早安
我真不明白；你我相爱之前
在于什么？莫非我们还没断奶，
只知吮吸田园之乐像孩子一般？
或是在七个睡眠者的洞中打鼾？
确实如此，但一切欢乐都是虚拟，
如果我见过．追求并获得过美，
那全都是——且仅仅是——梦见的你。
现在向我们苏醒的灵魂道声早安，
两个灵魂互相信赖，毋须警戒；
因为爱控制了对其他景色的爱，
把小小的房间点化成大千世界。
让航海发现家向新世界远游，
让无数世界的舆图把别人引诱
我们却自成世界，又互相拥有。
我映在你眼里，你映在我眼里，
两张脸上现出真诚坦荡的心地。
哪儿能找到两个更好的半球啊？
没有严酷的北，没有下沉的西,
凡是死亡，都属调和失当所致，
如果我俩的爱合二为一，或是
爱得如此一致．那就谁也不会死。


歌
去吧，跑去抓一颗流星，
去叫何首乌肚子里也有喜，
告诉我哪儿追流年的踪影，
是谁开豁了魔鬼的双蹄，
教我听得见美人鱼唱歌，
压得住酷海，不叫它兴波，
寻寻看
哪一番
好风会顺水把真心推向前。
如果你生来有异察，看得见
人家不能看见的花样，
你就骑马一万夜一万天，
直跑到满头顶盖雪披霜，
你回来会滔滔不绝地讲述
你所遭遇的奇怪事物，
到最后
都赌咒
说美人而忠心，世界上可没有。
你万一找到了，通知我一句
向这位千里进香也心甘；
可是算了吧，我决不会去，
哪怕到隔壁就可以见面；
尽管你见她当时还可靠，
到你写信了还可以担保，
她不等
我到门
准已经对不起两三个男人。

宣布成圣
看上帝面上请住嘴，让我爱；
你可以指责我中风兼痛风，
可以笑我鬓斑白、家道穷，
且祝你胸有文采、高升发财，
你可以选定路线去谋官，
看重御赐的荣耀和恩典，
仰慕御容或他金铸的脸．
对你的路固然要刮目看待，
但是你要让我爱。
唉，唉，我的爱会把谁妨碍？
我们叹息翻沉过谁家商船？
谁家田地曾被我的泪水淹？
我发冷，何曾推迟春天到来？
我发烧．烧得我血脉如焚，
何曾使瘟疫死亡单增加一人？
士兵们寻求战争，而律师们
把爱争吵的诉讼者招徕，
无关乎她与我相爱。
随你怎么说，我们禀性于爱；
你可以把她和我唤作蜉蝣，
我们也是灯芯，不惜以死相酬，
鹰和鸽深藏在我俩心怀；
我们使凤凰之谜更增奇妙，
我俩合一，就是它的写照，
两性结合，构成这中性的鸟。
我们死而复生，又照旧起来，
神秘之力全来自爱。
我们若非靠爱生，总能死于爱，
如果配不上灵车和厚葬，
我们的传奇至少配得上诗章；
如果我们不配在史册上记载，
就在十四行诗中建筑寓所，
如此精制的骨灰瓮独具高格，
不会比占半英亩的墓葬逊色。
这些颂歌将向普天之下告白：
我们成圣是由于爱。
人们将这样祈求我们：神圣的爱
使你们互为庇护的隐居地，
狂暴的爱，却赋予你们以安谧；
你们把世界的灵魂提炼出来
注入于你们眼睛的明晶，
制成这样的镜子和望远镜，
把一切集中反映于你们之中，
万国、城镇、宫廷：向天膜拜，
祈求你们典范的爱！

别离辞：哭泣
我在这里时，
让我把泪水洒在你的面前；
你的脸把泪水铸成钱，打上了印记，
经过这番铸造，泪水就成了有价值的东西，
因为泪水这样
怀着你的模样；
泪水是许多悲哀的果实，更多的象征——
当一滴泪滴下．那个你也掉落在其中
于是你和我都是虚无，在不同的海岸上小停。
在一只圆球上面，
一个有着范本的工人，能够
创造出欧洲、非洲，还有亚洲
很快地做成了，而那原是虚无一片；
因此含着你的
每一点泪滴，
一个地球，一个世界，就靠这种映象成长着，
最后你的和我的泪水一起，淹没了
世界，在你的泪水中，融去了我的天国。
哦，远胜明月一轮，
不是卷起波浪，把我淹没在你的圈子里，
不是哭我死了，在你的手臂中，而是不去
教波浪做它会太快地做了的事情。
让风儿找不见
它的先例示范，
对我做出比它想做的更坏的坏事；
既然你和我叹气，用的是相互的呼吸，
谁叹得最多就最残忍，加速对方的死。


