华兹华斯诗选（英汉对照）

林水云风

21

Written in March
While Resting on the Bridge at the Foot of Brother’s Water

The Cock is crowing，
The stream is flowing，
The small birds twitter，
The lake doth glitter，
The green field sleeps in the sun；
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest；
The cattle are grazing，
Their heads never raising；
There are forty feeding like one!

Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated，
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill；
The ploughboy is whooping—anon—anon:
There’s joy in the mountains；
There’s life in the fountains；
Small clouds are sailing，
Blue sky prevailing；
The rain is over and gone➀!

➀此诗末行出自《旧约•雅歌》第2章第11节。

林水云风

21

写于三月
憩于布拉泽湖畔桥头有感

雄鸡啼叫，
河水在奔淌，
小鸟儿叽叽喳喳，
湖面闪着银光，
碧绿的田野在晨辉中安眠，
老者与青壮
皆已下地干活，
牛不张望，
都在埋头吃草，
四十头全都一样。

残雪像战败的军队，
在溃散逃亡，
现在已退到山顶，
面临着绝望，
小伙扶犁在吆喝——驾，驾，
山里是一片的欢畅，
泉水在热烈喷涌，
白云在飘荡，
碧空如洗，
一场春雨过后的气象。

林水云风

22

Hart-leap Well

Hart-Leap Well is a small spring of water，about five miles from Richmond in Yorkshire，and near the side of the road that leads from Richmond to Askrigg. Its name is derived from a remarkable chase，the memory of which is preserved by the monuments spoken of in the second Part of the following Poem，which monuments do now exist as I have there described them➀.


Part First

The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor➁
With the slow motion of a summer’s cloud，
And now，as he approached a Vassal’s door，
‘Bring another Horse!’he cried aloud.

‘Another Horse!’—That shout the Vassal heard
And saddled his best Steed，a comely Grey；
Sir Walter mounted him；he was the third
Which he had mounted on that glorious day.

Joy sparkeled in the prancing Courser’s eyes；
The horse and horseman are a happy pair；
But，though Sir Walter like a falcon flies，
There is a doleful silence in the air.

A rout this morning left Sir Walter’s Hall，
That as they galloped made the echoes roar；
But horse and man are vanish’d，one and all；
Such race，I think，was never seen before.

Sir Walter，restless as a veering wind，
Calls to the few tired dogs that yet remain:
Brach，Swift，and Music，noblest of their kind➂，
Follow，and up the weary mountain strain.

The Knight hallooed，he cheered and chid them on
With suppliant gestures and upbraidings stern；
But breath and eyesight fail；and，one by one，
The dogs are stretched among the mountain fern.

Where is the throng，the tumult of the race?
The bugles that so joyfully were blown?
—This chase it looks not like an earthly chase；
Sir Walter and the Hart are left alone.

The poor Hart toils along the mountain side；
I will not stop to tell how far he fled，
Nor will I mention by what death he died；
But now the Knight beholds him lying dead.

Dismounting then，he leaned against a thorn；
He had no follower，dog，nor man，nor boy:
He neither cracked his whip，nor blew his horn，
But gazed upon the spoil with silent joy.

Close to the thorn on which Sir Walter leaned
Stood his dumb partner in this glorious feat；
Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yeaned；
And white with foam as if with cleaving sleet.

Upon his side the Hart was lying stretched:
His nostril touched a spring beneath a hill，
And with the last deep groan his breath had fetched
The waters of the spring were trembling still.

And now，too happy for repose or rest，
（never had living man such joyful lot!）
Sir Walter walked all round，north，south，and west，
And gazed and gazed upon that darling spot.

And climbing up the hill—（it was at least
Four roods of sheer ascent）Sir Walter found
Three several hoof-marks which the hunted Beast
Had left imprinted on the grassy ground.

Sir Walter wiped his face，and cried，‘Till now
Such sight was never seen by human eyes:
Three leaps have borne him from this lofty brow
Down to the very fountain where he lies.

