秋天译诗
吕志鲁
一
托马斯·欧内斯特·休姆（Thomas Ernest Hulme 1883-1917）英国诗人
秋
迎着秋夜的一丝凉意，
我在门外漫步，
看那羞月斜依树篱，
有如脸膛红红的农夫。
我脚步未停，默默点头招呼；
繁星像城里的孩子面庞白皙，
周围环绕，沉思无语。
Autumn
Thomas Ernest Hulme
A touch of cold in the Autumn night --
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.
二
秋颂
约翰·济慈
1
雾气腾腾的季节，果实垒垒的时光，
催熟万物，有把你当作挚友的太阳；
如何把福佑赐予大地，
你与他紧密协商：
让檐下藤蔓爬遍，葡萄串串，
让屋旁生苔老树苹果满枝，熟透飘香；
让榛子果仁香甜饱满，
让葫芦肚皮滚圆鼓胀；
催动更多的蓓蕾不断勃发，
驱使迟到的花朵为蜜蜂绽放；
弄得蜂群相信温暖的日子永无穷尽，
因为夏天早已让蜂巢灌满蜜浆。
2
谁不见你总是守候你的库房？
席地而坐，你会陪伴粮仓。
走出门外人们抬眼寻找，
会发现扬场的风让你发丝飘荡；
或者酣睡在收割中的田垄，
沉醉于罂粟花的馥郁芬芳，
只因野花夹杂其间，
你的镰刀会放过一丛半行。
有时你似乎在拾起散落的庄稼，
跨过溪流，残穗稳稳顶在头上；
或者你久久不肯离开榨汁的机架，
把那渗出的果汁耐心凝望。
3
春天之歌在何方？啊，春天之歌在何方？
你也有你的音乐，不必为此冥思苦想；
当细浪般的云层映出柔和的夕照，
残梗凌乱的田野抹上玫瑰色的霞光；
在那河边的柳树丛中，
小虫一起把悲哀的曲调奏响，
时起时落，随着轻风悠悠飘扬；
篱笆里，蟋蟀同声吟唱，
园中的知更鸟呼哨嘹亮；
山涧那边长大的羊羔咩咩叫唤，
唧唧喳喳，空中的燕子群集飞翔。
To Autumn
John Keats
1
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun,
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
2
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair sort-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Dows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
3
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a waiful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles form a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
来自群组: 西部诗人 |
发表于 2015-9-2 08:18
收藏
分享
