丘特切夫关于春的诗歌[5首]
SPRING No matter how oppressive is the hand of fate, is human deceit, no matter how deeply they furrow our brows, wound our hearts, no matter how severe are the trials to which we daily must succumb, what can resist the breath of and that first encounter with spring! .......... Spring does not know us, us, our grief, our malice ... Her gaze shines with immortality. There's not a wrinkle on her brow. She obeys her own laws. At the appropriate time she flies down, bright, blissfully indifferent, as befits a goddess. .......... She scatters blossoms on the earth. She is fresh, like the first spring. Was there another before? She doesn't need to know. The sky is cloud-covered. These clouds are her own, leaving not a trace of the extinct life of former springs. .......... Roses do not sign about the past, nor do nightingales sing it. Dawn does not shed tears of fragrance for the past, and terror of the ineluctable end does not flow from trees and branches. Their life, like the boundless ocean, is entirely poured into the present. .......... All the game, the sacrifice of individual life! Come, throw off the deceit of feelings and throw yourself lustily, omnipotently into this life-creating ocean! Come on, in its ethereal stream wash your suffering breast and in this divinely all-peaceful life for just one moment be a guest! SPRING (DEDICATED TO MY FRIENDS) Love of the earth, charm of the year, spring smells sweetly of us! Nature is throwing a feast for creation, a coming-together feast for its sons! .......... The spirit of life, strength and freedom rises, fans around us! Joy has poured into our hearts, like an echo of spring's celebration, like the life-creating voice of a god! .......... Where are you, sons of Harmony? Come, with bold fingers touch the slumbering strings, warmed by the bright rays of love, of ecstasy, of spring! .......... Just as in full, flaming bloom, at morning's first, young light roses glisten and burn; as the zephyr in its joyous flight scatters their aroma, so do you, life-joy, pour yourself into everything. Singers, let's follow you! Let our youth soar, friends, around the bright blooms of good fortune! .......... This feeble gift of grateful love is yours, this simple blossom, with little aroma. You, my mentors, will accept it with a gracious smile. Thus does a feeble child, as a token of its love, bring to its motherТs breast the flower it picked in a meadow! A SPRING STORM I love May's first storms: chuckling, sporting spring grumbles in mock anger; young thunder claps, a spatter of rain and flying dust and wet pearls hanging threaded by sun-gold; a speedy current scampers from the hills. Such a commotion in the woods! Noises cartwheel down the mountains. Every sound is echoed round the sky. You'd think capricious Hebe, feeding the eagle of Zeus, had raised a thunder-foaming goblet, unable to restrain her mirth, and tipped it on the earth. PEACE IN SPRINGTIME (UHLAND) Oh, do not bury me in the damp earth. Cover me, hide me in the thick grass! Let breezes breathe and rustle in the grass, let a distant pipe play songs, let bright, quiet clouds sail above me! SPRING IN ITALY Fragrant and bright, even since February spring has been entering gardens, and here the almond has suddenly come into bloom and its whiteness has infused all the greenery.
[ 本帖最后由 kira 于 2007-3-21 22:58 编辑 ]
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