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爱米莉·伊丽莎白·狄金森诗选
吕志鲁译
爱米莉·伊丽莎白·狄金森 (Emily Elizabeth Dickinson,1830年12月10日－1886年5月15日) ,美国女诗人 ,诗风凝炼，比喻尖新。生前只发表过10首诗，默默无闻，死后近70年开始得到文学界的认真关注。
（一）
希望是只会飞的小鸟
“希望”是只会飞的小鸟，
心灵是它栖息的窝巢，
无休无止永远欢唱，
全无歌词，只有曲调。
寒冷中它为人们送来温暖，
风雨里它的歌声更加美妙；
这只小鸟将青春永在，
除非人心涌起痛苦的浪潮。
这歌声响遏极地的风暴，
这歌声盖过大海的狂涛－－
可是即使它身处绝境，
也不会向我索取一丝一毫。
（和谐的音韵,灵动的译法 ："Hope" is the thing with feathers—这个诗行如果直译便成了“希望是个长羽毛的东西”，那就毫无诗意可言了。我们按照原作的含义把它灵活地译成“希望是只会飞的小鸟 ”，既流畅又押韵。）
Hope Is the Thing With Feathers
"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest — in the Gale— is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little bird—
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chilliest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb — of me.
（二）
我已多年未曾回家
我已多年未曾回家,
可到了门口却又犯难,
我不敢伸手开门,
只怕看到陌生的脸面。
一定会问有何事情,
一定还会满脸茫然,
我的事情只是追寻往事,
可往事是否还留在昔日的家园?
烦乱的思绪我努力梳理,
一扇扇窗户仔细查看,
沉寂中似乎有大海翻滚,
我听到波涛对我呐喊。
我不禁木然发笑,
这扇门竟让我心惊胆战,
虽曾经历劫难生死,
却从未如此受到震撼。
我试着去摸那栓锁，
小心翼翼，两手发颤，
唯恐可怕的大门猛地弹回，
把我死死挡在一边。
我警觉地缩回手指，
那似乎是扎手的玻璃碎片，
我紧紧捂住自己的耳朵，
气喘吁吁，贼似地仓惶逃串。
I Years Had Been From Home
I years had been from home,
And now, before the door,
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before
Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there.
My business,--just a life I left,
Was such still dwelling there?
I fumbled at my nerve,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.
I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door,
Who danger and the dead had faced,
But never quaked before.
I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me standing there.
I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.
（三）
天空的秘密
天空守不住自己的秘密，
把它泄漏给下面的群山！
群山传播到身边的果树，
果树又转告园中的水仙。
碰巧一只小鸟悄悄飞过，
这个秘密全都被它听见。
只要设法将这小鸟买通，
此事它肯定不会对我隐瞒。
不过我的心里自有主见，
这种秘密最好不去打探；
如果春夏秋冬是自然的法则，
有什么巫术能将它倒转？
守住你的秘密吧，上天！
新奇的世界，碧空的伙伴，
何必去了解他们的所作所为，
即使能够，我也不愿！
THE SKIES'SECRET
THE SKIES can’t keep their secret!
They tell it to the hills—
The hills just tell the orchards—
And they the daffodils!
A bird, by chance, that goes that way
Soft overheard the whole.
If I should bribe the little bird,
Who knows but she would tell?
I think I won’t, however,
It’s finer not to know;
If summer were an axiom,
What sorcery had snow?
So keep your secret, Father!
I would not, if I could,
Know what the sapphire fellows do,
In your new-fashioned world!
（四）
白昼
燃烧于金黄,熄灭在紫红,
象虎豹跃上天空,
然后死在亘古天际的脚下,
放倒那斑驳的面容:
弯下腰来,低过矮窗,
谷仓着色,屋顶受宠,
无边软帽亲吻草地,
白昼的魔术师无影无踪。
Day
BLAZING in gold and quenching in purple,
Leaping like leopards to the sky,
Then at the feet of the old horizon
Laying her spotted face, to die;
Stooping as low as the kitchen window,
Touching the roof and tinting the barn,
Kissing her bonnet to the meadow,—
And the juggler of day is gone!
（五）
春回大地
我的花园来了新的足迹,
新的手指在翻动草皮;
榆树上的行吟诗人,
坦漏自己内心的孤凄。
绿草上孩子重来玩耍,
树荫下又有疲惫的睡意;
沉思的春天悄悄回还,
守时的冬雪仍旧不肯退避。
SPRING
NEW feet within my garden go,
New fingers stir the sod;
A troubadour upon the elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green,
New weary sleep below;
And still the pensive spring returns,
And still the punctual snow!
（六）
天使
从滴滴露珠之中,
可以看见清晨时的天使,
弯腰,采摘,微笑,翻飞:
蓓蕾是否也算仙子?
从颗颗沙砾之中,
可以看见骄阳下的天使,
弯腰,采摘,叹息,翻飞;
满载花朵热得面红耳赤。
ANGELS
ANGELS in the early morning
May be seen the dews among,
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:
Do the buds to them belong?
Angels when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;
Parched the flowers they bear along.
（七）
我无暇去会死亡
我无暇去会死亡，
死神便和善地接我前往，
我只好放下劳作与闲暇，
无法拒绝他的殷勤礼让。
我们一起坐上马车，
还有永生陪伴身旁，
我们驱车缓缓前行，
他悠然自得不慌不忙。
我们经过校园，
娱乐的孩子挤满操场，
我们经过田野，麦穗张望，
我们经过西沉的太阳。
或许该是夕阳经过我们吧，
露珠抖动，略显苍凉，
只为我的面纱、斗篷，
还有我薄丝织就的衣裳。
我们经过一个隆起的土堆，
那似乎是一座住房，
屋顶几乎无法看见，
屋架也在地下埋藏。
感觉比一天还要短暂，
虽然自此千万年岁月漫长，
我初次产生这种猜测：
永恒正是马头所向。
Because I Could Not Stop for Death
Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—
Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—
Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—
来自圈子: 译诗 |
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