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    弗羅斯特(RobertFrost)詩精選:白樺樹

    2012-09-29 18:47 來源:中國南方藝術 作者:徐淳剛 譯 閱讀

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    Robert Frost(1874-1963),20世紀美國最杰出的詩人,作品以樸素、深邃著稱,龐德、艾略特、博爾赫斯、布羅茨基等大師都對之有過相當的評價。他的一生,既不幸又充滿光彩:有40歲之前的坎坷曲折,后半生的寂寞孤獨,又有四獲普利策詩歌獎、44種名譽學位和種種榮譽。他常常被稱作美國詩壇的兩面神,作品和人格遭到攻擊,卻又始終維持一個大詩人的和藹形象,又是詩人、農夫和哲學家的三位一體。弗羅斯特一直通過具體的實物、情景寫詩,斯蒂文斯說,你愛寫實物,弗羅斯特反唇相譏,你愛寫古董,這其實是詩人預先選擇的精神圖式和寫作形式,一生幾乎沒有多大變化。作為以自然方式關注現實的大詩人,他對世界的態度既不像華茲華斯那樣充滿柔情,也不像斯蒂文斯那樣粗壯、強硬,而是顯得矛盾、折中,和他的精神導師愛默生一樣帶有超驗主義。他向維吉爾學寫田園牧歌,向哈代、葉芝等人學習平淡而富有暗示的語言,但用意更精深,作品常常通過時空反差的形式,也就是具體情境中的變化、對比,從而形成一個個堅固封閉卻又極其開放的詩歌文本,簡潔地表達出存在的真相,化腐朽為神奇。他喜歡戴著面具寫作,崇尚文學的游戲原則,一開始就寫得樸素含蓄,第一本詩集《男孩的意愿》(1913)就顯示了過人的語言才華。雖然弗羅斯特一直戴著面具寫作,但我更愿意將他稱為 “一位偉大的徘徊者”。他徘徊在自然和人類、自我和事物、現實和理想之間,像被上帝驅逐的天使一樣平靜而又苦惱地審視著塵世生活。弗羅斯特幼年喪父,中年喪妻,老年喪子,他的坎坷人生常使他在作品中流露陰暗和悲觀,但他更多是想用詩歌這種崇高的藝術形式排遣存在的焦慮和慌亂。他明智而不極端,曾在一首詩中將世界比作自己的情人,于是喋喋不休的吵鬧就成為他搖曳的情思和畢生的哲學追求。他非常懂得獨特是什么東西。他對現代詩歌的貢獻,主要在于果斷地拒絕了自由詩體(free verse)的潮流,以個人的興趣探索出結合傳統的抑揚格韻律和日常生活話語、結合古典人文情懷和現代懷疑精神的新詩體 (blank verse),看似保守,實則妙筆生花。在精神的高標和題材的深廣度上,自波德萊爾以來的詩歌大師幾乎無一人能和但丁相比,但弗羅斯特的探索應該說是走得最自然、最深遠的,所以深受世界各國各層次讀者的歡迎,在美國更是家喻戶曉。弗羅斯特創作的樸素無華、寓意深刻的抒情短詩和戲劇性濃烈、藝術性高超的敘事長詩應該說經得起任何考驗,無韻詩、變體十四行、雙行體等各種形式的作品都有佳作,和華茲華斯一樣堪稱體裁大師。他自16歲寫詩,一直到89歲去世,半個多世紀筆耕不輟,共出版10余本詩集,主要有《波士頓以北》(1914),《山間》(1916),《新罕布什爾》(1923),《西流的小溪》(1928),《見證樹》(1942),《林間空地》(1962)等,在美國文學史上具有獨特的地位,在世界文學史上也是一顆璀璨之星。然而,弗羅斯特在中國,如同余光中所說“損失慘重”,因為日常語言性的詩歌經過翻譯,精華喪失殆盡。這里選譯的幾十首詩,表面上是弗羅斯特各個時期的創作精華,卻也極有可能仍是以訛傳訛。但是,通過它們,我們大致可以感受一位天才詩人的精神世界,一種對人類、對塵世生活的個性理解。它們對于中國當代詩人的寫作,應該說依然具有非常重要的借鑒意義。

