赤西仁吧 关注：297,505贴子：10,103,882
不感兴趣
开通SVIP免广告
trees
nelson antrim crawford 林
n·a·克劳福特
pines
the slow measure of the chanted war song……the storm cloud,dull throbbing black against the sky……
the lover constant though unloved.
poplars
statuesque cold-eyed women
in smooth,caress-inviting green silk
en promenade.
the blue spruce
faultlessly carven jade
is no more faultless than you are
little tree.
but i love you,
little tree,
in spite of your faultlessness.
松林
堂堂的军歌悠扬……
愁云森耸向苍穹……
劲节傲冰霜。
白杨林
一群冷眼的女神像，
妖娆的绿绢衣裳，
散步在路上。
白皮松
庄重的玉雕，
比不上你的庄重，
小小的白皮松，
但我爱你哦，
小小的白皮松，
虽然你太庄重。
nelson antrim crawford 林
n·a·克劳福特
pines
the slow measure of the chanted war song……the storm cloud,dull throbbing black against the sky……
the lover constant though unloved.
poplars
statuesque cold-eyed women
in smooth,caress-inviting green silk
en promenade.
the blue spruce
faultlessly carven jade
is no more faultless than you are
little tree.
but i love you,
little tree,
in spite of your faultlessness.
松林
堂堂的军歌悠扬……
愁云森耸向苍穹……
劲节傲冰霜。
白杨林
一群冷眼的女神像，
妖娆的绿绢衣裳，
散步在路上。
白皮松
庄重的玉雕，
比不上你的庄重，
小小的白皮松，
但我爱你哦，
小小的白皮松，
虽然你太庄重。
the burial of sir john moore at corunna
charles wolfs 爵士约翰·摩尔在克隆那的埋葬
察理·沃尔夫
not a drum was heard,not a funeral note,
as his corse to the rampart we hurried;
not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
o'er the grave where our hero we buried.
we hurried him darkly at dead of night,
the sods with our bayonets turning;
by the struggling moonbeam's misty light
and the lantern dimly burning.
no useless coffin enclosed his breast,
not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;
but he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
with his martial cloak around him.
few and short were the prayers we said,
and we spoke not a word of sorrow;
bur we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
and we bitterly thought of the face that was dead,
and we bitterly thought of the morrow.
we thought,as we hollow'd his narrow bed
and smoothed down his lonely pillow,
that the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
and we far away on the billow!
lightly they'll talk of the sprit that's gone
and o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,——
but little he'll reck,if they let him sleep on
in the grave where a briton has laid him.
but half of our heavy task was done
when the clock struck the hour for retiring;
and we heard the distant and random gun
that the foe was sullenly firing.
slowly and sadly we laid him down,
from the field of his fame fresh and gory;
we carved not a line, and we raise not a stone,
but we lift him alone with his glory.
没有打鼓，也没有哀乐，
当我们把它的尸体运到城堡，
在我们的英雄埋葬者的墓上，
也没有一名士兵放射礼炮。
我们埋葬他在悄悄的夜晚，
使用我们的刺刀在土中翻；
靠着雾中露出的朦胧月光，
还有些闪着光的灯火暗淡。
包藏它的胸坎没有无用的棺，
也没有寿衣寿布把他裹缠；
但他躺着如像一名战士，
穿着他的军服合衣而眠。
祈祷的话语人少儿雨短，
我们所说的没有一句哀惋；
我们坚定地凝视着死者的面，
只沉痛地在想到明天。
当我们掘着他狭窄的墓坑，
我们把他头上的土块放平，
我们想到未知的敌人回来蹂躏他的头，
而我们已经在海上航行！
敌兵会轻蔑这阵亡了的将军，
会在它的尸骇上议论纵横；
但只要他们让他安睡在墓中，
所埋葬的英国人，他会泰然不问。
但我们的埋葬工作只到一半，
始终以报道着退却的时间；
我们已经听到远远的散乱炮声，
敌人在我目标的乱放子弹。
徐徐地悲伤地让他躺下，
浑身还带着荣誉阵地的血花；
我们每次一行字，没立一通碑，
但只让他的光荣永远伴着他。
charles wolfs 爵士约翰·摩尔在克隆那的埋葬
察理·沃尔夫
not a drum was heard,not a funeral note,
as his corse to the rampart we hurried;
not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
o'er the grave where our hero we buried.
we hurried him darkly at dead of night,
the sods with our bayonets turning;
by the struggling moonbeam's misty light
and the lantern dimly burning.
no useless coffin enclosed his breast,
not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;
but he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
with his martial cloak around him.
few and short were the prayers we said,
and we spoke not a word of sorrow;
bur we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
and we bitterly thought of the face that was dead,
and we bitterly thought of the morrow.
we thought,as we hollow'd his narrow bed
and smoothed down his lonely pillow,
that the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
and we far away on the billow!
lightly they'll talk of the sprit that's gone
and o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,——
but little he'll reck,if they let him sleep on
in the grave where a briton has laid him.
but half of our heavy task was done
when the clock struck the hour for retiring;
and we heard the distant and random gun
that the foe was sullenly firing.
slowly and sadly we laid him down,
from the field of his fame fresh and gory;
we carved not a line, and we raise not a stone,
but we lift him alone with his glory.
没有打鼓，也没有哀乐，
当我们把它的尸体运到城堡，
在我们的英雄埋葬者的墓上，
也没有一名士兵放射礼炮。
我们埋葬他在悄悄的夜晚，
使用我们的刺刀在土中翻；
靠着雾中露出的朦胧月光，
还有些闪着光的灯火暗淡。
包藏它的胸坎没有无用的棺，
也没有寿衣寿布把他裹缠；
但他躺着如像一名战士，
穿着他的军服合衣而眠。
祈祷的话语人少儿雨短，
我们所说的没有一句哀惋；
我们坚定地凝视着死者的面，
只沉痛地在想到明天。
当我们掘着他狭窄的墓坑，
我们把他头上的土块放平，
我们想到未知的敌人回来蹂躏他的头，
而我们已经在海上航行！
敌兵会轻蔑这阵亡了的将军，
会在它的尸骇上议论纵横；
但只要他们让他安睡在墓中，
所埋葬的英国人，他会泰然不问。
但我们的埋葬工作只到一半，
始终以报道着退却的时间；
我们已经听到远远的散乱炮声，
敌人在我目标的乱放子弹。
徐徐地悲伤地让他躺下，
浑身还带着荣誉阵地的血花；
我们每次一行字，没立一通碑，
但只让他的光荣永远伴着他。
不感兴趣
开通SVIP免广告
