罗宾森·杰弗斯诗14首

Divinely Superfluous Beauty

The storm-dances of gulls, the barking game of seals,

Over and under the ocean…

Divinely superfluous beauty

Rules the games, presides over destinies, makes trees grow

And hills tower, waves fall.

The incredible beauty of joy

Stars with fire the joining of lips, O let our loves too

Be joined, there is not a maiden

Burns and thirsts for love

More than my blood for you, by the shore of seals while the wings

Weave like a web in the air

Divinely superfluous beauty.

To the Stone-cutters

Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated

Challengers of oblivion

Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,

The square-limbed Roman letters

Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well

Builds his monument mockingly;

For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun

Die blind and blacken to the heart:

Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained thoughts found

The honey of peace in old poems.

Summer Holiday

When the sun shouts and people abound

One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze

And the iron age; iron the unstable metal;

Steel made of iron, unstable as his mother; the towered-up cities

Will be stains of rust on mounds of plaster.

Roots will not pierce the heaps for a time, kind rains will cure them,

Then nothing will remain of the iron age

And all these people but a thigh-bone or so, a poem

Stuck in the world's thought, splinters of glass

In the rubbish dumps, a concrete dam far off in the mountain...

Gale in April

Intense and terrible beauty, how has our race with the frail naked nerves,

So little a craft swum down from its far launching?

Why now, only because the northwest blows and the headed grass billows,

Great seas jagging the west and on the granite

Blanching, the vessel is brimmed, this dancing play of the world is too much passion.

A gale in April so overfilling the spirit,

Though his ribs were thick as the earth's, arches of mountain, how shall one dare to live?

Though his blood were like the earth's rivers and his flesh iron,

How shall one dare to live? One is born strong, how do the weak endure it?

The strong lean upon death as on a rock,

After eighty years there is shelter and the naked nerves shall be covered with deep quietness,

O beauty of things go on, go on, O torture

Of intense joy I have lasted out my time. I have thanked God and finished,

Roots of millennial trees fold me in the darkness,

Northwest wind shake their tops, not to the root, not to the root, I have passed

From beauty to the other beauty, peace, the night splendor.

洗得雪白，杯子满溢出来，世界的舞蹈游戏变得过分热烈。

四月的一场劲风把精神装得太满，

哪怕他的肋骨像地球的山脉肋骨一样厚实，他敢活下去？

哪怕他的血像大地的巨川，他的肉是铁，

他敢活下去？他生来是强者，弱者何能忍受？

强者倚在死亡上，就像靠住石头，

八十年后，就会得到掩蔽，裸露的神经就会盖上深厚的安宁。

哦，万物的美，继续下去，继续下去，哦，紧张的欢乐

那种折磨，我已经超越了我的生命，我感谢上帝，结束了一切。

千年巨树的根在黑暗中包裹着我。

西北风，摇撼树梢吧，但别摇根，别摇根，我已经从一种美

进入了另一种美，一种安宁，一种夜的壮丽。

Hurt Hawks

I

The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,

The wing trails like a banner in defeat,

No more to use the sky forever but live with famine

And pain a few days: cat nor coyote

Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.

He stands under the oak-bush and waits

The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom

And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.

He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.

The curs of the day come and torment him

At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,

The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.

The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those

That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.

You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;

Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;

Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.

II

I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk;

But the great redtail

Had nothing left but unable misery

From the bone too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under his talons when he moved.

We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,

He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,

Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old

Implacable arrogance.

I gave him the lead gift in the twilight.

What fell was relaxed, Owl-downy, soft feminine feathers; but what

Soared: the fierce rush: the night-herons by the flooded river cried fear at its rising

Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.

