William Blake (1757-1827) was an English poet, painter, and engraver, who

illustrated and printed his own books. The poems translated here are from

his collections Songs of Innocence (1789), and Songs of Experience (1794).

 

 

布雷克(1757-1827),生于伦敦,父亲是个袜商。布雷克不曾受过正规教育,只在十

岁时进过一间画图学校,后来又跟一个雕刻师当学徒做点雕刻工作维生。这里翻译

的几首短诗选自《天真之歌》(1789)与《老练之歌》(1794)


The Sick Rose

 

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

 

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy?

 

病玫瑰



啊玫瑰你病了。
那看不见的虫,
在夜里飞翔
在呼啸的暴风雨中:

 

发现了你绯红色
快活的床:
他黑色的秘恋
使你遭殃。


The Fly

 

Little Fly
Thy summers play,
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.

 

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

 

For I dance
And drink and sing;
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

 

If thought is life
And strength and breath;
And the want
Of thought is death;

 

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.




苍蝇



小苍蝇
你夏日的游戏,
被我轻率的手
一下子拂去。

 

我可不是
一只苍蝇如你?
你可不是
一个人如我?

 

因为我跳舞
又喝又唱;
直到一只盲手
拂我的翅膀。

 

如果思想是生命
气力与呼吸;
而缺乏思想
是死亡;

 

那么我是否
一只快乐的苍蝇,
活著,
或者死去。





The Little Boy Lost

 

Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost,

 

The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep, & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew.

 

 

迷途的小孩

 

父亲,父亲,您上哪儿
啊别走得那么快速。
说话呀父亲,对您的孩子说话
不然我会迷路。

 

夜很黑,父亲不在那里
小孩被露水打湿。
烂泥很深,小孩在哭
水汽阵阵飞逝。