莎士比亚十四行诗第九十九、第一百首
译：十方
99
对早开thorns的紫罗兰我这样责难：
温柔的窃贼thorns，thorns你从哪偷来这香气，
是不是窃自我爱人的呼吸thorns？这姹紫；
在你嫩颊点上了颜色，
定是你大胆自我爱人血管中染得；
我申斥那百合窃取你素手的颜色，
还有那薄荷窃取你秀发的清香；
刺上的玫瑰闻之瑟瑟，
红的是羞愧，白的是慌张；
另一朵非红非白，两者各取一点，
除了颜色，还偷取了你的气息；
然而因它偷窃，当它盛开正艳，
一条复仇的虫将它尽噬；
我还见过更多的花，从没有一朵，
不是从你那里偷取味道和颜色。
Sonnet 99
The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.
The lily I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair:
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
100
我的诗神，你在何处，你久已遗忘，
将赋予你力量的泉源讴歌；
你满怀热情，却在做无益的吟唱，
在蹩脚的题材中将精力销磨；
回来吧，健忘的诗神，
用优雅的旋律，挽回虚掷的光阴；
将颂歌献给那敬你词章的人，
他赐予了你的文笔技巧和灵性；
起来吧，疏懒的诗神，
请看我爱人的脸上是否被时光刻下细纹；
若有，便将那衰老讥讽，
让时光那劫掠的行径被到处看轻；
去扬我爱人的名声，不要待时光收割她的生命，
这样你才能抵挡住岁月的风刀和霜刃。
Sonnet 100
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make Time's spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.
