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发表于 2014-8-28 17:49:20 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式

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SONNET #1
by: William Shakespeare
FROM fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory;
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thout that are now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
　　对天生的尤物我们要求蕃盛，
　　以便美的玫瑰永远不会枯死，
　　但开透的花朵既要及时雕零，
　　就应把记忆交给娇嫩的后嗣；
　　但你，只和你自己的明眸定情，
　　把自己当燃料喂养眼中的火焰，
　　和自己作对，待自己未免太狠，
　　把一片丰沃的土地变成荒田。
　　你现在是大地的清新的点缀，
　　又是锦绣阳春的唯一的前锋，
　　为什么把富源葬送在嫩蕊里，
　　温柔的鄙夫，要吝啬，反而浪用？
　　　　可怜这个世界吧，要不然，贪夫，
　　　　就吞噬世界的份，由你和坟墓。

　　　　二
WHEN forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tottered weed of small worth held:
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more prasie deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer, 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st cold.
　　当四十个冬天围攻你的朱颜，
　　在你美的园地挖下深的战壕，
　　你青春的华服，那么被人艳羡，
　　将成褴褛的败絮，谁也不要瞧：
　　那时人若问起你的美在何处，
　　哪里是你那少壮年华的宝藏，
　　你说，“在我这双深陷的眼眶里，
　　是贪婪的羞耻，和无益的颂扬。”
　　你的美的用途会更值得赞美，
　　如果你能够说，“我这宁馨小童
　　将总结我的账，宽恕我的老迈，”
　　证实他的美在继承你的血统！
　　　　这将使你在衰老的暮年更生，
　　　　并使你垂冷的血液感到重温。

　　　　三
LOOK in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another,
Whose fresh repair if now thou renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose uneared womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
But if thou live rememb'red not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.
　　照照镜子，告诉你那镜中的脸庞，
　　说现在这庞儿应该另造一副；
　　如果你不赶快为它重修殿堂，
　　就欺骗世界，剥掉母亲的幸福。
　　因为哪里会有女人那么淑贞
　　她那处女的胎不愿被你耕种？
　　哪里有男人那么蠢，他竟甘心
　　做自己的坟墓，绝自己的血统？
　　你是你母亲的镜子，在你里面
　　她唤回她的盛年的芳菲四月：
　　同样，从你暮年的窗你将眺见——
　　纵皱纹满脸——你这黄金的岁月。
　　　　但是你活着若不愿被人惦记，
　　　　就独自死去，你的肖像和你一起。

　　　　四
UNTHRIFTY loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thyself they beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,
And, being frank, she lends to those are free.
Then, beateous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless userer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?
For, having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive:
Then how, when Nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?
Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,
Which, usèd, lives th' executor to be.
　　俊俏的浪子，为什么把你那份
　　美的遗产在你自己身上耗尽？
　　造化的馈赠非赐予，她只出赁；
　　她慷慨，只赁给宽宏大量的人。
　　那么，美丽的鄙夫，为什么滥用
　　那交给你转交给别人的厚礼？
　　赔本的高利贷者，为什么浪用
　　那么一笔大款，还不能过日子？
　　因为你既然只和自己做买卖，
　　就等于欺骗你那妩媚的自我。
　　这样，你将拿什么账目去交代，
　　当造化唤你回到她怀里长卧？
　　　　你未用过的美将同你进坟墓；
　　　　用呢，就活着去执行你的遗嘱。

　　　　五
THOSE hours that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter and confounds him there,
Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'ersnowed and bareness everywhere.
Then, were not summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,
Leese but there snow; their substance still lives sweet.

