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点击复制Poem In October - Richard Burton
It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour
And neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats
On the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth
My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the
Winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days
High tide and the heron dived
When I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke
A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder
Here were fond climates
And sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning
Where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With it's horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were
Blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around
It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air
And the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels
And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks
And his heart moved in mine
These were the woods the river and sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singingbirds
And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around
And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then
In the summer noon
Though the town below lay
Leaved with October blood
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning
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