狄兰·托马斯诗选

　　Clown in the MoonMy tears are like the quiet driftOf petals from some magic rose；And all my grief flows from the riftOf unremembered skies and snows.I think， that if I touched the earth，It would crumble；It is so sad and beautiful，So tremendously like a dream.《月中的小丑》我的眼泪仿佛花瓣的飘零静静地飘自神奇的玫瑰；而我所有的忧伤飘自裂隙飘自雪花和遗忘的天空。我以为，如果我感动大地，大地就会崩溃；如此的悲伤而美丽，如此的相似，宛如一个梦。Our eunuch dreamsIOur eunuch dreams， all seedless in the light，Of light and love， the tempers of the heart，Whack their boys’ limbs，And， winding-footed in their shawl and sheet，Groom the dark brides， the widows of the nightFold in their arms.The shades of girls， all flavoured from their shrouds，When sunlight goes are sundered from the worm，The bones of men， the broken in their beds，By midnight pulleys that unhouse the tomb.IIIn this our age the gunman and his moll，Two one-dimensioned ghosts， love on a reel，Strange to our solid eye，And speak their midnight nothings as they swell；When cameras shut they hurry to their holeDown in the yard of day.They dance between their arclamps and our skull，Impose their shots， throwing the nights away；We watch the show of shadows kiss or kill，Flavoured of celluloid give love the lie.IIIWhich is the world? Of our two sleepings， whichShall fall awake when cures and their itchRaise up this red-eyed earth?Pack off the shapes of daylight and their starch，The sunny gentlemen， the Welshing rich，Or drive the night-geared forth.The photograph is married to the eye，Grafts on its bride one-sided skins of truth；The dream has sucked the sleeper of his faithThat shrouded men might marrow as they fly.IVThis is the world： the lying likeness ofOur strips of stuff that tatter as we moveLoving and being loth；The dream that kicks the buried from their sackAnd lets their trash be honoured as the quick.This is the world.