[转帖]曾经推荐给一家诗歌杂志的翻译稿件，未被采用，放这里等批改——2、潘和我们

童天鉴日 · 发表于 2006-12-31 13:45:00

本帖最后由雨荷风于 2015-10-7 12:31 编辑

2、潘和我们[美]罗伯特·弗罗斯特 译：fire-fly有一天,森林之神潘从树林里走来 他的肤色,华发和两眼 苍老如墙上的苔藓 站在阳光下,欣赏他的 繁茂的山谷和山岗 徐风中他手握芦笛站立 在敞露的草地高处 俯瞰所有的乡村 没有炊烟也不见屋顶 微妙之至!他跺脚欢跳他深谙和平,因无人来扰 除了每年有人 来这自给自足的山坡 将半驯化的公牛腌制成肉 朴素的孩子们肩挑水桶滴答作响 一无所见也无可说的传说他摔掉乐管,教一首 新世界的歌儿太难,可望不可及 蓝松鸦的尖叫和阳光以外的 苍鹰的呜咽是森林之神的标志 这已算是音乐,对他,对任何人 时代改颜换貌,物是人非 芦笛已无力摇撼,硕果累累的树枝 以及簇生又易碎的矢车菊 笛声还不如漫无目的的呼吸呢芦笛曾是异教的欢乐 世界已发现了价值的新定则 他在太阳炙烤的大地上躺卧 看清一朵花,又转过脸去 欢娱? 欢娱?—-何来欢娱?[一沙鸥解说]这首诗是美国现代著名诗人罗伯特·弗罗斯特（Robert Frost，1874-1963）的一首叙事诗，此诗延续了诗人一贯的写诗风格，既朴素无华，又含义隽永，寓深刻的思考和哲理于平淡无奇的内容和简洁朴实的诗句之中。这首诗是通过森林之神潘的视角抒发了诗人对大自然的赞美之情，同时又通过森林之神的歌谣表达了诗人对于世界的改变，却无能为力的无奈心情，从中读者可以看出诗人的世界观是复杂的，他的性格也具有两面性，既有欢快的一面，也有阴郁的一面。此诗第一节，通过森林之神潘的眼睛所看到的景象，写出了新英格兰风景的美丽，抒发了对大自然的赞美，节奏是很轻快的。第二节写出了大自然对人类生活的赋予，虽然不多，却已足够，这是大自然给人类的恩惠，从这里可以看出诗人世界观里对善的认同。第三节诗人写出了森林在变，世界在变，而他却感到无能为力，感到无奈，这是诗人世界观里对恶的感觉，诗人在这里用森林之神潘的歌谣来寓意的，从诗中的“蓝松鸦的尖叫和苍鹰的呜咽”可以感受到诗人的阴雨和凄凉。第四节更进一步的点明了世界的改变，诗人无奈的心情，这种感觉更强烈。                                         [责任斑竹：童天鉴日]                                         [组稿日期：2006-12-25]

白沙 · 发表于 2006-12-31 23:28:00

本帖最后由雨荷风于 2015-10-7 12:31 编辑

原文没有看见啊。一起贴来最好。

童天鉴日 · 发表于 2007-1-1 13:28:00

本帖最后由雨荷风于 2015-10-7 12:31 编辑

Robert Frost的一首诗<div class="wr f14"><cd></cd>Pan with Us PAN came out of the woods one day,-- His skin and his hair and his eyes were gray, The gray of the moss of walls were they,-- And stood in the sun and looked his fill At wooded valley and wooded hill. He stood in the zephyr, pipes in hand, On a height of naked pasture land; In all the country he did command He saw no smoke and he saw no roof. That was well! and he stamped a hoof. His heart knew peace, for none came here To this lean feeding save once a year Someone to salt the half-wild steer, Or homespun children with clicking pails Who see no little they tell no tales. He tossed his pipes, too hard to teach A new-world song, far out of reach, For a sylvan sign that the blue jay's screech And the whimper of hawks beside the sun Were music enough for him, for one. Times were changed from what they were: Such pipes kept less of power to stir The fruited bough of the juniper And the fragile bluets clustered there Than the merest aimless breath of air. They were pipes of pagan mirth, And the world had found new terms of worth. He laid him down on the sun-burned earth And ravelled a flower and looked away-- Play? Play?--What should he play?<cd></cd></div><div class="wr f14"><cd></cd>Pan with Us PAN came out of the woods one day,-- His skin and his hair and his eyes were gray, The gray of the moss of walls were they,-- And stood in the sun and looked his fill At wooded valley and wooded hill. He stood in the zephyr, pipes in hand, On a height of naked pasture land; In all the country he did command He saw no smoke and he saw no roof. That was well! and he stamped a hoof. His heart knew peace, for none came here To this lean feeding save once a year Someone to salt the half-wild steer, Or homespun children with clicking pails Who see no little they tell no tales. He tossed his pipes, too hard to teach A new-world song, far out of reach, For a sylvan sign that the blue jay's screech And the whimper of hawks beside the sun Were music enough for him, for one. Times were changed from what they were: Such pipes kept less of power to stir The fruited bough of the juniper And the fragile bluets clustered there Than the merest aimless breath of air. They were pipes of pagan mirth, And the world had found new terms of worth. He laid him down on the sun-burned earth And ravelled a flower and looked away-- Play? Play?--What should he play?<cd></cd></div>

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