¼¼»óÀº ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ³Ê¹«ÇÏ´Ù(The World Is Too Much with Us)
- Àª¸®¾ö ¿öÁî¿ö½º
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
(¼¼»óÀº ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ³Ê¹«ÇÏ´Ù. ¹ã³·À¸·Î ¿ì¸®´Â)
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers
(¹ú°í ¾²´Â µ¥ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ÈûÀ» ÅÁÁøÇØ ¹ö¸°´Ù.)
Little we see in Nature that is ours
(¿ì¸® °ÍÀÎ ÀÚ¿¬¿¡¼ º¸´Â °ÍÀÌ °ÅÀÇ ¾ø´Ù.)
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
(¸ðµÎ°¡ ¸¶À½¸¶Àú ³»¹ö·ÈÀ¸´Ï, õ¹ÚÇÑ ÆíÀÍÀÌ´Ù!)
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
(´Þºû¿¡ Á¥°¡½¿À» µå·¯³»´Â ¹Ù´Ù)
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
(½¯ »õ ¾øÀÌ ¿ïºÎ¢À¸·Á ÇÏÁö¸¸)
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
(Áö±ÝÀº Àáµç ²Éó·³ ¿òÃ÷·¯µç ¹Ù¶÷)
For this, for everything, we are out of tune
(À̵é°ú ¸ðµç °Í¿¡ Á¶È¸¦ ÀÒ¾î¹ö¸° ¿ì¸®)
It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be
(¹«¾ù¿¡µµ °¨µ¿¹ÞÁö ¸øÇÏ´Ï, ½ÅÀ̽ÿ©!)
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn
(Â÷¶ó¸® ³°Àº ½Å¾ÓÀ¸·Î ±æ·¯Áø À̱³µµÀÌ°í ½Í½À´Ï´Ù.)
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
(±×·¯¸é ÀÌ Áñ°Å¿î ÃÊ¿ø¿¡ ¼¼ Á¦ ¸¶À½ÀÇ)
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn
(¾µ¾µÇÔÀ» ´Þ·¡ÁÙ ±¤°æµéÀ» º¼ ¼ö ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀ»±î¿ä.)
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea
(¹Ù´Ù¿¡¼ ¼Ú¾Æ¿À¸£´Â ÇÁ·ÎÅ׿콺¸¦ º¸°Å³ª)
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
(´ÄÀº Æ®¶óÀÌÅÏÀÌ ¼Ò¶ó°íµÕ ºÎ´Â °ÍÀ» µéÀ» ¼ö ÀÖÁö ¾ÊÀ»±î¿ä.)
*Proteus
±×¸®½º ½ÅÈ¿¡ ³ª¿À´Â ÇؽÅÀÇ Çϳª. ¸¶À½À¸·Î ¸ð½ÀÀ» ¹Ù²Ü ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù.
*Triton
±×¸®½º ½ÅÈ¿¡ ³ª¿À´Â ¹ÝÀιݾîÀÇ ÇؽÅÀ¸·Î ¼Ò¶ó°íµÕ(conch shell)À» ºÐ´Ù.
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