探春认可的代表美国价值观的那首诗ChatGPT做的中文翻译，读起来还是很优美的

来源: gegenion 于 2023-02-13 06:55:05 [档案] [旧帖] [给我悄悄话] 本文已被阅读：次 (5328 bytes)

The Village Blacksmith
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1807-1882

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
     ?The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
     With large and sinewy hands,
And the muscles of his brawny arms
     Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long;
     His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
     He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
     For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
     You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
     With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
     When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
     Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
     And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
     Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
     And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
     He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,
     And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice
     Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
     How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
     A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
     Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
     Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
     Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
     For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
     Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
     Each burning deed and thought.

一棵宽阔的栗树下，
      矗立着村里的铁匠铺；
铁匠健壮有力，
      手大有肌肉，
他浑身的肌肉
      坚固如铁带。

他的头发卷曲、黑色、长；
      他的脸色黝黑；
他的额头沾满了诚实的汗水，
      他赚取他所能，
他毫不畏惧地面对整个世界，
      因为他没有欠任何人。

每个星期，从早到晚，
      你都可以听到他的风箱吹动；
你可以听到他摆动他沉重的锤子，
      有节奏地慢慢敲打，
就像一个教堂的司钟手响起村庄的钟声，
      当太阳落山时。

孩子们放学回家，
从敞开的门口看进去；
他们喜欢看到燃烧的熔炉，
听到风箱的轰鸣声，
并抓住那些像从打场中飞出的秕皮一样的火星。

他周日去教堂，
      和他的儿子们坐在一起；
他听牧师祈祷和讲道，
      他听到他女儿的声音
在村庄唱诗班里歌唱，
      这让他心里感到快乐。

对他来说，这听起来像她母亲的声音
在天堂里歌唱！
他必须再次想起她，
她躺在坟墓里的样子；
他用他粗糙的手擦掉了眼中的泪水。

劳作，欢乐，悲伤，
      他向前走；
每天早晨都开始一些任务，
      每天晚上都结束它；
尝试过什么，完成了什么，
      才能够安享夜间的宁静。

谢谢你，我可敬的朋友，
感谢你所教导的一切！
就像在生命的炽热铁砧上一样，
我们的命运必须被铸造；
每一个燃烧的行动和思想都是在它嘹亮的敲打声中形成的。