sailing to byzantium
驶向拜占庭

that is no country for old men. the young
in one another's arms, birds in the trees-
those dying generations - at their song,
the salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
caught in that sensual music all neglect
monuments of unageing intellect.
an aged man is but a paltry thing,
a tattered coat upon a stick, unless
soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
for every tatter in its mortal dress,
nor is there singing school but studying
monuments of its own magnificence;
and therefore i have sailed the seas and come
to the holy city of byzantium.
o sages standing in god's holy fire
as in the gold mosaic of a wall,
come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
and be the singing-masters of my soul.
consume my heart away; sick with desire
and fastened to a dying animal
it knows not what it is; and gather me
into the artifice of eternity.
once out of nature i shall never take
my bodily form from any natural thing,
but such a form as grecian goldsmiths make
of hammered gold and gold enamelling
to keep a drowsy emperor awake;
or set upon a golden bough to sing
to lords and ladies of byzantium
of what is past, or passing, or to come.

那不是老年人的国度，年轻人
在彼此的怀里，这垂死的世代，
鸟儿在树梢纵情歌唱，
鲑鱼瀑布，挤满鲭鱼的海洋，
鱼，兽，家禽，赞美整个夏天
无论生育、诞生还是死亡的一切存在。
人人都沉溺在感官的音乐中
而忽略了永恒理智的纪念碑。

老年人是微不足道的，
仅仅是竹竿挑起的一件破袍子，除非
他的灵魂拍手作歌，
为那腐朽皮囊撕成的每一块碎片放声歌唱。
这儿没有声乐学校只有研究
纪念碑上所记载的它的辉煌。

于是我远渡重洋来到
拜占庭那个神圣的城堡。

哦，智者站在上帝的圣火中
就像立于金碧辉煌的墙上，
从圣火中走出，在环流中旋转，
成为我灵魂的歌唱教师吧。
将我的心焚化吧，情欲已使它病入膏肓，
它被绑在垂死的肉身上
早已忘记自己是谁，
请赐予我永恒生命的秘诀吧！

一旦脱离自然界，我将不能
从任何实物中获得我的身形，
却能以这样的方式存在：
如果古希腊的金匠反复锤炼金子
使黄金更加光彩照人
供给昏昏欲睡的国王使他保持清醒，
或者镶嵌在金枝上为拜占庭的贵族和夫人们唱歌，
唱的是拜占庭的过去、现在、未来。