡
常得你一生痴痴地仰望？
而无论出门向西哭，向东哭
长安却早已陷落
二十四万里的归程
也不必惊动大鹏了，也无须招鹤
只消把酒杯向半空一扔
便旋成一只霍霍的飞碟
诡缘的闪光愈转愈快
接你回传说里去
|
T3
|
生命、时间与存在
|
T3
|
T6
|
T3
|
POR
|
Carlos Rocha
|
Sempre que Lisboa canta
|
Lisboa cidade amiga
que és meu berço de embalar
ensina-me uma cantiga
das que tu sabes cantar
Uma cantiga singela
Daquelas de enfeitiçar
Pra eu cantar à janela
Quando o meu amor passar
Sempre que Lisboa canta
Não sei se canta
Não sei se reza
A sua voz com carinho
Canta baixinho
Sua tristeza
Sempre que Lisboa canta
à gente encanta
Sua beleza
Pois quando Lisboa canta
Canta o fado
com certeza
Eu quero dar-te um castigo
Por tanto te ter amado
Quero que cantes comigo
Os versos do mesmo fado
Quero que Lisboa guarde
Tantos fados que cantei
Para cantar-me mais tarde
Os fados que lhe ensinei
|
T1
|
自然、宇宙与地方感
|
T2
|
T1
|
T1
|
LZH
|
臧魯山
|
直沽謡
|
雜遝東入海，
歸來幾人在。
紛紛道路覔亨衢，
笑我蓬門絶冠蓋。
虎不食堂上肉，
狼不驚里中婦。
風塵出門即險阻，
何況茫茫海如許。
去年吳人赴燕薊，
南風吹人浪如砥。
一時輸粟得官歸，
殺馬椎牛宴閭里。
今年吳兒求髙遷，
復禱天妃海上船。
北風吹魂墜黑水，
始知溟渤皆墓田。
勸君陸行莫忘萊州道，
水行莫忘沙門島。
豺狼當路蛟龍争，
寧論他人致身早。
君不見賈胡剖腹藏明珠，
後來無人鑒覆車。
明年五月南風起，
猶有行人問直沽。
|
T4
|
社会、权力与历史
|
T4
|
T4
|
T4
|
LZH
|
李宪乔
|
赠江西胡茂甫进士兼呈敬之
|
相逢意渺然，
胸次著千年。
学在登科后，
书来识面前。
月随同步径，
雨湿旧吟船。
真好无水部，
宁知项子贤。
|
T2
|
爱、情感与人际关系
|
T2
|
T2
|
T2
|
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