本帖最后由 戴盛莲 于 2014-7-22 09:38 编辑
威廉·巴特勒·叶芝诗选（二）
（十三）
爱的诗行
用金色的发卡把秀发束紧，
再把散乱的发丝根根维系；
让这拙劣的诗句朝心扉撞击；
熔炼铸造，日以夜继，
从那古代的战场，
酝酿凄婉的爱意。
你只需把玉手稍稍抬起，
挽好长发轻轻叹息；
男人的心都会燃烧，激动不已，
昏暗的沙滩，浪花如烛火飘逸，
滴露的夜空，星光层层密密，
只为照亮你过往的足迹。
He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
（十四）
情人谷
我梦见自己站在山谷，叹息长长，
看着幸福的情人穿梭，成对成双；
我失去的情人走出树林，悄无声息，
眼帘如白云飘浮，眼睛似梦幻渺茫。
我在梦中大声呼喊：姑娘们，
让小伙子把头枕在你们的膝上，
再用秀发让他们的双眼沉迷，
让他们只想念你们美丽的面庞，
让他们从此不会移情别恋，
直到海枯石烂，地老天荒。
He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers
I DREAMED that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
I cried in my dream, O women, bid the young men lay
Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your hair,
Or remembering hers they will find no other face fair
Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away.
（十五）
失恋的哀悼
纤纤细手，浓浓发丝，白白额头，
我交了一位美丽的女友，
梦想着往昔的绝望，
在爱恋里终将化为乌有：
一天她偷窥我的心事，
发现你的阴影依旧；
她已离去，泪水涌流。
Aedh Laments the Loss of Love
(or The Lover Mourns for the Loss of Love)
Pale brows, still hands and dim hair,
I had a beautiful friend
And dreamed that the old despair
Would end in love in the end:
She looked in my heart one day
And saw your image was there;
She has gone weeping away.
（十六）
鱼
纵然月亮西沉之后，
你在苍白的潮水中潜藏，
可人们终将知道，
我如何撒下渔网，
看你在银线上跳跃，
一次一次，惊恐疯狂；
还会用刻毒的言词把你谴责，
为你曾经的铁石心肠。
The Fish
Although you hide in the ebb and flow
Of the pale tide when the moon has set,
The people of coming days will know
About the casting out of my net,
And how you have leaped times out of mind
Over the little silver cords,
And think that you were hard and unkind,
And blame you with many bitter words.
（十七）
姑娘的心
啊，虽然充满祈祷和舒适，
可那间小屋于我何用？
他请我到外面的昏暗中去，
我的胸紧贴着他的胸。
啊，虽然房子里安全温暖，
可妈妈的关爱于我何用？
我的秀发如花朵绽放，
它将为我们遮雨挡风。
我已将生死置之度外，
眼珠晶莹，发丝蓬松，
我们俩心心相印，
我们俩息息相通。
The Heart Of The Woman Analysis
O what to me the little room
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into the gloom,
And my breast lies upon his breast.
O what to me my mother's care,
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.
O hiding hair and dewy eyes,
I am no more with life and death,
My heart upon his warm heart lies,
My breath is mixed into his breath.
（十八）
心中的玫瑰
万物衰老腐朽，万事破败荒凉，
路边孩童哀哀哭叫，路上马车嘎嘎作响；
农夫耕地脚步沉重，冬日泥土翻浪：
你的幻影遭到扭曲，那是一朵玫瑰在我心底绽放。
世上的一切都被扭曲，这种扭曲难以言状；
我渴求重塑世界，让绿色围在我的身旁，
再造的天、地、山、水是黄金的宝盒，
把你在我梦中的幻影珍藏，那是一朵玫瑰在我心底绽放。
The Lover tells of the Rose in his Heart
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
（十九）
茵尼斯弗利岛
我将动身，前往茵尼斯弗利岛，
盖一间小屋，只需泥土柳条；
种几垄豆子，做一个蜂巢，
一人独处，静听群蜂吵闹。
我来品尝宁静，宁静的脚步轻轻悄悄，
从晨曦的薄纱到蟋蟀的欢叫，
傍晚时分展翅的红雀铺天盖地，
半夜微光闪烁，正午紫霞辉耀。
我将动身，因为日日夜夜，分分秒秒，
我总能听见湖水拍岸的浪涛；
无论站在宽阔的马路还是灰暗的便道，
这涛声总在我心灵深处萦绕。
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
（二十）
死亡之梦
我曾梦见有个人死在异乡，
无亲无故，草草下葬；
当地的农民迷惑不解，
钉几块木板把她的面容遮挡；
两根木头架成十字，
竖在刚刚垒起的墓旁，
周围栽好长青的柏树，
就此把她弃置郊外，一片荒凉；
直到我刻下这些词句，
陪伴她的唯有冷漠的星光：
如今虽然躺在棺木之中，
她当年比你的初恋更加漂亮。
A Dream Of Death
I DREAMED that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
She was more beautiful than thy first love,
But now lies under boards.
