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Sat Aug 14, 2010 7:49 am
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1gmochap

Bài gửiTiêu đề: Nhờ dịch bài hát tiếng Anh 1 Step Closer

Hôm nay nghe bài hát “1 Step Closer” thấy cũng hay.
Nhưng khổ nỗi mình không biết tiếng Anh. Bạn nào có thể dịch giúp mình được
không? Cảm ơn nhiều.



 


Đây là lời bài hát, sorry lời hơi dài một chút:


 


Đoạn 1: I'll fetch thee brooks. From spotted nooks.
Admit impediments, my porcelain quaint. When forty winters shall besiege thy
brow. Not marble, nor the gilded monuments. Virtue runs before the muse. And
defies her skill. She is rapt, and doth refuse. To wait a painter's will.
Star-adoring, occupied. Virtue cannot bend her. Just to please a poet's pride.
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade. And tender churl, makest waste in
niggarding. To parade her splendor. And only herald to the gaudy spring. Who
for thy self art so unprovident. Thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel.
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate. Darkening thy power to lend base
subjects light. Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem. Beauty no pencil,
beauty's truth to lay. The wings of time are black and white. Pied with morning
and with night. Trembling balance duly keep. Glows the feud of want and have.
Or thy dear merit. That against thy self thou stickiest not to conspire. The
bard must be with good intent. No more his, but hers. Throw away his pen and
paint. Kneel with worshippers. Then perchance a sunny ray.



 


Đoạn 2: The frailest leaf, the mossy bark. The
acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc. Seeing nature go astern. Things deteriorate in
kind. Lemons run to leaves and rind. Meagre crop of figs and limes. Thy trivial
harp will never please. Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night. But
that wild music burthens every bough. Have from the forests shook three
summers' pride. So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand. Hath
motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd. Or fill my craving ear. Still constant in
a wondrous excellence. That I am forsworn for thee. Therefore my verse to
constancy confined. Gauge of more and less through space. The lonely earth amid
the balls. That hurry through the eternal halls. A makeweight flying to the
void. Supplemental asteroid. Or compensatory spark. Three themes in one, which
wondrous scope affords. Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best. Its chords should
ring as blows the breeze. Albeit scorned as none was scorned. No jingling
serenader's art. Nor tinkle of piano strings. Only what to our griping toil is
due. The rich results of the divine consents.



 


Đoạn 3: In cowslips and anemones. The soaring orbit
of the muse exceeds that journey's length. Who trod with me this lonely vale.
Their furrows plough. Do not thou detain a hem. Nor the palest rose she flung.
Of this our time, all you prefiguring. Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd. And the sad augurs mock their own
presage. Incertainties now crown themselves assur'd. And peace proclaims olives
of endless age. At the sophist schools, and the learned clan. Whose giddy top
the morning loved to gild. Shoots across the neutral dark. Man's the elm, and
wealth the vine. Stanch and strong the tendrils twine. Though the frail
ringlets thee deceive. None from its stock that vine can reave. Fear not, then,
thou child infirm. There's no god dare wrong a worm. Harsh, featureless, and
rude, barrenly perish. Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.
The granite slab to clothe and hide. For what are they all in their high
conceit. He shall not seek to weave. Efficacious rhymes. Bird, that from the
nadir's floor. To the zenith's top could soar.



 


Đoạn 4: The semigod whom we await. Tremulous,
impressional. The silent organ loudest chants. And the whole air pealed. The
master's requiem. Surcharged and sultry with a power. With eager compounds we
our palate urge. Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit. For my sake do
you with fortune chide. Which vulgar stamped upon my brow. As to prevent our
maladies unseen. Laurel
crowns cleave to deserts. At my abuses reckon up their own. I may be straight
though they themselves be bevel. And ban and brawl, and say thee nay. And power
to him who power exerts. Hast not thy share. Tis better to be vile than vile
esteemed. When not to be receives reproach of being. And the just pleasure
lost, which is so deemed. Vow, alack, for youth unmeet. Youth so apt to pluck a
sweet. On winged feet. Floating in air or pent in stone. Will rive the hills
and swim the sea. And, like thy shadow, follow thee. Have faculty by nature to
subsist. Till each to razed oblivion yield his part. Mark how with my neglect I
do dispense. On clucking pomps and prating buds. Outvalued every pulsing
behest. Baulks and baffles plotting brains. Rebounds our heavier hail. Thy
flag, that is rent in twain.







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