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两种爱（阿尔弗莱德·道格拉斯）

梦中，我站在一座小山之巅， 

我脚下的大地，就像 

一座废弃的花园，恣意地开满 

各种鲜花和含苞的蓓蕾。梦中，还有黑色的水池， 

没有一丝涟漪； 

梦中，还有白色的百合， 

淡淡几朵，及藏红花，蔷薇 

粉红或灰白;蛇一样的蝴蝶花 

，隐在岸边的草丛里，几乎看不到； 

透过绿色的网， 

害羞的蓝眼睛在阳光下眨啊眨。 

还有一些不知道名字的怪花； 

这些是沾满月光的花，或带着 

恣意随性的情绪的花；这里的一朵 

已经了啜饮落日瞬间 

昙花一现的美；草叶 

饱满而繁盛，已被星辰 

缓慢而精致地滋养了， 

百合的长花萼里凝结的芳香的露珠 

也成入土的甘露；阳光只展现 

上帝的荣耀；从未有旭日玷污 

天国灿烂的气息。远处，是一堵 

陡峭的灰色石墙；与天鹅绒似的苔藓共生永存。 

我久久地站在那里，凝视，惊奇地看到了 

这样一个如此奇异，如此甜美，如此美丽的地方。 

我站在那里，心醉神迷，噢！ 

从花园那边，走来一个年轻人；他一手抬起， 

遮挡阳光，他被风吹起的头发， 

沾满了鲜花；他手中抱着一束 

裂开的紫红葡萄；他的双眼 

如水晶一般清澈。 

他全身赤裸， 

在荒芜无径的山上，像雪一般洁白； 

他的双唇，如红酒一般红-----在这粉色的唇下， 

则是大理石一般的面庞；他的眉毛如玉髓。 

他走近我，双唇展开，唇形娇好。 

他抓住我的手，亲吻我的嘴， 

给我葡萄吃，并且对我说，亲爱的朋友， 

跟我来，我给你看世界的阴影 

和生活的形象。 

看，从南方 

来了无尽的苍白的队列。 

噢！我在梦中的花园里看， 

在闪烁着金色阳光的平原上 

走着两个人。 

一个快乐美丽，青春勃发； 

双唇流露出甜美的 

矜持；他歌唱美丽的女人， 

雅静的姑娘和小伙子的快乐之爱； 

他双眼明亮，在金黄草叶的波浪间， 

轻快地倘佯； 

他手里拿着一把象牙琵琶， 

金色的弦就如姑娘的秀发。 

他唱着，声音如长笛一样玩转美妙。 

他脖子上缠绕着三条玫瑰花环。 

他的同伴与他同行， 

悲哀而甜美，他的一双大眼 

奇怪地闪着奇妙的光亮，大张着， 

惊奇地凝视；他的一声声叹息 

打动了我；他双颊苍白无光， 

就像枯萎的百合；他双唇绯红， 

就如罂粟；他紧抱双手， 

又放开；他的头上缠着 

月亮花，如死亡的唇一样白。 

他穿着紫色长袍，缀饰这蛇形的 

金结；他的呼吸 

如燃烧的火焰。 

我看到他， 

禁不住哭泣。我喊道：“甜美的年轻， 

告诉我你为何悲伤而叹息着 

漫游在这欢乐的王国？请你对我说实话， 

你叫什么名字？” 

他说：“我的名字叫爱。” 

接着，第一个人转身直面着我， 

喊道：“他说谎，他的名字叫羞耻。 

但我是爱，我想 

独居于这美丽的花园，直到他夜晚 

不请自来；我是真正的爱，我让 

少男少女的心里充满互燃的火焰。” 

随后他叹息着对另一个人说：“冷静些吧， 

我才是不敢说出名字的爱。” 

I dreamed I stood upon a little hill, 

And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed

Like a waste garden, flowering at its will

With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed

Black and unruffled; there were white lilies

A few, and crocuses, and violets

Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries

Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets

Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun. 

And there were curious flowers, before unknown, 

Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades

Of Nature's wilful moods; and here a one

That had drunk in the transitory tone

Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades

Of grass that in an hundred springs had been

Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars, 

And watered with the scented dew long cupped

In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen

Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars

The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt, 

A grey stone wall, o'ergrown with velvet moss

Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed

To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair. 

And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across

The garden came a youth; one hand he raised

To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair

Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore

A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes

Were clear as crystal, naked all was he, 

White as the snow on pathless mountains frore, 

Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes

A marble floor, his brow chalcedony. 

And he came near me, with his lips uncurled

And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth, 

And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend, 

Come I will show thee shadows of the world

And images of life. See from the South

Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.' 

And lo! within the garden of my dream

I saw two walking on a shining plain

Of golden light. The one did joyous seem

And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain

Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids

And joyous love of comely girl and boy, 

His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades

Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy; 

And in his hand he held an ivory lute

With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair, 

And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute, 

And round his neck three chains of roses were. 

But he that was his comrade walked aside; 

He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes

Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide

With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs

That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white

Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red

Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight, 

And yet again unclenched, and his head

Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death. 

A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold

With the device of a great snake, whose breath

Was fiery flame: which when I did behold

I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth, 

Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove

These pleasant realms? I pray thee speak me sooth

What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.' 

Then straight the first did turn himself to me

And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame, 

But I am Love, and I was wont to be

Alone in this fair garden, till he came

Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill

The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.' 

Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will, 

I am the Love that dare not speak its name.' 

道格拉斯送给王尔德的诗，同时也作为呈堂证供，被法官所逼问：“何为不敢说出名字的爱。” 

王尔德的辩词：“‘不敢说出名字的爱’在本世界是一种伟大的爱， 

就是一位年长者对一位年幼者的那种伟大的爱，就是大卫和乔纳森之间的那种爱， 

就是柏拉图作为自己哲学基础的那种爱，就是你们能在米开朗基罗和莎士比亚的十四行诗中发现的那种爱。 

这是那种深沉、热情的爱，它的纯洁与其完美一样。 

它弥漫于米开朗基罗和莎士比亚那些伟大艺术作品之中，以及我的那两封信中，它们就是表达这种爱的作品。 

在这个世纪，这种爱被误解了，误解之深，它甚至被描述为‘不敢说出口的爱’，为了描述这种爱，我站在了现在的位置。 

它是美的，是精致的，它是最高贵的一种感情，它没有丝毫违反自然之处。 

它是思想上的，它不断出现于年长者与年幼者之间，当年长者拥有才智时，年幼者的面前就会拥有所有的生活快乐，所有希望和生活的魅力。 

这个世界不理解这一点，而只是嘲讽它，有时还因为它而给人带上镣铐。” 

Charles Gill (prosecuting): What is "the love that dare not speak its name"? 

Wilde: "The love that dare not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art, like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as "the love that dare not speak its name," and on that account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an older and a younger man, when the older man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so, the world does not understand. The world mocks at it, and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.