評論
打印
If thou survive my well-contented day,
如果你的壽限長過我坦然面對的天命之數(shù)，
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
當無情的死神掩埋我的尸骨于一抔黃土，
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
而你偶然翻讀你這位死去的情郎
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
曾在世時寫下的粗鄙、拙劣的詩章，
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
你讓它與時下的杰構佳篇相比，
And though they be outstripp'd by every pen,
發(fā)現(xiàn)它遜色于每一位詩人的手筆，
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
論技巧總不如那些幸運兒的碩果輝煌，
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
但請保留我的吧，只為愛不為韻腳的鏗鏘。
O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
呵，但愿你開懷大度盡量把我往好處想：
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,"
假如我朋友的天賦能與世推移，
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
憑他的真愛必能吟出更好的詩行，
To march in ranks of better equipage:
使他能與當世高手并駕齊驅(qū)。
But since he died and poets better prove,
而他既已不幸辭世，詩人們詩藝倍增，
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'
我將欣賞后者的文釆，但讀前者的愛心。
