My own Belovëd, who hast lifted me From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown, And in the couch of thy love hast set me lone, Where I can gaze on thee in luxury, I thank thee for the grace, but most, that ye Hast set me to this task of loving, known To thine own heart, and meant to be mine own Through all the seasons of eternity. And yet, I fear!—my soul is so much moved By love, that I can’t bear that I should be So much more rich than ever I have proved That I was capable of being. . . . O plea For mercy! I am not thus largely loved For my own worth, but for thy majesty.
XXVIII
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night. This said, . . . he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch my hand . . . a simple thing, Yet I wept for it!—this, . . . the paper’s light . . . Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed As if God’s future thundered on my past. This said, I am thine—and so its ink has paled With lying at my heart that beat too fast. And this . . . O Love, thy words have ill availed, If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!
XXIX
I think of thee!—my thoughts do twine and bud About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, Put out broad leaves, and soon there’s nought to see Except the straggling green which hides the wood. Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood I will not have my thoughts instead of thee Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should, Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare, And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee Drop heavily down,—burst, shattered, everywhere! Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee And breathe within thy shadow a new air, I do not think of thee—I am too near thee.
XXX
I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How Refer the cause?—Belovëd, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight, As he, in his confusions, may suspect The angels, who o’er-fly the temple-floor, To be the images he did reject, And worshipped not. This is a grief. And more, Thou couldst not love me, Dear, couldst thou reflect If I stood there for thee, whom I adore.
XXXI
Thou comest! all is said without a word. I sit beneath thy looks, as children do In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through Their happy eyelids from an undeterred Gladness. What time hath made us thus deferred? Each glance is as a blessing; and we knew Together all the heaven that lies in view, As if to speak were sorry, and absurd. Here is my hand. Thou shalt not give, but take, No count of it, no tax of it, no fear, As if I gave thee more than I could make. Be glad!—no more!—I thank thee, O my Dear, That thou hast made the sun to shine, and break The winter-cloud, and let the heart appear.
XXXII
The first time that the sun rose on thine oath To love me, I looked forward to the moon To slacken all those sparks which were too soon To strike our hearts and make them break, both—both! I thought I could not hold the tension loath Of such a love, and for my life’s best boon Received the gift of silence, and a swoon Of blissful quiet, as a golden cloth Cast over burning sands. Six months ago! Since when, my heart has grown too strong to fear For any change, or any setting low Of that great sun of love. I drink it here In clearer air; and now, though love may grow, I feel it light, and steady, and sincere.
XXXIII
Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear The name I used to run at, when a child, From innocent play, and left the cowslips wild, To hunt in sweet concealment with my ear Fast on my mother’s mouth! O speech more dear Than all the names the world has reconciled To my faint heart! I am not thus defiled By time and grief, since yesterday, my Dear! Now call me by that name,—my pet-name, ease Thy heart for once! I answer to the call, And bless thee for it. It is like the breeze Which once did blow through spirits musical, And brought the scent of flowers from all the trees Upon the hills, and cheered me at the wall.
XXXIV
With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee As those, when thou shalt call me by my name— Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same, Perplexed and troubled by antiquity? Nay, can I bring my heart to be like thee Full in the light thou workest at thy frame? I tremble at the beauty which became A light too blinding for my soul to see; And so I answer with a trembling tongue, “I love thee,”—with the same heart, yet, oh, more Than I could ever utter when I was young, And knew not what love meant. Is this the lore I learned from thee? O tongue, be ever wrung With this new truth, and teach it o’er and o’er!
XXXV
If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me? Shall I never miss Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange, When I look up, to drop on a new range Of walls and floors, another home than this? Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is Filled by dead eyes too tender to arrange The portraits of my father and my mother? I will not say so, Dear! I will not blame Thy sacrifice, or set it against another; The which is giving up a road to fame, For a little room, wherein my heart may smother Its grief, calling in thee! thy name, thy name!
