困惑译诗
《一》
理查德·科里
埃德温·阿林顿·罗宾逊（Edwin Arlington Robinson 1869-1935）美国诗人
点评
“家家都有一本难念的经”这句中国特有的俗语，道出了世界共有的社会现象。理查德·科里既有有富可敌国的家产，又有全知全能的教养，却在家里举枪自杀，让敬仰他的民众困惑不解。不过，他既然迈不过精神上的“坎”，必有原因。只是，他们家有怎样一本难念的经，那就不得而知了。
理查德·科里一到街头，
行人总要注目瞻望；
一派君子风度，
眉清目秀，伟岸颀长。
举止谦和沉稳，
谈吐文雅大方；
一声“早安”令人怦然心动，
他迈开步子溢彩流光。
他有富可敌国的家产，
他有全知全能的教养，
他是万民效仿的标准，
他是大众追求的榜样。
人们不停劳作，苦苦盼望，
一日三餐只有难吃的粗粮；
可他在一个平静的夏夜回到家里，
用一颗子弹打爆了自己的脑浆。
Richard Cory
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
The people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace.
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
《二》
神秘的爱
威廉·布莱克William Blake
点评
爱情往往不可思议、无法解释,正如清风一样踪迹难寻。有时赤诚表露心迹,反而遭到拒绝；可是对陌生的路人,仅凭一声叹息她就会堕入情网。如此看来,爱情真是神秘莫测了。
别把爱情倾诉，
只能藏在心底；
犹如清风飘散，
声息全无，踪影难觅！
我把爱情倾诉，
赤诚表白心迹；
颤抖、寒冷、惶恐---
呵，她竟将我抛弃！
她与路人相遇，
刚刚与我分离；
竟然一见钟情，
爱情实在神秘！
犹如清风飘散，
声息全无，踪影难觅！
路人为何获爱？
仅凭一声叹息！
Love’s Secret
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be；
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly．
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears---
Ah! She did depart!
Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly：
He took her with a sigh．
《三》
尽管我还太过年轻
本·琼森(1572～1637) 英国诗人
点评
诗人把死亡比作冰霜，把爱情比作烈火，认为两者都能伤害人心。到底是怎样的经历让诗人如此困惑？
尽管我还太过年轻，
爱与死的真谛无法辨认，
只听说两者都有利刃，
矛头所指就是人们的心。
据说它们都会带来伤害，
死亡用严寒，爱情用高温；
只怕看似两个极端，
结果却会造成相同的伤痕。
把它称做废墟中的余烬，
还是飘落地面的灰尘；
或者走向人生终点之路，
发出短暂电闪，涌动最后波纹；
如刀似箭的爱情之火，
如死亡冷酷的魔掌同样杀人；
只是爱情之火有一种威力，
能让坟墓中的冰霜远远逃遁。
Though I Am Young and Cannot Tell
Though I am young, and cannot tell
Either what Death or Love is well,
Yet I have heard they both bear darts,
And both do aim at humane hearts.
And then again, I have been told,
Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold;
So that I fear they do but bring
Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.
As in a ruin we it call
One thing to be blown up, or fall;
Or to our end, like way may have,
By a flash of lightning, or a wave;
So Love's inflamed shaft or brand,
May kill as soon as Death's cold hand;
Except Love's fires the virtue have
To fright the frost out of the grave.
《四》
十四行诗54
世界剧院
埃德蒙·斯宾塞(Edmund Spenser 1552—1599)英国诗人
点评
在这座世界大舞台上，爱人对“我”的表演竟然有如看客闲坐旁观，冰冷的心简直令人胆寒。这样的“爱人”实在令人困惑不解。
在我们逗留的这座世界剧院，
我的爱人有如看客闲坐旁观，
她看着我在台上做种种表现，
我的演技穷困只好设法遮掩。
时时会有冲动我也满心喜欢，
恰如喜剧之中快乐面具遮脸；
随即哀哀痛哭喜剧变成悲剧，
欢乐化为悲伤就在转瞬之间。
然而她看我时眼神始终平淡，
我的悲伤喜悦与她毫不相干：
我哭她却发笑我笑她又嘲弄，
她一颗心冰冷简直令人胆寒。
连痛苦与欢乐她都无动于衷，
她不是女人是石头没有情感。
Sonnet 54
Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits,
And mask in myrth lyke to a comedy:
Soone after when my joy to sorrow flits,
I waile and make my woes a tragedy.
Yet she, beholding me with constant eye,
Delights not in my merth nor rues my smart:
But when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry
She laughs and hardens evermore her heart.
What then can move her? if nor merth nor mone,
She is no woman, but a senceless stone.
《五》
特罗伊利情歌
杰弗里·乔叟
点评
跌进爱情的罗网之中，陷入一片困惑：一会儿癫狂，一会儿忧伤，高烧寒颤，寒颤高烧，要死不活，此病无药可治。
如果无爱，天哪，为何我会感到如此癫狂？
如果有爱，那爱又是什么模样？
如果爱情美好，为何我会如此忧伤？
如果爱情邪恶，那就更加令人难以想象：
尽管充满痛苦折磨，
却又让我神清气爽；
爱的泉水喝得越多，越是干渴难当。
既然爱是发自内心的欲望，
为何我又痛断肝肠？
既然习惯了遭受伤害，我又为何悲愤满腔？
不曾劳累却会昏厥，着实令人疑惑迷茫。
死去又活来，甜蜜抚创伤，多么奇妙酣畅；
如果不是心甘情愿，
你在我的心里怎会占有如此的分量？
既然心甘情愿，
再去诉苦岂不冤枉；
大海无边，风起八方，
我是无舵的小船四处飘荡，
从此五心不定，晕头转向。
天哪，我这是得了什么怪病？
高烧寒颤，寒颤高烧，命不久长。
Cantus Troili
If Love lives not, O God, what feel I so?
And if Love lives, what thing and which is He?
If Love is good, from where has come my woe?
If it be bad, it's a wonder, thinks me,
since every torment and adversity
which comes from it savors of joys distinct
and still I thirst, the more of it I drink.
And if it's from my own desire I burn,
what spring gives forth my wailing and complaint?
If hurt pleases, why should my plaint return?
I know not, nor why, in health, I grow faint.
O live death! O strange hurt with Love's sweet taint,
how might you fester in such quantity
unless I give consent for it to be?
If I consent, I wrongfully devote
my heart to sorrow. Thus tossed, to and fro,
quite rudderless, I sit within a boat
in a sea which two winds must undergo;
each blasts against its contrary echo.
Alas! what strange malady have I got?
I die from heat when cold, from cold when hot.
来自群组: 中国诗社 |
发表于 2015-10-25 10:09
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