　　那些时辰曾经用轻盈的细工
　　织就这众目共注的可爱明眸，
　　终有天对它摆出魔王的面孔，
　　把绝代佳丽剁成龙锺的老丑：
　　因为不舍昼夜的时光把盛夏
　　带到狰狞的冬天去把它结果；
　　生机被严霜窒息，绿叶又全下，
　　白雪掩埋了美，满目是赤裸裸：
　　那时候如果夏天尚未经提炼，
　　让它凝成香露锁在玻璃瓶里，
　　美和美的流泽将一起被截断，
　　美，和美的记忆都无人再提起：
　　　　但提炼过的花，纵和冬天抗衡，
　　　　只失掉颜色，却永远吐着清芬。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:49:42 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　六
THEN let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier be it ten for one.
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.
　　那么，别让冬天嶙峋的手抹掉
　　你的夏天，在你未经提炼之前：
　　熏香一些瓶子；把你美的财宝
　　藏在宝库里，趁它还未及消散。
　　这样的借贷并不是违禁取利，
　　既然它使那乐意纳息的高兴；
　　这是说你该为你另生一个你，
　　或者，一个生十，就十倍地幸运；
　　十倍你自己比你现在更快乐，
　　如果你有十个儿子来重现你：
　　这样，即使你长辞，死将奈你何，
　　既然你继续活在你的后裔里？
　　　　别任性：你那么标致，何必甘心
　　　　做死的胜利品，让蛆虫做子孙。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:49:52 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　七
LO, in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong yough in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way:
So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,
Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.
　　看，当普照万物的太阳从东方
　　抬起了火红的头，下界的眼睛
　　都对他初升的景象表示敬仰，
　　用目光来恭候他神圣的驾临；
　　然后他既登上了苍穹的极峰，
　　像精力饱满的壮年，雄姿英发，
　　万民的眼睛依旧膜拜他的峥嵘，
　　紧紧追随着他那疾驰的金驾。
　　但当他，像耄年拖着尘倦的车轮，
　　从绝顶颤巍巍地离开了白天，
　　众目便一齐从他下沉的足印
　　移开它们那原来恭顺的视线。
　　　　同样，你的灿烂的日中一消逝，
　　　　你就会悄悄死去，如果没后嗣。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:50:01 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　八
MUSIC to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing;
Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee, 'Thou single wilt prove none.'
　　我的音乐，为何听音乐会生悲？
　　甜蜜不相克，快乐使快乐欢笑。
　　为何爱那你不高兴爱的东西，
　　或者为何乐于接受你的烦恼？
　　如果悦耳的声音的完美和谐
　　和亲挚的协调会惹起你烦忧，
　　它们不过委婉地责备你不该
　　用独奏窒息你心中那部合奏。
　　试看这一根弦，另一根的良人，
　　怎样融洽地互相呼应和振荡；
　　宛如父亲、儿子和快活的母亲，
　　它们联成了一片，齐声在欢唱。
　　　　它们的无言之歌都异曲同工
　　　　对你唱着：“你独身就一切皆空。”

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:50:08 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　九
IS it for fear to wet a widow's eye
That thou consum'st thyself in single life?
Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow, and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind.
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And, kept unused, the user so destroys it:
No love toward others in that bosom sits
Than on himself such murd'rous shame commits

　　是否因为怕打湿你寡妇的眼，
　　你在独身生活里消磨你自己？
　　哦，如果你不幸无后离开人间，
　　世界就要哀哭你，像丧偶的妻。
　　世界将是你寡妇，她永远伤心
　　你生前没给她留下你的容貌；
　　其他的寡妇，靠儿女们的眼睛，
　　反能把良人的肖像在心里长保。
　　看吧，浪子在世上的种种浪费
　　只换了主人，世界仍然在享受；
　　但美的消耗在人间将有终尾：
　　留着不用，就等于任由它腐朽。
　　　　这样的心决不会对别人有爱，
　　　　既然它那么忍心把自己戕害。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:50:17 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　十
FOR shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thyself art so unprovident:
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident;
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind;
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:
Make thee another self for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
　　羞呀，否认你并非不爱任何人，
　　对待你自己却那么欠缺绸缪。
　　承认，随你便，许多人对你钟情，
　　但说你并不爱谁，谁也要点头。
　　因为怨毒的杀机那么缠住你，
　　你不惜多方设计把自己戕害，
　　锐意摧残你那座峥嵘的殿宇，
　　你唯一念头却该是把它重盖。
　　哦，赶快回心吧，让我也好转意！
　　难道憎比温婉的爱反得处优？
　　你那么貌美，愿你也一样心慈，
　　否则至少对你自己也要温柔。
　　　　另造一个你吧，你若是真爱我，
　　　　让美在你儿子或你身上永活。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:50:27 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　一一
AS fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay.
If all were minded so, the times should cease,
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish:
Look whom she best endowed she gave the more,
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
　　和你一样快地消沉，你的儿子，
　　也将一样快在世界生长起来；
　　你灌注给青春的这新鲜血液
　　仍将是你的，当青春把你抛开。
　　这里面活着智慧、美丽和昌盛；
　　没有这，便是愚蠢、衰老和腐朽：
　　人人都这样想，就要钟停漏尽，
　　六十年便足使世界化为乌有。
　　让那些人生来不配生育传宗，
　　粗鲁、丑陋和笨拙，无后地死去；
　　造化的至宠，她的馈赠也最丰，
　　该尽量爱惜她这慷慨的赐予：
　　　　她把你刻做她的印，意思是要
　　　　你多印几份，并非要毁掉原稿。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:50:36 | 显示全部楼层

