英语翻译
1
AS I ponder’d in silence,
Returning upon my poems,considering,lingering long,
A Phantom arose before me,with distrustful aspect,
Terrible in beauty,age,and power,
The genius of poets of old lands,
As to me directing like flame its eyes,
With finger pointing to many immortal songs,
And menacing voice,What singest thou?it said;
Know’st thou not,there is but one theme for ever-enduring bards?
And that is the theme of War,the fortune of battles,
The making of perfect soldiers?
2
Be it so,then I answer’d,
I too,haughty Shade,also sing war—and a longer and greater one than
any,
Waged in my book with varying fortune—with flight,advance,and
retreat—Victory deferr’d and wavering,
(Yet,methinks,certain,or as good as certain,at the last,)—The
field the world;
For life and death—for the Body,and for the eternal Soul,
Lo!too am come,chanting the chant of battles,
I,above all,promote brave soldiers.
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惠特曼（1819-1892）,美国诗人.生于纽约长岛韦斯.其一生的诗作都汇集在《草叶集》中.大部分作品打破了所有的传统格律,独创一种自由诗体,内容包罗万象,庞杂松散,集哲学思想及所见所闻所感倾注诗中.是美国19世纪最杰出的诗人.