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本帖最后由 雨荷风 于 2015-10-7 10:39 编辑
潘和我们
罗伯特?弗罗斯特
有一天,森林之神潘从树林里走来
--他的发肤与眼睛灰暗
有如墙上的苔藓
--站在阳光下,满足地看
茂盛的山谷和山峦
西风中他手握笛管伫站
在光秃秃的牧场高处
俯瞰整个乡间
没有炊烟也不见屋脊
棒极了!他顿足连连
他心谙宁静,因无人来此
除了因草料不足，每年有人
把未驯化的公牛腌制成肉
或有纯朴的孩童提水桶滴答作响
他们察晓许多却不说透
他扔掉笛管,教一首
新世界之歌太难,遥不可及
森林之神的记号--蓝松鸦的尖叫
和阳光以外猛鹰的哀泣
已算是音乐,对他,对任何人
时代已今非昔比
芦笛早已无力摇撼挂果的松枝
以及脆弱而丛生的矢车菊
它比空气中弥漫的气息还要细
笛管曾作异教之乐
世界已发现价值的新定则
他躺在炎日炙烤的地上
一枝花拈作碎瓣,脸转过去--
吹一曲？吹一曲？--他该吹哪一曲？
Pan with Us
Robert Frost
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？
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