穆旦《智慧之歌》
In this grove of falling leaves,
Each leaf a signal of past joy,
Drifting sere within my heart.
Some were loves of youthful days—
Blazing meteors in a distant sky,
Extinguished, vanished without trace,
Or dropped before me, stiff and cold as ice.
Some were boisterous friendships,
Fullblown blossoms, innocent of coming fall.
Society dammed the pulsing blood,
Life cast molten passion in reality's shell.
Another joy, the spell of high ideals,
Drew me through many a twisting mile of thorn.
To suffer for ideals is no pain;
But oh, to see them mocked and scorned!
Now nothing remains but remorse—
Daily punishment for past pride.
When the glory of the sky stands condemned,
In this wasteland, what colour can survive?
There is one tree that stands alone intact,
It thrives, I know, on my suffering's lifeblood.
Its greenshade mocks me ruthlessly!
O wisdom tree! I curse your every growing bud.
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