改善英文墓园哀歌译文

ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD

by Thomas Gray

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness, and to me.

写于乡村墓园的哀歌

托马斯

.

格雷

宵禁的钟声鸣起临终一天的丧钟，

低哞的牲群蜿蜒在草地，

归家的农夫沉重地拖着疲惫的脚步，

只把这个世界留给黑夜，和我。

Now

fades

the

glimmering

landscape

on

the

sight,

And all the air a solemn stillness holds,

Save

where

the

beetle

wheels

his

droning

flight,

And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

隐约可见的景物慢慢从视野中淡去，

所有的空气都包含着一种凝重的静寂，

除了小甲虫在盘旋轻舞，

还有那催眠的铃声安静着远处的羊群。

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower

The moping owl does to the moon complain

Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,

Molest her ancient solitary reign.

除了猫头鹰在那边

从绿藤覆盖的塔上对月怨诉

某人，徘徊于她的密闺周围，

打扰了她古老的属地。

Beneath

those

rugged

elms,

that

yew- tree's

shade,

Where

heaves

the

turf

in

many

a

mouldering

heap,

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

那些粗糙的老榆树下，紫杉荫里，

草皮一堆堆升起，

在每个狭窄的空间里永远躺卧着，

熟睡中的村庄里朴实的先辈。

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,

The swallow twittering from the straw-built

shed,

The

cock's

shrill

clarion,

or

the

echoing

horn,

No

more

shall

rouse

them

from

their

lowly

bed.

早晨清新的微风，

茅屋上燕子的歌声，

雄鸡高亢的号角，或是那回响的喇叭，

不再能把他们唤醒。

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,

Or busy housewife ply her evening care:

No children run to lisp their sire's return,

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,

熊熊的火炉不再为他们燃烧，

繁忙的主妇晚上也不用把他们照料：

孩童们不会跑过去欢迎祖父的归来，

或爬上他的膝盖争相把慈爱的吻来分享。

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,

Their

furrow

oft

the

stubborn

glebe

has

broke;

How jocund did they drive their team afield!

How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy

stroke!

多少次他们的镰刀迎来收获，

他们的犁又多少次把顽固的土地翻耕；

怎样快乐地他们赶着牲口到地里！

柴禾在他们有力的砍伐下又是怎样弯下了腰！

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;

Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile

The short and simple annals of the Poor.

雄心不要去嘲笑他们的劳苦，

他们平凡的快乐，和不起眼的命运；

富贵也不要带着轻蔑的笑去倾听

贫穷那短暂又简单的历史。

（这里，雄心、富贵、贫穷

都是拟人）

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,

And

all

that

beauty,

all

that

wealth

e'er

gave,

Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

壮观的仪式，权势的夸耀，

所有的美，所有的财富，

都毫无例外地等待着一个必然的时刻——

荣耀的大道只是通向坟墓。

Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault

If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted

vault

The

pealing

anthem

swells

the

note

of

praise.

你，骄傲，也不能把错都归于他们

如果他们的墓碑没有任何美丽的装饰，

而教堂常常的走廊和雕饰优美的穹顶

却充盈着赞美的歌声。

（穷人好富人的葬礼对比）

Can storied urn or animated bust

Back

to

its

mansion

call

the

fleeting

breath?

Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,

Or

Flattery

soothe

the

dull

cold

ear

of

Death?

绘画精美的瓮和逼真的雕像

能否将飞逝的气息唤回家？

赞扬的声音能否激起安静的尘土，

或者恭维能否安抚死亡那迟钝而冷酷的耳？

< br>（对于死者

来说，

一切赞美都没有。

也没有人因为说了恭维的话而能

够欺骗死亡）

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

Some

heart

once

pregnant

with

celestial

fire;

Hands,

that

the

rod

of

empire

might

have

sway'd,

Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:

也许在这片被忽视的地方安顿着

一颗心曾一度满怀上天赐予的热情；

一双手，本可能挥动帝国的王杖，

或是唤起七弦琴的狂喜：

（这些 普通人有很多潜力没

有挖掘出来，本可能成为政治家或音乐家。）

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,

Rich

with

the

spoils

of

time,

did

ne'er

unroll;

Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

然而知识，未曾对他们的双眼开启

她 的装满时间的战利品的纸张；

（时间积累了人类丰富的

知识）< /p>