‘I’ll build a pleasure-house upon this spot，
And a small arbour，made for rural joy；
’Twill be the traveller’s shed，the pilgrim’s cot，
A place of love for damsels that are coy.

‘A cunning Artist will I have to frame
A basin for that fountain in the dell!
And they who do make mention of the same，
From this day forth，shall call it Hart-leap Well.

‘And，gallant Stag! to make thy praises known，
Another monument shall here be raised；
Three several pillars，each a rough-hewn stone，
And planted where thy hoofs the turf have grazed.

‘And in the summer-time，when days are long，
I will come hither with my paramour；
And with the dancers and the minstrel’s song
We will make merry in that pleasant bower.

‘Till the foundations of the mountains fail
My mansion with its arbour shall endure；—
The joy of them who till the fields of Swale，
And them who dwell among the woods of Ure➃!’

Then home he went，and left the Hart stone-dead，
With breathless nostrils stretched above the spring.
—Soon did the Knight perform what he had said；
And far and wide the fame thereof did ring.

Ere thrice the Moon into her port had steered，
A cup of stone received the living well；
Three pillars of rude stone Sir Walter reared，
And built a house of pleasure in the dell.

And，near the fountain，flowers of stature tall
With trailing plants and trees were intertwined，—
Which soon composed a little sylvan hall，
A leafy shelter from the sun and wind.

And thither，when the summer days were long，
Sir Walter led his wondering Paramour；
And with the dancers and the minstrel’s song
Made merriment within that pleasant bower.

The Knight，Sir Walter，died in course of time，
And his bones lie in his paternal vale.—
But there is matter for a second rhyme，
And I to this would add another tale.

➀这篇小序是华兹华斯自己写的。序中提到的约克郡位于英格兰北部，里士满和阿斯克里格都是约克郡北部的城镇。
➁温斯利荒原在约克郡北部。
➂“白狼”、“飞毛腿”、“金嗓子”是三条猎狗的诨名。
➃绥尔河和尤尔河都在约克郡境内。

林水云风

22

鹿跳泉

鹿跳泉是一处小泉水，在约克郡里士满通往阿斯克里格的路旁，距里士满约五英里。泉水得名于一次盛大的狩猎，本诗下篇述及的纪念物就是为纪念那次狩猎而设立的。如诗中所述，这些纪念物至今犹存。


上篇

沃尔特爵士骑马走下温斯利荒原，
坐骑走得很慢，慢如夏日的云彩，
这时他来到一个家臣的门前，
高声喊道：“给我换一匹马来！”