葬礼
不论谁来装殓我，请勿弄脱
（也不要多打听）
我臂上那卷柔发编的金镯，——
这是神秘之符，千万别碰，
这是我外在的灵魂，
是升天的灵魂留下的总督，
留下来统治她的行省，
好保持这些肢体不致风化成土。
如果从我的头脑发出的经络
向下直通到脚，
能统辖全身而构成统一的我，
那么这些金丝，从更好的头脑
获得力量向上生长，
当能统辖得更好；可惜她只图
把手铐给我套上，
叫我从中体验死囚被判决的痛苦。
不论她赠金丝有何意涵，
务必与我一同入土；
我为爱殉难，如让此物留传，
我怕拜物教会因之传布。
既然作此谦辞，
承认金丝也能代表灵魂，
自当有此壮志：
你不救我全身，我埋葬你的部分。


情人之无限
如果我还不曾得到你的全部的爱，
这全部我将永远无法获取；
我不能吐出另一声动人的磋叹，
也不能让另外一滴眼泪滚落，
叹息，眼泪，誓辞，一封封情书，
这些原应换取你的珍宝已是白费，
而假如你的爱不肯全部付出，
只是按照交易定下的份额分配，
既分给我一些，又匀给别人一些，
你的这份爱的礼物碎损残缺，
亲爱的，我永远无法全部获得。
而你如果把全部的爱赐与了我，
那也不过是从前的全部爱，
假如有别的男子向你的芳心潜入，
让你现在或将来产生新的爱，
他们的资本齐全，更能在眼泪，叹息
誓辞，和情书上满足你的虚荣，
那新的爱会导致新的惊悸，
因为这种爱背离了你的初衷。
既然如此，你的礼物对众人广施，
你的芳心属我，无论这土地上生长什么，
我都应该拥有那全部。
但就此得到全部井非我之所愿，
因为一经获取便不再会增添，
既然我的爱每天都有新的进展，
你也得为此准备下新的酬谢，
你不能每天都交给我一颗心，
倘若说能给出，便意味前此的不是。
爱情真是个谜团，尽管你的已出门，
却依然在家，拣回也就是丢失；
可是我们的办法却更为变通，
无须换心，只要将两颗心儿合拢，
便能将对方的全部拥入怀中。


影子的一课
请站一下，听我给你讲一课，
亲爱的，讲讲爱的哲学。
我们在此散步已经三个小时，
陪伴我们的是两个影子，
这影子本产自我们自己；
而现在太阳已恰好照着头顶，
我们踩着自己的影，
一切东西都显得美丽、清晰。
我们的爱苗也这样成长，
我们的遮盖掩饰也这样
渐渐消逝。但如今不再这样。
那种爱情还未升上最高点，
当它还在竭力躲避旁人的眼。
除非我们的爱停在午时，
我们会在另一面造出新的影子。
起初的影子用来骗旁人，
后来的影子用来骗我们——
对付自己，蒙骗自己的双眼。
假如我们的爱情渐渐削弱，
就会我对你、你对我
把各自的行为遮遮掩掩。
上午的影子浙渐耗完，
下午的影子却不断发展．
一旦爱情衰退．它的来日苦短！
爱以饱满不移的光照临世界，
但它正午若过，下一分钟就是夜。