一二
WHEN I do count the clock that tells the time
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night,
When I behold the violet past prime
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white,
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defense
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
当我数着壁上报时的自鸣钟，
　　见明媚的白昼坠入狰狞的夜，
　　当我凝望着紫罗兰老了春容，
　　青丝的卷发遍洒着皑皑白雪；
　　当我看见参天的树枝叶尽脱，
　　它不久前曾荫蔽喘息的牛羊；
　　夏天的青翠一束一束地就缚，
　　带着坚挺的白须被舁上殓床；
　　于是我不禁为你的朱颜焦虑：
　　终有天你要加入时光的废堆，
　　既然美和芳菲都把自己抛弃，
　　眼看着别人生长自己却枯萎；
　　没什么抵挡得住时光的毒手，
　　除了生育，当他来要把你拘走。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:50:48 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　一三
O , THAT you were yourself, but, love, you are
No longer yours than you yourself here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination; then you were
Yourself again after yourself's decease
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honor might uphold
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?
O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know
You had a father -- let your son say so.

　　哦，但愿你是你自己，但爱呀，你
　　终非你有，当你不再活在世上：
　　对这将临的日子你得要准备，
　　快交给别人你那俊秀的肖像。
　　这样，你所租赁的朱颜就永远
　　不会有满期；于是你又将变成
　　你自己，当你已经离开了人间，
　　既然你儿子保留着你的倩影。
　　谁肯让一座这样的华厦倾颓，
　　如果小心地看守便可以维护
　　它的光彩，去抵抗隆冬的狂吹
　　和那冷酷的死神无情的暴怒？
　　　　哦，除非是浪子；我爱呀，你知道
　　　　你有父亲；让你儿子也可自豪。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:50:59 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　一四
NOT from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy;
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find;
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:
Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
　　并非从星辰我采集我的推断；
　　可是我以为我也精通占星学，
　　但并非为了推算气运的通蹇，
　　以及饥荒、瘟疫或四时的风色；
　　我也不能为短促的时辰算命，
　　指出每个时辰的雷电和风雨，
　　或为国王占卜流年是否亨顺，
　　依据我常从上苍探得的天机。
　　我的术数只得自你那双明眸，
　　恒定的双星，它们预兆这吉祥：
　　只要你回心转意肯储蓄传后，
　　真和美将双双偕你永世其昌。
　　　　要不然关于你我将这样昭示：
　　　　你的末日也就是真和美的死。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:51:09 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　一五
WHEN I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheerèd and checked even by the selfsame sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory:
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And, all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I ingraft you new.

