一

I

他消失在了死寂的冬天：

He disappeared in the dead of winter:

溪流冻结，机场近于荒芜，

The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted,

积雪模糊了露天的塑像；

And snow disfigured the public statues;

水银柱跌入垂死之日的口腔。

The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day.

我们所有的仪表都同意

What instruments we have agree

他死去的日子是阴暗又寒冷。

The day of his death was a dark cold day.

远在他的疾病外

Far from his illness

狼群奔跑穿越常青的树林，

The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests,

农家的河流不被时髦的码头诱惑；

The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays;

哀悼的口舌

By mourning tongues

将诗人的死同他的诗歌分开。

The death of the poet was kept from his poems.

可对他这是最后一个身为自己的下午，

But for him it was his last afternoon as himself,

充满护士和流言的下午；

An afternoon of nurses and rumours;

他身体的各省份全部叛乱，

The provinces of his body revolted,

心灵的广场空空荡荡，

The squares of his mind were empty,

沉默侵袭郊区，

Silence invaded the suburbs,

他感官的大军溃退；他成为了他的仰慕者。

The current of his feeling failed; he became his admirers.

现在他被散播到一百个城市

Now he is scattered among a hundred cities

被彻底地交托给陌生的情感，

And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections,

到另一种丛林去寻找他的欢愉

To find his happiness in another kind of wood

为一种异国的伦理而受罚。

And be punished under a foreign code of conscience.

死人的言辞

The words of a dead man

在生者的心中被修饰。

Are modified in the guts of the living.

但在明日的重要和喧嚣中

But in the importance and noise of to-morrow

当中介在交易所的地板上野兽般咆哮，

When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the Bourse,

穷人经受那些他们久已熟悉的苦痛

And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed,

而囚于自我的人自以为自由

And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom,

将有千百人想起这一天

A few thousand will think of this day

就像某人想起自己稍事不同的某天。

As one thinks of a day when one did something slightly unusual.

我们所有的仪表都同意

What instruments we have agree

他死去的日子是阴暗又寒冷。

The day of his death was a dark cold day.

二

II

你和我们一样蠢；你的才华却活下来：

You were silly like us; your gift survived it all:

活过了贵妇的教区，身躯的衰朽，

The parish of rich women, physical decay,

你自己。疯狂的爱尔兰把你痛进诗歌。

Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.

如今爱尔兰的疯狂和天气依旧，

Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still,

因为诗歌没有使任何事发生：它活在

For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives

它缔造的山谷，那儿连官员都

In the valley of its making where executives

无意涉足，它流向南方

Would never want to tamper, flows on south

远离孤独的牧场和繁忙的伤悲，

From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,

那些我们信仰并葬身的天然小镇；它活过了

Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives,

一种发生的方式，一张嘴。

A way of happening, a mouth.

三

III

大地啊，请接纳贵宾

Earth, receive an honoured guest:

   威廉·叶芝在此安寝。

William Yeats is laid to rest.

让爱尔兰的船只泊停

Let the Irish vessel lie

   它的诗歌已经倾尽。

Emptied of its poetry.

时间不曾宽容

In the nightmare of the dark

勇敢和天真的人，

All the dogs of Europe bark,

   并在一星期里漠视

And the living nations wait,

   一具美丽的身体，

Each sequestered in its hate;

却崇拜语言，饶恕

Intellectual disgrace

每个它赖以生存的人；

Stares from every human face,

   原谅怯懦，自大，

And the seas of pity lie

   把荣耀献在他们脚下。

Locked and frozen in each eye.

时间以奇怪的理由

Follow, poet, follow right

原谅吉卜林和他的观点

To the bottom of the night,

   也将原谅保罗·克洛岱尔，

With your unconstraining voice

   因为他写得好。

Still persuade us to rejoice;

阴暗笼罩的噩梦里

With the farming of a verse

全欧洲的恶犬齐吠，

Make a vineyard of the curse,

   活着的民族都等待，

Sing of human unsuccess

   在仇恨中被各自隔开；

In a rapture of distress;

耻辱中的智识

In the deserts of the heart

从每张人类的面孔向外注视，

Let the healing fountain start,

   而怜悯的海洋被

In the prison of his days

   封锁和冻结到每只眼睛。

Teach the free man how to praise.

跟上，诗人，跟上来

跟到黑夜的最深处来，

   因你无拘束的声音，

   仍然说服我们欢欣；

耕种诗歌的韵律，

将咒语建成葡萄园，

   在忧虑的狂喜中

   歌唱人类的不成功。

在心灵的沙漠中，

让治愈的泉水喷涌，

  在他那时代的牢狱里，

  教自由人学会如何赞美。