“换一匹马来！”家臣听到叫喊，
遂牵出他那匹俊美的大灰马，
爵士纵身跃上，这是那欢乐的一天
他第三次更换他身下的座驾。

骑士和骏马是天生的一对儿，
人欢马跃狩猎者的眼里闪耀着欢乐，
可是，虽然沃尔特像鹰隼在飞，
而他的神情却显得忧郁落寞。

早上，沃尔特庄园涌出一群人马，
他们奔驰而去，声振云天，
但是人马却接二连三全部累垮，
这样的狩猎，我想我是从未看见。

沃尔特急得像乱转的旋风，
喊着仅剩下的几条疲惫的猎狗——
白狼、飞毛腿、金嗓子——狗中的英雄，
要跟着他，要奋力爬上山头。

爵士吆喝着，连鼓动带申斥，
要么是低气央求，要么是高声怒骂，
但几只狗气喘吁吁，眼已无光，
累瘫了腿，皆趴在了山下。

喧闹的大队人马都已无影无踪，
欢畅的摇舞和乐声也都已偃旗息鼓，
这次狩猎根本就不是一次狩猎，
只剩沃尔特与那只鹿在角逐。

可怜的鹿沿着山坡拼命奔跑，
它到底跑了多远，到底怎么死的，
这些我先暂且不详细说了，
这时只见沃尔特看着死去的鹿。

他翻身下马，背倚一棵树，
身边没有一条狗，也没有一个童仆，
他既没有甩响鞭，也没有吹号角，
只是窃喜，注视他的猎物。

在沃尔特背靠的树旁，
站着那匹立下汗马功劳的骏马，
像刚刚生下的羊羔一样瘫软，
浑身是白沫，似雨淋雪洒。

鹿躺在那里，已经伸直了腿，
鼻孔贴着山下的一股清泉，
它咽气时最后吐出的一口呻吟，
惊得清泉是一阵的冷颤。

此刻沃尔特兴奋异常，不能安静，
（没人会这样欣喜若狂！）
他东一头西一头地乱转，
朝那股可爱的清泉望了又望。

沃尔特爬上山头（山坡陡峭，
上下相距有六七十米），他看见
这只被追的鹿在这段距离的
草坡上只留下三个蹄印。

沃尔特擦把脸，叫道，“从古到今，
什么人见到过这样的奇迹，
它只跳三下，便从这么高的山头
跳到了泉边，在那儿死去。

“我要在这个地方，建一个
有乡村情趣的游乐客舍和花亭，
让过客下榻，让游人安歇，
让羞涩的女孩到此说爱谈情。

“我还要请来能工巧匠
就在这泉边上修砌一个水潭，
从今以后，不管谁再提到这里，
都得要叫它——鹿跳泉。

“还有，勇敢的鹿，为给你扬名，
我要在这儿给你树碑立传，
我要用粗石造三根石柱，
立在你抓破草皮的蹄印边。

“等到夏天，天越来越长，
到时我会带上我的情人来这里，
我们载歌载舞，尽情欢乐，
使庭园成为最迷人之地。

“只要没有山崩地裂，
我的这处庭园就会永久留存，
它的欢乐属于生活在绥尔河两岸的
以及尤尔河林地的人民！”

沃尔特说完而返，留下死鹿，
死鹿已全身僵硬横在泉边。
爵士很快就兑现了他说过的话，
跳鹿泉随即播名遥远。

月亮盈亏圆缺还不到三次，
清澈的泉水便哗哗流入了水潭，
三根粗石柱子皆已竖起，
美丽的客舍也已竣工建完。

在泉边，使茎高的野花
与藤蔓、树木相互缠绕生聚——
很快便搭成了一个小花亭，
绿叶茂盛，遮得住阳光和风雨。

很快，当夏日越来越长，
沃尔特带着她的情人来到了这里，
他们载歌载舞，尽情欢乐，
使庭园成为最迷人之地。

沃尔特爵士最后死了，
他埋在山谷里祖祖辈辈的茔地，
但有一事要写成第二部诗篇，
我接着就叙述这个故事。

林水云风

Part Second

The moving accident is not my trade；
To freeze the blood I have no ready arts：
’Tis my delight，alone in summer shade，
To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.

As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair➄，
It chanced that I saw standing in a dell
Three aspens at three corners of a square；
And one，not four yards distant，near a well.

What this imported I could ill divine：
And，pulling now the rein my horse to stop，
I saw three pillars standing in a line，—
The last stone-pillar on a dark hill-top.

The trees were grey，with neither arms nor head；
Half-wasted the square mound of tawny green；
So that you just might say，as then I said，
‘Here in old time the hand of man hath been.’

I looked upon the hill both far and near，
More doleful place did never eye survey；
It seemed as if the spring-time came not here，
And Nature here were willing to decay.

I stood in various thoughts and fancies lost，
When one，who was in Shepherd’s garb attired，
Came up the hollow：—him did I accost，
And what this place might be I then enquired.

The Shepherd stopped，and that same story told
Which in my former rhyme I have rehearsed➅.
‘A jolly place，’said he，‘in times of old!
But something ails it now：the spot is curst.

‘You see these lifeless stumps of aspen wood—
Some say that they are beeches，others elms—
These were the bower；and here a mansion stood，
The finest palace of a hundred realms!

