我逝去的青春朗费罗原文
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发布时间：2022-05-30 00:22
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时间：2024-01-08 02:36
MY LOST YOUTH by Longfellow
那美丽的古城常教我怀想，
它就座落在大海边上；
多少次，我恍惚神游于故乡，
在那些可爱的街衢上来往，
俨然又回到了年少的时光。
一首拉普兰民歌里的诗句，
一直在我记忆里回荡：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
我望见葱茏的树木成行，
从忽隐忽现的闪闪波光，
瞥见了远处环抱的海洋；
那些岛，就象是极西仙境，
小时候惹动我多少梦想！
那首古老民歌的迭句，
依旧在耳边喃喃低唱：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
我记得乌黑的码头和船台，
海上恣意奔腾的潮汐；
满嘴胡须的西班牙水手，
一艘艘船舶的壮丽神奇，
茫茫大海诱人的魔力。
那萦回小去的执拗歌声，
仍然在那里又唱又讲：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
我记得岸上的防御工事，
记得山头耸立的碉楼；
日出时，大炮隆隆怒吼，
鼙鼓一阵阵雷响不休，
号角激昂锐利的吹奏。
那首民歌的悠扬曲调
依然波动往我的心头：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
我记得那次远处的海战，
炮声在滚滚浪潮上震荡；
两位船长，在墓中安躺，
俯临着寂廖宁静的海湾--。
那就是他们战死的沙场。
那哀怨的歌声往复回翔，
颤栗的音波流过我心房：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
我看见微风里林木亭亭，
荻岭森林洒布着阴影；
旧日的友谊，早年的恋情，
以安舒的音调回到我心里，
宛如幽静邻里的鸽鸣。
那古老民歌的甜美诗句，
依稀在低语，在颤动不停：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
我记得缕缕的亮光和暗影，
翩翩掠过我童稚的心灵；
心底蕴藏的歌声和静默，
有几分是预言，还有几分
是狂热而又虚幻的憧憬。
听啊，那起伏不定的歌声，
还在唱着，总也不平静：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
有一些梦境永不会泯灭；
有一些情景我不能倾诉；
有一些愁思，使心灵瘦弱，
使脸色苍白--象白蜡新涂，
使眼睛湿润--象蒙上潮雾。
那句不详的歌词
好象一个寒颤落到我身上：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
当我重临这亲爱的古城，
眼中的景象已这般陌生；
但故乡的空气甘美而纯净，
熟识的街衢洒满'了树影，
树枝上下摆动个不停，
都在唱着那动人的歌声，
在低声叹息，存曼声吟咏：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
怀着近似痛苦的欢欣，
我的心魂向故国飞奔；
荻岭森林秀丽'而鲜润；
从一一重温的缤纷旧梦里，
我又觅回了逝去的青春。
树丛还在反复的吟唱，
那奇异而又美妙的诗行：
“孩子的愿望是风的愿望，
青春的遐想是悠长的遐想。”
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the black wharves and slips,
And the sea-tides tossing free;
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,
The drum-beat repeated o’er and o’er,
And the bugle wild and shrill.
And the music of that old song
Throbs in my memery still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundered o’er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o’erlooking the tranquil bay
Where they in battle died.
And the sound of that mournful song
Goes through me with a thrill:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the breezy dome of groves,
The shadows of Deering’s Woods;
And the friendships old and the early loves
Comes back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
And the verse of that sweet old song,
It flutters and murmurs still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy’s brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longs wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on, and is never still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that can not die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Comes over me like a chill:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,
As they balance up and down,
Are singing the beautiful song,
Are sighing and whispering still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
And the Deering’s Woods are fresh and fair,
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
