Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
by William Wordsworth
I
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
II
The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
III
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday;--
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!
IV
Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And the Children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:--
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
--But there's a Tree, of many, one,
A single Field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
V
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
VI
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely Nurse doth all she can
To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.
VII
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little Actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his "humorous stage"
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.
VIII
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul's immensity;
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
IX
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest--
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realised,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
X
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
XI
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
永生的信息
威廉·华兹华斯
1
还记得当年，大地的千形万态，
绿野，丛林，滔滔的流水，
在我看来
仿佛都呈现天国的明辉——
赫赫的荣光，梦境的新姿异彩。
可是如今呢，光景已不似当年：
不论白天或晚上，
不论我转向何方，
当年所见的情境如今已不能重见。
2
虹霓显而复隐，
玫瑰秀色宜人；
也空澄洁无云，
明月怡然环顾；
满天星斗荧荧，
湖水清亮悦目；
旭日方升，金辉闪射；
然而，不论我身在何方，
我总觉得：大地的荣光已暗淡减负。
3
听这些鸟儿，把欢乐之歌高唱，
瞧这些小小羔羊
应着鼓声而蹦跳，
惟独我，偏偏有愁思来到心间；
沉吟咏叹了一番，把愁思排遣，
于是乎心神重旺。
悬崖上，似号角齐鸣，飞泻着瀑布；
再不许愁思搅扰这大好时光；
听回声此起彼伏，响彻山冈，
清风睡醒了，从田野向我吹拂，
天地间喜气盈盈；
海洋和陆地
都忘情作乐，似罪如迷，
鸟兽也以五月的豪情
把佳节良辰欢庆。
快乐的牧童！
高声喊叫吧，让我听听你快乐的叫声！
4
我听到你们一声声互相呼唤——
你们，幸福的生灵！我看到：
和你们一起，天庭也开颜喜笑；
我心中分享你们的狂欢，
我头上带着节日的花冠，
你们丰饶的福泽，我一一耳濡目染。
这样的日子里怎容得愁闷！
温馨的五月，明丽的清晨，
大地已装扮一新，
四下里远远近近，
溪谷间，山坡下，
都有孩子们采集鲜花；
和煦的阳光照临下界，
母亲怀抱里婴儿跳跃；
我听着，听着，满心喜悦；
然而，有一颗老树，在林间独立，
有一片田园，在我的眼底，
它们低语着，谈着已逝的往昔；
