颂诗译选
劳动歌
啊，他们难得明白真正的满足快乐，
那些人投向豪华丰满的怀抱，吃肥美反而受损害。
啊，他们难得明白辛劳換来酣眠的喜乐福分，
那些人舒身在怠惰的苦刑台上，尝受睡觉的摧坏。
沒有什么盼望，或劳作；无所叹息，或得着；
沒有什么燃起心胸和头脑，像闪电那样的活泼；
沒有什么噓气扬波，打破他那单调的生活；
在麻木，昏睡，厌倦，悲哀，死亡之外再沒有什么。
但人性之子有福了，在人中最快乐无比，
他们使锤或凿或铅笔，使舵或犁头或笔，
从生命的早晨存着盼望劳作一天又一天，
赢得家庭和亲爱的神圣 — 敬爱的儿女妻子。
挥动着辛勤的锤子，迅急敲击利凿响声，
劳动者的心跳跃不曾振荡过王者的心胸，—
他是真统治者和征服者，同类中的真王，
敢於直视強劲的世界，有刚勇搏斗的臂膀。
麦加锡（Denis Florence MacCarthy）爱尔兰诗人。
Labour Song
From The Bell-Founder
Ah! little they know of true happiness, they whom satiety fills,
Who, flung on the rich breast of luxury, eat of the rankness that
kills.
Ah! little they know of the blessedness toil-purchased slumber
enjoys
Who, stretched on the hard rack of indolence, taste of the sleep that
destroys;
Nothing to hope for, or labour for; nothing to sigh for, or gain;
Nothing to light in its vividness, lightning-like, bosom and brain;
Nothing to break life's monotony, rippling it o'er with its breath:
Nothing but dullness and lethargy, weariness, sorrow, and death!
But blessed that child of humanity, happiest man among men,
Who, with hammer or chisel or pencil, with rudder or ploughshare
or pen,
Laboureth ever and ever with hope through the morning of life,
Winning home and its darling divinities,— love-worshipped
children and wife.
Round swings the hammer of industry, quickly the sharp chisel
rings,
And the heart of the toiler has throbbings that stir not the bosom of
kings,—
He the true ruler and conqueror, he the true king of his race,
Who nerveth his arm for life's combat, and looks the strong world
in the face.
Denis Florence MacCarthy, 1817-1882
Irish poet