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本帖最后由 小龟 于 2013-9-9 22:26 编辑
当你老了
当你老了,头发灰白,睡意昏沉,
在炉火边打盹,取下这本书,
慢慢读着,想起你的眼曾有过的
柔软的眼波,和它们深深的暗影;
许多人爱着你欢愉优雅的时刻,
爱着你的美,真情或者假意,
但有一个人爱你那朝圣者的心,
爱你那变幻的脸上的忧伤;
在闪亮的炉火旁俯下身,
低语,带一点悲哀,爱是怎样逃离
步上头顶的山巅
将他的脸埋在群星之中。
When you are old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep.
And nodding by the fire, take down this book.
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
How many loved your moments of glad grace.
And loved your beauty with love false or true.
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you.
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
——W.B.Yeats
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