‘The arbour does its own condition tell；
You see the stones，the fountain，and the stream；
But as to the great Lodge! you might as well
Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.

‘There’s neither dog nor heifer，horse nor sheep，
Will wet his lips within that cup of stone；
And oftentimes，when all are fast asleep，
This water doth send forth a dolorous groan.

‘Some say that here a murder has been done，
And blood cries out for blood: but，for my part，
I’ve guessed，when I’ve been sitting in the sun，
That it was all for that unhappy Hart.

‘What thoughts must through the creature’s brain have past!
Even from the topmost stone，upon the steep，
Are but three bounds—and look，Sir，at this last—
O Master! it has been a cruel leap.

‘For thirteen hours he ran a desperate race➆；
And in my simple mind we cannot tell
What cause the Hart might have to love this place，
And come and make his death-bed near the well.

‘Here on the grass perhaps asleep he sank，
Lulled by the fountain in the summer-tide；
This water was perhaps the first he drank
When he had wandered from his mother’s side.

‘In April here beneath the flowering thorn
He heard the birds their morning carols sing；
And he，perhaps，for aught we know，was born
Not half a furlong from that self-same spring.

‘Now，here is neither grass nor pleasant shade；
The sun on drearier hollow never shone；
So will it be，as I have often said，
Till trees，and stones，and fountain，all are gone.’

‘Grey-headed Shepherd，thou hast spoken well；
Small difference lies between thy creed and mine:
This Beast not unobserved by Nature fell；
His death was mourned by sympathy divine.

‘The Being that is in the clouds and air，
That is in the green leaves among the groves，
Maintains a deep and reverential care
For the unoffending creatures whom he loves➇.

‘The pleasure-house is dust：—behind，before，
This is no common waste，no common gloom；
But Nature，in due course of time，once more
Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom.

‘She leaves these objects to a slow decay，
That what we are，and have been，may be known；
But at the coming of the milder day
These monuments shall all be overgrown.

‘One lesson，Shepherd，let us two divide，
Taught both by what she shows，and what conceals；
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.’

➄霍斯，约克郡一集镇，在里士满西南。
➅“前篇”，指本诗第一部。
➆老牧人的这句话透露了：沃尔特爵士和他的大群人、马、猎狗追袭这头鹿，竟连续追袭了十三个小时之久。本诗第一部中着力渲染的一些情节（“人马都垮了”，残存的几条猎狗也都趴下了；沃尔特一天之内换乘了三匹坐骑，第二匹到后来竟“慢得像夏天的云彩”，第三匹——“最棒的一匹”终于也“像刚刚生下的羊羔一样软绵绵”了，等等），至此才恍然有了解答。
➇在欧洲人的观念中，造化（即自然）为阴性，故用“她”；上帝为阳性，故用“他”。作者认为上帝就在周遭的天光云影中，就在树林的青枝绿叶里，上帝与自然几乎合二为一，这显然是泛神论的观点。

林水云风

下篇

我编不出引人入胜的离奇情节，
我也写不出令人战栗的惊悚场景，
我的乐趣就是独坐夏日的树下，
吹一首简朴的乐曲，愿有心人倾听。

有一次我从霍斯去里士满，
途中偶然望见山谷里的一块儿方田，
有三棵白杨长在三个角上，
一棵离泉水，大约三四米远。

这意味着什么，我难以看清，
我于是拉住了缰绳，叫马停住，
我这才又看见三根石柱并立于一线，
最后的一根立在阴郁的山头。

树木皆衰朽枯萎，残枝败叶，
山坡泛黄，几乎是一片的荒凉，
想你一定会说，就像我说的一样，
“这儿是被人废弃的地方。”

