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莫笑愚de午夜驪歌

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一个孤独的旅人,一个人生的探险者,一个人间过客。从东半球到西半球,从城市到城市,从落日到落日,流浪、行走、品味生活。在命运之河驾一叶扁舟,用虔诚的朝圣者灵魂,赞美荆棘、爱和死亡。

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【原创译文】一组关于冬天的诗  

2013-12-26 14:54:46|  分类: 莫笑译诗 |  标签: |举报 |字号 订阅

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【原创译文】一组关于冬天的诗 - 莫笑愚 - 莫笑愚de午夜骊歌

 

  《在阴沉漆黑的十二月》
            约翰.济慈 (1829)


在阴沉漆黑的十二月,
        多么幸福,幸福之树,
你的枝条无从记起
       他们绿色的幸福:
纵然雨雪呼啸而过
北风也不能令它们屈服;
冰封的融雪不能凝止
       初春嫩芽的萌动。


在阴沉漆黑的十二月,
       多么幸福,幸福的小溪,
你的汨汨生机无从记起
       阿波罗夏日的风姿;
但是凭借甜蜜的忘记,
它们永存晶莹的烦疑,
从不、从不爱惜
       这冰封的冬季。


啊!但愿众生皆如此
       一对温柔的少男少女!
然而可曾有人
       惋惜逝去的欢愉?
这毫无感觉之感觉,
当没有什么可以治愈
麻木之感也无法变得冷酷,
       它从未以韵律的形式表述。

 

 

   《致冬季的机车》
             沃尔特.惠特曼

(最早发表于1881-82年版的《草叶集》)

 

你是我的宣叙调,
你是肆掠眼前的风暴,是雪,是冬日的衰草,
你是盔甲里的勇士,你有节律的和声和你痉挛的节拍,
你黑色圆柱形躯体,金色黄铜和银色钢,
你笨重的侧条,平行的连接杆,旋转着,在你两侧往复运动,
你的韵律,时而膨胀着喘息并吼叫,时而逐渐减弱消失在远方,
你巨大的凸起的顶灯在前方固定,
你长而苍白的、飘浮的三角旗状蒸汽,轻染紫色,
这浓稠而晦暗的烟雾从你排烟管喷射而出,
你焊接的躯体,你的弹簧和阀门,你的车轮发出璀璨之光,
你的火车车厢在后面,顺从地、欢快地跟随,
无论狂风或风和日丽,时而迅速,时而舒缓,却总是稳健前行;
现代之型式——运动和力量的象征——美洲大陆的脉搏,
至少一次,你前来伺候缪斯并从诗歌中升起,正如此处我看见你,
用暴雨和猛烈的狂风,以及飘落的雪花,
白天你用警示之铃唱起你的音符,
夜晚你用静谧的信号灯起舞。


粗声大气的美人!
用你所有毫无章法的音乐滚过我的颂歌,你夜晚摇摆的灯盏,
你疯狂嘶鸣的大笑,回声,隆隆之声仿佛地震,惊醒所有人,
你是全部法则,你牢牢掌握自己的轨迹,
(没有饮泣的竖琴之文雅甜蜜或油嘴滑舌的钢琴之流畅,)
你颤抖的尖叫由岩石和山丘送返,
从广袤的草原出发,穿过大湖,
无拘无束直抵自由的天空,欢快而强壮。

 


  《冬季在顿欧佛田野》
        托马斯·哈迪(1901年)


场景。—— 一片广阔的荒原刚刚播种了小麦,
冰冻得坚硬如铁。三只硕大的鸟儿行走其上,
并若有所思地盯着地面。尖锐的风从东北吹来:天空晦暗。


(特里奥莱*)


白嘴鸦。——在整个田野我找不到一粒粮食;
       这严酷的冰霜封冻了玉米田!
欧椋鸟。——是啊:耐心的啄食现在是徒劳
       在整个田野,我发现... ...
白嘴鸦。——没有粮食!
鸽子。——再也不会有,兄弟,直到雨季到来,
       或者和暖的融化松动这荒凉之地
       松动这大片田野。
白嘴鸦。——我找不到一粒粮食:
       这严酷的冰霜封冻了玉米田!

