有一位母亲被旅舍拒绝
在路途中流浪迤逦前行；
在那个地方她无家可归
所有别的人都安居家中。
附近有一座不堪的牛棚，
梁柱将摇坠，沙土松动，
竟然可成为托身的处所
胜过了罗马的雕梁画栋。
在日光下有异乡人流离，
有的人在本家病苦不安，
他们在一天的工作完毕，
都能有枕头处倒身安眠。
我们有战争和眼中火焰，
有时机和意外争得荣显，
但我们家在奇妙穹苍下，
圣诞的故事就如此开展。
一个婴孩在污秽的马槽，
牲畜在吃草，口涎横斜；
当你和我都在家中安居，
只有祂竟然是飘零无家。
头脑有知识手也有巧技，
但我们有多久心灵失丧！
没有海图或船只能远航
那穹苍下不可知的地方。
这世界荒谬像老妇幻言，
浅白的事变成怪诞不经，
足够的大地足够的天空，
作我们希奇和我们战争；
我们的安息如火蛇摇摆，
我们的和平列为不可能，
环绕著一个奇妙的星球，
阶级和冲突在飞翔不停。
世上的人应当都奔向那
在夜晚仍然是开放的家，
到那地方更古老过伊甸，
那城镇更雄巍高越罗马。
跟定那隐现迂回的明星，
到那不可能竟成的事情：
在那里神却是成为无家，
所有的人都可回到家中。 |
There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stone of Rome.
For men homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.
A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost—how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky’s dome.
This world is wild as an old wive’s tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where classed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place that God was homeless
And all men are at home. |
