戰場遺蹟

凌風 譯

甚麼，那是一場夢？只有我孤單
　　在冷夜裏，凄迷的雨天？
噓！—啊，那只是流水的嗚咽；
　　我被遺留在後邊，被殺的人中間。

是的，我清楚的記起！
　　我們相遇從不同的陣地；
我們一同使用武器又倒下去，
　　我的刀刺進他顫動的心裏。

在幽暗的柏樹下，這件事作成，
　　太昏黑中看不清他的面貌；
但我聽見他垂死的呻吟聲聲，
　　他給我緊緊的冰冷擁抱。

他對我說過話，但我聽不清
　　他所說的，因為大炮雷鳴；
但我懼怕要死，我的心變冷，—
　　神啊，我曾聽過那語聲！

我曾聽過在我們母親的膝前，
　　當我們一同祝誦晚禱呢喃！
我的兄弟！但願我替你死，—
　　這重壓過於我靈魂所能負擔！

我把嘴脣貼近他殭冷的臉邊，
　　求他表明給我知道他的赦免，
用言語或手勢：他已口不能言，
　　但他把冰冷的面孔緊偎我的臉。

我的血從肋旁傷口急速的流，
　　我忘卻傷痛有一段時候，
好像又回到童年在小湖上，
　　兩個孩子同盪着一隻小舟。

然後，在夢中，只有我們站在
　　陰影降下的森林小徑邊；
我又聽見那震顫的聲音，
　　和他溫柔的話別再見。

但那次的分別，是在許多年前，
　　他離家飄流到異鄉的土地；
我們親愛的老娘永不會知道，
　　今夜死在他弟兄的手裏。

　　*　*　*　*　*

來掩埋屍體的兵士們
　　不曾打擾他們最後的擁抱，
放他們臉對臉，心對着心，
　　在那裏長眠到末日審判來到。

Left on The Battle-field

What, was it a dream? am I all alone
　　In the dreary night and the drizzling rain?
Hist!— ah, it was only the river's moan;
　　They have left me behind with the mangled slain.

Yes, now I remember it all too well!
　　We met, from the battling ranks apart;
Together our weapons flashed and fell,
　　And mine was sheathed in his quivering heart.

In the cypress gloom, where the deed was done,
　　It was too dark to see his face;
But I heard his death-groans, one by one,
　　And he holds me still in a cold embrace.

He spoke but once, and I could not hear
　　The words he said, for the cannon's roar;
But my heart grew cold with a deadly fear,—
　　O God! I had heard that voice before!

Had heard it before at our mother's knee,
　　When we lisped the words of our evening prayer!
My brother! would I had died for thee,—
　　This burden is more than my soul can bear!

I pressed my lips to his death-cold cheek,
　　And beffed him to show me, by word or sign,
That he knew and forgave me: he could not speak,
　　But he nestled his poor cold face to mine.

The blood flowed fast from my wounded side,
　　And then for a while I forgot my pain,
And over the lakelet we seemed to glide
　　In our little boat, two boys again.

And then, in my dream we stood alone
　　On a forest path where the shadows fell;
And I heard again the tremulus tone,
　　And the tender words of his last farewell.

But that parting was years, long years ago,
　　He wandered away to a foreign land;
And our dear old mother will never know
　　That he died to-night by his brother's hand.

　　*　*　*　*　*

The soldiers who buried the dead away
　　Disturbed not the clasp of that last embrace,
But laid them to sleep till the judgment-day,
　　Heart folded to heart, and face to face.

Sarah T. Bolton（1814-1893）