我望遍这座山的远远近近，
我从未见过这样凄凉的景色，
就好像春天从来不曾光临这里，
就好像大自然有意让这里变得落魄。

我伫立着，陷入千思万想，
这时候，一个一身牧羊人打扮的人
走向这里，我遂朝他走过去，
遂向他打听这地方的旧闻。

牧羊人停步，跟我说起故事，
我上篇说的，就是复述他所说的。
他说，“早先，这儿是快活的地方，
但现在全完了，这地儿遭了天责。

“你看这几棵枯死的白杨——
有人说是山毛榉，有人说是榆树——
这儿就是花亭，那儿是客舍，
这可是百里挑一的好去处。

“从花亭的现状可见其旧貌，
你看那石柱，那山泉，那溪流潺潺，
但说起那客舍，你可以花上半天
去寻找那已被遗忘的梦幻。

“再也没有牛羊，再也没有狗马
到水潭这儿来饮水，经常，
当夜深人静，万物入睡，
泉水就会呻吟，悲切忧伤。

“有人说这儿发生过一次凶杀，
因冤冤相报，遂造成这样的情景，
可我坐在阳光下想过，照我想，
这儿绝对是遭到那只不幸的鹿的报应。

“那只鹿当时在想什么呢？
从山顶那根石柱，沿着陡坡，
它只跳了三下——你看，就到了这里——
天啊，它是豁出了命这么做。

“它跑了十三个钟头，为了逃命，
咱脑子不聪明，真是很难推断
它为什么一心惦记着这地方，
非要一头栽在这儿，死在泉边。

“或许它曾在这块儿草地上入睡，
夏日里，山泉是它的吹眠曲，
或许它刚刚离开母亲的身边，
初次喝到的，便是这里的泉水。

“或许在春天的早晨，鲜花盛开，
它在这儿听百鸟纵情歌唱，
或许，也很有可能，它就出生在
离这泉水不到百米的地方。

“如今，这儿不长草，也无树荫，
阳光永远照不到这沉闷的山谷，
我常说，这儿会永远如此，
树木、石头、山泉都会化为虚无。”

“老牧人，你说的非常在理，
我和你的想法差不了多少，
这只鹿的命运，造化早已关注，
她已向鹿的死表示了神圣悲悯的哀悼。

“上帝居于云天之中，
居于树丛的青枝绿叶之上，
凡是无害生灵，他皆喜爱并关照，
他的情感至深至诚，宽厚无量。

“客舍已成瓦砾，前后左右，
是一片荒凉，一片阴暗，
但是造化，来日方长，她会再次
让这里繁花似锦，美轮美奂。

“她让这里的一切慢慢腐朽，
她让人们记住往日与如今的兴衰，
待到有一天，时来运转，
在这些遗迹上，又会鲜花盛开。

“老牧人，她给我们上了鲜明的一课，
什么是她要展现的，什么是她隐藏的，
我们不能把我们的欢乐和豪情
建立在卑贱生灵的痛苦之上。”

林水云风

23

Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey，on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour➀

Five years have past；five summers，with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters，rolling from their mountain-springs➁
With a soft inland murmur. —Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs，
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion；and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here，under this dark sycamore，and view
These plots of cottage-ground，these orchard-tufts，
Which at this season，with their unripe fruits，
Are clad in one green hue，and lose themselves
’Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows，hardly hedge-rows，little lines
Of sportive wood run wild：these pastoral farms，
Green to the very door；and wreaths of smoke
Sent up，in silence，from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice，as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods，
Or of some Hermit’s cave，where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.
These beauteous forms，
Through a long absence，have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye:
But oft，in lonely rooms，and ’mid the din
Of towns and cities，I have owed to them，
In hours of weariness，sensations sweet，
Felt in the blood，and felt along the heart；
And passing even into my purer mind，
With tranquil restoration：—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure：such，perhaps，
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man’s life，
His little，nameless，unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less，I trust➂，
To them I may have owed another gift，
Of aspect more sublime；that blessed mood，
In which the burthen of the mystery，
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world，
Is lightened：—that serene and blessed mood，
In which the affections gently lead us on，—
Until，the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended，we are laid asleep
In body，and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony，and the deep power of joy，
We see into the life of things.
If this
Be but a vain belief，yet，oh! how oft—
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight；when the fretful stir
Unprofitable，and the fever of the world，
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart—
How oft，in spirit，have I turned to thee，
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro’the woods，
How often has my spirit turned to thee!

