Chapter 7 Easter 1916
Easter 1916
I met them at sunset,
They have a lively look
from the gray house of the eighteenth century
Step away from the counter or desk.
I nodded as I walked past them
Or making meaningless greetings,
Or stayed among them for a while,
After polite and meaningless conversation,
I thought before I finished talking
a satirical story or joke,
To sit by the club fire,
Tell a partner to be happy,
Because I believe we are nothing but
Make a living at the buffoon:
But everything changed, completely changed:
A terrifying beauty has been born.
that woman's day is spent in
In innocent kindness,
Her nights are spent in disputing,
It made her hoarse and blush.
She is young and repaired, how can she have a voice
more beautiful than her voice,
When she was chasing rabbits for hunting?
This man ran a school,
And ride our pegasus;
This other, his assistant and friend,
and joined him;
His mind is bold and good,
And sensitive nature, maybe
He will finally gain popularity.
this other guy is gross
What a vain drunkard, I thought.
He was to someone close to my heart
Had some of the most boring action ever,
But in this song I want to mention him:
He also from comedy of the absurd
resigned from his role;
He too, like the others,
changed, completely changed:
A terrifying beauty has been born.
Many hearts have but one purpose
Through summer, through winter,
As if enchanted and turned into stone,
To disturb the fountain of life.
The horse that came from the road,
The man on horseback, and from the clouds
Birds flying to the churning clouds,
changing from minute to minute;
Shadows of clouds floating on the stream
changing from minute to minute;
A horseshoe slipped by the water's edge,
A horse beats in the water;
The long-legged hen swoops down,
Clucking at the grouse;
They live minute by minute:
Stone is in the middle of it all.
a sacrifice too long
Can turn the heart into a rock.
Oh, when is enough?
That's God's business, our business
It's murmuring a string of names,
like a mother talking about her child
when sleep finally takes over
A day of wild running on all fours.
Is that still the nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Is this death unnecessary?
For England may keep faith,
Regardless of what has been said and done.
We know their dreams;
Knowing they dreamed and died
enough; why bother with too much love
To bewilder them before death?
I write them in verse—
McDonagh and Connolly,
Pierce and McBride,
now and in the future, wherever
As long as there is green on the surface,
It has changed, completely changed:
A terrifying beauty has been born.
Translated by Cha Liangzheng