Sailing to Byzantium
I
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
--- Those dying generations --- at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
II
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
III
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall，
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
IV
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
查良铮译本
那不是老年人的国度。青年人
在互相拥抱；那垂死的世代，
树上的鸟，正从事他们的歌唱；
鱼的瀑布，青花鱼充塞的大海，
鱼、兽或鸟，一整个夏天在赞扬
凡是诞生和死亡的一切存在。
沉溺于那感官的音乐，个个都疏忽
万古长青的理性的纪念物。
一个衰颓的老人只是个废物，
是件破外衣支在一根木棍上，
除非灵魂拍手作歌，为了它的
皮囊的每个裂绽唱得更响亮；
可是没有教唱的学校，而只有
研究纪念物上记载的它的辉煌，
因此我就远渡重洋而来到
拜占庭的神圣的城堡。
哦，智者们！立于上帝的神火中，
好像是壁画上嵌金的雕饰，
从神火中走出来吧，旋转当空，
请为我的灵魂作歌唱的教师。
把我的心烧尽，它被绑在一个
垂死的肉身上，为欲望所腐蚀，
已不知它原来是什么了；请尽快
把我采集进永恒的艺术安排。
一旦脱离自然界，我就不再从
任何自然物体取得我的形状，
而只要希腊的金匠用金釉
和锤打的金子所制作的式样，
供给瞌睡的皇帝保持清醒；
或者就镶在金树枝上歌唱
一切过去、现在和未来的事情
给拜占庭的贵族和夫人听。
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