Percy Bysshe Shelley
O wild West Wind，thou breath of Autumn’s being，
Thou，from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven，like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.
Yellow，and black，and pale，and hectic red，
Pestilence-stricken multitudes： O thou，
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds，where they lie cold and low，
Each like a corpse within its grave，until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth，and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odors plain and hill；
Wild Spirit，which art moving everywhere；
Destroyer and preserver；hear，O hear!
Thou on whose stream，’mid the steep sky’s commotion，
Loose clouds like earth’s decaying leaves are shed，
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean，
Angels of rain and lightning：there are spread
On the blue surface of thine aery surge，
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head
Of some fierce Maenad，even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith’s height，
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge
Of the dying year，to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre，
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
Of vapours，from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain，and fire，and hail will burst：O hear!
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean，where he lay，
Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams，
Beside a pumice isle in Baiae’s bay，
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave’s intenser day，
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet，the sense faints picturing them!Thou
For whose path the Atlantic’s level powers
Cleave themselves into chasms，while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean，know
Thy voice，and suddenly grow gray with fear，
And tremble and despoil themselves： O hear!
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear；
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee；
A wave to pant beneath thy power，and share
The impulse of thy strength，only less free
Than thou，O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood，and could be
The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven，
As then，when to outstrip thy skiey speed
Scarce seemed a vision；I would ne’er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
O，lift me as a wave，a leaf，a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee： tameless，and swift，and proud.
Make me thy lyre，even as the forest is：
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep，autumnal tone，
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou，Spirit fierce，
My spirit! Be thou me，impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And，by the incantation of this verse，
Scatter，as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks，my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind，
If Winter comes，can Spring be far behind?
西风颂
珀西·比西·雪莱
哦，狂暴的西风啊，你是秋天的气息，
你神出鬼没，万木之叶因此皆枯，
黄叶乱窜，有如鬼魅碰到了巫师。
万叶乱飞，那颜色好似在躲避病魔，
枯黄、乌黑、苍白、潮红，
你啊，正驱使着长翅的种子赶赴到
黑暗、低矮、阴冷的床上过冬
每粒种子就像坟墓里的僵尸，
待到明媚的东君把号角吹响，
大地处处复苏，不再如梦迷离，
唤出嫩芽，像羊群一样，觅食空中
高山平原，姹紫嫣红，弥漫芳菲。
不羁的精灵呵，你无处不远行；
破坏者兼保护者：听吧，你且聆听！
没入你的急流，当高空一片混乱，
流云像大地的枯叶一样被撕扯
脱离天空和海洋的纠缠的枝干。
这是雨和电的先遣，
它们飘落在你的磅礴的、蔚蓝的波涛之上，
有如狂女那飘扬的头发在闪烁，
从天穹的最遥远而模糊的边沿
直抵九霄的中天，到处都在摇曳
欲来雷雨的卷发，对濒死的一年
你是岁之将尽的挽歌，而这密集的黑夜
将成为它广大墓陵的一座圆顶，
而你，凝聚所有水汽的力量把穹顶力挽，
那是你的浑然之气，从它会迸涌
黑色的雨，冰雹和火焰：哦，你听！
你把蓝色的地中海从夏梦中摇醒，
那地中海在澄澈的波浪上闲躺着，
被澄澈水流的回旋催眠入梦，
就在巴亚海湾的一个浮石岛边，
你梦见了古老的宫殿和楼阁
在飘摇的水波中掠影浮光。
那里长满了青苔，盛开着鲜花，
那芬芳真迷人欲醉！呵，为了给你
让一条路，大西洋的汹涌的浪波
把自己向两边劈开，而深在渊底
那水藻和绿色森林
虽然枝叶扶疏，却没有精力；
听到你的声音，它们已吓得发青：
一边颤栗，一边自动萎缩：哦，你听！
假如我是能被你唤起的一片枯叶，
假如我是能随你飞去的一片流云，
如果我是一个浪花在你的威力中喘息，
假如我能有你的脉搏，只是不像
你那么自由，哦，无法约束的生命！
假如我还在童年，能与你一道同行，
便成了你的伴侣，悠游天空
因为，那时候，要想追你上云霄，
似乎并非梦幻，我就不致像如今
这样焦躁地要和你争相祈祷。
哦，举起我吧，当我是水波、树叶、浮云！
我跌在生活的荆棘上，我流血了！
这被岁月的重轭所制服的生命
原是和你一样：所向空阔，自由自在，无拘无束。
把我当作弦琴吧，有如树林：
尽管我的叶落了，但又有何妨！
你巨大的合奏所振起的音乐
将染有树林和我的深邃的秋意：
虽忧伤而甜蜜。呵，但愿你给予我
狂暴的精神！愿你化为我，势不可挡！
请把我枯死的思想向世界吹落，
让它像枯叶一样促成新的生命！
尽这首诗的魔力之所能，
就把我的话语，像是灰烬和火种
在还未熄灭的炉火向人间播散！
通过我的口把预言的号角吹响，
去唤醒沉睡的大地吧！西风你听我说：
如果冬天已经来临，春天还会远吗？
背景知识
珀西·比西·雪莱（Percy Bysshe Shelley），19世纪英国著名浪漫主义诗人。是英国文学史上最有才华的抒情诗人之一，被誉为“诗人中的诗人”。其一生见识广阔，不仅是柏拉图主义者，更是个伟大的理想主义者。他创作的诗歌节奏明快，积极向上。
这首诗可以说是诗人“骄傲、轻捷而不驯的灵魂”的自白，是时代精神的写照。诗人凭借自己的诗才，借助自然的精灵让自己的生命与鼓荡的西风相呼相应，以饱含激情的笔触抒写了“秋的呼吸——奔放的西风”，创造了既是破坏者又是保护者的西风形象。感情真挚磅礴，格调高昂激越，用气势恢宏的篇章唱出了生命的旋律和心灵的狂舞。
单词注解
multitude [5mQltitju:d] 许多
azure [5AVE] 天蓝色的，蔚蓝的
clarion [5klAriEn] 号角
aery [5e:ri] 梦幻般的，飘渺的
verge [vE:dV] 边际，界限
名句诵读
O wild West Wind，thou breath of Autumn’s being，Thou，from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven，like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.
Wild Spirit，which art moving everywhere；Destroyer and preserver；hear，O hear!
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind，If Winter comes，can Spring be far behind?
