第1个回答 2013-06-18
BUT wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessèd than my barren rime?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this time's pencil or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.
To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
但是为什么不用更凶的法子
去抵抗这血淋淋的魔王--时光？
不用比我的枯笔吉利的武器，
去防御你的衰朽，把自己加强？
你现在站在黄金时辰的绝顶，
许多少女的花园，还未经播种，
贞洁地切盼你那绚烂的群英，
比你的画像更酷肖你的真容：
只有生命的线能把生命重描；
时光的画笔，或者我这枝弱管，
无论内心的美或外貌的姣好，
都不能使你在人们眼前活现。
献出你自己依然保有你自己，
而你得活着，靠你自己的妙笔。
That time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day,
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self that seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
在我身上你或许会看见秋天
当黄叶，或尽脱，或只三三两两
挂在瑟缩的枯枝上索索抖颤
荒废的歌坛，那里百鸟曾合唱
在我身上你或许会看见暮霭
它在日落后向西方徐徐消退
黑夜，死的化身，渐渐把它赶开
严静的安息笼住纷纭的万类
在我身上你或许会看见余烬
它在青春的寒灰里奄奄一息
在惨淡的灵床上早晚要断魂
给那滋养过它的烈焰所销毁
看见了这些
你的爱就会加强
因为他转瞬要辞你溘然长往