（一）And Death Shall Have No Dominion
死亡也并非是所向披靡
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clen bones gone，
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane，
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way，
Strapped to a wheel， yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two，
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan’t crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Through they be mad and dead as nails，
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down，
And death shall have no dominion.
死亡也并非是所向披靡
死亡也并非是所向披靡，
西沉的月亮融为一体；
骨头被剔净，而干净的骨头又消失，
他们的臂肘和脚底一定会有星星；
尽管他们发痴却一定会清醒，
尽管他们沉落海底却一定会重新升起；
尽管情人会失去，爱情却永生；
死亡也井非是所向披靡。
死亡也并非是所向披靡，
久卧在大海的迂曲漩涡之下，
他们不会像卷曲的风儿一样死去；
当筋骨松弛在刑架上挣扎，
虽受缚于车轮，却一定不会屈服；
他们手中的信仰会被折断，
独角兽似的邪恶刺穿他们的身躯；
纵然粉身碎骨，他们一定不会屈服，
死亡也并非是所向披靡。
死亡也并非是所向披靡。
海鸥不会再在他们身畔啼鸣，
波涛也不会高声拍打着堤岸；
曾经花枝招展的地方再也不会
另有鲜花昂首笑迎雨点的打击；
尽管他们疯狂，像硬瘤一般僵死，
一个个人物的头颅在雏菊丛中崭露；
在阳光中碎裂直到太阳崩裂，
死亡也并非是所向披靡。
（二）Twenty-Four Years
二十四个年头
Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave ln labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
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Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die， the sensual strut begun，
With my red veins full of money，
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance for as long as forever is.
二十四个年头
二十四个年头时时提醒我眼中的泪珠。
(将死者埋葬，以免他们走近分娩时的坟窟。)
我蜷缩在自然之门的腹沟内，犹如裁缝
就着食肉的太阳光
为一个旅程缝制一套尸衣。
我穿戴整齐去赴死，肉感鲜活的大步流星，
殷红的筋脉满当当地流淌着金钱，
在基本元素的小镇，我循着最终的方向
前行，永恒多深我走多远。
（三）Do not go gentle into that good night
不要温和地走进那个良夜
Do not go gentle into that good night，
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage， rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right，
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men， the last wave by， crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay，
Rage， rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight，
And learn， too late， they grieved it on its way，
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men， near death， who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay，
Rage， rage against the dying of the light.
And you， my father， there on the sad height，
Curse， bless， me now with your fierce tears， I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage， rage against the dying of the light.
不要温和地走进那个良夜
不要温和地走进那个良夜，
老年应当在日暮时燃烧咆哮；
怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
虽然智慧的人临终时懂得黑暗有理，
因为他们的话没有进发出闪电，他们
也并不温和地走进那个良夜。
善良的人，当最后一浪过去，高呼他们脆弱的善行
可能曾会多么光辉地在绿色的海湾里舞蹈，
怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
狂暴的人抓住并歌唱过翱翔的太阳，
懂得，但为时太晚，他们使太阳在途中悲伤，
也并不温和地走进那个良夜。
严肃的人，接近死亡，用炫目的视觉看出
失明的眼睛可以像流星一样闪耀欢欣，
怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
您啊，我的父亲．在那悲哀的高处．
现在用您的热泪诅咒我，祝福我吧．我求您
不要温和地走进那个良夜。
怒斥．怒斥光明的消逝。
（四）This Bread I Break
我切开的面包
This bread I break was once the oat，
This wine upon a foreign tree
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Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wind at night
Laid the crops low， broke the grape’s joy.
Once in this wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine，
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun， pulled the wind down.
This flesh you break， this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein，
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink， my bread you snap.
我切开的面包
这片我切开的面包曾是燕麦，
这生在外来树上的酒
曾果实垂落。
白天的男人，夜里的酒
使庄稼低下，葡萄欢乐。
这酒里夏天的血，
曾敲破饰着藤蔓的果肉。
这面包里，
燕麦曾在风中欢欣，
人打碎太阳，把风拉倒。
这切碎的肉，这让你饮的血
在血管中造成了孤独。
燕麦和葡萄天生具有
肉感的根与汁。
你撕咬我的面包，你喝我的酒。
（五）I Fellowed Sleep
我与睡眠结伴
I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain，
Let fall the tear of time; the sleeper’s eye，
Shifting to light， turned on me like a moon.
So， planning-heeled， I flew along my man
And dropped on dreaming and the upward sky.
I fled the earth and， naked， climbed the weather，
Reaching a second ground far from the stars;
And there we wept I and a ghostly other，
My mothers-eyed， upon the tops of trees;
I fled that ground as lightly as a feather.
‘My fathers’ globe knocks on its nave and sings.’
‘This that we tread was， too， your father’s land.’
‘But this we tread bears the angelic gangs
Sweet are their fathered faces in their wings.’
‘These are but dreaming men. Breathe， and they fade.’
Faded my elbow ghost， the mothers-eyed，
As， blowing on the angels， I was lost
On that cloud coast to each grave-grabbing shade;
I blew the dreaming fellows to their bed
Where still they sleep unknowing of their ghost.
Then all the matter of the living air
Raised up a voice， and， climbing on the words，
I spelt my vision with a hand and hair，
How light the sleeping on this soily star，
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How deep the waking in the worlded clouds.
There grows the hours’ ladder to the sun，
Each rung a love or losing to the last，
The inches monkeyed by the blood of man.
And old， mad man still climbing in his ghost，
My fathers’ ghost is climbing in the rain.
我与睡眠结伴
我与睡眠结伴，它吻着我的脑筋，
让时间之泪垂下；睡者的眼睛
朝向光，像月亮照着我。
布置好紧跟，我沿人们飞翔，
跌入梦或向天空。
我逃出地球，全身裸体；攀登天空，
到达远离星辰的第二级；
那儿我们哭泣，我及另一个死魂，
我母亲的眼睛闪耀在高高的树梢；
我已逃离大地，轻若羽毛。
我父亲的球叩响轮觳与合唱。
我们踩着的土地也是你父亲的土地，
我们踩着的这土地承受了一群天使，
他们羽翼中父性的脸如此甜蜜。
这是些做梦人，呼吸并凋零。
凋零，我肘部的幽灵，母亲的眼睛
吹动天使，我失落于云的海岸，
那里紧靠唠叨的坟墓的阴影；
我把这些梦者吹上床，
他们继续沉睡，不知魂魄。
活跃于空气中所有的物质
提高了声音，在词汇之上攀登，
我用手和头发拼出我的幻象。
多么轻，睡在这沾泥的星星上。
多么深，醒自这满世界的云层。
那长高的时间的梯子升向太阳，
鸣响爱情或丢失，直到最后一次。
人的血一寸寸嘲弄。
一个老而疯的人仍在攀登他的亡魂。
而我父亲的亡魂在雨中攀登。
（六）The Force that Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower
通过绿色茎管催动花朵的力
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers， but the fallen blood