XXXVI
When we met first and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. Could it mean To last, a love set pendulous between Sorrow and sorrow? Nay, I rather willed, Gasping in fear, to see it unfulfilled, Inscribed upon its tomb. I was serene, And let it live, and let it grow unseen, And felt it filled my heart, and was fulfilled. Oh, happy, beyond hope! I love thee so, This hundredth time to praise thee, that I grow Too calm for wonder, and too blest for fear; And yet, Belovëd, I would have thee know, I swear by all that binds us, soul to soul, And by the love which makes me what I am, And by this heart, I shall not need to go Or change to find another life than this, For I am thine, entirely, in the bliss Which love has given, and which death shall seal, Within the shadow of thy love I kneel.
XXXVII
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make Of all that strong divineness which I know For thine and mine, a sorrow of the show! My heart is far too full to keep awake Its own bright dreams, and so it doth partake Of all the sadness of the hills below, And of the heavy clouds which hang and grow Above the world. I would not, for thy sake, Dim thy clear morning with my autumn-mist, But, oh, my love, my love! I am distressed That I have not a heart to be unkissed, And feel the coldness of the world, and rest As if I were not loved. O soul, persist In loving! only, let the world be blest.
XXXVIII
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world-greetings, quick with its “Oh, list,” When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. The second passed in height The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed, Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed! That was the chrism of love, which love’s own crown, With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. The third upon my lips was folded down In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed, I have been proud and said, “My love, my own.”
XXXIX
Because thou hast the power and own’st the grace To look through and through this heart of mine, And see the hidden things that do not shine, But are the very roots of my life’s base, I thank thee!—and I love thee for the space That thou art mine, and I am thine in sign Of all the souls that ever did entwine In love, and were not parted by the face Of death, or distance, or the world’s decrees. I thank thee for the truth that thou hast spoken, And for the light that thou hast shed on these Poor, weary, longing, and yet hopeful, broken Spirits of ours, which find their rest and ease In love’s own heart, and leave behind no token.
XL
Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours! I will not gainsay love, called love forsooth. I have heard love talked in its estranging youth, Before these golden days of ours!—ah, flowers! The dying of the last of summer’s bowers May be a lesson to the heart of truth; But love, the love that is, and is in sooth, Is stronger than the mountains, and the showers Of heaven, and all the things that change and fade. I have seen love, and I have known its power; It is not of the earth, nor of the shade Of mortal things, but of a heavenly dower. Oh, love me, love me! let us be afraid Of nothing, for our love is but a flower That blooms in heaven, and is for evermore!
XLI
I thank all who have loved me in their hearts, With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks to all! I have been loved by those whom I should call The best and noblest of the earth, in parts; And though I have been lonely, and the smarts Of life have bruised me, yet the rise and fall Of love’s own tide hath lifted me withal, And I have felt the pulse of human hearts Beating with mine!—I thank you, one and all, For all the kindness that you gave to me, And for the love that you have made to fall Like dew upon my soul. Oh, let it be That I may love you back, and so recall The memory of the love that set me free!
XLII
My future will not copy fair my past On any leaf but heavens. A dream of pain Is vanished, with the shadows of the rain That fell upon the world. I have been cast From darkness into light, and, at the last, Am standing in the sun. I do not feign, But speak the truth of God, and speak it plain, That I am changed—that I am not the last Of those who weep, but first of those who sing! The past is dead, and buried in its grave, And I am risen to a newer thing, A life of love, which only God could save From the dark waters where I once did cling. Oh, love me, love me, for the life I have!
XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
XLIV
Belovëd, thou hast brought me many flowers Plucked in the garden, all the summer through And summer, and winter, and the spring, and you, And all the seasons of the year, are yours! You have brought me love, and joy, and golden hours, And all the things that make the heart look true, And all the things that make the soul look new, And all the things that make the spirit’s bowers A place of rest. Oh, keep them in your heart, And let them bloom for ever, as they do! For they are mine, and I am yours, in part, And we are one, in all that we can do, And we are one, in all that we can start, And we are one, in all that we are true.
