我家失火
1666年七月十日
在靜夜裏我已經安息上床，
卻不知禍患就在附近隱藏。
我驚覺聽到了如雷的巨響，
夾雜着慘叫的可怕聲浪：
“火！”“火啊！”喊聲充滿驚惶，
誰也不會想那是我的願望。
我，立即起來，看見了火光，
我心向着我的上帝求訴：
“在苦難中求你賜給我力量，
不要撇下我無靠無助！”
到外面以後，立即看見，
烈焰吞噬了我的住處。
當我不能夠繼續看下去，
就稱頌主的名，祂賞賜又收取，
我積存的財物現在成為虛無，
那本是塵土應該歸於塵土。
那全是屬於主，並不是我的，
絕不該有任何的抱怨訴苦。
祂雖然可能把一切盡都剝奪，
卻留下部分足夠我們生活。
我憂傷的眼睛也曾經瞥視，
當我常從那廢墟邊經過：
從這裏和那裏熟悉的角落，
我常在這裏坐，常在那裏躺臥。
這裏放過我的箱，那裏是我的櫃，
裏面存放着我最寶貴喜歡，
我喜愛的東西都化為灰燼，
我再也不能得以看見。
在你屋頂下再沒有賓客的座位，
也不能再在你的桌旁聚集共餐。
再也不能述說那可愛的故事，
再也不能追憶那古老的事情。
燈光不再照耀在你的當中，
也不會聽見新郎的歡聲。
你將在那裏長臥安靜，
再見，再見，一切的虛榮。
然後我得着力量責備我的心，
你豈是積儹財寶在地上？
你豈是在腐土上注定你的希望？
你豈是要倚靠血肉的臂膀？
舉起你的思想超越青天，
那糞堆的迷霧全消逝凈光。
在上面你有一座房屋，
經營建造的是那位大能的工師，
並且有榮美華麗的陳設裝飾，
地上的房屋過去它卻永遠堅立。
那屋已經買定了並且已付清，
是那位萬有的主祂成全備齊。
其代價是那麼巨大超乎所想，
但靠祂的恩賜，你擁有安享。
那裏的財富滿足，我一無所缺；
去吧，我的錢財！去吧，我的寶藏！
這世界不再是我所愛慕，
我的盼望和財寶全在天上。
Upon the Burning of Our House
July 10th, 1666
朗誦：Bernie Wong
In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow near I did not look,
I waken'd was with thundring noise
And piteous shreiks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of "Fire!" and "Fire!"
Let no man know is my Desire.
I, starting up, the light did spye,
And to my God my heart did cry
To strengthen me in my Distresse,
And not to leave me succourlesse.
Then coming out, beheld apace
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And when I could no longer look,
I blest his Name that gave and took,
That layd my goods now in the dust:
Yea so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own: it was not mine;
Far be it that I should repine.
He might of All justly bereft,
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the Ruines oft I past,
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast,
And here and there the places spye
Where oft I sate, and long did lye.
Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest;
There lay that store I counted the best:
My pleasant things in ashes lye,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under my roof no guest shall sitt,
Nor at thy Table eat a bitt.
No pleasant tale shall e'er be told,
Nor things recounted done of old.
No candle e'er shall shine in Thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice e'er heard shall bee.
In silence ever shalt thou lye;
Adeiu, Adeiu; All's vanity.
Then streight I' gan my heart to chide:
And did thy wealth on earth abide?
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the skye,
That dunghill mists away may flie.
Thou hast an house on high erect,
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished,
Stands permanent though this bee fled.
It's purchased, and paid for, too,
By Him who hath enough to doe.
A Prise so vast as is unknown,
Yet, by his Gift, is made thine own.
There's wealth enough, I need no more;
Farewell my Pelf, farewell my Store.
The world no longer let me Love,
My Hope and Treasure lyes Above.
Anne Bradstreet (1612?-1672)
American's first poet