To H. F. Brown.2/Robert Louis Stevenson翻訳

To H. F. Brown.
From Underwoods
(Written during a dangerous sichness)

I sit and wait a pair of oars
On cis-Elysian river-shores.
Where the immortal dead have sate,
'T is mine to sit and meditate;
To re-ascend life's rivulet,
Without remorse, without regret;
And sing my Alma Genetrix
Among the willows of the Styx.
僕はこちらのイリジアンの川岸に座って
漕ぎ舟を待っている
神聖な死者が向かう場所
座ってじっくり考える事も
命の小川を再び上る事も
良心の咎めもなく、悔恨もなく
それは僕の求めるもの
だからスティクスの柳に囲まれた
我がアルマ.ジェネトゥリクスを讃えよ

And lo, as my serener soul
Did these unhappy shores patrol,
And wait with an attentive ear
The coming of the gondolier,
Your fire-surviving roll I took,
Your spirited and happy book; *
Whereon, despite my frowning fate,
It di雪d my soul so recreated
That all my fancies fled away
On a Venetian holiday.
そして見よ、僕の幾分澄み切った心のように
この不幸な岸は巡回したか
ゴンドラの舟唄の接近を
一心に耳を傾けて待ち侘びる
貴方が誘う命拾いの横揺れ
貴方の勇しく幸福な書
僕の眉を顰めるような運命を軽蔑する
それは僕の心を実に元気付けるので
僕の幻想の全てはヴェネチアの休日に消え去った

Now, thanks to your triumphant care,
Your pages clear as April air,
The sails, the bells, the birds, I know,
And the far-off Friulan snow;
The land and sea, the sun and shade,
And the blue even lamp-inlaid.
For this, for these, for all, O friend,
For your whole book from end to end --
For Paron Piero's muttonham --
I your defaulting debtor am.
Perchance, reviving, yet may I
To your sea-paven city hie,
And in a felze, some day yet
Light at your pipe my cigarette.

23:37 2016/02/17水