評論
打印
A cricket shrills in the grass.
一只蟋蟀在草叢中長鳴。
I think of poets and musicians.
我想起了詩人和音樂家。
Of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and of Shakespeare, whose Lorenzo declaims in The Merchant of Venice, How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
想起了貝多芬的《月光奏鳴曲》，以及莎士比亞筆下《威尼斯商人》中洛倫佐的話：月光沉睡在這岸邊多么甜美！
Here will we sit and let sounds of music/Creep in our ears.
我們坐在這里，讓音樂之聲/潛入我們的耳內。
I wonder if their verse and music, like the music of crickets, are in some way voices of the moon.
我不知道他們的詩句和樂曲，以及蟋蟀的歌聲，是否都可算作月亮的微語。
With such thoughts, my citified confusions melt into the quiet of the night.
想到這些，我那被喧囂的城市擾亂了的心融化在夜的幽靜之中。
Lovers and poets find deeper meaning at night, when we are all apt to pose deeper questions,about our origins and destinies.
我們都傾向于問一些關于生命的起源和命運的深刻問題，戀人和詩人往往在夜里能找到生活更深刻的意義。
We indulge in riddles, rather than in the impersonal geometries that govern the day-lit world.
在夜里，我們沉溺于難解的謎團中，而不是那些統治著白天世界的無關個人的幾何學理論。
We become philosophers and mystics.
在夜里，我們都成了哲學家和神秘主義者。
At moonrise, as we slow our minds to the pace of the heavens, enchantment steals over us.
月出之時，當我們放慢自己的思想，讓它跟天國的節奏同步，一種心醉神迷的感覺會流遍全身。
We open the vents of feeling, and exercise parts of our minds that reason locks away by day.
我們會打開情感的窗口，會讓白天被理智鎖住的那部分思緒盡情奔涌。
We hear, across the distances, murmurs of ancient hunters and see anew the visions of poets and lovers of long ago.
我們能穿越時空，聽見遠古獵人的低語，再次看到很久以前的詩人與戀人眼中的景象。
