ピカリング草稿 The Pickering Manuscript

灰色の僧 The Grey Monk

死ぬ、私は死ぬ、母親は言う

我が子も死ぬは糧（かて）なしに

無慈悲な暴君何を言おうと

僧は座る石の寝台に

I die I die the Mother said

My Children die for lack of Bread

What more has the merciless Tyrant said

The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed

流れる血紅(あか)く僧侶の灰色の脇より

その両手両足傷つけられてより

その身体折るは両腕両膝ついている

根っこよろしく古い木についている

The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side

His hands & feet were wounded wide

His Body bent his arms & knees

Like to the roots of ancient trees

涙も流れずその目は乾き

苦悩を語るも虚（うつ）ろな呻（うめ）き

震（ふる）え戦（おのの）く彼寝台に

長々語るは、か細い叫び

His eye was dry no tear could flow

A hollow groan first spoke his woe

He trembled & shudderd upon the Bed

At length with a feeble cry he said

神この手に書くこと命じ給うは

学問に励む真夜中の時のこと

仰せられたは書きつる文（ふみ）証（あかし）されんと

愛した地上の災いの種の全てを

When God commanded this hand to write

In the studious hours of deep midnight

He told me the writing I wrote should prove

The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd

兄弟飢えたは壁の2枚の隔てる間に

子供たち泣くやびくつく我が魂

拷問の台と鎖に縛（いまし）め嘲られ

拷問の苦痛過ごすは身体折り

My Brother starvd between two Walls

His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls

I mockd at the wrack & griding chain

My bent body mocks their torturing pain

そなたが父親、北に剣振るう

千人力もて前へ前へと

そなたが兄弟、鋼鉄よろい

子等の感じた不正を討てり

Thy Father drew his sword in the North

With his thousands strong he marched forth

Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel

To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel

しかし無駄な剣に無駄な弓

それでは決して戦争終わらぬ

未亡人の涙に隠者の祈り

のみが怯える世界を放ち得る

But vain the Sword & vain the Bow

They never can work Wars overthrow

The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear

Alone can free the World from fear

涙は聡明のものに在りませば

溜息は天使長の剣に在りませば

殉教者が苦悩の苦い呻きは

全能の弓より放つ強い矢なれば

For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing

And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King

And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe

Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow

復讐の手やがて寝台見つけ

横たわりしは暴君紫

鉄の手潰すは暴君の頭

して代わりに暴君とは成りぬ

The hand of Vengeance found the Bed

To which the Purple Tyrant fled

The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head

And became a Tyrant in his stead