我挚爱的，你将我从那被弃置的沉闷尘世中拉起， 在那慵懒的发卷之间，吹入 生命的气息，直叫那额头又充满希望地 闪耀，如同众天使所见那般， 在你那救赎的亲吻之前！我挚爱的，我挚爱的， 当世界离我而去，你来到我身边， 而我一心只盼望上帝，却遇见了你！ 我遇见了你；我平安、强壮且欢欣。 宛如一人伫立在无露的日光兰中， 回望他在那高处生活中度过的 冗长岁月——于是我，胸臆起伏， 在此，于善恶之间作证， 那如死亡般强劲的爱，同样也能救赎。
XXVIII
我的信件！全是死去的纸张，无声而苍白！ 然而它们在我颤抖的手中， 似乎鲜活而颤动，那双手松开了丝带， 今夜任由它们坠落在我的膝头。 这一封说——他愿将我视作 友人，见上一面：这一封定下了春日的一天， 来触碰我的手……一件简单的事， 却令我落泪！——这一封……纸上的光亮…… 说，亲爱的我爱你；我沉沦且战栗， 仿佛上帝的未来在我的过去中雷鸣。 这一封说，我是你的——于是墨迹褪色， 因在我那跳动过速的心头久置。 而这一封……噢爱人，你的话语若非 最终被我斗胆重温，那便是不曾奏效！
XXIX
我思念着你！——我的思绪缠绕并萌发 在你的周围，如同野藤缠绕着一棵树， 伸展出宽大的叶片，不久便只见 杂乱的绿意，遮蔽了树干。 然而，噢我的棕榈树，请务必知晓 我并不愿以思绪代替你， 那更珍贵、更好的你！相反，即刻 振作你的枝干；像一棵强壮的树那样， 沙沙作响并露出你的躯干， 让这些环绕着你的绿意， 沉重地坠落——爆裂，四散开来！ 因为，在这见你、听你， 并在你的阴影下呼吸着新空气的深切喜悦中， 我不再思念你——因我与你太亲近。
XXX
今夜，透过泪水我看见了你的影像， 可今天我分明见你在微笑。这 该如何解释？——挚爱的，是你 还是我，令我忧伤？那辅祭者 在吟咏的欢歌与感恩的仪式中， 或许会那样，带着苍白、无感的额头，瘫倒 在祭坛的台阶上。我听见你的声音与誓言， 困惑而不安，因你已不在视线之内， 如同他在昏厥的耳中，听见唱诗班的阿门。 挚爱的，你爱吗？还是我所见的一切 荣耀皆如梦境，而当那太猛烈的 光芒拓宽了我的理想，令我灵魂的双眼 晕厥时，我才如此？那光芒还会再来吗， 正如现在这些泪水——滚烫而真实地落下？
XXXI
你来了！一切尽在不言中。 我坐在你的注视之下，如同孩童 坐在正午的阳光里，灵魂在那 幸福的眼睑间颤动，透着一种无法言传 却又挥霍无度的内在喜悦。看啊，我错了， 在最后那个疑虑中！然而我无法悔恨 那罪过本身，而是悔恨那契机——我们俩 竟有片刻未曾被一种 彼此的陪伴所照料。啊，靠近些，紧紧依偎， 你这如鸽子般的救助者！当我的恐惧升起时， 请用你宽广的心安详地介入： 用你那神圣的圆满覆盖并沉潜 这些在失去陪伴时颤抖的思想， 如同被遗弃在苍穹下的雏鸟。
XXXII
太阳第一次升起在你誓言 爱我的那天，我曾盼望月亮 能松开那些看似系得太快、 无法成就永恒盟约的束缚。 速爱的真心，我想，或许会速厌； 而审视自己，我似乎并非 那般男子之爱的对象！——更像是一把走调、 磨损的提琴，若好歌手定会恼怒 竟让它糟蹋了歌声，且若是匆忙攫起， 在第一个刺耳的音符处便被放下。 我并未如此轻贱自己，却将 一份错加于你。因为完美的乐曲亦能在 大师手中，从残缺的乐器里飘出，—— 而伟大的灵魂，亦能于一瞬间，既施予又眷恋。
XXXIII