和疼痛：没有猫，没有狼

来缩短这等死的一周，它们情愿找没爪的可口物。

他站在橡树丛下，等待着

拯救姗姗来迟；夜里，他想起昔日的自由，

他在梦中翱翔，但黎明打碎了梦。

他是强者，痛苦对强者来说更难熬，最难受的是无能为力。

白天野狗跑来，站在远处

折磨他，但只有死神这救星才能压弯这头颅，

这无畏的胆气、这恐怖的眼睛。

死，这位暴虐的人世之神对那些

乞怜者颇怀恻隐，对倨傲者常不容情。

群居的人们，你们不认识他，要不然就是忘了他；

但是桀骜不驯的鹰却记得他；

这些狂野而美丽的鹰，还有临死的人，都记得他。

二

要我杀一头鹰，我情愿杀人，只要不是行刑；

但这头巨大的红尾鹰

除了怅然的哀愁已一无所有，

骨头破裂已无法复原，走动时翅膀拖在脚后。

我们喂了他六周，最后我让他自由，

他在海岬的巉岩中徘徊了一天，晚上回来，请求一死，

但不是乞求，眼神中依然是

不可摧折的傲气。

在暮色中，我给了他铅制的礼物。

跌倒的是松弛的茸茸羽毛；但是

昂然升起的，是鹰的猛然冲刺：当它飞起，夜鹭在涨水的河边恐惧地唳叫，

直到它从现实中脱颖而出，像利剑出鞘。

Hands

Inside a cave in a narrow canyon near Tassajara

The vault of rock is painted with hands,

A multitude of hands in the twilight, a cloud of men's palms, no more,

No other picture. There's no one to say

Whether the brown shy quiet people who are dead intended

Religion or magic, or made their tracings

In the idleness of art; but over the division of years these careful

Signs-manual are now like a sealed message

Saying: "Look: we also were human; we had hands, not paws. All hail

You people with the cleverer hands, our supplanters

In the beautiful country; enjoy her a season, her beauty, and come down

And be supplanted; for you also are human."

是宗教？是巫术？还是仅仅在空闲时

从事艺术，留下这些痕迹？但是无数世代之后，

这些仔细画下的手势符号已变成密封的信息。

它们在说：“瞧：我们也是人；我们有手，不是爪子。欢迎你们

手指更为灵巧的人，在这个美丽的国土上

接替我们的人；享受她的美吧，享受一个季节，然后倒下吧，

让别的人接替你们；因为你们也是人。”

Evening Ebb

The ocean has not been so quiet for a long while; five night-herons

Fly shorelong voiceless in the hush of the air

Over the calm of an ebb that almost mirrors their wings.

The sun has gone down, and the water has gone down

From the weed-clad rock, but the distant cloud-wall rises. The ebb whispers.

Great cloud-shadows float in the opal water.

Through rifts in the screen of the world pale gold gleams, and the evening

Star suddenly glides like a flying torch.

As if we had not been meant to see her; rehearsing behind

The screen of the world for another audience.

落了下去，但远方的云墙升起。退潮的大海低语。

巨大的云影在猫眼石般的水面上漂浮。

而从世界之幕的缝隙中，淡金色的光辉带着

夜晚的星群，突然泻出，有如飞翔的火炬，

看来并非有心在我们眼前露面，他们原是在世界

这幕的后面，为另一批观众排演。

New Mexican Mountain

I watch the Indians dancing to help the young corn at Taos pueblo. The old men squat in a ring

And make the song, the young women with fat bare arms, and a few shame-faced young men, shuffle the dance.

The lean-muscled young men are naked to the narrow loins, their breasts and backs daubed with white clay,

Two eagle-feathers plume the black heads. They dance with reluctance, they are growing civilized; the old men persuade them.

Only the drum is confident, it thinks the world has not changed; the beating heart, the simplest of rhythms,

It thinks the world has not changed at all; it is only a dreamer, a brainless heart, the drum has no eyes.

These tourists have eyes, the hundred watching the dance, white Americans, hungrily too, with reverence, not laughter;

Pilgrims from civilization, anxiously seeking beauty, religion, poetry; pilgrims from the vacuum.

People from cities, anxious to be human again. Poor show how they suck you empty! The Indians are emptied,

And certainly there was never religion enough, nor beauty nor poetry here... to fill Americans.

Only the drum is confident, it thinks the world has not changed. Apparently only myself and the strong

Tribal drum, and the rockhead of Taos mountain, remember that civilization is a transient sickness.