　　当我默察一切活泼泼的生机
　　保持它们的芳菲都不过一瞬，
　　宇宙的舞台只搬弄一些把戏
　　被上苍的星宿在冥冥中牵引；
　　当我发觉人和草木一样蕃衍，
　　任同一的天把他鼓励和阻挠，
　　少壮时欣欣向荣，盛极又必反，
　　繁华和璀璨都被从记忆抹掉；
　　于是这一切奄忽浮生的征候
　　便把妙龄的你在我眼前呈列，
　　眼见残暴的时光与腐朽同谋，
　　要把你青春的白昼化作黑夜；
　　　　为了你的爱我将和时光争持：
　　　　他摧折你，我要把你重新接枝。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:51:17 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　一六
BUT wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessèd than my barren rime?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this time's pencil or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.
To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
"Sonnet #16" was originally published in Shake-speares Sonnets: Never before Imprinted (1609).
但是为什么不用更凶的法子
　　去抵抗这血淋淋的魔王——时光？
　　不用比我的枯笔吉利的武器，
　　去防御你的衰朽，把自己加强？
　　你现在站在黄金时辰的绝顶，
　　许多少女的花园，还未经播种，
　　贞洁地切盼你那绚烂的群英，
　　比你的画像更酷肖你的真容：
　　只有生命的线能把生命重描；
　　时光的画笔，或者我这枝弱管，
　　无论内心的美或外貌的姣好，
　　都不能使你在人们眼前活现。
　　　　献出你自己依然保有你自己，
　　　　而你得活着，靠你自己的妙笔。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:51:32 | 显示全部楼层

　　　一七
HO will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say, 'This poet lies--
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
And stretchèd metre of an antique song.
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice--in it and in my rime.
"Sonnet #17" was originally published in Shake-speares Sonnets: Never before Imprinted (1609).
　　未来的时代谁会相信我的诗，
　　如果它充满了你最高的美德？
　　虽然，天知道，它只是一座墓地
　　埋着你的生命和一半的本色。
　　如果我写得出你美目的流盼，
　　用清新的韵律细数你的秀妍，
　　未来的时代会说：“这诗人撒谎：
　　这样的天姿哪里会落在人间！”
　　于是我的诗册，被岁月所熏黄，
　　就要被人藐视，像饶舌的老头；
　　你的真容被诬作诗人的疯狂，
　　以及一支古歌的夸张的节奏：
　　　　但那时你若有个儿子在人世，
　　　　你就活两次：在他身上，在诗里。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:51:40 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　一八
HALL I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
"Sonnet #18" was originally published in Shake-speares Sonnets: Never before Imprinted (1609).
　　我怎么能够把你来比作夏天？
　　你不独比它可爱也比它温婉：
　　狂风把五月宠爱的嫩蕊作践，
　　夏天出赁的期限又未免太短：
　　天上的眼睛有时照得太酷烈，
　　它那炳耀的金颜又常遭掩蔽：
　　被机缘或无常的天道所摧折，
　　没有芳艳不终于雕残或销毁。
　　但是你的长夏永远不会雕落，
　　也不会损失你这皎洁的红芳，
　　或死神夸口你在他影里漂泊，
　　当你在不朽的诗里与时同长。
　　　　只要一天有人类，或人有眼睛，
　　　　这诗将长存，并且赐给你生命。

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楼主| 发表于 2014-8-28 17:51:49 | 显示全部楼层

　　　　一九
EVOURING time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as they fleet'st,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets,
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
Yet do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.
"Sonnet #19" was originally published in Shake-speares Sonnets: Never before Imprinted (1609).
　　饕餮的时光，去磨钝雄狮的爪，
　　命大地吞噬自己宠爱的幼婴，
　　去猛虎的颚下把它利牙拔掉，
　　焚毁长寿的凤凰，灭绝它的种，
　　使季节在你飞逝时或悲或喜；
　　而且，捷足的时光，尽肆意地摧残
　　这大千世界和它易谢的芳菲；
　　只有这极恶大罪我禁止你犯：
　　哦，别把岁月刻在我爱的额上，
　　或用古老的铁笔乱画下皱纹：
　　在你的飞逝里不要把它弄脏，
　　好留给后世永作美丽的典型。
　　　　但，尽管猖狂，老时光，凭你多狠，
　　　　我的爱在我诗里将万古长青。

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