我脚下一株三色堇
也在把旧话重提：
到哪儿去了，那些幻异的光彩？
如今在哪儿，往日的荣光和梦境？
5
我们的诞生其实是入睡，是忘却：
与躯体同来的魂魄——生命的星辰，
原先在异域安歇，
此时从远方来临；
并未把前缘淡忘无余，
并非赤条条身无寸缕，
我们披祥云，来自上帝身边——
那本是我们的家园；
年幼时，天国的明辉闪耀在眼前；
当儿童渐浙成长，牢笼的阴影
便渐渐向他逼近，
然而那明辉，那流布明辉的光源，
他还能欣然望见：
少年时代，他每日由东向西，
也还能领悟造化的神奇，
幻异的光影依然
是他旅途的同伴；
及至他长大成人，明辉便泯灭
消溶于暗淡流光，平凡日月。
6
尘世自有她一套世俗的心愿，
她把世俗的欢娱罗列在膝前；
这保姆怀着绝不卑微的志向，
俨若有慈母心肠，
她竭尽权利，诱使世人
（她抚育的孩子，收留的居民）
忘掉昔年常见的神圣荣光，
忘掉昔年惯往的天国殿堂。
7
瞧这个孩子，沉浸在早年的欢乐里，
六岁的宝贝，小不点，玲珑乖巧！
小手做出的玩意儿摆布在周遭，
母亲的频频亲吻叫他厌腻，
父亲的灼灼目光向他闪耀！
他身边有他勾画的小小图形，
那是他人生憧憬的零星片断，
是他用新学的手艺描摹的场景：
一场庆典，或一席婚筵。
一次葬礼，或一番悼念；
这些，盘绕于他的心灵，
这些，他编成歌曲哼唱；
尔后，他另换新腔
去谈论爱情，谈论斗争和事业；
过不了多久时光，，
他又把这些抛却，
以新的豪情和欢悦，
这位小演员，把新的台词诵读，
出入于“谐剧舞台”，演各色人物
（全都是人生女神携带的臣仆）
直演到老迈龙钟，疯瘫麻木，
仿佛他一生的业绩
便是不停的模拟。
8
你的外在身形远远比不上
内在灵魂的宏广；
卓越的哲人！保全了异禀英才，
你是盲人中间的明眸慧眼，
不听也不说，谛视着永恒之海，
永恒的灵智时时在眼前闪现。
超凡的智者，有福的先知！
真理就在你心头栖止
（为寻求真理，我们辛劳了一世，
寻得了，又在墓穴的幽冥里亡失）；
“永生”是凛然不容回避的存在，
它将你抚育，像阳光抚育万物，
它将你荫庇，像主人荫庇奴仆；
在你看来，
墓穴无非是一张寂静的眠床，
不知白昼，不见阳光，
让我们在那儿沉思，在那儿等待。
孩子呵！如今你位于生命的高峰，
因保有天赋的自由而享有尊荣，
为什么你竟懵然与天恩作对，
为什么迫不及待地吁请“年岁”
早早把命定的重轭加在你身上？
快了！你的灵魂要熬受尘世的苦楚，
你的身心要承载习俗的重负，
像冰霜一样凌厉，像生活一样深广！
9
幸而往昔的余烬里
还有些火星留下，
性灵还不曾忘记
匆匆一现的昙花！
对往昔岁月的追思，在我的心底
唤起了历久不渝的赞美和谢意；
倒不是为了这些最该赞美的：
快乐和自由——孩子的天真信仰；
不论他是忙是闲，总想要腾飞的
新近在他心坎里形成的希望；
我歌唱、赞美、感谢，
并不是为了这些；
而是为了儿时对感官世界、
对世间万物寻根究底的盘诘；
为了失落的、消亡的一切；
漂泊不定的旅人的困惑犹疑；
为了崇高的天性——在它面前
俗骨凡胎似罪犯惊惶战栗；
为了早岁的情思，
为了迷蒙的往事——
它们，不论怎样，
总是我们整个白昼的光源，
总是我们视野里主要的光焰；
有它们把我们扶持，把我们哺养，
我们喧嚣扰攘的岁月便显得
不过是永恒静穆之中的片刻；
醒了的真理再不会亡失：
不论冷漠或愚痴，
成人或童稚，
世间与欢乐为敌的一切，
都休想把这些真理抹煞或磨灭！
因此，在天郎气清的季节里，
我们虽幽居内地，
灵魂却远远望得见永生之海：
这海水把我们送来此间，
一会儿便可以登临彼岸，
看得见岸边孩子们游玩比赛，
听得见终古不息的海浪滚滚而来。
10
唱吧，鸟儿们，唱一曲欢乐之歌！
让这些小小羊羔
应着鼓声而蹦跳！
我们也想与你们同了，
会玩会唱的一群！
今天，你们从内心
尝到了五月的欢欣！
尽管那一度荧煌耀眼的明辉
已经永远从我的视野里消退，
尽管谁也休想再觅回
鲜花往日的荣光，绿草昔年的明媚；
我们却无需悲痛，往昔的影响
仍有留存，要从中汲取力量：
留存于早岁萌生的同情心——
它既已萌生，边永难消泯；
留存于抚慰心灵的思想——
它源于人类的苦难创伤；
留存于洞察死生的信念——
他来自富于哲理启示的童年
11
哦！流泉，丛树，绿野，青山！
我们之间的情谊永不会中断！
你们的伟力深入我心灵的中心；
我虽舍弃了儿时的那种欢欣，
却更加亲近你们，受你们陶冶。
我喜爱奔流的溪涧，胜过当初
我脚步和它们同样轻快的时节；
一日只始的晨光，纯净澄洁，
也依然引我爱慕；
对于审视过人间生死的双眸，
落日周围的霞光云影
色调也显得庄严素净；
又一段征途跨过了，又一曲凯旋高奏。
感谢人类的心灵哺养了我们，
感谢这心灵的欢愉、忧惧和温存；
对于我，最平淡的野花也能启发
最深沉的思绪——眼泪所不能表达。
（飞白 译）
威廉·华兹华斯简介
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