致羞澀的情人
安德魯·馬韋爾
譯：chenshuo
倘若擁有悠長的時空可以消磨
愛人坚俗，你的羞澀祸泪，便實不為過
讓我們細(xì)細(xì)思量，在哪條路上
漫步腹忽，陪你度過充滿愛的時光
當(dāng)你来累，信步在印度的恒河之畔
尋覓著寶石，我卻對著亨伯灣
洶涌而來的潮汐窘奏，吟唱嘹锁，只愿
洪荒來臨時，我已愛了你十年
如果你可以着裹，請一定不要情愿
直到猶太人改宗皈依的那一天
而我樸素的愛情會緩緩生長著
超越帝國一般的輝煌领猾，與顯赫
我需要整整百年的時間來贊美
在你額前凝視著的，那對眼眉
還需要兩百年骇扇，憧憬你的雙乳
要三萬年摔竿，堪能愛完你的全部
每一寸，我都要愛上一個世代
直至末世少孝，你才會把胸懷敞開
愛人继低，只因你值得如此的禮遇
我不能不跳動與你同樣的心率
可我聽到身后，時光乘著飛車
揮舞著羽翼稍走，把我緊緊地追著
而未來袁翁，呈現(xiàn)于眼前的竟是那
永世廣袤而無窮盡的連綿大漠
你美麗的容顏柴底，終將不再妖嬈
大理石的墓室里，也無法聽到
我歌聲縈繞粱胜；竟讓這些蛆蟲啊
得以品嘗你那珍藏已久的貞操
你優(yōu)雅的矜持柄驻，因此蒙了塵罪
我所有的欲望，已燃成了飛灰
藏身在清幽而又隱秘的墓室中
我確信年柠，沒有人會在那里相擁
因此凿歼，趁著現(xiàn)在，青春的色譜
灑落在你肌膚上冗恨，如晨曦雨露
你體內(nèi)的精靈答憔，盡情的地升華
透過每個毛孔，燃起剎那煙花
現(xiàn)在掀抹，我們?nèi)缭赴膳巴兀覒虮寂?br>
此時此刻，就像那撲食的禽鳥
寧肯一下就揮霍掉我們的時光
也不愿在它的咀嚼中慢慢消亡
快讓我們滾成一團(tuán)傲武，用盡氣力
揮灑著全部蓉驹，以及所有的甜蜜
讓粗暴猛烈地撕扯我們的快感
沖破層層守衛(wèi)生命的鋼鐵柵欄
似這樣，縱然無法阻止時光的
流淌揪利，我們卻期待著明日光芒
To His Coy Mistress
by Andrew Marvell (1621–1678)
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
A hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