肌肉精瘦的年轻人赤裸到腿弯，胸前背后涂着白泥，

黑头发上插两支鹰羽，他们不太情愿地跳着，他们渐渐文明化，但老人们硬要他们跳。

只有鼓是自信的，它认为世界毫无变化；那搏动的心脏，那最简朴的节奏，

它认为世界毫无变化；它是一个梦想家，一个无头脑的心脏，鼓没有眼睛。

但旅游者有眼睛，上百人围看舞蹈，白皮肤的美国人，贪婪地看着，满怀崇敬，没人想笑；

朝拜者来自文明之邦，渴求美、宗教、诗歌；朝拜者来自真空。

城市里来的人，渴望重新取得人性。好个丑相，他们把你们吸干！印第安人被吸干，

当然那里没有足够的宗教、美或诗歌……来填饱美国人。

只有鼓是自信的，它认为世界没有变化。看来只有我自己和这部落的

有力的鼓，以及陶斯山的岩石巨面还记得，文明是一种旋生旋灭的疾病。

Love the Wild Swan

"I hate my verses, every line, every word.

Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try

One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird

That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.

Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch

One color, one glinting

Hash, of the splendor of things.

Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,

The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."

—This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.

Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast

Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.

Does it matter whether you hate your... self ?

At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can

Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.

哦，模糊的破镜，它想要抓住

壮美世界的，

一种颜色，一条光影，

没交好运的猎人，哦，蜡做的子弹，

狮子的美，野天鹅的翼，翅翼的暴风。”

——这野天鹅属于世界，不会让人猎获，

比你好的子弹打不中那白胸脯，

比你好的镜子在火中也会开裂，

你恨你……自己？都没所谓。至少

爱你能看见的眼，能听翅膀击搏

这雷鸣似的音乐的心。爱野天鹅。

Shine, Perishing Republic

While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire

And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,

I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.

Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother.

You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly

A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.

But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption

Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains.

And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.

There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught—they say—God, when he walked on earth.

这时我悲伤地微笑，我想到花凋萎成果实，果实腐烂成泥土。

来自母亲；经过春日的欢乐、成熟和朽败；又回向母亲。

你急急忙忙地腐烂：做得不错；生活是美好的，不管它长得死皮赖脸，还是像

瞬息而逝的闪光：需要山，也需要流星：闪耀吧，正在朽败的共和国。

至于我的孩子，我让他们远离那越来越黏厚的中心；腐朽

决不会强加于人；当城市匍匐在妖魔脚下，山依然屹立。

孩子们，不要做爱别人那样低声下气的事，聪明的奴仆正是最骄横的主人。

有一个陷阱专门抓捕最崇高的灵魂，据说，当上帝走上地球，就已经被抓住。

Clouds of Evening

Enormous cloud-mountains that form over Point Lobos and into the sunset,

Figures of fire on the walls of to-night's storm,

Foam of gold in gorges of fire, and the great file of warrior angels:

Dreams gathering in the curded brain of the earth,

The sky the brain-vault, on the threshold of sleep: poor earth, you like your children

By inordinate desires tortured make dreams?

Storms more enormous, wars nobler, more toppling mountains, more jewelled waters, more free

Fires on impossible headlands... as a poor girl

Wishing her lover taller and more desirous, and herself maned with gold,

Dreams the world right, in the cold bed, about dawn.

Dreams are beautiful; the slaves of form are beautiful also; I have grown to believe

A stone is a better pillow than many visions.

也被无法克制的欲望折磨着，也得做梦？

奢望更宏大的风暴，更壮观的战场，更陡峭的山峰，更晶莹的水流，更自由的

火焰，在这不可能的海岬上……就像一个可怜的姑娘

希望她的爱人更高大，更英俊，而她自己有金色的秀发，

她梦到一切如意，在冰冷的床上，当天甫黎明。

梦是美的；形式的奴隶也是美的。我开始相信

一块石头是比许多美景更好的枕头。

Grey Weather

It is true that, older than man and ages to outlast him, the Pacific surf

Still cheerfully pounds the worn granite drum;

But there's no storm; and the birds are still, no song; no kind of excess;

Nothing that shines, nothing is dark;

There; is neither joy nor grief nor a person, the sun's tooth sheathed in cloud,

And life has no more desires than a stone.

The stormy conditions of time and change are all abrogated, the essential

Violences of survival, pleasure,

Love, wrath and pain, and the curious desire of knowing, all perfectly suspended.

