1
I
他在严寒的冬天消失了：
He disappeared in the dead of winter:
小溪已冻结，飞机场几无人迹
The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted,
积雪模糊了露天的塑像；
And snow disfigured the public statues;
水银柱跌进垂死一天的口腔。
The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day.
呵，所有的仪表都同意
What instruments we have agree
他死的那天是寒冷而又阴暗。
The day of his death was a dark cold day.
远远离开他的疾病
Far from his illness
狼群奔跑过常青的树林，
The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests,
农家的河没受到时髦码头的诱导；
The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays;
哀悼的文辞
By mourning tongues
把诗人的死同他的诗隔开。
The death of the poet was kept from his poems.
但对他说，那不仅是他自己结束，
But for him it was his last afternoon as himself,
那也是他最后一个下午，
An afternoon of nurses and rumours;
呵，走动着护士和传言的下午；
The provinces of his body revolted,
他的躯体的各省都叛变了，
The squares of his mind were empty,
他的头脑的广场逃散一空，
Silence invaded the suburbs,
寂静侵入到近郊，
The current of his feeling failed; he became his admirers.
他的感觉之流中断：他成了他的爱读者。
Now he is scattered among a hundred cities
如今他被播散到一百个城市，
And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections,
完全移交给陌生的友情；
To find his happiness in another kind of wood
他要在另一种林中寻求快乐，
And be punished under a foreign code of conscience.
并且在迥异的良心法典下受惩处。
The words of a dead man
一个死者的文字
Are modified in the guts of the living.
要在活人的腑肺间被润色。
But in the importance and noise of to-morrow
但在来日的重大和喧嚣中，
When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the Bourse,
当交易所的兼客像野兽一般咆哮，
And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed,
当穷人承受着他们相当习惯的苦痛，
And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom,
当每人在自我的囚室里几乎自信是自由的
A few thousand will think of this day
有个千把人会想到这一天，
As one thinks of a day when one did something slightly unusual.
仿佛在这天曾做了稍稍不寻常的事情。
呵，所有的仪表都同意，
What instruments we have agree
他死的那天是寒冷而又阴暗。
The day of his death was a dark cold day.
2
II
你像我们一样蠢；可是你的才赋
You were silly like us; your gift survived it all:
却超越这一切：贵妇的教堂，肉体的
The parish of rich women, physical decay,
衰颓，你自己；爱尔兰刺伤你发为诗歌，
Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
但爱尔兰的疯狂和气候依旧，
Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still,
因为诗无济于事：它永生于
For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives
它辞句的谷中，而官吏绝不到
In the valley of its making where executives
那里去干预；“孤立”和热闹的“悲伤”
Would never want to tamper, flows on south
本是我们信赖并死守的粗野的城，
From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,
它就从这片牧场流向南方；它存在着，
Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives,
是现象的一种方式，是一个出口。
A way of happening, a mouth.
3
III
泥土呵，请接纳一个贵宾，
Earth, receive an honoured guest:
威廉·叶芝己永远安寝：
William Yeats is laid to rest.
让这爱尔兰的器皿歇下，
Let the Irish vessel lie
既然它的诗已尽倾洒。
Emptied of its poetry.
时间对勇敢和天真的人
In the nightmare of the dark
可以表示不能容忍，
All the dogs of Europe bark,
也可以在一个星期里，
And the living nations wait,
漠然对待一个美的躯体，
Each sequestered in its hate;
却崇拜语言，把每个
Intellectual disgrace
使语言常活的人部宽赦，
Stares from every human face,
还宽赦懦弱和自负．
And the seas of pity lie
把荣耀都向他们献出。
Locked and frozen in each eye.
时间以这样奇怪的诡辩
Follow, poet, follow right
原谅了吉卜林和他的观点，
To the bottom of the night,
还将原谅保尔·克劳德，
With your unconstraining voice
原谅他写得比较出色。
Still persuade us to rejoice;
黑略的恶梦把一切笼罩，
With the farming of a verse
欧洲所有的恶犬在吠叫，
Make a vineyard of the curse,
尚存的国家在等待，
Sing of human unsuccess
各为自己的恨所隔开；
In a rapture of distress;
智能所受的耻辱
In the deserts of the heart
从每个人的脸上透露，
Let the healing fountain start,
而怜悯底海洋已歇，
In the prison of his days
在每只眼里锁住和冻结。
Teach the free man how to praise.
跟去吧，诗人，跟在后面，
直到黑夜之深渊，
用你无拘束的声音
仍旧劝我们要欢欣；
靠耕耕一片诗田
把诅咒变为葡萄园，
在苦难的欢腾中
歌唱着人的不成功；
从心灵的一片沙漠
让治疗的泉水喷射，
在他的岁月的监狱里
教给自由人如何赞誉。