The Blind — Charles Baudelaire Consider them, my soul; they are a fright! Like mannequins, vaguely ridiculous, Peculiar; terrible somnambulists; Beaming ── who can say where ── their eyes of night. Their orbs, in which a spark is never seen, As if in looking far and wide stayed raised On high; they never see to cast their gaze Down to the street, head hung, as in a dream. Thus they traverse the blackness of their days, Kin to the silence of eternity. o city! while you laugh and roar and play, Mad with your lusts to point of cruelty, Look at me! dragging, dazed more than their kind. What in the Skies can these men hope to find? 盲者 ──波特莱尔 心灵，想想他们；是多麽惶恐！ 彷佛呆若木头，错愕绝伦， 独行於世，竟是梦游失神； 闪烁──向哪？那夜魅的眼光。 那眼球，烁火是不曾见过， 彷佛望尽遐迩，伫落於 天之上；却不想投以一瞥 贴近街面、垂首、如睡梦中。 而那眸子度过日日黑夜， 却更近於永恒之静。 喔 城市！当你笑、你喧嚣、你嬉戏， 癫狂於残冷的想望之颠峰， 看看我！是拖沓、目眩，更胜其辈。 而望着天，又能觅出何等希望？ ※ 编辑: Chaika 来自: 118.160.172.223 (12/01 11:23)