茂迪·牧樂在夏日草原上 鋤下稻草彌散芬芳 她磨破的帽簷下煥發 平實的美感,質樸的健康 歡唱著心曲,自編的歌謠 知更鳥也忙不迭在樹上迴璿
每當她眺望遠方的城鎮 鳥瞰山坡畔白茫茫一片 甜美的歌聲消失了,隱約的不安 莫名的企盼湧動心間 做一場不敢做的夢 期待一份未知的奢華
法官騎馬從小道緩緩而來 梳理駿馬栗色鬃毛 勒住韁繩來到蔭涼 蘋果樹下與少女打招呼 可否喝口那潺潺溪水 流過草原越過小路
她彎腰在湧起的清泉邊 用錫質小杯子舀起來 含羞遞上 低眉淺望 她打著赤足,襤褸的衣衫 更甘甜的飲品不曾有 更白嫩的玉指未曾見
法官謝罷 侃侃而談 花草樹影 鳥語蜂鳴 聊及草垛 觀望天色 西邊的雲彩可能帶來壞天氣 茂迪忘卻野薔薇刺破的衣衫 優雅的褐色腳踝也裸露在外 她驚喜地聆聽著 長睫毛下忽閃榛色眼瞳
最後,再拖延些時間 找個小理由辭別上路 茂迪·牧樂彌望暗想,唉,我嘛, 沒準兒我就要成為他的新娘! 他給我穿戴細軟綢緞 舉杯當歌對我祝福誇讚
我父親該穿上毛呢大衣 我兄弟該開啟彩色帆船 給母親穿戴雍容華貴 小寶寶每天一件新玩具 我將給饑寒者以溫飽 每個訪客臨走都祝福我
法官登山 驀然回首 茂迪牧樂 婷婷玉立 如此佳人 甜美容顏 尋覓一生 不曾幸會 談吐從容 優雅風姿 金聲玉韻 慧心蘭質
假如我擁有了她,我今天 就像她,做個收稻草的人 不再徘徊權衡於對錯之間 不再聽律師爭辯滔滔不絕 唯聞牛兒低語 鳥兒呢喃 健康,安寧,心愛的話語
他憶起姊妹冷傲狀 家母唯愛權與金 他關閉了心靈,繼續前行 留著茂迪獨守田野間 那個下午他笑逐顏開 法庭上哼起古老情歌 水井邊年輕姑娘陷入沉思 直到雨點滴在未鋤的三葉草
他娶了嫁妝最豐厚的老婆 她追時髦,他為權 時常,大理石壁爐炭火閃 他眼裏浮現一幅畫 甜美茂迪的榛色眼睛 吃驚而無辜地張望著
時常,手捧葡萄美酒夜光杯 他心兒卻向往路邊小井泉 閉目在極盡裝潢的客廳 夢想著牧場上草葉花香 高傲的人暗暗歎息,隱隱作痛 啊,假使我還有自由! 就像那天自由地奔馳 赤足少女鋤著她的草
她嫁給無學識窮困漢 一大群孩童玩耍繞門廊 生活的艱辛 消磨的時光 在心間頭腦刻下滄桑 時常,夏日豔陽高照 原野上揚著新割的草 她聽到泉水叮咚響 穿越小路,透過牆壁 又回到蘋果樹蔭下 她看到騎士勒馬韁 低眉 含羞 淺望 感到他欣賞的目光讀著她的臉龐
有時,她廚房狹窄的牆 延展擴成了豪華的廳堂 乏味紡車輪轉成了小豎琴 牛脂蠟燭台亦如星光閃亮 丈夫坐在壁爐吊鉤邊 煙酒昏昏牢騷滿腹 她腦海裏一個人影與她並肩 喜樂就是責任,愛就是律法 她又承擔起自己生活的重負 隻是說,本來可以那樣!
嗚呼少女,嗚呼法官 富人的抱怨,主婦的勞煩! 上帝垂憐他們倆,也垂憐我們所有人 枉然追憶年輕時的夢想 所有口中筆頭的話語 最傷心的莫過於:本來可以那樣! 唉,算啦,大家都存一份甜美希翼 深埋心底,旁人無察覺 盼到永生之時,天使也許會 將墓石推開!
| Maud Muller in a summer's day Racked the meadow sweet with hay Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree.
But when she glanced to the far-off town White from its hill-slope looking down The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast A wish, that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known
The judge rode slowely down the lane Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane: He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-tree, to greet the maid, And asked a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road
She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown "Thanks!" said the Judge, a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed."
He spoke of the grass, and flowers, and trees, Of the singing birds and the humming bees; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather, And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, And her graceful ankles bare and brown, And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashes hazel eyes.
At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. Maud Muller looked and sighed:" Ah, me!" That I the Judge's bride might be! He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine.
"My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat; I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day; And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door."
The Judge looked back as he climed the hill. And saw Maud Muller standing still. "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er has it been my lot to meet; And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair.
"Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay; No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues; But low of cattle and song of birds, And health, and quiet, and loving words."
But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And his mother, vain of her rank and gold; So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, And Maud was left in the field alone. But the lawyer smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the yound girl mused beside the well, Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.
He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power; Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud's hazel eyes, looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside well instead; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms, To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain, "Ah, that I were free again! Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay."
She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door; But care and sorrow and wasting pain Left their traces on heart and brain. And oft when the summer sun shone hot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, And she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall, In the shade of the appe-tree again She saw a rider draw his rein, And, gazing down with timid grace, She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinet turned; The tallow candle and astral burned; And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty, and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only." It might have been!"
Alas for a maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge! God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall; For of all sad words of tongues or pen He saddest are these:"It might have been!" Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes; And in the hereafter angels may Roll the stone from its grave away!
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