白鸟
威廉·巴特勒·叶芝
爱人哪，但愿我们是大海浪尖上的白鸟：
流星一闪而过，我们厌倦了那一丝光照；
蓝星低挂天边，我们厌倦了那暮色中的辉耀，
亲爱的，它们唤醒了心中忧伤的阴影，把我们终身笼罩。
露湿的百合与玫瑰，不必魂牵梦绕，
啊，切莫梦想流星陨落时那一丝光照，
切莫梦想露珠里蓝星熠熠闪耀：
因为我只愿我们变成浪尖上的白鸟。
我眷恋丹南的海岸，我沉迷无数的小岛，
在那里被时间遗忘，没有悲伤搅扰：
远离玫瑰、百合、光影，摆脱烦燥，亲爱的，
只要我们化作大海浪尖翻飞的白鸟。
The White Birds
William Butler Yeats
I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea:
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can pass by and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that never may die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose, 5
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam—I and you.
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more: 10
Soon far from the rose and the lily, the fret of the flames, would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea.
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