My soul is dark—Oh! quickly string
我灵魂阴郁——快调好琴弦，
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
趁我还受得住聆听乐曲；
And let thy gentle fingers fling
用轻柔手指向我耳边
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
弹弄出喁喁细诉的低语。
If in this heart a hope be dear,
只要这颗心还有所希图，
That sound shall charm it forth again;
乐音会再度将它诱导；
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
只要这双眼还藏着泪珠，
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.
会流出，不再把脑髓煎熬。
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
让琴曲旋律深沉而激越，
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
欢快的调门请暂且躲开；
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
乐师呵，让我哭泣吧，否则，
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
沉重的心呵，会爆成碎块！
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
它原是悲哀所哺育，后来
And ached in sleepless silence long;
长期在失眠中熬受痛楚；
And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst,
命运给了它最坏的安排：
And break at once—or yield to song.
碎裂，——要么，被歌声收伏。 |
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