And now，with gleams of half-extinguished thought，
With many recognitions dim and faint，
And somewhat of a sad perplexity，
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand，not only with the sense
Of present pleasure，but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope，
Though changed，no doubt，from what I was when first➃
I came among these hills；when like a roe
I bounded o’er the mountains，by the sides
Of the deep rivers，and the lonely streams，
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
（The coarser pleasures of my boyish days，
And their glad animal movements all gone by）
To me was all in all.—I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock，
The mountain，and the deep and gloomy wood，
Their colours and their forms，were then to me
An appetite；a feeling and a love，
That had no need of a remoter charm，
By thought supplied，nor any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past，
And all its aching joys are now no more，
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I，nor mourn nor murmur；other gifts
Have followed；for such loss，I would believe，
Abundant recompence. For I have learned
To look on nature，not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth；but hearing oftentimes
The still，sad music of humanity，
Nor harsh nor grating，though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts；a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused，
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns，
And the round ocean and the living air，
And the blue sky，and in the mind of man：
A motion and a spirit，that impels
All thinking things，all objects of all thought，
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods，
And mountains；and of all that we behold
From this green earth；of all the mighty world
Of eye，and ear，—both what they half create，
And what perceive；well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense➄
The anchor of my purest thoughts，the nurse，
The guide，the guardian of my heart，and soul
Of all my moral being.
Nor perchance，
If I were not thus taught，should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river；thou my dearest Friend➅，
My dear，dear Friend；and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart，and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once，
My dear，dear Sister! and this prayer I make，
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her；’tis her privilege，
Through all the years of this our life，to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us，so impress
With quietness and beauty，and so feed
With lofty thoughts，that neither evil tongues，
Rash judgments，nor the sneers of selfish men，
Nor greetings where no kindness is，nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life，
Shall e’er prevail against us，or disturb
Our cheerful faith，that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk；
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and，in after years，
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure；when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms，
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies；oh! Then，
If solitude，or fear，or pain，or grief，
Should be thy portion，with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me，
And these my exhortations! Nor，perchance—➆
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice，nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence—wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together；and that I，so long
A worshipper of Nature，hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love—oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget，
That after many wanderings，many years
Of absence，these steep woods and lofty cliffs，
And this green pastoral landscape，were to me
More dear，both for themselves and for thy sake!

➀原题较长，全文译出为：《旅途中重游瓦伊河两岸，作于廷腾寺上游数里处》。通常简称《廷腾寺》。廷腾寺是久已倾圮的中世纪寺院，位于英格兰西部蒙茅斯郡瓦伊河畔，离海滨不远。1793年8月，华兹华斯曾徒步来此地游览；5年之后，1798年7月，由和妹妹多萝西同来，写出了这首命意恢宏、寄情深远的名作。
➁“清流”指瓦伊河——英国主要河流之一，发源于威尔士，在廷腾以南入海。据作者原注，廷腾以北仅数里，海潮的影响就达不到了，河水也就平静如内河（内陆河流）。
➂“善良生灵”和“他”，皆作者自指。
➃“当年”，指5年以前（作者23岁时）。
➄“感官的语言”，指感官对大自然作出的反应。
➅指作者的妹妹多萝西。有关多萝西的这一段，参看《麻雀窝》注释。
➆指死亡。