In the cloudy light, in the timeless quietness,

One explores deeper than the nerves or heart of nature, the womb or soul,

To the bone, the careless white bone, the excellence.

这里，没有欢乐，没有悲伤，也没有人，太阳的牙齿镶裹在云里，

而生命不比一块石头有更多的欲望。

沧桑变化那暴风雨般的力量被剥夺，那对生存

至关重要的暴力，那欢乐，

爱情，愤怒，痛苦以及好奇的求知欲，一切都彻底中止。

在云层透出的光里，在无时间的静谧中，

人能探寻到比神经，比人性的心脏，比子宫和灵魂更深沉处，

直探到骨头，无忧无虑的白骨，那精美绝伦之处。

Rock and Hawk

Here is a symbol in which

Many high tragic thoughts

Watch their own eyes.

This gray rock, standing tall

On the headland, where the sea-wind

Lets no tree grow,

Earthquake-proved, and signatured

By ages of storms: on its peak

A falcon has perched.

I think, here is your emblem

To hang in the future sky;

Not the cross, not the hive,

But this; bright power, dark peace;

Fierce consciousness joined with final

Disinterestedness;

Life with calm death; the falcon's

Realist eyes and act

Married to the massive

Mysticism of stone,

Which failure cannot cast down

Nor success make proud.

在海角尖上，在这里，海风

不让任何树生长。

地震无奈它何，无数世纪的

暴风雨签下了名：在它顶上

一只鹰隼栖落。

我想这就是你的标志

可悬挂在未来的天空；

不用十字架或蜂窝，

就用这；光辉的力，幽暗的静；

激昂的意识与最终的

冷漠携手并进；

生命和安详的死；鹰的

现实主义的眼光和动作

结合了岩石

那魁伟厚实的神秘主义，

失败无法使它丧气

成功也不会使它骄傲。

Watch the Lights Fade

Gray steel, cloud-shadow-stained,

The ocean takes the last lights of evening.

Loud is the voice and the foam lead-color,

And flood-tide devours the sands.

Here stand, like an old stone,

And watch the lights fade and hear the sea's voice.

Hate and despair take Europe and Asia,

And the sea-wind blows cold.

Night comes: night will claim all.

The world is not changed, only more naked:

The strong struggle for power, and the weak

Warm their poor hearts with hate.

Night comes: come into the house,

Try around the dial for a late news-cast.

These others are America's voices: naive and

Powerful; spurious; doom-touched.

How soon? Four years or forty?

Why should an old stone pick at the future?

Stand on your shore, old stone, be still while the

Sea-wind salts your head white.

于谦本不着意以诗名家。诗只是他的人生情感的自然流露，是他的内在心志的外现，是他壮烈而又悲剧生命的写照。同情民生疾苦、关注国家命运是于谦诗中常见的主题。他的《田舍翁》、《悯农》、《收麦》、《村舍耕夫》都是写农民生活的诗。诗中写农民“可怜憔悴百年身，暮暮朝朝一盂粥”，有时还要以野菜充饥。因此，他警告官家说：“剥民肥己天地知，国法昭昭不尔私！”于谦还有一些描写战争的诗，如《出塞》写明军迎击瓦剌军的侵犯，诗中说“不愿千金万户侯，凯歌但愿早回头”！《入塞》写胜利的军队班师归来，战士们与家人团聚，喜极成悲。诗中不仅表现了抗敌制胜的英雄气概，还流露出人民对和平生活的热烈向往之情。

相传于谦所作《石灰吟》诗曰：

千锤万击出深山，烈火焚烧若等闲。

粉身碎骨全不怕，要留清白在人间。

据考证，此诗又题刘儁作。刘儁是明洪武年间进士，曾任侍中，永乐年间死于国事。石灰不惧烈火焚烧、不怕粉身碎骨、只留清白在人间的形象成了于谦高尚人格与悲剧命运的象征。于谦在《咏煤炭》中形容煤炭“爝火燃回春浩浩，洪炉照破夜沉沉”，“但愿苍生俱饱暖，不辞辛苦出山林”。诗中借物言志，表达诗人报效国家、造福苍生的志愿和理想，历来脍炙人口。

