A Wife In London 伦敦的妻子
I Tragedy
She sits in the tawny vapour
That the Thames-side lanes have uprolled,
Behind whose webby fold-on-fold
Like a waning taper
The street-lamp immers cold.
A messenger’s knock cracks smartly,
Flashed news in her hand
Of meaning it dazes to understand
Though shaped so shortly:
He—he has fallen—in the far South Land…
II Irony
’Tis the morrow; the fog hangs thicker,
The postman nears and goes:
A letter is brought whose lines disclose
By the firelight flicker
His hand, whom the worm now knows:
Fresh—firm—penned in highestfeather—
Page-full of his hoped return,
And of home-planned jaunts of brake and burn
In the summer weather,
And of new love that they would learn.
伦敦的妻子
（一）
泰晤士河边条条小巷一片浓雾，
她独自坐在褐色雾气的深处，
透过重重的雾帐，
街灯象一支残烛，
闪着寒冷的微光。
敲门声清晰响亮，
送信人把急电交到她手上。
电文内容虽然简短，
却使她猛一下眩晕倘恍：
他——在南方遥远的土地上——阵亡……
（二）
第二天清晨大雾更浓，
邮递员送信来去匆匆。
闪闪的炉火照着一封家书，
字字行行都是他亲笔写出，
而那只手呀，此刻已有蛆虫光顾。
墨迹犹新，字体坚实，意气昂扬，
满篇都倾诉他渴望还乡：
他打算就在明朗的夏天，
徜徉在故乡的溪畔林间，
他们要把爱情重新体验。
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