林水云风

23

廷腾寺

五年过去了，五个夏天，及五个
漫长的冬季！我终于又听到
这水声——这从高山滚落而下的泉水
发出的轻柔的淙淙声。我终于
又看到这高耸险峻的山崖，
这般荒僻幽邃的景色
强烈震撼人心欲浪迹的幽思，
直把此景挂入幽静的高天。
这一天终于来了，我再次登临这里，
坐在这棵葱郁的枫树下，俯看
远近的村舍庭园，果木树林，
季节还早，果尚未熟，
果木一片青翠，隐没于
树林或灌木丛中。我又望见
一排排的树篱，也算不上是树篱，
就是几行杂乱生长的树丛；
一片片田园农场，门前皆是花草，
静谧的林间悄然升起袅袅炊烟！
这炊烟有些蹊跷，也许
林中住有无家可归的流浪者，
也许有穴居的隐士，他独自坐在
升起的火旁。
这些美景，
虽说阔别已久，却从未忘怀，
不会像盲人那样无动于衷。
在我经常的独居或处闹市之中，
每当萎靡不振时，我要感谢
这些美景又唤起我甜美的感受，
它们触动我的血脉，触动我的心房，
并径直涌入我纯真的思想，
令我缓缓恢复了恬静。
只要重温这些快乐就会感受到，
它们对一个正直善良人的
一生最宝贵的岁月影响至深，
使他能对微不足道的事物
投以善意和仁爱。除此而外，
我还要感谢这些美景给我另一份礼物，
它们令我的心境得到了升华；
在这样安详幸福的心境里，
那些人生的神秘叵测，
那些世间的困惑晦涩及沉重疲惫，
这些重负都顿时得到了释然；
在这样安详幸福的心境里，
慈爱循循为我们引路，
直到我们肉体的呼吸停止，
直到我们的血液不再流动，
即我们躯体长眠，而精神永生，
这时和谐与欢乐的无穷的力量
使我们眼光静穆，我们凭此
洞察万物的生命。
即便
这是空想，可也值得！
多少次在黑暗中，多少次
在白日郁郁寡欢百无聊赖的纷杂中，
无益的焦虑烦躁，及尘世的狂疾热病，
袭扰我的心，使它悸动不宁——
这时，多少次，我的心神飞向了你，
啊，林间的瓦伊河，你这林间的浪游者，
多少次啊我的心神飞向了你！

