,伍桐坐在房间的窗边,静默许久,终究还是拉开了窗帘。
她一便看见还斜靠在车边的沈泠,他自黑暗中望了过来。
伍桐又猛地将窗帘拉上,将沈泠给她的盒折纸片翻开。里面用英文小字写着一首诗。准确地说,是诗。
Sonnet VII ①
Hartley Coleridge
Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No.
(是梦幻还是觉?不)
It is immortal as immaculate Truth,
(它与真理一样永恒)
&039;Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,
(不似花朵)
Drops from the stem of life―for it will grow,
(自然凋落――)
In barren regions, where no waters flow,
(因能生于无荒漠)
Nor rays of promise cheats the pensive glo-om.
(无惧缺乏阳光滋)
A darkling fire, faint hovering o&039;er a tomb,
(渐暗的火焰,微弱彷徨于墓地之周)
That but itself and darkness nought doth s-how,
(除了与黑暗,都对它无能为力)
It is my love&039;s being yet it cannot die,
(我的至今不死)
Nor will it change, though all be changed b-eside;
(纵使周遭变,它不会变)