We Are Seven BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

We Are Seven

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

 

———A simple Child,

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

 

I met a little cottage Girl:

She was eight years old, she said;

Her hair was thick with many a curl

That clustered round her head.

 

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad:

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

—Her beauty made me glad.

 

“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?”

“How many? Seven in all,” she said,

And wondering looked at me.

 

“And where are they? I pray you tell.”

She answered, “Seven are we;

And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.

 

“Two of us in the church-yard lie,

My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I

Dwell near them with my mother.”

 

“You say that two at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,

Sweet Maid, how this may be.”

 

Then did the little Maid reply,

“Seven boys and girls are we;

Two of us in the church-yard lie,

Beneath the church-yard tree.”

 

“You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five.”

 

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”

The little Maid replied,

“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,

And they are side by side.

 

“My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,

And sing a song to them.

 

“And often after sun-set, Sir,

When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

 

“The first that died was sister Jane;

In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

 

“So in the church-yard she was laid;

And, when the grass was dry,

Together round her grave we played,

My brother John and I.

 

 

“And when the ground was white with snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,

And he lies by her side.”

 

“How many are you, then,” said I,

“If they two are in heaven?”

Quick was the little Maid’s reply,

“O Master! we are seven.”

 

“But they are dead; those two are dead!

Their spirits are in heaven!”

’Twas throwing words away; for still

The little Maid would have her will,

And said, “Nay, we are seven!”

 

我們是七兄妹

 

天真的孩童，

輕輕地吸著氣，

浸在肢體的活力中，

是否該知死亡的真義？

 

我偶遇一個農家女，

她說自己有八歲；

她的頭發濃密又卷曲

繞著她的頭兒來伏垂。

 

她綻放著鄉野氣息，

她綻放著天真爛漫：

她的雙眼清澈如碧

－她的美麗讓我欣歡。

 

“姐妹和兄弟， 小姑娘，

你們有幾個？”

“幾個？ 我家有七兄妹，” 她講， 

一邊把我琢磨

 

“他們都在哪？ 求你告訴我。”

她回答， “我們是七兄妹；

兩個在康威生活， 

兩個出海不常歸。

 

“兩個在教堂院裏躺， 

是我的姐姐和哥哥；

還有教堂院裏的小木房， 

是媽媽和我的家舍。”

 

“你說兩個在康威，

兩個在出海，

求你告訴我， 怎是七兄妹！

小姑娘， 我還是不明白。”

 

小姑娘依舊這般講，

“確是七兄妹在我家；

兩個在教堂院裏躺， 

躺在那顆大樹下。”

 

“你周遭跑， 小姑娘，

你這般活力充沛，

如果兩個在教堂院裏葬，

你家隻有五兄妹。”  

 

“他們的墳地青翠， 他們還同我相會，”

小姑娘答道， 

“離我家隻有十二步遙，

他倆緊緊相依靠。

 

“我在那裏織長襪，

我在那裏織手帕，

我在那裏坐下，

為他倆把歌唱。

 

“先生， 常常日落後， 

還是很亮的傍晚，

帶著我的小碗走，

我去那裏吃晚餐。

 

“先死去的是姐姐簡；

她躺在床上啜泣，

直到天父把疼痛驅趕；

她才同我們別離。

 

“她被葬在教堂院子裏； 

當草地幹涸，

我們圍著她的墳地遊戲，

還有強哥哥陪著我。

 

“當大地變得雪白，

當我能奔跑溜雪耍玩，

強哥哥也無奈地離開， 

他就躺在簡身邊。”

 

“如此， 你們兄妹幾個？” 我問她，

“如果他倆在天堂裏飛？”

小姑娘脫口答，

“先生， 我們是七兄妹。”

 

“可是他們已逝去， 他倆已逝去！

他們的靈魂在天堂裏飛！”

不該這般說； 因為依然

小姑娘守著她的信念，

在說， “不， 我們是七兄妹！”