内在的景色
威廉·华兹华斯

最美妙是眼目低垂
在地上漫步，无论路径有无，
旅人置身环绕的佳美，
一再克制，并不抬眼四顾；

更可悦有柔和的幻境
想象之工，或有冥想的欢乐
氛围，飘飘然穿行
在美倏来忽去的间隔。

若思想与爱撇弃我们，那一天
就让我们断绝与缪斯的一切交际；
而旅途有思想与爱为伴——

无论感官接纳还是推拒，
思维内部的天空都必有灵感的露滴
垂落在最低处的心田。

（译注：心田——辅助词语。）

The Inner Vision（396）
William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
 
MOST sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path there be or none
While a fair region round the Traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;

Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.

If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:
With Thought and Love companions of our way—

Whate’er the senses take or may refuse,
The Mind’s internal heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.
 

---

逝爱
威廉·华兹华斯

伊人结庐在荒凉的小径，
在那鸽泉旁；
无人赞美少女的倩影，
爱慕她芬芳：

青苔石边一朵紫罗兰，
半掩羞涩姿容！
——美若星辰，独一璀璨
在漆黑的夜空。

她生时寂寂，也少有人能知
露西何时已殁去；
而今伊人在墓穴里，哦，
唯我心中戚戚！

The Lost Love（177）
William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways,
Beside the springs of Dove;
A maid whom there were none to praise, 
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone, 
Half hidden from the eye!
---Fair as a star, when only one 
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know 
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and oh, 
The difference to me!
 

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我心欢跃，当我望见
威廉·华兹华斯

我心欢跃，当我望见
一道彩虹在天空：
往昔如此，彼时人生之初幼嫩，
今日如此，虽我已然成人，
还要如此，当我终将步入老年，
否则宁死不生！
孩童是成人的父亲：
诚愿我的年日一个个
由天性的虔敬捆扎一起。

My Heart Leaps up When I Behold
William Wordsworth

My Heart Leaps up When I Behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began,
So is it now I am a man,
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man:
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
 

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万物静寂如休憩的车轮
威廉·华兹华斯

万物静寂如休憩的车轮。
母牛躺卧在露滴的草地上；
马儿独自，当我经过时，
依稀在窸窣啃啮晚餐。
四野黑沉，昏睡悄然弥漫
溪谷大山无星光的天空。
此刻，此间，一种相洽，
如家的亲切安舒临到，医治
感官不停供应鲜粮的忧伤；
只在这时，记忆安静，
我才得以休憩。朋友们哪！止住
殷勤的关切，方舒我的苦痛；
哦！让我独处，不要让我感到
纷烦的扰动，以致再次消沉。

Calm Is All Nature As A Resting Wheel
William Wordsworth

Calm is all nature as a resting wheel. 
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass; 
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass, 
Is cropping audibly his later meal: 
Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal 
O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky. 
Now, in this blank of things, a harmony, 
Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal 
That grief for which the senses still supply 
Fresh food; for only then, when memory 
Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain 
Those busy cares that would allay my pain; 
Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel
The officious touch that makes me droop again.
 

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