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I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
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译艾米莉 · 狄更生诗歌 No. 67 This entry was posted on 8/9/2006 4:12 PM and is filed under Poem Translation. THIS is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty. Her message is committed 5 To hands I cannot see; For love of her, sweet countrymen, Judge tenderly of me! 我将这封信写给世界， 永远不会写给我自己，—— 大自然报告的新闻很简单， 带着温柔的崇高。 她将消息交给 我看不到的双手； 为了她的爱，可爱的老乡们， 请温柔地评介我！ |
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