Before Two Portraits of My Mother母親的兩幅肖像前

—Emile Nelligan (1879-1941) I love the beautiful young girl of this portrait,我深愛(ài)這名美麗少女的畫像， my mother,

她是我的母親， painted years ago

繪制于多年前 when her forehead was white, 當(dāng)時(shí)她的前額白皙無(wú)瑕 and there was no shadow in the dazzling Venetian glass of her gaze.

如同威尼斯玻璃般閃亮，沒(méi)有一絲陰影。 But this other likeness shows但另一幅肖像顯出

the deep trenches across her forehead’s white marble.深深的紋痕布滿她皎白大理石般平滑的前額 The rose poem of her youth that her marriage sang is far behind.她少女時(shí)的那首玫瑰情詩(shī)，曾在她婚禮中被詠唱，如今已經(jīng)遠(yuǎn)去。 Here is my sadness:此時(shí)我心悲傷： I compare these portraits,比較這兩幅肖像， one of a joy-radiant brow,一幅顯得神情愉悅， the other care-heavy:另一幅顯得心事重重： sunrise—and the thick coming on of night.一幅如同朝陽(yáng)初升——另一幅則如迎面而來(lái)的陰郁黑夜。 And yet how strange my ways appear,然而我的反應(yīng)卻顯得非比尋常， for when I look at these faded lips my heart smiles,因?yàn)楫?dāng)我看著她失去光澤的雙唇，我心發(fā)出微笑， but at the smiling girl my tears start.但看著那名微笑的少女，我的淚竟開(kāi)始涌出。