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战场遗蹟

凌风 译

 

什么,那是一场梦?只有我孤单
  在冷夜里,凄迷的雨天?
噓!—啊,那只是流水的呜咽;
  我被遗留在后边,被杀的人中间。

是的,我清楚的记起!
  我们相遇从不同的阵地;
我们一同使用武器又倒下去,
  我的刀刺进他颤动的心里。

在幽暗的柏树下,这件事作成,
  太昏黑中看不清他的面貌;
但我听见他垂死的呻吟声声,
  他给我紧紧的冰冷拥抱。

他对我说过话,但我听不清
  他所说的,因为大炮雷鸣;
但我惧怕要死,我的心变冷,—
  神啊,我曾听过那语声!

我曾听过在我们母亲的膝前,
  当我们一同祝诵晚祷呢喃!
我的兄弟!但愿我替你死,—
  这重压过於我灵魂所能负担!

我把嘴脣贴近他殭冷的脸边,
  求他表明给我知道他的赦免,
用言语或手势:他已口不能言,
  但他把冰冷的面孔紧偎我的脸。

我的血从肋旁伤口急速的流,
  我忘卻伤痛有一段时候,
好像又回到童年在小湖上,
  两个孩子同盪着一只小舟。

然后,在梦中,只有我们站在
  阴影降下的森林小径边;
我又听见那震颤的声音,
  和他溫柔的话別再见。

但那次的分別,是在许多年前,
  他离家飘流到異乡的土地;
我们亲爱的老娘永不会知道,
  今夜死在他弟兄的手里。

  * * * * *

来掩埋屍体的兵士们
  不曾打扰他们最后的拥抱,
放他们脸对脸,心对着心,
  在那里长眠到末日审判来到。

 

Left on The Battle-field

What, was it a dream? am I all alone
  In the dreary night and the drizzling rain?
Hist!— ah, it was only the river's moan;
  They have left me behind with the mangled slain.

Yes, now I remember it all too well!
  We met, from the battling ranks apart;
Together our weapons flashed and fell,
  And mine was sheathed in his quivering heart.

In the cypress gloom, where the deed was done,
  It was too dark to see his face;
But I heard his death-groans, one by one,
  And he holds me still in a cold embrace.

He spoke but once, and I could not hear
  The words he said, for the cannon's roar;
But my heart grew cold with a deadly fear,—
  O God! I had heard that voice before!

Had heard it before at our mother's knee,
  When we lisped the words of our evening prayer!
My brother! would I had died for thee,—
  This burden is more than my soul can bear!

I pressed my lips to his death-cold cheek,
  And beffed him to show me, by word or sign,
That he knew and forgave me: he could not speak,
  But he nestled his poor cold face to mine.

The blood flowed fast from my wounded side,
  And then for a while I forgot my pain,
And over the lakelet we seemed to glide
  In our little boat, two boys again.

And then, in my dream we stood alone
  On a forest path where the shadows fell;
And I heard again the tremulus tone,
  And the tender words of his last farewell.

But that parting was years, long years ago,
  He wandered away to a foreign land;
And our dear old mother will never know
  That he died to-night by his brother's hand.

  * * * * *

The soldiers who buried the dead away
  Disturbed not the clasp of that last embrace,
But laid them to sleep till the judgment-day,
  Heart folded to heart, and face to face.

Sarah T. Bolton(1814-1893)

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