John Keats
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness, —
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O for a draught of vintage ! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene ,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve , and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan ;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ;
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme ,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy !
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements , opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn ! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu ! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: —Do I wake or sleep?
* * *
[ˈəupiit] n.
鸦片剂
[miˈləudjəs] adj.
音调优美的
[biːtʃ] n.
山毛榉树
[ˈvintidʒ] n.
葡萄酒
[ˌhipəuˈkriːni(ː)] n.
山之灵泉，诗的灵感
-fade
[feid] vi.
退去，隐入
[diˈzɔlv] v.
消溶
[ɡrəun] v.
呻吟
[ˈlʌstrəs] adj.
有光泽的，光辉的
[ˈtʃæriət] v.
乘马车，车驾
[ˈvjuːlis] adj.
看不见的
[pəˈpleks] v.
困惑
[ˈvəːdʒərəs] adj.
碧绿的，草木青翠的
[imˈbɑːm] vt.
使充满香气
[ˈsiːznəbl] adj.
合时令的
[ˈeɡləntain] n.
野蔷薇的一种
[ˈməːmərəs] adj.
低声的，嗡嗡叫的
[raim] n.
韵，诗句
[ˈekstəsi] n.
入迷
[ˈrekwiəm] n.
安灵曲，安灵弥撒
[iˈmɔːtl] adj.
不朽的
[ˌdʒenəˈreiʃən] n.
世代
[ˈempərə] n.
皇帝，君主
[ˈkeismənt] n.
窗扉
[fəˈlɔːn] adj.
被弃的，失落的
[əˈdjuː] n.
再见，再会
[ˈpleintiv] adj.
悲哀的，哀伤的
* * *
济 慈
济慈（John Keats，1795-1821），英国浪漫主义时期的杰出诗人。他出身贫寒，一生遭遇多种不幸，对社会现实不满，然而，他却始终在诗歌中抒发对美的向往，通过颂扬美来否定和批判现实，表达他对真善美的崇高人生境界的追求。在他短暂的一生中，他创作了大批精美而感人至深的诗作，以可感的意象，自然的语言，纯净的风格和完美的结构传达他对自然与人生的美好愿望。主要作品有六首颂诗及长诗《恩弟米安》、《海披里安》、《圣亚尼节前夕》等。
我的心疼痛，困倦和麻木使神经
痛楚，仿佛我啜饮了毒汁满杯，
或者吞服了鸦片，一点不剩，
一会儿，我就沉入了忘川 河水：
并不是嫉妒你那幸福的命运，
是你的欢乐使我过分地欣喜——
想到你呀，轻翼的林中天仙，
你让悠扬的乐音
充盈在山毛榉的一片葱茏和浓荫里，
你放开嗓门，尽情地歌唱着夏天。
哦，来一口葡萄酒吧！来一口
长期在深深的地窖里冷藏的佳酿！
尝一口，就想到花神，田野绿油油，
舞蹈，歌人的吟唱，欢乐的骄阳！
来一大杯吧，盛满了南方的温热，
盛满了诗神的泉水 ，鲜红，清洌，
还有泡沫在杯沿闪烁如珍珠，
把杯口也染成紫色；
我要痛饮呵，再悄悄离开这世界，
同你一起隐入那幽深的林木：
远远地隐去，消失，完全忘掉
你在绿叶里永不知晓的事情，
忘掉世上的疲倦，病热，烦躁，
这里，人们对坐着互相听呻吟，
瘫痪者颤动着几根灰白的发丝，
青春渐渐地苍白，瘦削，死亡；
这里，只要想一想就发愁，伤悲，
绝望中两眼呆滞；
这里，美人保不住慧眼的光芒，
新生的爱情顷刻间就为之憔悴。
去吧！去吧！我要向着你飞去，
不是伴酒神乘虎豹的车驾驰骋，
尽管迟钝的脑子困惑，犹豫，
我已凭诗神无形的羽翼登程：
已经跟你在一起了！夜这样柔美，
恰好月亮皇后登上了宝座，
群星仙子把她拥戴在中央；
但这里是一片幽晦，
只有微风吹过朦胧的绿色
和曲折的苔径才带来一线天光。
我这里看不见脚下有什么鲜花，
看不见枝头挂什么温馨的嫩蕊，
只是在暗香里猜想每一朵奇葩，
猜想这时令怎样把千娇百媚
赐给草地，林莽，野生的果树枝；
那白色山楂花，开放在牧野的蔷薇；
隐藏在绿叶丛中易凋的紫罗兰；
那五月中旬的爱子——
盛满了露制醇醪的麝香玫瑰，
夏夜的蚊蝇在这里嗡嗡盘桓。
我在黑暗里谛听着：已经多少次
几乎把安宁的死神当作了恋人，
我用深思的诗韵唤他的名字，
请他把我这口气化入空明；
此刻呵，无上的幸福是停止呼吸，
趁这午夜，安详地向人世告别，
而你呵，正在把你的精魂倾吐，
如此地心醉神迷！
你永远唱着，我已经失去听觉——
在你安慰的歌声中，我变成一堆土。
你永远不会死去，不朽的精禽！
饥馑的世纪也未能使你屈服；
我今天夜里一度听见的歌音
在往古时代打动过皇帝和村夫：
恐怕这同样的歌声也曾经促使
路得 流泪，她满怀忧伤地站在
异地的麦田里，一心思念着家邦；
这歌声还曾多少次
迷醉了窗里人 ，她开窗面对大海
险恶的浪涛，在那失落的仙乡。
失落！呵，这字眼像钟声一敲，
催我离开你，回复孤寂的自己！
再见！幻想这个骗人的小妖，
徒有虚名，再不能使人着迷。
再见！再见！你哀怨的歌音远去，
流过了草地，越过了静静的溪水，
飘上了山腰，如今已深深地埋湮
在附近的密林幽谷：
这是幻象？还是醒时的梦寐？
音乐远去了：——我醒着，还是在酣眠？