<p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">拉金的視角帶著清醒的現(xiàn)實(shí)感，不回避生命的脆弱與時(shí)間的殘酷，卻也在自然循環(huán)中捕捉到了有限生命里值得珍視的延續(xù)與希望。</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p> <p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block" style="text-align:center;"><b style="font-size:22px;">《樹》</b></p><p class="ql-block" style="text-align:center;"><b>作者：菲利普·拉金</b></p><p class="ql-block" style="text-align:center;"><b>譯者：陳子弘</b></p><p class="ql-block" style="text-align:center;"><br></p><p class="ql-block">樹木開始抽出新葉，</p><p class="ql-block">仿佛低語著尚未言明的心聲；</p><p class="ql-block">初芽舒展綻放,</p><p class="ql-block">它們的嫩綠透著一絲憂傷。</p><p class="ql-block">難道它們真的在重獲新生，</p><p class="ql-block">而我們卻在衰老？不，它們也會(huì)枯萎，</p><p class="ql-block">只是年復(fù)一年地看似年輕，</p><p class="ql-block">但歲月早已刻進(jìn)年輪之中。</p><p class="ql-block">然而，那不知疲倦的綠樹城堡，</p><p class="ql-block">每年五月，依舊枝繁葉茂。</p><p class="ql-block">“去年已逝，”它們仿佛低語，</p><p class="ql-block">重新開始吧，重新開始，重新開始。</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p> <p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">The Trees</p><p class="ql-block">By Philip Larkin</p><p class="ql-block">The trees are coming into leaf</p><p class="ql-block">Like something almost being said;</p><p class="ql-block">The recent buds relax and spread,</p><p class="ql-block">Their greenness is a kind of grief.</p><p class="ql-block">Is it that they are born again</p><p class="ql-block">And we grow old? No, they die too,</p><p class="ql-block">Their yearly trick of looking new</p><p class="ql-block">Is written down in rings of grain.</p><p class="ql-block">Yet still the unresting castles thresh</p><p class="ql-block">In fullgrown thickness every May.</p><p class="ql-block">Last year is dead, they seem to say,</p><p class="ql-block">Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p> <p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">圖片：來自網(wǎng)絡(luò)</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p>