The Grey Monk

I die I die the Mother said
“我明白，我明白，”母亲说，
My Children die for lack of Bread
“我的孩子因缺少面包而亡。
What more has the merciless Tyrant said
那无情的暴君还说了些什么？”
The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed
那修士坐到她的石床之上。

The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side
鲜血自灰修士的身侧涌出；
His hands & feet were wounded wide
他的手脚受创极深，
His Body bent his arms & knees
他的身体佝偻，臂膀与膝弯
Like to the roots of ancient trees
有如古树的盘根。

His eye was dry no tear could flow
他的眼枯干，无泪可流；
A hollow groan first spoke his woe
一声空吟先道尽他的悲苦。
He trembled & shudderd upon the Bed
他在那床上颤抖与战栗；
At length with a feeble cry he said
最终微叹一声他开口倾诉：

When God commanded this hand to write
——当上帝命这只手去书写
In the studious hours of deep midnight
在幽深午夜那些勤勉的钟点，
He told me the writing I wrote should prove
祂对我说我写的一切都须证明
The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd
世上我爱的一切毁灭的根源。

My Brother starvd between two Walls
我的兄弟在两堵墙间受饿，
His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls
他儿女的恸哭让我的灵魂惊惧；
I mockd at the wrack & griding chain
我嘲弄过刑架与刮骨的锁链，
My bent body mocks their torturing pain
我佝偻的身体嘲弄它们残虐的痛楚。

Thy Father drew his sword in the North
你的父亲曾在北方拔剑
With his thousands strong he marched forth
率领万千勇者他迈步向前；
Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel
你的兄弟曾披上钢铁的甲胄
To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel
为孩子遭受的不义复仇。

But vain the Sword & vain the Bow
然而剑是徒然弓也是徒然，
They never can work Wars overthrow
它们永远无法将战争倾翻。
The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear
隐士的祈祷和寡妇的眼泪
Alone can free the World from fear
独可解救世界于恐怖之围。

For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing
为一滴眼泪是一枚智慧的物件，
And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King
而一声叹息是一个天使王的利剑，
And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe
那凄厉的呻吟饱含烈士的苦痛
Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow
是一支飞箭来自全能的长弓。

The hand of Vengeance found the Bed
报复之手已直捣那床台
To which the Purple Tyrant fled
紫衣暴君逃去的所在；
The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head
铁手将暴君之头碾为齑粉
And became a Tyrant in his stead
却化作一个取而代之的暴君。