2018/08/09 旅行随想

2018/08/09 旅行随想

The lightning spun your garment for the night

Of silver filaments with fire shot thru,

A broidery of lamps that lit for you

The steadfast splendor of enduring light.

The moon drifts dimly in the heaven's height,

Watching with wonder how the earth she knew

That lay so long wrapped deep in dark and dew,

Should wear upon her breast a star so white.

The festivals of Babylon were dark

With flaring flambeaux that the wind blew down;

The Saturnalia were a wild boy's lark

With rain-quenched torches dripping thru the town--

But you have found a god and filched from him

A fire that neither wind nor rain can dim.

by Sara Teasdale

闪电让你的衣服旋转了一夜

通过火射击的银丝

为您点燃的灯罩

持久光芒的坚定辉煌。

月亮在天堂的高度朦胧地漂移，

看着她知道的地球是多么奇怪

长时间深深地裹在黑暗和露水中，

应该在她的乳房上戴上一颗白色的星星。

巴比伦的节日是黑暗的

随着耀眼的flambeaut风吹走了;

农神节是一个野孩子的百灵鸟

雨水淬火的火把滴落在小镇上 -

但是你找到了一个神并从他身上掠过

一场既不风也不雨的火都会变暗。

作者：Sara Teasdale