Sonnet to My Mother Most near, most dear, most loved and most far, Under the window where I often found her Sitting as Huge as Asia, seismic with laughter, Gin and chicken helpless in her Irish hand, Irresistable as Rabelais but most tender for The lame dogs and hurt birds that surround her,-- She is a procession no one can follow after But be like a little dog following a brass band. She will not glane up at the bomber or condescend To drop her gin and scuttle to a cellar, But lean on the mahogany table like a mountain Whom only faith can move, and so I send O all my faith and all my love to tell her That she will move from mourning into morning. George Barker (1913--) Sonnets from China XIII Far from a cultural centre he was used: Abandoned by his general and his lice, Under a padded quilt he turned to ice And vanished. He will never be persued When this campaign is tidied into books: No vital knowledge perished in that skull; His jokes were stale; like wartime, he was dull; His name is lost forever like his books. Though runeless, to instructions from headquarters He added meaining like a comma when He jointed the dust of China, that our daughters Might keep their upright carriage, not again Be shamed before the dogs, that, where are waters, Mountains and houses, may be also men. W.H. Auden 有兴趣的人可以试着先翻译一下! -- 钱币已经抛了起来，正在翻转当中，有时转到头像那一面，有时转到字那一面。我将要透 过我的嘴巴，用我自己的语言，重复我双眼的所见。有可能钱币转了十次头像那一面，而 我只看到一次字那一面，也有可能是相反。对这一点我没有什麽好辩白的，毕竟我的嘴巴 只能说出我眼睛所看见的东西。而且就算我说的不是真实，也没有谁可以被怪罪。 Che Guevara, "Un Diario Per Un Viaggio in Motociceletta"