致羞涩的情人
安德鲁·马韦尔
译：chenshuo
倘若拥有悠长的时空可以消磨
爱人，你的羞涩，便实不为过
让我们细细思量，在哪条路上
漫步，陪你度过充满爱的时光
当你，信步在印度的恒河之畔
寻觅着宝石，我却对着亨伯湾
汹涌而来的潮汐，吟唱，只愿
洪荒来临时，我已爱了你十年
如果你可以，请一定不要情愿
直到犹太人改宗皈依的那一天
而我朴素的爱情会缓缓生长着
超越帝国一般的辉煌，与显赫
我需要整整百年的时间来赞美
在你额前凝视着的，那对眼眉
还需要两百年，憧憬你的双乳
要三万年，堪能爱完你的全部
每一寸，我都要爱上一个世代
直至末世，你才会把胸怀敞开
爱人，只因你值得如此的礼遇
我不能不跳动与你同样的心率
可我听到身后，时光乘着飞车
挥舞着羽翼，把我紧紧地追着
而未来，呈现于眼前的竟是那
永世广袤而无穷尽的连绵大漠
你美丽的容颜，终将不再妖娆
大理石的墓室里，也无法听到
我歌声萦绕；竟让这些蛆虫啊
得以品尝你那珍藏已久的贞操
你优雅的矜持，因此蒙了尘罪
我所有的欲望，已燃成了飞灰
藏身在清幽而又隐秘的墓室中
我确信，没有人会在那里相拥
因此，趁着现在，青春的色谱
洒落在你肌肤上，如晨曦雨露
你体内的精灵，尽情的地升华
透过每个毛孔，燃起刹那烟花
现在，我们如愿吧，嬉戏奔跑
此时此刻，就像那扑食的禽鸟
宁肯一下就挥霍掉我们的时光
也不愿在它的咀嚼中慢慢消亡
快让我们滚成一团，用尽气力
挥洒着全部，以及所有的甜蜜
让粗暴猛烈地撕扯我们的快感
冲破层层守卫生命的钢铁栅栏
似这样，纵然无法阻止时光的
流淌，我们却期待着明日光芒
To His Coy Mistress
by Andrew Marvell (1621–1678)
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
A hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.