日出
忙碌的老傻瓜，任性的太阳，
为什么你要穿过窗棂，
透过窗帘前来招呼我们？
难道情人的季节也得有你一样的转向？
莽撞迂腐的东西，你去斥骂
上学迟到的孩童，怨尤的学徒，
去通知宫廷的猎人，国王要起驾，
吩咐乡下的蚂蚁完成收割人的劳**情呀，始终如一，不使节气的变换，
更不懂钟点、日子和月份这些时间的碎片。
为什么你竟然会自认
你的光线如此可畏和强壮？
我只须一眨跟，你便会黯然无光，
但我不愿她的倩影消失隐遁：
倘若她的明眸还没使你目盲，
好好瞧瞧．明天迟些再告诉我，
盛产金银香料的东西印度
在你今天离开的地方，还是躺在我身旁，
去问一下你昨天看到的所有帝王，
那答案准保都将是“全在这一张床上”。
她便是一切国家，我是君主的君主．
其余的便什么都不是。
君主们不过摹仿着我们；与此相比，
一切荣誉是丑角，一切财富是骗局。
你，太阳，只拥有我们一半欢乐，
当宇宙在这样一个世界里聚拢；
你的年龄需要悠闲；既然你的职责
便是温暖世界，你己对我们尽了本份。
你只须照耀我们这儿．光芒就会遍及四方，
这张床是你的中心，墙壁是你的穹苍。


别离辞：节哀
正如德高人逝世很安然，
对灵魂轻轻的说一声走，
悲伤的朋友们聚在旁边，
有的说断气了，有的说没有。
让我们化了，一声也不作，
泪浪也不翻，叹风也不兴；
那是亵渎我们的欢乐——
要是对俗人讲我们的爱情。
地动会带来灾害和惊恐，
人们估计它干什么，要怎样
可是那些天体的震动，
虽然大得多，什么也不伤。
世俗的男女彼此的相好，
（他们的灵魂是官能）就最忌
别离，因为那就会取消
组成爱恋的那一套东西。
我们被爱情提炼得纯净，
自己都不知道存什么念头
互相在心灵上得到了保证，
再不愁碰不到眼睛、嘴和手。
两个灵魂打成了一片，
虽说我得走，却并不变成
破裂，而只是向外伸延，
像金子打到薄薄的一层。
就还算两个吧，两个却这样
和一副两脚规情况相同；
你的灵魂是定脚．并不像
移动．另一脚一移，它也动。
虽然它一直是坐在中心，
可是另一个去天涯海角，
它就侧了身．倾听八垠；
那一个一回家，它马上挺腰。
你对我就会这样子，我一生
像另外那一脚，得侧身打转；
你坚定，我的圆圈才会准，
我才会终结在开始的地点。


神圣十四行诗 其一
是您把我创造，您的作品也会衰败？
现在修复我吧．因为我的末日匆匆而来，
我奔向死神，死神也飞快将我迎接，
像昨天一般逝去了，我的全部愉悦；
我不敢移动我黯淡的眼睛，
后面是绝望，前头是死亡，它们抛扔
如此的恐怖，我虚弱的肉体
在罪孽中消耗，罪孽把肉体压向地狱；
唯有您高高在上，当我受您允许
能够朝您仰望，我便重新奋起；
但是，我们阴险的宿敌如此将我诱引，．
使我一刻也难以支撑自身；
您的恩典可以支持我抵抗他的伎俩，
您像坚硬的磁石吸引我铁一般的心房。

神圣十四行诗 其十
死神，你莫骄横，尽管有人将你看得
如何强大，如何可怖，你呀，名不符实；
你自以为已经把芸芸众生毁灭，
可怜的死神，他们没死．你至今还杀不死我；
休憩和睡眠，其实就是你的写照，
你定然比它们更让人感到舒适惬意，
而我们最出色的人们随你而去越早，
越能早日让灵魂获救，肉体安息，
你是命运、时机、君主和狂徒的奴隶，
你与毒药、战争和病魔同流合污，
鸦片与巫术也能灵验地进行蛊惑，
而且效果更佳，你又何必颐指气使？
人们小憩一会，精神便得以永远清朗，
便再不会有死亡，死神你自己将死亡。

