Ode to the West Wind
[英]波西·比希·雪莱
Percy Bysshe Shelley
一
啊，狂野的西风，你这秋日生命的气息，
你没有形体，却把一切枯叶横扫，
犹如巫师吓得鬼魅纷纷溃离，
褐黄，墨黑，棕灰，与猩红，
一群群染满了瘟疫：哦，是你——
驾车把生翼的幼种，向黑暗的冬床遣送，
让它们躺在那儿，寒冷而低迷，
个个如同坟墓中的尸体，直到
你那碧蓝的春姑娘向着睡梦中的大地
吹响她的号角（吹拂着幼嫩的芽蕾，
犹如牛群羊群在空中觅食），
让山峦与原野充满鲜活的色彩和芳菲：
狂野的精灵，你四处游**，
是摧残者，也是捍卫者；听啊，听！
二
你乘着气流，穿过高空的一片混乱，
浮云被扯散，像大地上的枯叶一般，
挣脱天空和海洋交错的树干，
成为雷雨和闪电的使者：洒落在
你波涛汹涌的碧蓝海面，
犹如盛怒的狂女飘散开来
耀眼的蓬发，从遥远而朦胧的地平线边缘，
一直飘到天穹顶端，
那步步逼近的暴风雨的锁链。
你唱着垂死前的挽歌，而这厚重的黑夜
将是那巨大陵墓的穹顶，
那里你的千钧之力正在聚集，
从你那浑然的气势中，将迸涌
黑色的雨，迸涌火焰，迸涌冰雹：啊，听！
三
你把那蓝色的地中海，
从夏日之梦中唤醒，他在这里
被澄澈的水流拍打入睡，
在巴亚海湾的浮石岛边，
梦见了古老的宫殿和尖塔，
在水光日影中摇颤，
遍地的青苔，遍地的花朵
芳香醉人，这感觉却无法描绘！
为了让路给你，大西洋的汹涌波涛
轰然开裂，而那大洋深处，
海底的花卉和泥染的林木，
枝叶寥寥，已然干枯，
听闻你的声音，他们顿时惊恐失色，
颤抖中花枝零落：啊，听！
四
如果我是枯叶，你会将我举起；
如果我是流云，我就与你共舞；
如果我是浪花，在你的威力下喘息，
分享着你强健的脉搏，只是自由
稍逊于你，哦，不受羁绊的你！
如果我青春年少，便可太空遨游，
并与你为伴。那时，若超过
你飞速的步伐，也算不得奇迹，
我也不至如现在这般焦灼，
苦苦乞求。哦，请把我托起，
像海浪，像落叶，像浮云一样，将我托起！
我跌落于生活的荆棘，鲜血淋漓！
这被岁月的重负羁绊压制的灵魂，
竟与你这般相像：高傲、机敏、桀骜不驯。
五
让我做你的竖琴吧，如同那树林：
哪怕如它一样枝叶凋尽！
你定能奏起恢弘激昂之音，
凭借我和树林深沉的秋之意蕴：
悲怆中却包含着甜蜜。愿我成为你，愿你强悍的精神
化为我的灵魂！愿我成为你，和你一样地强劲！
把我僵死的思想扫出这宇宙，
如同凋零的枝叶催发新的生命，
让我这诗歌的诅咒，
如同火塘里飞出的火星，
尚未熄灭，把我的话传遍人间，
让预言的号角在我唇间奏鸣，
吹向那沉睡的大地！哦，西风，
如果冬天来了，春天还会远吗？
Ⅰ
O wild West Wind， thou breath of Autumn's being，
Thou， from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven， like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing，
Yellow， and black， and pale， and hectic red，
Pestilence-stricken multitudes：O thou，
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds， where they lie cold and low，
Each like a corpse within its grave， until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth， and fill
（Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air）
With living hues and odours plain and hill：
Wild Spirit， which art moving everywhere；
Destroyer and Preserver；hear， oh， hear！
II
Thou on whose stream， mid the steep sky's commotion，
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed，
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean，
Angels of rain and lightning：there are spread
On the blue surface of thine aery surge，
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head
Of some fierce Maenad， even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height，
The locks of the approaching storm， Thou dirge
Of the dying year， to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre，
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
Of vapours， from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain， and fire， and hail will burst：oh， hear！
III
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean， where he lay，
Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams，
Beside a Pumice Isle in Baiae's bay，
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day，
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet， the sense faints picturing them！Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers
Cleave themselves into chasms， while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean， know
Thy voice， and suddenly grow gray with fear，
And tremble and despoil themselves：oh， hear！
IV
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear；
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee；
A wave to pant beneath thy power， and share
The impulse of thy strength， only less free
Than thou， O uncontrollable！If even
I were as in my boyhood， and could be
The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven，
As then， when to outstrip thy skiey speed
Scarce seemed a vision；I would ne'er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh， lift me as a wave， a leaf， a cloud！
I fall upon the thorns of life！I bleed！
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee：tameless， and swift， and proud.
V
Make me thy lyre， even as the forest is：
What if my leaves are falling like its own！
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep， autumnal tone，
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou， Spirit fierce，
My spirit！Be thou me， impetuous one！
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth！
And， by the incantation of this verse，
Scatter， as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks， my words among mankind！
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy！O， Wind，
If Winter comes， can Spring be far behind？