在明代中叶主流诗坛之外，还活跃着一批风流名士，这就是沈周、唐寅、祝允明、文徵明等一批吴中文人。沈周（1427—1509年），字启南，号石田，晚年又号白石翁。他终身隐逸不仕，忘怀名利，诗、书、画时称“三绝”。他的诗作风神散朗，内有真朴之气。如七言古诗《西山有虎行》：

西山人家傍山住，唱歌采茶山上去。

下山日落仍唱歌，路黑林深无虎虑。

今年虎多令人忧，绕山搏人茶不收。

墙东小女膏血流，村南老翁空髑髅。

官司射虎差弓手，自隐山家索鸡酒。

明朝入城去报官，虎畏相公今避走。

诗中描写猛虎伤害百姓，派去射虎的弓箭手如何蒙骗官府、骚扰民众，形态活灵活现，而寓意深厚，耐人寻味。

沈周的七言律诗《写怀寄僧》曰：

虚壁疏灯一穗红，闲阶随处乱鸣虫。

明河有影微云外，清露无声万木中。

泽国苍茫秋水满，居民流落野烟空。

不知谁解抛忧患，独对青山忆赞公。

诗中抒写秋天夜晚的满腔忧患之思，因为水灾，居民流落，诗人夜不能寐，于是想起了“赞公”。赞公是杜甫的朋友，杜甫在《别赞上人》诗中有句“赞公释门老，放逐来上国。还为世尘婴，颇带憔悴色”，这里代指沈周所寄诗的僧人。这些诗缘情写事，真实而又自然感人。

唐寅（1470—1523年），字伯虎，又字子畏，世称唐解元，晚年皈依佛门，因号六如居士。祝允明（1460—1526年），字希哲，自号枝指生，又号枝山。文徵明（1470—1559年），初名璧，别号衡山。他们是诗人，又都是著名的书画家。他们既富有艺术的天分，复以名士风流，行为怪诞狷介，曾与徐祯卿（后来成为“前七子”的一员）并称为“吴中四才子”，其中唐伯虎、祝允明沉醉酒色，行为尤其放荡不羁。

唐伯虎的诗中，对于前朝文人的命运遭际表示了由衷的关切与同情。如下面的诗作：

李白才名天下奇，开元人主最相知。

夜郎不免长流去，今日书生敢望谁！

——《题画》

寂落浔阳白司马，青衫掩骭官僚下。

献纳亲曾批逆鳞，忽以谗言弃于野。

当时藩镇在谋逆，谋以如公不易得。

欲济时艰须异才，琐尾小人有何益？

谠言不用时事危，忠臣志士最堪悲。

一曲琵琶泪如把，况是秋风送别时。

是非公论日纷纷，不在朝廷在野人。

他日江州茅屋底，年年伏腊赛鸡豚。

——《题浔阳送别图》

乌台十卷青蝇案，炎海三千白发臣。

人尽不堪公转乐，满头明月脱纱巾。

——《题东坡小像》

三首诗分别就李白、白居易、苏轼的生平遭遇抒发感慨。在唐伯虎看来，三位都是既有才华又忠诚耿介、志在报国的诗人，然而李白被判长流夜郎，白居易忠言进谏而被贬浔阳，苏轼因为乌台诗案而遭牢狱之灾，继而又被流放至天涯海角。在这些作品中，唐伯虎集中倾诉了他对千古文人坎  遭遇的深沉感伤。

唐伯虎诗中更多挥洒的是风流跌宕、潇洒不羁的情怀。有如下列的作品：

桃花坞里桃花庵，桃花庵里桃花仙。

桃花仙人种桃树，又摘桃花换酒钱。

酒醒只来花前坐，酒醉还来花下眠。

半醒半醉日复日，花落花开年复年。

但愿老死花酒间，不愿鞠躬车马前。

车尘马足贵者趣，酒盏花枝贫贱缘。

……

不见五陵豪杰墓，无花无酒锄作田。

——《桃花庵歌》

李白前时原有月，惟有李白诗能说。

李白如今已仙去，月在青天几圆缺。

今人犹歌李白诗，明月还如李白时。

我学李白对明月，月与李白安能知？

李白能诗复能酒，我今百杯复千首。

我愧虽无李白才，料应月不嫌我丑。

我也不登天子船，我也不上长安眠。

姑苏城外一茅屋，万树桃花月满天。

——《把酒对月歌》

诗中展现的，是一个强调独立人格、自由意志，对于朝廷政治保持疏离态度之文人的心灵世界与精神寄托。他不从事人间的驰逐，而在自然的明月与桃花、美酒与诗篇中享受人生。这是中国传统文人的意气抒发，在浪漫的情调中渗透出深永的忧伤。

