outland poetry
anthology
诗选
Emile Verhaeren
Poor
Is so poor heart -
The lake with the tears,
If they are gray
Cemetery stone ah.
Is so poor back -
Than those between the beach
Brown roof of their shabby homes
Pain and heavier load ah.
The hand is so poor -
If the leaves on the road
Such as the front
Yellow leaves ah.
Eye is so poor -
Caring and gentle
And lower than the storm
Livestock is more sad eyes ah.
People are so poor -
A generous gesture in regrets
The edge of wilderness in the earth
Excited with the misery ah.
Ai Qing Translation
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
Snow
Snow kept falling forward,
Like a slow, long, thin, poor wool,
Fell dark, long, thin, poor plain
With love, indifference, hate the hot ah.
When the snow was, infinitely infinite.
Like a moment -
Monotonously - then a moment;
Snow falling, when the snow was,
Fall monotonously on the premises,
Fall on the barn and the barn plank;
When the snow was, off the,
Numerous snow falls cemetery, falls between the empty tomb at ah.
Bad weather season curtain
Was brutally kicked in the air;
Disaster in the fast wind curtain swing
Below it, a small village crouching.
Immersed in the cold depths of the bone marrow,
The poor into the every household
Snow and poor, into the depths of the soul;
Translucent heavy snow
Into the furnace and the cold depths of the soul did not fire,
People in mind in the huts huts fade.
Winding road in the intersection where
The general is dead white villages;
Tall trees, cast by the cold crystal,
Snow guards of honor lined up along the long,
Criss-crossing branches, such as crystal sculpture Stocks.
There, are some of the old mill,
Crystallization of pale moss, like the cloth under the trap,
Suddenly erected in a small hill;
In that below those roofs and eaves,
Appearance since November,
To fight in the strong wind and cold;
The heavy snow endless sky
Off the, dark enveloped, long, thin, poor fields.
Beneath the bitter snow after a long journey,
Fell on a path of each and every crack;
Ah and the snow is always the shroud of snow,
Funeral pale with the pain of the snow,
Sterile white snow,
A ragged, wandering in the wild
This world knows no boundaries through the winter without Creating.
Rollo Translation
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
Windmill
Windmill in the evening twilight of the depths of the very slow to turn,
In the midst of a long sad and melancholy sky,
Turn it ah turn, the color of the wings of rosacea,
Is infinite sorrow, heavy and tired.
From the dawn of its arms, like to implore the arm,
Stretched out and hung to go, now you see
They then put down, over there, in the dark space
And the whole piece out of the natural quiet in the end.
Murakami pain in the winter sun sleep
Dark clouds are tired of their travel;
Close to their shadow along the Cong Jing,
Rut trekking to a Simie horizon.
In Tuya below the cabin a few birch
Very poor to sitting around in there;
A brass lamp hanging from the ceiling below,
Rendering with fire walls and rendering windows.
Ping Wu and Ho Man in the dim emptiness inside,
These miserable bitter Star break! They look _set_
(With the broken windows are the eyes of the poor)
Ah the old windmill turn turn weary, and lonely.
1887
Dai Translation
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
Visitor
- Open it, O people, open bar,
After I knocked the former Fei and shed,
Open bar, people, I'm the wind
Wearing a dead leaf of wind.
- Come, sir, come on, the wind Yeah,
Look, that give you the stove,
And its convex painted wall:
Come to our house, ah, Mr. Wind.
Open bar, people, I'm the rain,
I am a widow with a gray robe,
My destiny is not fixed,
In the gray fog of coal.
- Come on in, the widow Yeah, come into our house,
Come rain and the cold rain of lead blue,
Large gaps in walls,
You live with in order to open our home.
- Lift it, it ah, holding up the iron bar,
Open bar, people, I'm the snow,
I too tired of the white coat,
Winter in the old way.
- Come on in, the snow Yeah, come on, his wife,
Take your lily petals,
Scattered them in their shabby homes,
Students have been to that house to a kitchen fire.
Because we are the people that are not stable,
We are staying in the North where people deserted area,
We love you ah - Well, since when it? -
By your order we have evokes pain.
Ai Qing Translation
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
Sincere
Winter lift the Holy Grail of pure blessing God.
I also raised my heart, my dark heart,
Lord, ah, my heart! My heart! Toward your boundless Zixu,
But I know you all things secretive,
I know this heart is dead emptiness of all things, a naught;
I know that you are telling your lies and I muttered prayers,
I'm down on my knees; I know you put your hands together on the
Close your eyes and ignore the call howl in despair,
I know that I, only I, in wishful thinking;
Forgive me, Lord, ah, forgive me really mad.
Silence towards you I want to cry my misfortune! ... ...
Winter lift the Holy Grail of pure blessing God.
1888
Jansson Creek translation
|