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Mortality

发表于 2013-8-11 17:33:32 | 查看全部 |阅读模式

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  By William Knox
  Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
  Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud
  A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave
  He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

  The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
  Be scattered around, and together be laid;
  And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
  Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie.

  The infant a mother attended and loved;
  The mother that infant's affection who proved;
  The husband, that mother and infant who blest,--
  Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.

  The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
  Shone beauty and pleasure, -- her triumphs are by;
  And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
  Are alike from the minds of the living erased.

  The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne,
  The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn,
  The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,
  Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.

  The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap,
  The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep,
  The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
  Have faded away like the grass that we tread.

  The saint, who enjoyed the communion of Heaven,
  The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven,
  The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
  Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.

  So the multitude goes -- like the flower or the weed
  That withers away to let others succeed;
  So the multitude comes -- even those we behold,
  To repeat every tale that has often been told.

  For we are the same our fathers have been;
  We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
  We drink the same stream, we view the same sun,
  And run the same course our fathers have run.

  The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think;
  From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink;
  To the life we are clinging, they also would cling; --
  But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.

  They loved -- but the story we cannot unfold;
  They scorned -- but the heart of the haughty is cold;
  They grieved -- but no wail from their slumber will come;
  They joyed -- but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.

  They died -- ay, they died; -- we things that are now,
  That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
  And make in their dwellings a transient abode;
  Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.

  Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
  Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
  And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
  Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.

  'Tis the wink of an eye -- 'tis the draught of a breath--
  From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
  From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:--
  Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
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 楼主| 发表于 2013-8-11 17:36:17 | 查看全部
       hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
  Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
  And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
  Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
      希望和绝望,欢乐和悲伤,
      与阳光和雨水交织;笑声与热泪,
       蜜语与哀歌,

       如后浪掀前浪,接踵而来。

  'Tis the wink of an eye -- 'tis the draught of a breath--
  From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
  From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:--
  Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

            
        就在一转眼、一吐纳之间,
        健康的朱颜成死亡的惨白,
        金色的生命入棺木和殓衣,
        人类啊!你何必骄傲呢?
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发表于 2013-8-12 15:07:42 | 查看全部
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
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发表于 2013-8-12 15:10:46 | 查看全部
'       Tis the wink of an eye -- 'tis the draught of a breath--
  From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
  From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:--
  Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
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发表于 2013-8-12 15:15:10 | 查看全部
 与林肯共事过的威廉·H·荷恩敦曾说:“林肯在以后的20年中,已失去了人生的欢乐。他走路时,仿佛浓浓的忧郁快要从他的身上滴下来似的……”
  此后,林肯开始偏爱那些有关悲哀和死亡主题的诗歌,甚至到了着魔的地步。他常常一个人无语地静坐,很长时间出神发呆。然后,忽然念出几行忧伤的诗句,句子出自一首诗:《一片最后的树叶》。
  布满青苔的石板,
  盖在他曾亲吻的芳唇上,
  多年以前镌刻墓碑的,
  是他心爱的人的名字。
  林肯在安妮死后最喜爱的诗是《人类啊!你何必骄傲呢?》。在孤独的时候,他念给自己听;在伊利诺的乡村旅馆里,他念给旅客听;在演讲时,他为听众引用它;进入白宫以后,他又背给客人听,并且将它抄送给朋友们。他说:“假如我能写出这样的好诗,我愿意倾尽所有的财物,哪怕负债。”
  这首诗的最后两段,是他最喜欢的:
  希望和绝望,欢乐和悲伤,
  与阳光和雨水交织;
  笑声与热泪,蜜语与哀歌,
  如后浪掀前浪,接踵而来。
  就在一转眼、一吐纳之间,
  健康的朱颜成死亡的惨白,
  金色的生命入棺木和殓衣,
  人类啊!你何必骄傲呢?
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发表于 2013-8-12 15:25:35 | 查看全部
在未知面前,人类的有知是渺小的,骄傲,只是虚荣作祟,只是大自然讪笑的对象!
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发表于 2013-8-12 22:33:00 | 查看全部
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发表于 2013-8-12 22:39:53 | 查看全部
一切名和利都是浮云,人类啊!你何必骄傲呢?
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 楼主| 发表于 2013-8-13 15:30:29 | 查看全部
引用第7楼连续风格于2013-08-12 22:39发表的  :
一切名和利都是浮云,人类啊!你何必骄傲呢?
神马都是浮云
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发表于 2013-8-13 15:41:11 | 查看全部
睡至二三更时,凡功名皆成幻境

想到一百年后,无少长俱是古人
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