是的，叫我的乳名！让我听见 那名字，我曾在孩童时奔向它， 从纯真的游戏中，留下那堆叠的黄花， 抬眼望向某张脸，它用 目光证明了我的珍贵。我怀念那些清澈 慈爱的声音，它们在被纳入 天堂纯洁的音乐中后， 不再呼唤我。棺木上的沉默， 当我呼唤上帝——呼唤上帝！——那么就让你的嘴 继承那些已然寂灭者的职能。 采撷北方的花朵以补足南方， 并将早期的爱在迟暮中拾起。 是的，用那个名字呼唤我，——而我，诚然， 将以同样的心，回应且不再等待。
XXXIV
以同样的心，我说，我将回应你， 如那些人一样，当你呼唤我的名字时—— 瞧，多么徒劳的承诺！真的是一样吗， 被生活的策略所困惑和搅扰？ 从前被呼唤时，我诉说我曾如何匆忙地 丢下花朵或中断游戏， 跑去以那一刻游戏时带着的微笑 回应，并带着它随我 一直服从。如今当我回应时， 我放下严肃的思绪，离开孤独； 然而我的心依然奔向你——细想一下—— 并非奔向一种单一的美好，而是我全部的美好！ 把你手放在它上面吧，最好的人，并承认 没有哪双孩子的脚，能跑得比这血液更快。
XXXV
若我为了一切而离开，你会交换 并成为我的一切吗？我会否错过 家人的交谈、祝福，和那轮流给予 每个人的寻常亲吻，又或在抬头时， 发现自己置身于一片陌生的 墙壁与地板，一个不同于此的家，而感到奇怪？ 不，你愿填补我身边那原本由 太温柔而不知变迁的死者之眼所占据的位置吗？ 那才是最难的。若征服爱已然费力， 征服悲伤则更甚，正如万事所证明， 因为悲伤确实是爱，且伴随着悲伤。 唉，我已如此悲伤，以至于难以被爱。 然而爱我吧——你愿意吗？敞开你的心扉， 将你那只鸽子湿润的羽翼折叠其内。
XXXVI
当我们初次相遇并相爱时，我并未用大理石 构筑那场际遇。难道一份悬置在 悲伤与悲伤之间的爱， 竟意味着永恒？不，我反而颤栗， 不信任每一道似乎镀金了 前路的微光，甚至害怕去 过度倚靠哪怕一根手指。而且，尽管自那时起我已变得安详 而坚强，但我认为上帝已定下了 一种依然可以重申的恐惧……噢爱，噢盟约…… 唯恐这些紧握的双手终究无法执守， 这彼此的亲吻在唇齿冰冷后， 便如无主之物坠落于我们之间。 而爱，若是为了信守一个誓言， 必须失去那由他生命之星所预示的一份喜悦，那便是不忠！
XXXVII
宽恕，噢，宽恕我，竟将我所知的 属于你和你的那份强大的神圣， 仅仅构筑成一个 由沙砾堆砌、易于移位破碎的影像。 那是因为那些不曾接受你 主权的遥远岁月，带着重击退缩， 强迫我那昏沉的大脑去经受 它们的怀疑与恐惧，并盲目地背弃 你那纯净的形貌，将你 最值得的爱歪曲成卑微的赝品。 正如一个获救于港口的落难异教徒， 为了纪念他的守护海神， 竟在庙宇门内安置了一头雕塑的海豚， 带着喷气的鳃 与颤动的尾巴。
XXXVIII
他第一次吻我，仅是吻了 我写字这只手的手指； 从那以后，它便愈发洁净、白皙。 对世界的寒暄迟钝，却对 天使的言语敏锐地回应着“噢，听”。一枚紫水晶戒指， 我无法戴在这里，却比 那最初的吻更清晰可见。第二个吻超越了 第一个，寻向额头，却在一半时错失， 一半落在发丝上。噢，超乎报偿！ 那是爱的洗礼，在爱的冠冕之前， 以神圣化的甜蜜先行。 第三个吻被紧紧折叠在我的唇上， 带着完美、庄重的紫红；从那时起，的确， 我已变得骄傲，说道：“我的爱人，我自己的。”
XXXIX
