Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead, Unfriendly lamplight hid under its shade, The curtains drawn upon unfriendly night, That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young We loved each other and were ignorant. 沉默许久后 我们互相吐露心声 是的，曾经的爱人相互疏远和离

浮世寻游已不再 拜伦 So, we’ll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. 浮世寻游已不再 夜深如幻 尽管内心依然有爱 尽管皓月依然明媚 For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to

I like for you to be still: it is as though you are absent and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you It seems as though your eyes had flown away and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth as all things are filled with my soul your emerge from the things, fill with my soul you are like my soul, a butterfly of dreams and you are like the word melancholy

I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, From waiting to not waiting for you My heart moves from cold to fire. 我不爱你，只因我曾深爱你 从爱你到不再爱你 从等待到不再等待 我的心从寒冷到温暖 I love you only because it’s you the one I love;

And it was at that age … Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when, no they were not voices, they were not. words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires, or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me. 那年那

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a

原文 “Until bit by bit the walls of the ego recede, and your life become increasingly merged in the universal life, and rushing passionately past boulders and over waterfalls. Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end. Without any visible break, they become merged in the ocean, and painlessly lose their individual being. The man who, in old age, can see his life in this

Here I love you. In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself. The moon glows like phosphorus on the vagrant waters. Days, all one kind, go chasing each other. The snow unfurls in dancing figures. A silver gull slips down from the west. Sometimes a sail. High, high stars. Oh the black cross of a ship. Alone. 我在这里爱你 在树影婆娑的昏暗中放开自己 如月光映