“Do Not Stand at My Grave” (美Mary Elizabeth Frye) Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.
“If I Should Go Tomorrow” (Anon.) If I should go tomorrow It would never be goodbye, For I have left my heart with you, So don’t you ever cry. The love that’s deep within me, Shall reach you from the stars, You’ll feel it from the heavens, And it will heal the scars.
“Song” (英 Christina Rossetti） When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.
发觉西方人关于“死亡”的诗不少，比方现代美国黑人诗人Lucille Clifton的 “oh antic God”(我没译成中文）： oh antic God return to me my mother in her thirties leaned across the front porch the huge pillow of her breasts pressing against the rail summoning me in for bed. I am almost the dead woman’s age times two. I can barely recall her song the scent of her hands though her wild hair scratches my dreams at night. return to me, oh Lord of then and now, my mother’s calling, her young voice humming my name.
英语文学鼻祖莎士比亚也有几首写死亡的诗，比方通称sonnet 71这首： No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell; Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if (I say) you look upon this verse, When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone.
美国十九世纪女诗人Emily Dickinson 较著名的一首诗也是以死亡为主题： Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setting Sun – Or rather – He passed us – The Dews drew quivering and chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle – We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground – Since then – ''tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses'' Heads Were toward Eternity –
这首诗歌体现了西方人对于死亡有时的幽默态度： If I should die before the rest of you, Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone. Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice, But be the usual selves that I have known. Weep if you must, Parting is hell. But life goes on, So sing as well.
Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.
切莫站在我墓边哭泣 我不在墓里我没睡去
我是吹起的千层风响 我是白雪中宝石的亮 我是秋天温和的落雨 我是照着熟谷的阳光
你早晨醒过来安静中 我是那鸟儿绕圈飞翔 清盈而且快速的升空 我是温柔闪亮的夜星
切莫站在我墓边哭叫 我不在墓里我没死掉
（毗陵居士2021年1月译）
If I should go tomorrow It would never be goodbye, For I have left my heart with you, So don’t you ever cry. The love that’s deep within me, Shall reach you from the stars, You’ll feel it from the heavens, And it will heal the scars.
我若明天走掉， 绝不会是永别， 我心将会留下， 所以何必哭嚎。 我心深处之爱， 会从星际下来， 你问苍天可知， 有爱便无伤害。
（毗陵居士2021年1月译）
When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.
我死后，我的至爱 不要给我唱歌默哀 也别在我身边栽花 或者种浓郁的松柏 我只求我上面绿草一层 靠着雨和露散发出湿意 如果你乐意，就记住我 如果不乐意，也可忘记
我将看不到阴云 也感觉不到雨滴 也听不到那夜莺 似乎痛苦的叫鸣 在永不逝去的黎明我将 来回在睡梦里徘跃 对于这些，可能我会记着 也可能，我会忘却
（毗陵居士2020年译21年1月略改）
oh antic God return to me my mother in her thirties leaned across the front porch the huge pillow of her breasts pressing against the rail summoning me in for bed.
I am almost the dead woman’s age times two.
I can barely recall her song the scent of her hands though her wild hair scratches my dreams at night. return to me, oh Lord of then and now, my mother’s calling, her young voice humming my name.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell; Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if (I say) you look upon this verse, When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone.
Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setting Sun – Or rather – He passed us – The Dews drew quivering and chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle – We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground – Since then – ''tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses'' Heads Were toward Eternity –
亲戚或余悲 他人亦已歌 死去何足道 托体同山阿
陶渊明的诗太好，我正纳闷有没有中文关于“死”的诗...
我有同感！
狄更生和莎士比亚的两首（我没翻译的，料已有人翻过）更有名
中文诗留白比较多，适合人们浮想；英文诗内容比较多，直抒胸臆。
这是哪位的诗？中文诗歌如同我们文化比较含蓄
If I should die before the rest of you, Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone. Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice, But be the usual selves that I have known. Weep if you must, Parting is hell. But life goes on, So sing as well.
都译的很好，让人动容。
愿逝者安息，生者平安。