本帖最后由 吕志鲁 于 2015-11-28 14:50 编辑
冬季译诗
《一》
雪夜丛林
罗伯特·弗罗斯特(Robert Frost 1874—1963)美国诗人
点评
寓意深长用语天然的田园诗。高洁、黝黑、深邃的丛林召唤诗人就此长眠于自己的归宿，良心的承诺却催促他奔赴那漫长的人生之旅。
谁家的丛林不用猜想，
主人就住在那边的村庄。
他不会知道我在这里停留，
把他雪中的树林欣赏。
我的小马一定感到困惑，
为何站在这四下无人的地方？
一边树林，一边结冰的湖水，
一年之中最黑暗的晚上。
它抖动颈部的铜铃发出声响，
似乎问我是否搞错了方向？
唯有寒风轻轻回应，
还有绒毛雪花冉冉飘荡。
高洁的丛林黝黑深邃，
可是我有承诺不敢遗忘，
安睡之前道路漫长，
安睡之前道路漫长。
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
《二》
雪之歌
点评
用语朴实简洁，节奏轻快灵动。诗人置生死于度外，为了爱人，随着飞雪追风赶浪。
雪仙子,雪姑娘,
铺天盖地,纷纷扬扬,
但愿,但愿,
我也能够飞翔,
轻轻地,轻轻地在空中飘荡。
像一颗小小的星星,晶莹透亮,
我要追风,我要赶浪,
越来越近,靠近我的情郎,
他也会穿过风雪,
来到我的身旁。
我要飞向我的爱人,
像风中的雪片一样;
我要徇情,
面对死亡,
把他温暖的嘴唇依傍。
Snow Song
Fairy snow, fairy snow,
Blowing, blowing everywhere,
Would that I
Too, could fly
Lightly, lightly through the air.
Like a wee, crystal star
I should drift, I should blow
Near, more near,
To my dear
Where he comes through the snow.
I should fly to my love
Like a flake in the storm,
I should die,
I should die,
On his lips that are warm.
《三》
雪人
华莱士·史蒂文斯 Wallace Stevens
点评
诗人潜身躯体冰冷的雪人观察冬天，看似无情却饱含深情；洞悉一切的精神既是不存在的虚无，又是虚无的存在。中国的读者会问：是禅，是道，是哲理，还是玄机？
必须怀有冬日的心境，
方能领略眼前的寒霜皑皑，
还有雪压松枝的亮白；
只有经受长久的严寒，
才会欣赏柏树银装素裹的姿态，
还有冬日斜阳闪烁中云杉闪烁的光采；
寒风啸啸，
落叶嘶嘶，
冬天的强音声震天外；
任苍茫大地
响起同一的奏鸣，
把悲情全都抛开：
雪上的聆听者：
自身虚无才能审视不存在的虚无，
自身不存在方可洞察虚无的存在。
The Snow Man
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
来自群组: 西部诗人 |
发表于 2015-11-28 11:03
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