Holy Sonnets
Holy Sonnet 1
Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 2
As due by many titles I resign
Myself to thee, O God, first I was made
By Thee, and for Thee, and when I was decay'd
Thy blood bought that, the which before was Thine.
I am Thy son, made with Thyself to shine,
Thy servant, whose pains Thou hast still repaid,
Thy sheep, Thine image, and—till I betray'd
Myself—a temple of Thy Spirit divine.
Why doth the devil then usurp on me?
Why doth he steal, nay ravish, that's Thy right?
Except Thou rise and for Thine own work fight,
O! I shall soon despair, when I shall see
That Thou lovest mankind well, yet wilt not choose me,
And Satan hates me, yet is loth to lose me.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 3
O! might those sighs and tears return again
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent,
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vain.
In mine Idolatry what showers of rain
Mine eyes did waste? what griefs my heart did rent?
That sufferance was my sin, I now repent;
'Cause I did suffer, I must suffer pain.
Th' hydroptic drunkard, and night-scouting thief,
The itchy lecher, and self-tickling proud
Have the remembrance of past joys, for relief
Of coming ills. To poor me is allow'd
No ease; for long, yet vehement grief hath been
Th' effect and cause, the punishment and sin.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 4
O, my black soul, now thou art summoned
By sickness, Death's herald and champion;
Thou'rt like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done
Treason, and durst not turn to whence he's fled;
Or like a thief, which till death's doom be read,
Wisheth himself deliver'd from prison,
But damn'd and haled to execution,
Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned.
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack;
But who shall give thee that grace to begin?
O, make thyself with holy mourning black,
And red with blushing, as thou art with sin;
Or wash thee in Christ's blood, which hath this might,
That being red, it dyes red souls to white.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 5
I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements, and an angelic sprite;
But black sin hath betray'd to endless night
My world's both parts, and, O, both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new land can write,


Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it if it must be drown'd no more.
But O, it must be burnt; alas! the fire
Of lust and envy burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler; let their flames retire,
And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal
Of Thee and Thy house, which doth in eating heal.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 6
This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage's last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace;
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point;
And gluttonous Death will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space;
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they're bred and would press me to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 7
At the round earth's imagined corners blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go;
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom war, dea[r]th, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you, whose eyes
Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe.
But let the***eep, Lord, and me mourn a space;
For, if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace,
When we are there. Here on this lowly ground,
Teach me how to repent, for that's as good
As if Thou hadst seal'd my pardon with Thy blood.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 8
If faithful souls be alike glorified
As angels, then my father's soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felicity,
That valiantly I hell's wide mouth o'erstride.
But if our minds to these souls be descried
By circumstances, and by signs that be
Apparent in us not immediately,
How shall my mind's white truth by them be tried?
They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,
And stile blasphemous conjurers to call
On Jesu's name, and pharisaical
Dissemblers feign devotion. Then turn,
O pensive soul, to God, for He knows best
Thy grief, for He put it into my breast.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 9
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree,
Whose fruit threw death on (else immortal) us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damn'd, alas ! why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And, mercy being easy, and glorious
To God, in His stern wrath why threatens He?
But who am I, that dare dispute with Thee?
O God, O! of Thine only worthy blood,
And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sin's black memory.
That Thou remember them, some claim as debt;
I think it mercy if Thou wilt forget.


[edit] Holy Sonnet 10
Death be not proud
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more, Death, thou shalt die.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 11
Spit in my face, you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinn'd, and sinne', and only He,
Who could do no iniquity, hath died.
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety.
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
O let me then His strange love still admire;
Kings pardon, but He bore our punishment;
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire,
But to supplant, and with gainful intent;
God clothed Himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 12
Why are we by all creatures waited on?
Why do the prodigal elements supply
Life and food to me, being more pure than I,
Simpler and further from corruption?
Why brook'st thou, ignorant horse, subjection?
Why dost thou, bull and boar, so sillily
Dissemble weakness, and by one man's stroke die,
Whose whole kind you might swallow and feed upon?
Weaker I am, woe's me, and worse than you;
You have not sinn'd, nor need be timorous.
But wonder at a greater, for to us
Created nature doth these things subdue;
But their Creator, whom sin, nor nature tied,
For us, His creatures, and His foes, hath died.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 13
What if this present were the world's last night?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether His countenance can thee affright.
Tears in His eyes quench the amazing light;
Blood fills his frowns, which from His pierced head fell;
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
Which pray'd forgiveness for His foes' fierce spite?
No, no ; but as in my idolatry
I said to all my profane mistresses,
Beauty of pity, foulness only is
A sign of rigour ; so I say to thee,
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd;
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.
[edit] Holy Sonnet 14
Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you
As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,