|

楼主 |
发表于 2008-12-17 13:55
|
显示全部楼层
其中一篇:
LA Figlia Che Piange
T S Eliot
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair --
Lean on the garden urn---
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair---
clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise--
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave ,weave the sunlight in your hair.
So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve,
So he woula have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,
As the mind deserts the body it had used,
I should find
Some way incomparably light and deft
Some way we both should understand,
Simple and faithless as a smie and shake of the hand.
She turned away, but with the autumn weather
compelled my imagination many days,
many days and many hours.
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers,
And I wonder how they should have been together
I should have lost agesture and a pose
Sometimes the cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose. |
|