求莎士比亚的诗歌

莎士比亚的十四行诗，越多越好，要求英文而且要有中文翻译。

莎士比亚-十四行诗(节选)　　SONNET #1

　　by: William Shakespeare

　　FROM fairest creatures we desire increase,

　　That thereby beauty's rose might never die,

　　But as the riper should by time decease,

　　His tender heir might bear his memory;

　　But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,

　　Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,

　　Making a famine where abundance lies,

　　Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

　　Thout that are now the world's fresh ornament

　　And only herald to the gaudy spring,

　　Within thine own bud buriest thy content

　　And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.

　　Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

　　To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

　　对天生的尤物我们要求蕃盛，

　　以便美的玫瑰永远不会枯死，

　　但开透的花朵既要及时雕零，

　　就应把记忆交给娇嫩的后嗣；

　　但你，只和你自己的明眸定情，

　　把自己当燃料喂养眼中的火焰，

　　和自己作对，待自己未免太狠，

　　把一片丰沃的土地变成荒田。

　　你现在是大地的清新的点缀，

　　又是锦绣阳春的唯一的前锋，

　　为什么把富源葬送在嫩蕊里，

　　温柔的鄙夫，要吝啬，反而浪用？

　　可怜这个世界吧，要不然，贪夫，

　　就吞噬世界的份，由你和坟墓。

　　SONNET #2

　　by: William Shakespeare

　　WHEN forty winters shall besiege thy brow

　　And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,

　　Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,

　　Will be a tottered weed of small worth held:

　　Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,

　　Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,

　　To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes

　　Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.

　　How much more prasie deserved thy beauty's use

　　If thou couldst answer, 'This fair child of mine

　　Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'

　　Proving his beauty by succession thine.

　　This were to be new made when thou art old

　　And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st cold.

　　二

　　当四十个冬天围攻你的朱颜，

　　在你美的园地挖下深的战壕，

　　你青春的华服，那么被人艳羡，

　　将成褴褛的败絮，谁也不要瞧：

　　那时人若问起你的美在何处，

　　哪里是你那少壮年华的宝藏，

　　你说，"在我这双深陷的眼眶里，

　　是贪婪的羞耻，和无益的颂扬。"

　　你的美的用途会更值得赞美，

　　如果你能够说，"我这宁馨小童

　　将总结我的账，宽恕我的老迈，"

　　证实他的美在继承你的血统！

　　这将使你在衰老的暮年更生，

　　并使你垂冷的血液感到重温。

　　莎士比亚-十四行诗：Sonnet #3

　　SONNET #3

　　by: William Shakespeare

　　LOOK in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest

　　Now is the time that face should form another,

　　Whose fresh repair if now thou renewest,

　　Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.

　　For where is she so fair whose uneared womb

　　Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

　　Or who is he so fond will be the tomb

　　Of his self-love, to stop posterity?

　　Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee

　　Calls back the lovely April of her prime;

　　So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,

　　Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.

　　But if thou live rememb'red not to be,

　　Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

　　梁宗岱 译 -莎士比亚-十四行诗集

　　三

　　照照镜子，告诉你那镜中的脸庞，

　　说现在这庞儿应该另造一副；

　　如果你不赶快为它重修殿堂，

　　就欺骗世界，剥掉母亲的幸福。

　　因为哪里会有女人那么淑贞

　　她那处女的胎不愿被你耕种？

　　哪里有男人那么蠢，他竟甘心

　　做自己的坟墓，绝自己的血统？

　　你是你母亲的镜子，在你里面

　　她唤回她的盛年的芳菲四月：

　　同样，从你暮年的窗你将眺见--

　　纵皱纹满脸--你这黄金的岁月。

　　但是你活着若不愿被人惦记，

　　就独自死去，你的肖像和你一起

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep- No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep. To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death- The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns- puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. 究竟哪样更高贵，去忍受那狂暴的命运无情的摧残 还是挺身去反抗那无边的烦恼，把它扫一个干净。 去死，去睡就结束了，如果睡眠能结束我们心灵的创伤和肉体所承受的千百种痛苦，那真是生存求之不得的天大的好事。去死，去睡， 去睡，也许会做梦！ 唉，这就麻烦了，即使摆脱了这尘世 可在这死的睡眠里又会做些什么梦呢？真得想一想，就这点顾虑使人受着终身的折磨， 谁甘心忍受那鞭打和嘲弄，受人压迫，受尽侮蔑和轻视，忍受那失恋的痛苦，法庭的拖延，衙门的横征暴敛，默默无闻的劳碌却只换来多少凌辱。但他自己只要用把尖刀就能解脱了。 谁也不甘心，呻吟、流汗拖着这残生，可是对死后又感觉到恐惧，又从来没有任何人从死亡的国土里回来，因此动摇了，宁愿忍受着目前的苦难 而不愿投奔向另一种苦难。 顾虑就使我们都变成了懦夫，使得那果断的本色蒙上了一层思虑的惨白的容颜，本来可以做出伟大的事业，由于思虑就化为乌有了，丧失了行动的能力。