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劳作是祷告

凌风 译

 

不要踌躇梦想前途在望,
不要为扰人的思虑悲泣忧伤;
听啊,宇宙万有深沉的乐音合唱,
  持续不停的,上升直达天堂!
海洋的波浪从来不停止激扬,
微小的种子从来不停止生长,
更多更多的玫瑰欢心绽放,
  直到从它的干茎不再供取营养。

“劳作是敬拜!”知更鸟在歌唱;
“劳作是敬拜!”野蜂在飞翔;
听!雄辩的低语跳跃作响,
  向你的灵魂说话从自然伟大的心房。
从流动的乌云滋育的甘霖沛降,
从粗糙的土块芬芳的花朵开放,
从微小的昆虫丰美的珊瑚宝藏,
  只有人,计画中的责任不肯承当。

劳作是生命!停滞的死水会臭腐,
閒懒常是带来失望和痛苦;
保持钟表的弹簧紧张否则黑锈侵蛀,
  花儿垂萎死亡是在窒闷的正午。
劳作是光荣!—飞行的云彩光耀;
只有波动的翅膀能夠变化並闪烁;
懒惰的心惟有黑暗的前途来恐吓,
  弹奏那甜美的琴键将使它合调。

劳作是安息—招呼我们从忧苦出离;
从琐细的烦恼中迎接我们进入安息;
使我们胜过犯罪的引诱得以安逸;
  安然脫离世界的炫惑不陷於悲惨失迷。
劳作,—清稳的睡眠将等在你的枕头;
劳作,—你将能乘驾忧虑翻腾的逆流;
不要在垂柳的荫下倒臥忧愁,
  以刚勇的心和坚定意志劳作不休。

劳作是健康!看,那农夫在收割,
他的血管中流动着生命跳跃的脈搏!
他坚毅自豪的挥动着強壮的臂膊,
  在迅快的镰刀引导下如阳光赫赫。
劳作是财富,—珍珠在海中生长;
蚕茧纺出了王后华美的衣裳;
从微小的橡实中树林呼啸茁壮,
  在大理石块中有宮殿和雕像蘊藏。

不要消沉!虽羞恥,罪,和痛苦围绕你!
勇敢的摔脫那冰冷的锁链捆绑你!
仰望那洁淨的天堂迎着你!
  不要满足於在你黑暗中安息,—肉体!
劳力作些善事,虽然是那样缓慢!
珍爱一些花朵,虽然是那样卑贱!
劳作!—所有的劳作都是尊贵和神圣;
  把伟大的事工当作祷告献给你的神。

法兰丝.欧思葛
(Frances Sargent Osgood, nee Locke, 1811-1850)
美国诗人
夫Samuel Stillman Osgood,画家

 

To Labor Is To Pray

Pause not to dream of the future before us;
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us;
Hark how Creation's deep, musical chorus,
   Unintermitting, goes up into heaven!
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing;
Never the little seed stops in its growing;
More and more richly the rose heart keeps glowing,
   Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.

"Labor is worship!" the robin is singing;
"Labor is worship!" the wild bee is ringing;
Listen! that eloquent whisper, upspringing,
   Speaks to thy soul from out nature's great heart.
From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower;
From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower;
From the small insect, the rich coral bower;
   Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.

Labor is life! 'tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth;
   Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labor is glory! —the flying cloud lightens;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens,
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens,
   Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune!

Labor is rest—from the sorrows that greet us;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us;
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us;
   Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.
Work, —and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work, —thou shalt ride o'er Care's coming billow;
Lie not down 'neath Woe's weeping willow,
   Work with a stout heart and resolute will!

Labor is health! Lo, the husbandman reaping,
How through his veins goes the life-current leaping!
How his strong arm in its stalworth pride sweeping,
   True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides.
Labor is wealth, —in the sea the pearl groweth;
Rich the queen's robe from the cocoon floweth;
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth;
   Temple and statue the marble block hides.

Droop not! though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee!
Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee!
Look to the pure heaven smiling beyond thee!
   Rest not content in thy darkness, —a clod!
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly!
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly!
Labor! —all labor is noble and holy;
   Let thy great deed be thy prayer to thy God.
   


Frances Sargent Osgood, nee Locke (1811-1850)
American poet

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2019.10

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