Stephen Crane’s “War Is Kind”
I
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Becau your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoar, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
The men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom --
A field where a thousand corps lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Becau your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
The men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corps lie.
五行与五脏
Mother who heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
II
"What says the a, little shell?
What says the a?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Awkward ships, stupid ships."
"The a bids you mourn, O Pines, Sing low in the moonlight.
He nds tale of the land of doom,
Of place where endless falls
A rain of women's tears,
And men in grey robes --
Men in grey robes --
Chant the unknown pain."
"What says the a, little shell?
What says the a?
Long has our brother been silent to us, Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
大雷雨计划
"The a bids you teach, O Pines, Sing low in the moonlight;
Teach the gold of patience,
Cry gospel of gentle hands,
Cry a brotherhood of hearts.
The a bids you teach, O Pines." "And where is the reward, little shell? What says the a?
Long has our brother been silent to us, Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
"No word says the a, O Pines,
No word says the a.
Long will your brother be silent to you, Keep his message for the ships,
O puny pines, silly pines."
III
To the maiden
The a was blue meadow,
Alive with little froth-people Singing.
To the sailor, wrecked,
The a was dead grey walls Superlative in vacancy,
Upon which nevertheless at fateful time Was written
The grim hatred of nature.
IV
A little ink more or less!黄芪枸杞茶
I surely can't matter?
Even the sky and the opulent a,
The plains and the hills, aloof,
Hear the uproar of all the books.
But it is only a little ink more or less.
What?
You define me God with the trinkets?
Can my miry meal on an ordered walking
Of surpliced numskulls?
And a fanfare of lights?
Or even upon the measured pulpitings
Of the familiar fal and true?
Is this God?
Where, then, is hell?
Show me some bastard mushroom
Sprung from a pollution of blood.
It is better.
糕点
Where is God?
V
"Have you ever made a just man?"
"Oh, I have made three," answered God,
"But two of them are dead,
And the third --
Listen! Listen!
And you will hear the thud of his defeat."
VI
I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night, The sweep of each sad lost wave,
The dwindling boom of the steel thing's striving, The little cry of a man to a man,
A shadow falling across the greyer night,
And the sinking of the small star;
Then the waste, the far waste of waters,
And the soft lashing of black waves
For long and in loneliness.
Remember, thou, O ship of love,
Thou leavest a far waste of waters,
And the soft lashing of black waves
For long and in loneliness.
VII
"I have heard the sunt song of the birches,
A white melody in the silence,
I have en a quarrel of the pines.
At nightfall
The little grass have rushed by me
With the wind men.
The things have I lived," quoth the maniac, "Posssing only eyes and ears.青笋的做法
But you --
You don green spectacles before you look at ros."
VIII
Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knight,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
A hor,
房产经纪人Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A hor
Dead at foot of castle wall.
IX
Forth went the candid man
And spoke freely to the wind --
When he looked about him he was in a far strange country. Forth went the candid man
And spoke freely to the stars --酥皮
Yellow light tore sight from his eyes.
"My good fool," said a learned bystander,
"Your operations are mad."
"You are too candid," cried the candid man,
And when his stick left the head of the learned bystander It was two sticks.
X
You tell me this is God?
I tell you this is a printed list,
A burning candle, and an ass.
XI
On the dert
A silence from the moon's deepest valley.
Fire rays fall athwart the robes
Of hooded men, squat and dumb.
Before them, a woman
Moves to the blowing of shrill whistles
And distant thunder of drums,
While mystic things, sinuous, dull with terrible colour, Sleepily fondle her body
Or move at her will, swishing stealthily over the sand. The snakes whisper softly;
The whispering, whispering snakes,
快乐阅读
Dreaming and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.
The wind streams from the lone reaches
Of Arabia, solemn with night,
And the wild fire makes shimmer of blood
Over the robes of the hooded men
Squat and dumb.
Bands of moving bronze, emerald, yellow,
Circle the throat and the arms of her,
And over the sands rpents move warily
Slow, menacing and submissive,
Swinging to the whistles and drums,
The whispering, whispering snakes,
Dreaming and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.
The dignity of the accurd;
The glory of slavery, despair, death,
Is in the dance of the whispering snakes.
