俚优

On Receiving News of the War
BY ISAAC ROSENBERG

Snow is a strange white word;
No ice or frost
Have asked of bud or bird
For Winter's cost.

Yet ice and frost and snow
From earth to sky
This Summer land doth know,
No man knows why.

In all men's hearts it is.
Some spirit old
Hath turned with malign kiss
Our lives to mould.

Red fangs have torn His face.
God's blood is shed.
He mourns from His lone place
His children dead.

O! ancient crimson curse!
Corrode, consume.
Give back this universe
Its pristine bloom.

——————————

当收到战争的讯息
艾萨克·罗森堡

“雪”是个奇怪的白色词
并非冰，并非霜
夺走了蓓蕾与鸟儿
作为冬季的代价

然而，冰与霜与雪
从大地到穹苍
这夏季的大陆知道为何，
人却无一知晓。

它在所有人的心中。
某些老去的灵魂
随着恶毒的亲吻
将我们的生命化作霉土。

鲜红的毒牙撕扯开他的面颊，
上帝的鲜血汩汩流出。
他从他的孤独之地哀悼
他的孩子已经死亡。

啊！这远古的赤色诅咒！
侵蚀，毁尽
予回这世间以
它亘古的绽放。

译：俚优