水仙
獨自漫游似浮云，
青山翠谷上飄蕩；
一剎那瞥見一叢叢、
一簇簇水仙金黃；
樹蔭下，明湖邊，
和風吹拂舞翩躚。
仿佛群星璀璨，
沿銀河閃霎晶瑩；
一灣碧波邊緣，
綿延，望不盡；
只見萬千無窮，
隨風偃仰舞興濃。
花邊波光瀲滟，
怎比得繁花似錦；
面對如此良伴，
詩人怎不歡欣！
凝視，凝視，流連不止；
殊不知引起悠悠情思；
兀自倚憩息，
岑寂，幽然冥想；
驀地花影閃心扉，
獨處方能神往；
衷心喜悅洋溢，
伴水仙、舞不息。
TheDaffodils
I wander’dlonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host , of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous asthe stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves besidethem danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
E gaze –and gazed –but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when onmy couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
孤獨的收割人
你看！那高原上年輕的姑娘，
獨自一人正在田野上。
一邊收割，一邊在歌唱。
請你站住，或者悄悄走過！
她獨自在那里又割又捆，
她唱的音調好不凄涼；
你聽！你聽她的歌聲，
在深邃的峽谷久久回蕩。
在荒涼的阿拉伯沙漠里，
疲憊的旅人憩息在綠陰旁，
夜鶯在這時嘀嚦啼囀，
也不如這歌聲暖人心房；
在最遙遠的赫伯利群島，
杜鵑聲聲喚醒了春光，
啼破了海上遼闊的沉寂，
也不如這歌聲動人心腸。
誰能告訴我她在唱些什么？
也許她在為過去哀傷，
唱的是渺遠的不幸的往事，
和那很久以前的戰場？
也許她唱的是普通的曲子，
當今的生活習以為常？
她唱生活中的憂傷和痛苦，
從前發生過，今后也這樣？
不論姑娘在唱些什么吧，
歌聲好像永無盡頭一樣；
我見她舉著鐮刀彎下腰去，
我見她邊干活兒邊歌唱。
我凝神屏息地聽著，聽著，
直到我登上高高的山岡，
那樂聲雖早已在耳邊消失，
卻仍長久地留在我的心上。
The solitary reaper
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
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（實習編輯：劉偉）
