她媚眼不厭千萬遍的瞻戀，

此中涵有無限的溫情綣繾。

這是我寶物的寶物，我說，

她不久即長埋在墓庭之側；

若不及早去把那小盒取出，

豈非留在她胸前，永遠埋沒。

Nobody else， in the country place

All round， that knew of my loss beside，

But the good young Priest with the Raphael-face

Who confess'd her when she died.

That good young Priest is of gentle nerve，

And my grief had moved him beyond controul ；

For his lip grew white， as I could observe，

When he speeded her parting soul.

I sat by the dreary hearth alone：

I thought of the pleasant days of yore

I said " the staff' of my life is gone：

The woman I love is no more.

" Gem-clasp'd， on her bosom my portrait lies，

Which next to her heart she used to wear

It is steep'd in the light of her loving eyes，

And the sweets of her bosom and hair."

And I said "the thing is precious to me：

They will bury her soon in the churchyard clay

It lies on her heart， and lost must be，

If I do not take it away."

我從死焰里點起一盞油燈，

爬上樓梯，級級在怖懼顫震，

我悄步地掩入了死者之房，

我愛人遍體白衣，僵臥在床。

月光臨照在她衣衾之上，

慘白的尸身，無聲靜偃，

她足旁燃有小白燭七支，

她頭邊也有七燭燃點。

我展臂向前，深深的呼吸，

轉身將床前的帳幔揭開；

我不敢直視死者之面，

我探手摸索她心窩所在。

我手下落在她胸前，啊！

莫非她芳魂的生命，一度回還，

我敢誓言，我手覺著溫暖，

而且悚悚的在動彈。

I lighted my lamp at the dying flame，

And crept up the stairs that creak'd for fright，

Till into the chamber of death I came，

Where she lay all in white.

The moon shone over her winding sheet.

There， stark she lay on her carvcn bed ：

Seven burning tapers about her feet，

And seven about her head.

As I stretch'd my hand， I held my breath ；

I turn'd， as I drew the curtains apart：

I dared not look on the face of death：

I knew where to find her heart.

I thought， at first， as my touch fell there，

It had warm'd that heart to life， with love；

For the thing I touch'd was warm， I swear，

And I could feel it move.

那是只男子的手，從床的那邊，

緩緩的也在死者胸前移轉；

嚇得我冷汗在眉額間直瀋，

我嚷一聲“誰在行竊尸身？”

面對我，燭光分明的照出，

我的好友，伴我度夜的好友，

站立在尸身之畔，形容慘變；——

彼此不期的互視，相與驚駭。

“你干什么來，我的朋友？”

他先望望我，再望望尸身。

他說，“這里有一個肖像。”

“不錯，有的，”我說，“那是我的。”

“不錯，你的，”我的好友說，

“那肖像原是你的，一月以前，

但已仙去的安琪兒，早已取出，

我知道她把我的小影放入。”

“這婦人愛我是真的，”我說，

“愛你，”他說，“一月以前，也許。”

“哪有的事，”我說，“你分明謊說，”

他答，“好，我們來看個明白。”

'Twas the hand of a man， that was moving slow

O'er the heart of the dead， from the other side

And at once the sweat broke over my brow，

"Who is robbing the corpse？ " I cried.

Opposite me， by the tapers' light，

The friend of my bosom， the man I loved，

Stood over the corpse， and all as white，

And neither of us moved.

"What do you here， my friend？"…The man

Look'd first at me， and then at the dead.

" There is a portrait here …" he began ；

" There is. It is mine，" I said.

Said the friend of my bosom， "yours， no doubt，

The portrait was， till a month ago，

When this suffering angel took that out，

And placed mine there， I know."

" This woman， she loved me well，" said I.

" A month ago，" said my friend to me：

" And in your throat，" I groan 'd， "you lie

He answer'd ， "let us see."

得了，我說，讓死的來判決，

這照相是誰的就是誰的，

如其戀愛的心意改變，

你我誰也不能怨誰。

那相盒果然還在死者的胸前，

我們在燭光下把盒子打開，

盒內寶石的鑲嵌，依然無改，

但只肖像卻變成非我非他的誰。

“這釘趕出那釘，真是的！

這不是你也不是我，”我嚷道——

“卻是那貌似拉斐爾的少年牧師，

他獨自伴著她離生入死。”

" Enough ！ " I return'd， "let the dead decide ：

And whose soever the portrait prove，

His shall it be， when the cause is tried，

Where Death is arraign'd by Love."