因为你有力量且拥有恩典， 能够看穿并洞察我这副面具之后， （岁月曾如雨水般， 无情地击打在此，使之苍白，）并得见我灵魂真实的脸庞， 那生命长跑中黯淡而疲惫的见证者—— 因为你有信念与爱，能够 透过那同样灵魂中令人分心的迟钝， 看见那在通往新天地的路上 静候位置的耐心天使——因为无论是罪恶还是苦难， 无论是上帝的惩罚，还是死亡的临近， 亦或是他人所见、转身离去的一切， 还是我自身所见、令我厌倦的一切—— 没有什么能令你排斥……最亲爱的，教导我， 像你那样，慷慨地倾泻感激之情吧！
XL
噢，是的！他们在这整个世界上相爱！ 我不会否认那被称为爱的爱： 我在青春年少时听人谈论过爱， 而自那以后，时间未久，以至于当时 采摘的花朵，至今仍散发芬芳。穆斯林与异教徒 对着微笑抛掷手帕，对任何哭泣 皆无怜悯。波吕斐摩斯那洁白的牙齿， 若经过频繁的雨水冲刷，贝壳过于光滑， 便会在坚果上打滑——而那被称为爱的东西， 又有多少会转变为仇恨 或是遗忘呢。但你并非那样的 爱人，我挚爱的！你能等待， 历经悲伤与病痛，将灵魂带向触碰， 并在他人惊呼“太迟了”时，认为尚早。
XLI
我感谢所有在心底爱过我的人， 带着我心中的感激与爱。向所有 在监狱墙边稍作停留， 在他们继续前行前往市场 或寺庙，奔向那遥不可及的劳作之前， 听我音乐中高亢部分的人，致以深切的谢意。 但你，在我声音的起伏中， 当啜泣将其扼住时，将你那最神圣的艺术 之乐器置于足下， 只为倾听我在泪水中所言…… 教导我如何感谢你吧！噢，将我 灵魂深处的含义射入未来的岁月， 让它们为其赋予表达，并向那 从消失的生命中留存下来的爱，致敬！
XLII
我的未来将不会完美地复制我的过去—— 我曾写下过；而当我想到，在我身旁 我那侍奉的生命天使，正用他那仰望 上帝白色宝座的恳求目光， 证明了这句言辞时，我最终回过头去， 在那里，看见的竟是你，你那灵魂中 与天使并无二致的特质！于是我，久经 自然磨难，迅速得到了安慰， 而此时，在你的注视下，我那朝圣者的手杖 萌发了点缀着晨露的绿叶。 我不再寻求生命前半段的复本： 将那写满长久沉思的纸页留在此处吧， 为我重写未来的题辞， 我那世间不可企求的、崭新的天使！
XLIII
我是如何爱你的？让我细数一下。 我爱你，爱你所能达到的深度、广度和高度， 当我的灵魂在触碰那看不见的 存在之极与理想之恩典时。 我爱你，达到每日每刻 最宁静的需求，在那阳光与烛光下。 我爱你，自由自在，如人们追求正义； 我爱你，纯洁无瑕，如人们远离赞誉。 我爱你，带着那曾投入 旧时悲伤的激情，以及我孩童时的信仰。 我爱你，带着我似乎随那些 失去的圣徒而消逝的爱——我爱你，用那生命中 所有的呼吸、微笑、泪水！——若上帝允准， 在死后，我必将更深地爱你。
XLIV
挚爱的，你带给我许多花朵， 采摘于花园，历经整个夏天， 乃至冬日，仿佛它们生长在 这间狭小的屋子里，不曾错过阳光与雨露。 那么，以我们那份爱的名义， 收回这些同样在此绽放的思绪吧， 它们是我在温暖与寒冷的日子里， 从我心田所采撷的。诚然，那些花坛与凉亭 已长满了苦草与芸香， 等待着你的除草；然而这里有野蔷薇， 有常春藤！——收下它们吧，正如我曾习惯于 你的花朵，并将它们珍藏在它们不会枯萎的地方。 教导你的双眼去保持它们色彩的真实， 并告诉你的灵魂，它们的根，留在了我的心中。