To- By Percy Bysshe Shelley One word is too often profaned For me to profan it, One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what man call love; But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not,- The desire of the moth for star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow? 给- 雪莱 有一个字常被人滥用, 我不想再滥用它; 有和种感情不被看重, 你岂能再轻视它? 有一种希望太像绝望, 慎重也无法压碎; 只求怜悯起自你心上, 对我就万分珍贵. 我奉献的不能叫爱情, 它只能算得是崇拜, 连上天都肯对它垂青, 想你该不致见外? 这有如飞蛾向往星天, 暗夜想拥抱天明, 怎能不让悲惨的尘寰 对遥远的事物倾心?
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