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夜之颂歌
丹尼尔·亨利·登内希
黑夜啊黑夜，庄严的夜，
大地沉入寂静的世界，
灿烂的天空像恢宏的圣殿，
星星的族类朝着神坛跪拜参谒；
黑夜啊黑夜，魔幻的夜，
耀眼的白昼不再肆虐，
梦幻精灵扬起无数白帆，
船队驶离睡眠海岸冰清玉洁！
啊，欢乐、自由我的夜，
驾驭清风去天际追猎；
空气如新娘的拥抱一样甜蜜，
滴露的夜空挂起一轮明月！
黑夜啊黑夜，迷人的夜，
长春花丛中喷泉倾泻，
在催眠的氛围里温柔流淌，
小夜曲奏响，振奋、激越。
白皙的双臂无力地倚着花格窗台，
明亮的双眸在葡萄藤蔓里光彩摇曳；
像山中柔和的溪水淙淙，
窗下语音各异的骑士赞赏不迭；
眼里充满爱念，
艳羡的叹息相继不绝，
他们争相把一颗真心献上，
言词斩金截铁；
唯恐她倾听的耳朵不曾听清，
只怕她期待的神情未能察觉。
黑夜啊黑夜，宁静的夜，
跪拜的后人魂牵先哲的梦穴；
母亲两眼凝视着摇篮，
洒泪只为婴儿如鲜花凋谢；
黑夜啊黑夜，平和的夜，
战场的厮杀全然寂灭，
刀光剑影与号角不再，
俯视堆积如山的尸体月亮悲痛欲绝；
哨兵孤独地晃动，
面颊坚定如铁，
闪烁的泪花隐含酸楚，
尽管内心无所惧怯；
终究不是白昼，
情绪稍欠刚烈。
黑夜啊黑夜，神圣的夜，
让我忆起激荡甜蜜的情结，
可她的声音带着忧伤，
一如儿时在母亲怀里听过民谣的呜咽。
她所有的美丽久已消退，
往日发如纯金，面似白雪，
红唇讲述以往的故事，
眼光如夏日的晴空皎洁。
啊，夜之精灵，
你的辉光撒遍世界，
照亮幽谷、溪流、丛林，一切一切；
可是你对诗人昏暗的居室情有独钟，
专让美丽的人们在室内无法安歇。
A Song for the Night
Daniel Henry Deniehy
O the Night, the Night, the solemn Night,
When Earth is bound with her silent zone,
And the spangled sky seems a temple wide,
Where the star-tribes kneel at the Godhead's throne;
O the Night, the Night, the wizard Night,
When the garish reign of day is o'er,
And the myriad barques of the dream-elves come
In a brightsome fleet from Slumber's shore!
O the Night for me,
When blithe and free,
Go the zephyr-hounds on their airy chase;
When the moon is high
In the dewy sky,
And the air is sweet as a bride's embrace!
O the Night, the Night, the charming Night!
From the fountain side in the myrtle shade,
All softly creep on the slumbrous air
The waking notes of the serenade;
While bright eyes shine 'mid the lattice-vines,
And white arms droop o'er the sculptured sills,
And accents fall to the knights below,
Like the babblings soft of mountain rills.
Love in their eyes,
Love in their sighs,
Love in the heave of each lily-bright bosom;
In words so clear,
Lest the listening ear
And the waiting heart may lose them.
O the silent Night, when the student dreams
Of kneeling crowds round a sage's tomb;
And the mother's eyes o'er the cradle rain
Tears for her baby's fading bloom;
O the peaceful Night, when stilled and o'er
Is the charger's tramp on the battle plain,
And the bugle's sound and the sabre's flash,
While the moon looks sad over heaps of slain;
And tears bespeak
On the iron cheek
Of the sentinel lonely pacing,
Thoughts which roll
Through his fearless soul,
Day's sterner mood replacing.
O the sacred Night, when memory comes
With an aspect mild and sweet to me,
But her tones are sad as a ballad air
In childhood heard on a nurse's knee;
And round her throng fair forms long fled,
With brows of snow and hair of gold,
And eyes with the light of summer skies,
And lips that speak of the days of old.
Wide is your flight,
O spirits of Night,
By strath, and stream, and grove,
But most in the gloom
Of the Poet's room
Ye choose, fair ones, to rove.
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