祝允明有五古《春日醉卧戏效太白》诗曰：

春风入芳壶，吹出椒兰香。

累酌无劝酬，颓然倚东床。

仙人满瑶京，处处相迎将。

携手观大鸿，高揖辞虞唐。

人生若无梦，终世无鸿荒！

诗中写春日沉醉于酒，梦中与仙人携手交游，依然唱着出世的高调。

不同于唐伯虎、祝允明，文徵明的诗风有较多传统的格调，在典雅工丽中透着温润与逸趣。如以下两首七言律诗：

三十年来麋鹿踪，若为老去入樊笼。

五湖春梦扁舟雨，万里秋风两鬓蓬。

远志出山成小草，神鱼失水困沙虫。

白头博得公车召，不满东方一笑中。

——《感怀》

老去渊明益羡闲，兴来高阁漫跻攀。

半檐爽气尊前雨，百里平林掌上山。

天际轻阴寒未散，日斜飞鸟倦知还。

长安尘土三千丈，不到清泉白石间。

——《虎丘登阁》

嘉靖二年（1523年），文徵明应召进京，被授翰林院待诏，这时他已经54岁了。《感怀》诗抒写的便是此时的心情，“远志出山”二句似乎对于未来的遭遇有所预感，诗末则以东方朔自喻。《虎丘登阁》写他辞官归隐后，登上虎丘高阁纵览景色的心理感受，“长安尘土”二句将超越名利、回归自然后的喜悦表达得别有情致。钱谦益《列朝诗集小传》说他“致身清华，未衰引退。当群公凋谢之后，以清名长德，主中吴风雅之盟者三十余年”，其风度可想而知。

杨慎（1488—1559年），字用修，号升庵，是明代又一位自树一帜的文学家。武宗正德六年（1511年），他年仅24岁考中进士，殿试第一，授翰林院修撰。嘉靖三年（1524年），他因朝廷斗争被廷杖，并被谪戍云南永昌卫，直到嘉靖三十八年（1559年）72岁时病死，前后遭贬谪共达34年之久。杨慎多才多艺，各种著作涉及经史、文学、地理、民族、金石、音韵、书画等领域，多达数百种。《明史》载录，说“明世记诵之博，著作之富，推（杨）慎为第一”。正是由于长期贬谪的人生苦难，造就了一个勤奋而又卓有成就的学者兼诗人。

杨慎的诗歌创作，早期“沉酣六朝，揽采晚唐，创为渊博靡丽之词”，颇有与“前七子”李梦阳、何景明争胜之意。中年以后长期遭到贬谪，风格渐入苍老。他的诗中，表达了由于被朝廷摒弃，在长期痛苦的反思中洞穿历史、参破世俗荣利的透悟。如《三岔驿》：

三岔驿，十字路，北去南来几朝暮？

朝见扬扬拥盖来，暮见寂寂回车去。

今古消沉名利中，短亭流水长亭树。

他的七律呈现雄浑流丽、沉郁悲壮的风貌。如《春兴·其一》：

最高楼上俯晴川，万里登临绝塞边。

碣石东浮三绛色，秀峰西合点苍烟。

天涯游子悬双泪，海畔孤臣谪九年。

虚拟短衣随李广，汉家无事勒燕然。

杨慎受贬谪之地安宁戍所有遥岑楼。当杨慎登临此楼，极目山川景物，感怀身世，想到长年贬逐天涯，虽然有心立功，然而报国无门，不禁双泪纵横。沈德潜《明诗别裁集》评此诗曰：“义勇之气，至欲托之从军，读者可以悲其志矣。”

他在72岁临死前不久作《六月十四日病中感怀》：

谪去君无恨 闽中我旧过 大都秋雁少 只是夜猿多