We found the portrait， there in its place ：

We open'd it by the tapers' shine：

The gems were all unchanged ： the face

Was neither his nor mine.

"One nail drives out another， at least ！

The portrait is not ours，" I cried，

"But our friend's， the Raphael-faced young Priest，

Who confess'd her when she died."

窺鏡

[英]托馬斯·哈代

我向著鏡里端詳，思忖，

鏡里反映出我消瘦的身影，

我說，“但愿仰上帝的慈恩，

使了我的心，變成一般的瘦損！”

因為枯萎了的心，不再感受

人們漸次疏淡我的寒冰，

我自此可以化石似的鎮定，

孤獨地，靜待最后的安寧。

但不仁善的，磨難我的光陰，

消耗了我的身，卻留著我的心；

鼓動著干潮般的脈搏與血運，

在昏夜里狂撼我消瘦了的身影。

I Look into my Glass

Thomas Hardy

I LOOK into my glass，

And view my wasting skin，

And say， “Would God it came to pass

My heart had shrunk as thin！”

For then， I， undistrest

By hearts grown cold to me，

Could lonely wait my endless rest

With equanimity.

But Time， to make me grieve，

Part steals， lets part abide；

And shakes this fragile frame at eve

With throbbings of noontide.

她的名字

[英]托馬斯·哈代

在一本詩人的書葉上

我畫著她芳名的字形；

她像是光艷的思想的部分，

曾經靈感那歌吟者的歡欣。

如今我又翻著那張書葉，

詩歌里依舊閃耀著光彩，

但她的名字的鮮艷，

卻已隨著過去的時光消淡。

Her Initials

Thomas Hardy

Upon a poet’s page I wrote

Of old two letters of her name；

Part seemed she of the effulgent thought

Whence that high singer’s rapture came.

—When now I turn the leaf the same

Immortal light illumes the lay

But from the letters of her name

The radiance has died away.

傷痕

[英]托馬斯·哈代

我爬登了山頂，

回望西天的光景，

太陽在霧彩里，

宛似一個血殷的傷痕；

宛似我自身的傷痕，

知道的沒有一個人，

因為我不曾袒露隱秘，

誰知傷痕透過我的心！

The Wound

Thomas Hardy

I climbed to the crest，

And， fog-festooned，

The sun lay west

Like a crimson wound：

Like that wound of mine

Of which none knew，

For I'd given no sign

That it pierced me through.

分離

[英]托馬斯·哈代

急雨打著窗，震響的門樞，

大風呼呼的，狂掃過青草地，

在這里的我，在那里的你，

中間隔離著途程百里！

假如我們的離異，我愛，

只是這深夜的風與雨，

只是這間隔著的百余里，

我心中許還有微笑的生機。

但在你我間的那個離異，我愛，

不比那可以縮短的距離，

不比那可以消歇的風雨，

更不比那不盡的光明，窈遠無期！

The Division

Thomas Hardy

Rain on the windows， creaking doors，

With blasts that besom the green，

And I am here， and you are there，

And a hundred miles between！

O were it but the weather， Dear，

O were it but the miles

That summed up all our severance，

There might be room for smiles.

But that thwart thing betwixt us twain，

Which nothing cleaves or clears，

Is more than distance， Dear， or rain，

And longer than the years！

公園里的座椅

[英]托馬斯·哈代

褪色了，斑駁了，這園里的座椅，

原先站得穩穩的，現在陷落在土里；

早晚就會憑空倒下去的，

早晚就會憑空倒下去的。

在夜里大紅的花朵看似黑的，

曾經在此坐過的又回來坐地：

他們坐著，滿滿的一排全是的，

他們坐著，滿滿的一排全是的。

他們坐著這椅座可不往下沉，

冬天凍不著他們洪水也沖不了他們

因為他們的身子是空氣似的輕，

他們的身子是像空氣似的輕。

The Garden Seat

Thomas Hardy

Its former green is blue and thin，

And its once firm legs sink in and in；

Soon it will break down unaware，

Soon it will break down unaware.

At night when reddest flowers are black

Those who once sat thereon come back；

Quite a row of them sitting there，

Quite a row of them sitting there.

With them the seat does not break down，

Nor winter freeze them， nor floods drown，

For they are as light as upper air，

They are as light as upper air！

我打死的那個人

[英]托馬斯·哈代

要是我與他在那兒

老飯店里碰頭，

彼此還不是朋友，

一同喝茶，一起喝酒。

但是碰巧彼此當兵

他對著我瞄準，

我對著他放槍，——

我結果了他的性命。

我打死他為的是

為他是我的敵人，