（二十一）
白鸟
爱人哪，但愿我们是大海浪尖上的白鸟：
流星一闪而过，我们厌倦了那一丝光照；
蓝星低挂天边，我们厌倦了那暮色中的辉耀，
亲爱的，它们唤醒了心中忧伤的阴影，把我们终身笼罩。
露湿的百合与玫瑰，不必魂牵梦绕，
啊，切莫梦想流星陨落时那一丝光照，
切莫梦想露珠里蓝星熠熠闪耀：
因为我只愿我们变成浪尖上的白鸟。
我眷恋丹南的海岸，我沉迷无数的小岛，
在那里被时间遗忘，没有悲伤搅扰：
远离玫瑰、百合、光影，摆脱烦燥，亲爱的，
只要我们化作大海浪尖翻飞的白鸟。
The White Birds
I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea:
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can pass by and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that never may die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose, 5
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam—I and you.
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more: 10
Soon far from the rose and the lily, the fret of the flames, would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea.
（二十二）
印度情歌
海岛在晨曦中安眠，
粗大的树枝洒落寂静一片；
孔雀在平滑的草坪起舞，
鹦鹉枝头摇晃朝下呼唤，
只因身影映在有如明镜的海面。
这里我们荡起幽静的小船，
手牵着手徘徊流连，
唇贴着唇情话款款，
趟过水草，沿着沙滩，
庆幸嘈杂的世界远在天边：
这世上只剩我们两人，
藏在静谧的树下多么偏远，
我们的爱化作一颗印度流星，
胸中燃起熊熊烈焰，
潮水涌动波光闪闪，翅膀辉耀直插蓝天。
树枝浓密深沉，白鸽羽毛耀眼，
日复一日发出呻吟哀叹：
我们死后的灵魂将四处盘桓，
冷清的黄昏，路上羽毛洒满，
足迹朦胧虚幻，水光平静舒缓。
The Indian To His Love
HE island dreams under the dawn
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.
Here we will moor our lonely ship
And wander ever with woven hands,
Murmuring softly lip to lip,
Along the grass, along the sands,
Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:
How we alone of mortals are
Hid under quiet boughs apart,
While our love grows an Indian star,
A meteor of the burning heart,
One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart,
The heavy boughs, the burnished dove
That moans and sighs a hundred days:
How when we die our shades will rove,
When eve has hushed the feathered ways,
With vapoury footsole by the water's drowsy blaze.
（二十三）
待到你到了暮年
待到你到了暮年,
头发花白, 疲惫困倦;
手捧诗卷拥炉而坐,
打着瞌睡慢慢翻看；
常常消失字影,
时时落入梦幻；
昔日眼带阴郁或温柔,
不时在脑海中闪现。
不论是虚情假意,
还是真心一片；
多少人把你愉悦的丰姿艳羡,
多少人把你美丽的相貌热恋?
但这世上只有一人,
真正爱你永无改变：
无论是你圣洁的灵魂,
还是你变得忧伤的容颜。
弯腰坐在烧旺的炉前,
哀愁淡淡, 低声念念；
青春的爱已离去,
就在转瞬之间!
它跨越高山,
它飞进蓝天；
它在星云中躲藏,
它在夜空里弥散。
诗人爱上了爱尔兰著名演员莫德•岗(Maud Gonne),求婚不成,便写下此诗表露心曲。诗中充满眷念与关怀,全无一丝怨恨。第三小节中诗人面对现实,表明既然自己的爱不被接受,就让它作为美好的愿望永远潜藏于夜空
之中。
When You Are Old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep；
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face；
And bending beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars．
（二十四）
特洛伊难再倾覆
我为何要将她责备?
因为她让我的生活充满痛苦。
她近来竟要以弱抗强,
鼓动无知的勇夫走上血战之路。
他们哪有与你相比的勇气?
他们岂能生死不渝?
平和的心怎么燃起烈火?
高尚的情怀为何变得简单盲目?
美人成了拉满的弓箭,
这真是时代的谬误。
为何要如此心高气傲?
为何要这般冷酷孤独?
身为一个美丽的少女,
这种奋斗能有何结局?
历史的故事不会重演,
特洛伊难再倾覆。
诗人年轻时爱上了一位爱尔兰美女,可是她却以爱尔兰从英国治下获取独立为自己的终身奋斗目标,甚至不惜通过暴力。情怀高尚可又简单盲目,美人成了拉满的弓箭。面对无谓之举及无望之爱,诗人痛苦万分。木马
计巧破特洛伊城侥幸成功的传说故事被诗人用作反衬：历史不可能重演。
No Second Troy
Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets against the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
来自圈子: 译诗 |
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发表于 2014-7-21 12:12:16