托马斯·格雷 『墓园挽歌』ELERGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
ELERGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
托马斯·格雷 『墓园挽歌』
（这是我自己翻译的，开始就找到这一部分原文，看到文言文版本的翻译，觉得有点添油加醋，而且是在引用经典，有点不习惯，像香港人翻译的感觉，倒是很有意境。我的习惯，是大致从字面阅读的意思。
还有其他版本http://baike.soso.com/v6811392.htm）
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
晚间的宵禁时刻为离去的人们敲响钟声
牛群呼出的气体吹在草地上
农夫在归途上沉重地拖着疲倦的步伐
把世界留给一片黑暗 和我
闪烁的地平线消失在视线中
尘土里散发着庄严的气息
除了虫子嗡嗡跳着旋转舞
只剩下催人入睡的铃声和远处的羔羊
Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
除了那边被常春藤覆盖的高塔
愁眉苦脸的猫头鹰对着月亮诉说
在她隐秘的闺房前游荡
扰乱了她很久以前孤立专横的统治
粗糙的榆树下 紫杉的阴影中
是成堆的荒凉的墓园
狭窄的空间里沉睡着的每个人
正是这村庄里粗野的农夫
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
香气四溢的清晨 风愉快的召唤着
稻草房子的屋檐下 燕子轻声细语
雄鸡高亢的号角 或是那回响的军号
再也无法将他们从地下的长眠中唤醒
熊熊的炉火不会再为他们燃烧
忙碌的主妇不再会连夜干活
孩子们再也不会口齿不清地报告父亲的到来
为争夺一个亲吻爬倒他膝上
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
多少次他们的镰刀迎来收获
顽固的土地在犁沟下破碎
在地里干活 他们有多快乐啊
在他们强烈的敲击后 树木有多弯曲
不要用野心嘲笑他们辛苦的工作
他们朴实的快乐 暗淡无光的前程
也不要用壮观伟大带着蔑视的微笑去聆听
短暂而简单的劳苦大众的琐事
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
显要的勋章 浮华的权势
所有美好富贵曾经给予的一切
在等待不可避免的时刻：
光荣之路无非是通向坟墓
托马斯·格雷 『墓园挽歌』
（这是我自己翻译的，开始就找到这一部分原文，看到文言文版本的翻译，觉得有点添油加醋，而且是在引用经典，有点不习惯，像香港人翻译的感觉，倒是很有意境。我的习惯，是大致从字面阅读的意思。
还有其他版本http://baike.soso.com/v6811392.htm）
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
晚间的宵禁时刻为离去的人们敲响钟声
牛群呼出的气体吹在草地上
农夫在归途上沉重地拖着疲倦的步伐
把世界留给一片黑暗 和我
闪烁的地平线消失在视线中
尘土里散发着庄严的气息
除了虫子嗡嗡跳着旋转舞
只剩下催人入睡的铃声和远处的羔羊
Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
除了那边被常春藤覆盖的高塔
愁眉苦脸的猫头鹰对着月亮诉说
在她隐秘的闺房前游荡
扰乱了她很久以前孤立专横的统治
粗糙的榆树下 紫杉的阴影中
是成堆的荒凉的墓园
狭窄的空间里沉睡着的每个人
正是这村庄里粗野的农夫
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
香气四溢的清晨 风愉快的召唤着
稻草房子的屋檐下 燕子轻声细语
雄鸡高亢的号角 或是那回响的军号
再也无法将他们从地下的长眠中唤醒
熊熊的炉火不会再为他们燃烧
忙碌的主妇不再会连夜干活
孩子们再也不会口齿不清地报告父亲的到来
为争夺一个亲吻爬倒他膝上
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
多少次他们的镰刀迎来收获
顽固的土地在犁沟下破碎
在地里干活 他们有多快乐啊
在他们强烈的敲击后 树木有多弯曲
不要用野心嘲笑他们辛苦的工作
他们朴实的快乐 暗淡无光的前程
也不要用壮观伟大带着蔑视的微笑去聆听
短暂而简单的劳苦大众的琐事
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
显要的勋章 浮华的权势
所有美好富贵曾经给予的一切
在等待不可避免的时刻：
光荣之路无非是通向坟墓
