加载中…【诗意：詹姆斯·乔伊斯《死者》】
(2016-10-20 14:47:00)James Joyce’s
《The Dead》
A few light taps upon the pane
made him turn to the window. It
had begun to snow again. He
watched sleepily the flakes, silver
and dark, falling obliquely
against the lamplight. The time had
come for him to set out on his
journey westward. Yes, the
newspapers were right: snow was
general all over Ireland. It was
falling on every part of the
dark central plain, on the treeless hills,
falling softly upon the Bog of
Allen and, farther westward, softly
falling into the dark mutinous
Shannon waves. It was falling, too,
upon every part of the lonely
churchyard on the hill where Michael
Furey lay buried. It lay
thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and
headstones, on the spears of
the little gate, on the barren thorns.
His soul swooned slowly as he
heard the snow falling faintly
through the universe and
faintly falling, like the descent of their
last end, upon all the living
and the dead.
喜欢
0
赠金笔
前一篇：【奥登的一首诗】
后一篇：【詹姆斯·乔伊斯的诗歌】