 
-----------------
注:Triolet 指八行两韵诗。这里是音译。

 

 

    《寒冷的天堂》
          威廉·巴特勒·叶芝

(取自《责任》和其他诗集,1916年)


我突然看见这寒冷、白嘴鸦欢快的天堂
正如冰燃烧过了,而又有更多的冰,
于是想像和心被驱使
如此狂野,每一缕漫想,关于这些那些
消失了,只剩记忆,那些往季的东西
那年轻的热血,那久已错过的爱情;
而我懵懂着承担这罪责,丧失所有感情和理性,
直到我哭泣颤抖来回摇晃,
被日光洞穿。啊!当幽灵开始蠢蠢欲动,
灵床之迷惑终结,莫非它
被遣出,在路上赤裸,如书中所说,并且经受
天空之不公的打击,作为惩罚?

 

(莫笑愚译,2013-12-25于加州棕榈泉)

 

 

附英文原文:

In drear-nighted December
 gif
John Keats (1829)
clr gif


In drear-nighted December,
   Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne’er remember
   Their green felicity:
The north cannot undo them
With a sleety whistle through them;
Nor frozen thawings glue them
   From budding at the prime.


In drear-nighted December,
   Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne’er remember
   Apollo’s summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
   About the frozen time.


Ah! would ’twere so with many
   A gentle girl and boy!
But were there ever any
   Writhed not at passed joy?
The feel of not to feel it,
When there is none to heal it
Nor numbed sense to steel it,
   Was never said in rhyme.

 

To a Locomotive in Winter
 gif
from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman (first published in 1881-82 edition)
clr gif


Thee for my recitative,
Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining,
Thee in thy panoply, thy measur’d dual throbbing and thy beat convulsive,
Thy black cylindric body, golden brass and silvery steel,
Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating, shuttling at thy sides,
Thy metrical, now swelling pant and roar, now tapering in the distance,
Thy great protruding head-light fix’d in front,
Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple,
The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smoke-stack,
Thy knitted frame, thy springs and valves, the tremulous twinkle of thy wheels,
Thy train of cars behind, obedient, merrily following,
Through gale or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily careering;
Type of the modern—emblem of motion and power—pulse of the continent,
For once come serve the Muse and merge in verse, even as here I see thee,
With storm and buffeting gusts of wind and falling snow,
By day thy warning ringing bell to sound its notes,
By night thy silent signal lamps to swing.


Fierce-throated beauty!
Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music, thy swinging lamps at night,
Thy madly-whistled laughter, echoing, rumbling like an earthquake, rousing all,
Law of thyself complete, thine own track firmly holding,
(No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,)
Thy trills of shrieks by rocks and hills return’d,
Launch’d o’er the prairies wide, across the lakes,
To the free skies unpent and glad and strong.

 

Winter in Durnover Field
 gif
Thomas Hardy (1901)
clr gif


Scene.—A wide stretch of fallow ground recently sown with wheat,
and frozen to iron hardness. Three large birds walking about thereon,
and wistfully eyeing the surface. Wind keen from north-east: sky a dull grey.


(Triolet)


Rook.—Throughout the field I find no grain;
    The cruel frost encrusts the cornland!
Starling.—Aye: patient pecking now is vain
    Throughout the field, I find...
Rook.—No grain!
Pigeon.—Nor will be, comrade, till it rain,
    Or genial thawings loose the lorn land
    Throughout the field.
Rook.—I find no grain:
    The cruel frost encrusts the cornland!

 

The Cold Heaven
 gif
William Butler Yeats (from Responsibilities and Other Poems, 1916)
clr gif


Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven
That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,
And thereupon imagination and heart were driven
So wild that every casual thought of that and this
Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season
With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;
And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,
Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,
Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,
Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent
Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken
By the injustice of the skies for punishment?

 

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