此刻，思绪浮于忽灭忽闪的光影，
认知辨识依稀朦胧模糊，
甚至怀有一缕茫然困惑的沮丧，
美景又在我心中再生。
我又站在了这里，不只是看到
眼前的美景，更是在此刻领悟了
愉悦的思想——未来岁月的
生命和营养。我敢于这样希望，
那是与从前发生了变化，这毫无疑问。
我记得第一次来到这群山间，
就像是一只欢乐的小鹿，
任随自然自由的引导，
奔山窜岭，越深水，跳孤流，
更像是一个人追求其爱，
可却又因畏惧而逃离。
我童年的若小鹿般的欢蹦乱跳，
这些天性的快乐已经消失，
但那时自然占据我的全部心灵，
我无法描绘我过去究竟是什么样子，
瀑布的轰鸣若情欲刺激着我，
高山峻岭，幽林翠木，
这千姿百态，这五颜六色，
对我都是嗜欲，不过是一种感情，
一段爱恋，是耳目的情趣，
缺乏有思想提供的持久的魅力——
但是这样的时光已经过去，
所有疼痛的欢乐，所有眩晕的狂喜
都已经消失了。我不再怯懦，
不再哀痛，也不再抱怨，
因我有了新的礼物，我相信
这丰厚的报酬足以抵偿所失。
我学会了如何看待自然，不再像
年轻时那样没有思想，我经常
听到人生低缓而忧伤的乐曲，
没有尖厉的刺耳声，但却浑厚雄壮，
荡涤、折服人的心性。我感到
有灵物激荡着我，使我体验
崇高思想的欢乐；我感到
在蕴涵极丰的意识的巅峰上，
那里有落日的余晖，
浩瀚的大海，清新的微风，
蓝色的天空，一切皆通人的心灵；
我感到一股动力，一股精神，
在推动万灵，在推动万物，
穿越万象而行。因此，我依然
热爱草地、森林及群山，
我依然热爱青春大地的丰美，
我依然热爱耳濡目染的
大千世界——并依凭想像及领悟；
我欣慰，我欣然发现
在感官与大自然的交流中，
我纯洁的思想有了依托，我的心
有了乳母、导师及守护者，我全部精神
生命有了灵魂。
当然，
即使我没有这样的领悟，
我的恬性也不会衰竭，
因为此刻有你与我相伴同游
在这美丽的河畔，你是我最亲爱的人，
我最亲最爱的人；从你的声音里，
我又听到我往日的心语，
从你的欣喜闪光的眼神里，
我又看到我往日的欢乐。啊，
让我在你身再多看一眼我的曾经，
我最亲最爱的妹妹！我祈祷，
我要知道大自然从未辜负
爱她之心；她有特殊的权能，
在我们生活的岁月里，引领着
从欢乐至欢乐。她能激起
我们潜在的心智，印上
宁静与美，育以崇高的思想，
正因如此，故无论是流言蜚语，
还是恶意中伤，无论是冷嘲热讽，
还是侧目眄视，这一切日常生活中
所遇的无聊庸俗，既不能
压倒我们，也不能搅扰
我们愉快的信念，因为凡我们
所见的都充满了神的祝福。
所以，让月光照你独自漫步，
让山林的薄雾和轻风轻妙温柔地
把你润饰抚慰。从今往后，
当这些纵情狂喜经熏染陶冶
而渐趋入静穆的愉悦；
当你的心灵容纳无限的风光，
你的记忆储存千声万籁；
啊，到那时，你若陷入孤独或恐惧，
你若感到痛苦或悲伤，
你便就会从那些温馨欢乐的
令人奋扬的思想中想起我，
想起我的这番叮咛！当然，
即使我离开了，再也听不到你的声音，
再也不能从你的欣喜的眼神里
看到往日的光景，你也不会忘记，
我们曾站在一起，站在这
美丽的河畔；你也不会忘记，
我对大自然顶礼膜拜，我兴高采烈
到此就是心怀敬意，或者说
是满怀热爱，啊，满怀炽烈的
虔诚的爱；你也不会忘记，
我四处游荡，多年后重游故地，
这茂密的森林，险峻的山崖，
碧绿的田野，对我是格外的亲切，
既由它们自身，也因你在此！

林水云风

24

（Untitled）➀

Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room；
And hermits are contented with their cells；
And students with their pensive citadels；
Maids at the wheel，the weaver at his loom，
Sit blithe and happy；bees that soar for bloom，
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells➁，
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells➂:
In truth the prison，into which we doom
Ourselves，no prison is: and hence for me，
In sundry moods，’twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground；
Pleased if some Souls（for such there needs must be）
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty，
Should find brief solace there，as I have found.

➀这首诗用了一连串比喻来说明：十四行诗虽然篇幅狭小，却适合于诗人在不同心境里抒发情怀，以此自娱并获得慰藉。
➁弗尼斯山在兰开夏郡，温德密湖以西。
➂毛地黄于初夏开紫色或白色花，花冠钟状。

林水云风

24

无题

修女不嫌弃修道院的小房；
隐士甘于恬淡而隐居于穷乡；
书生博览冥思，不厌陋室；
姑娘在纺车边，织布工在织机旁，
都沉浸于快乐；蜜蜂高飞觅花，
会一直飞到弗尼斯山顶上，
在吊钟花间低鸣，流连忘返；
我们自愿把自己囚禁，此情此状
就决不是囚禁：因对我来说，
在各种心境下，自拘小诗十四行
这方寸之地，自是一种消遣；
但愿有（一定会有）这样的思想
厌倦于放荡不羁，愿意随我，
愿到这儿寻求片刻的欢畅。