Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.
192.When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d
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W HEN lilacs last in the door-yard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;
Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west, 5 And thought of him I love.
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O powerful, western, fallen star!
O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear’d! O the black murk that hides the star!岔路
O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me! 10 O harsh surrounding cloud, that will not free my soul!
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In the door-yard fronting an old farm-hou, near the white-wash’d palings,
教育部考试中心海外考试报名信息网Stands the lilac bush, tall-growing, with heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
With many a pointed blossom, rising, delicate, with the perfume strong I love,
With every leaf and from this bush in the door-yard, 15 With delicate-color’d blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
A sprig, with its flower, I break.
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In the swamp, in cluded recess,
A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.
Solitary, the thrush, 20 The hermit, withdrawn to himlf, avoiding the ttlements,
Sings by himlf a song.
Song of the bleeding throat!
Death’s outlet song of life—(for well, dear brother, I know
If thou wast not gifted to sing, thou would’st surely die.) 25
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Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities,
Amid lanes, and through old woods, (where lately the violets peep’d from the ground, spotting the gray debris;)
Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes—passing the endless grass;
Passing the yellow-spear’d wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprising;
Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards; 30 Carrying a corp to where it shall rest in the grave,
Night and day journeys a coffin.
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Coffin that pass through lanes and streets,
Through day and night, with the great cloud darkening the land,
With the pomp of the inloop’d flags, with the cities draped in black, 35 With the show of the States themlves, as of crape-veil’d women, standing,
With processions long and winding, and the flambeaus of the night,
With the countless torches lit—with the silent a of faces, and the unbared heads,
With the waiting depot, the arriving coffin, and the sombre faces,
With dirges through the night, with the thousand voices rising strong and solemn; 40 With all the mo
urnful voices of the dirges, pour’d around the coffin,
The dim-lit churches and the shuddering organs—Where amid the you journey,
With the tolling, tolling bells’ perpetual clang;
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Here! coffin that slowly pass,
I give you my sprig of lilac. 45
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(Nor for you, for one, alone;
Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring:
For fresh as the morning—thus would I carol a song for you, O sane and sacred death.
All over bouquets of ros,
O death! I cover you over with ros and early lilies; 50 But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first,
Copious, I break, I break the sprigs from the bushes;
With loaded arms I come, pouring for you,
For you, and the coffins all of you, O death.)
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O western orb, sailing the heaven!
Now I know what you must have meant, as a month since we walk’d,
As we walk’d up and down in the dark blue so mystic,
As we walk’d in silence the transparent shadowy night,
As I saw you had something to tell, as you bent to me night after night,
60 As you droop’d from the sky low down, as if to my side, (while the other stars all
look’d on;)
As we wander’d together the solemn night, (for something, I know not what, kept me from sleep;)
As the night advanced, and I saw on the rim of the west, ere you went, how full you were of woe;
As I stood on the rising ground in the breeze, in the cold transparent night,
As I watch’d where you pass’d and was lost in the netherward black of the night,
As my soul, in its trouble, dissatisfied, sank, as where you, sad orb, 65 Concluded, dropt in the night, and was gone.
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Sing on, there in the swamp!
O singer bashful and tender! I hear your notes—I hear your call;
I hear—I come prently—I understand you;
But a moment I linger—for the lustrous star has detain’d me; 70 The star, my departing comrade, holds and detains me.
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O how shall I warble mylf for the dead one there I loved?
And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone?
And what shall my perfume be, for the grave of him I love?
Sea-winds, blown from east and west, 75 Blown from the eastern a, and blown from the western a, till there on the prairies meeting:
The, and with the, and the breath of my chant,
I perfume the grave of him I love.
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O what shall I hang on the chamber walls?
And what shall the pictures be that I hang on the walls, 80 To adorn the burial-hou of him I love?
Pictures of growing spring, and farms, and homes,
With the Fourth-month eve at sundown, and the gray smoke lucid and bright,
With floods of the yellow gold of the gorgeous, indolent, sinking sun, burning, expanding the air;
85 With the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale green leaves of the trees
prolific;
In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river, with a wind-dapple here and there;
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With ranging hills on the banks, with many a line against the sky, and shadows;
And the city at hand, with dwellings so den, and stacks of chimneys,
And all the scenes of life, and the workshops, and the workmen homeward returning.
90
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Lo! body and soul! this land!
Mighty Manhattan, with spires, and the sparkling and hurrying tides, and the ships;
The varied and ample land—the South and the North in the light—Ohio’s shores, and flashing Missouri,
And ever the far-spreading prairies, cover’d with grass and corn.
Lo! the most excellent sun, so calm and haughty;
The violet and purple morn, with just-felt breezes; 95 The gentle, soft-born, measureless light;
The miracle, spreading, bathing all—the fulfill’d noon;
The coming eve, delicious—the welcome night, and the stars,
Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land.
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Sing on! sing on, you gray-brown bird!
Sing from the swamps, the recess—pour your chant from the bushes;
Limitless out of the dusk, out of the cedars and pines.
Sing on, dearest brother—warble your reedy song;
Loud human song, with voice of uttermost woe.
O liquid, and free, and tender! 105 O wild and loo to my soul! O wondrous singer!
You only et the star holds me, (but will soon depart;)
Yet the lilac, with mastering odor, holds me.
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Now while I sat in the day, and look’d forth,
110 In the clo of the day, with its light, and the fields of spring, and the farmer preparing his crops,
In the large unconscious scenery of my land, with its lakes and forests,
In the heavenly aerial beauty, (after the perturb’d winds, and the storms;)
Under the arching heavens of the afternoon swift passing, and the voices of children
and women,
The many-moving a-tides,—and I saw the ships how they sail’d,
And the summer approaching with richness, and the fields all busy with labor, 115 And the infinite parate hous, how they all went on, each with its meals and
minutia of daily usages;
And the streets, how their throbbings throbb’d, and the cities pent—lo! then and there, Falling upon them all, and among them all, enveloping me with the rest,
Appear’d the cloud, appear’d the long black trail;
And I knew Death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge of death. 120
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Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me,
And the thought of death clo-walking the other side of me,
考研调剂是怎么进行的And I in the middle, as with companions, and as holding the hands of companions,
I fled forth to the hiding receiving night, that talks not,
Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the dimness, 125 To the solemn shadowy cedars, and ghostly pines so still.
And the singer so shy to the rest receiv’d me;
The gray-brown bird I know, receiv’d us comrades three;
And he sang what em’d the carol of death, and a ver for him I love.
From deep cluded recess, 130 From the fragrant cedars, and the ghostly pines so still,
Came the carol of the bird.水调歌头翻译
And the charm of the carol rapt me,
As I held, as if by their hands, my comrades in the night;
kssAnd the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird. 135
DEATH CAROL.
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Come, lovely and soothing Death,
Undulate round the world, renely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later, delicate Death.
Prais’d be the fathomless univer, 140 For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious;
And for love, sweet love—But prai! prai! prai!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death.
Dark Mother, always gliding near, with soft feet,
Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? 145 Then I chant it for thee—I glorify thee above all;
I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.
Approach, strong Deliveress!
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When it is so—when thou hast taken them, I joyously sing the dead,莉顿梅斯特
Lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee, 150 Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death.