    譯者小傳

    徐淳剛(1975- ),藍田猿人后裔。著有詩集、小說、哲學隨筆,F居西安。

    白樺樹

    □ 補 墻

    有一種東西,可能不喜歡墻,
    它在墻根下的凍土中鼓起來,
    大白天的把墻上的石頭搖得滾下來;
    墻裂了大口子,兩人并肩都能走過。
    打獵的來了又是另個樣子:
    他們搬開一塊塊石頭,總不放回原處,
    我只好跟在他們后頭不停地修補,
    他們還要把兔子從藏身的地兒攆出來,
    為了討好汪汪的狗。那么大的口子
    怎么有的,誰也沒看見,誰也沒聽見
    可到了春天補墻時,就在那里了。
    我給住在山那邊的鄰居捎話說了;
    有一天我們在墻下見了面,四處看了看,
    在我們兩家中間重新把墻補壘起來。
    我們走的時候,中間隔著一道墻,
    石頭落在誰那邊,就由誰去收拾。
    它們有的像面包,有的圓得像球。
    或許得念個咒才能把它們放穩當:
    “老實呆著!在我們轉身之前別掉下來!”
    搬弄這些東西,我們的手指都磨粗了。
    哦,這不過是另一種戶外游戲,
    一個人站一邊。此外沒有別的用處:
    在墻那塊兒,我們根本不需要墻:
    他那邊兒全是松樹,我這邊兒是蘋果。
    我的蘋果樹永遠也不會翻墻過去
    在他的松樹底下吃松果,我就這么說。
    他只是說,“好籬笆才有好鄰家。”
    春天讓我心里挺謀亂,我就想
    能不能讓他順著我的思路想:
    “為什么好籬笆才有好鄰家?是不是說
    有牛的人家?可我們這里哪有牛。
    其實,在壘墻之前,我就應該知道,
    圍進來的是什么,圍出去的是什么,
    而且我會得罪誰,歪著誰。
    有一種東西,可能不喜歡墻,
    它總想讓墻塌。”我會對他說那是“妖精”。
    但也不完全是妖精吧,我想還是
    由他自己去判斷。我看見他在那邊
    搬一塊石頭,兩只手緊緊抓住,
    像一個用石器武裝自己的野蠻人。
    我覺著,他是在黑暗中摸索,
    這黑暗不只是來自樹木和樹影。
    他不去推敲人老幾輩說過的東西
    他一想起來就感覺對著呢,
    于是又說,“好籬笆才有好鄰家”。

    Mending Wall

    Something there is that doesn"t love a wall,
    That sends the frozen ground-swell under it,
    And spills the upper bowlders in the sun;
    And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
    The work of hunters is another thing:
    I have come after them and made repair
    Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
    But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
    To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
    No one has seen them made or heard them made,
    But at spring mending-time we find them there.
    I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
    And on a day we meet to walk the line
    And set the wall between us once again.
    We keep the wall between us as we go.
    To each the bowlders that have fallen to each.
    And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
    We have to use spell to make them balance:
    “Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
    We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
    Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
    One on a side. It comes to little more:
    There where it is we do not need the wall:
    He is all pine and I am apple-orchard.
    My apple trees will never get across
    And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
    He only say, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
    Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
    If I could put a motion in his head:
    “Why do they make good neighbors? Isn"t it
    Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
    Before I built a wall I"d ask to know
    What I was walling in or walling out,
    And to whom I was like to give offense.
    Something there is that doesn"t love a wall,
    That wants it down!” I could say “elves” to him,
    But it"s not elves exactly, and I"d rather
    He said it for himself. I see him there,
    Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
    In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
    He moves in darkness, as it seems to me,
    Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
    He will not go behind his father"s saying.
    And he likes having thought of it so well
    He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”


    □ 柴 垛

    陰天,我走在冰凍的沼澤中
    停下腳步,心想:打這兒往回走吧;
    要不,再走遠點兒,這樣就看到了。
    大雪把我困住,就一只腳
    不時還能挪動。那些細高細高的樹  
    將視野全劃成了直上直下的線條
    以致沒什么能標明我是在哪兒
    說不準究竟我是在這里
    還是在別處:反正離家很遠就是了。
    一只小鳥在我面前飛。當它
    飛落時總小心地跟我隔著一棵樹
    什么也不說,不告訴我它是誰
    而我卻傻傻地想著它在想什么。
    它以為,我走在它后頭是為了根兒毛吧——
    它尾巴上白色的那根;好像一個
    把什么東西都說成是自己的人。
    其實,它只要飛到外面就全明白了。
    然后是一垛柴,于是我就
    把它給忘了,就讓它那小小的恐懼
    隨它走吧,走那條我要走的路
    我都沒有對它說一聲晚安。
    為了獲得最后的立足處,它繞到后頭。
    那是一堆楓木,  早已劈開剁好
    很整齊地堆著, 四乘四乘八。
    像這樣的柴垛,我沒看到第二個。
    在它周圍的雪地上 ,沒有任何奔跑過的痕跡。
    這垛柴,想必不是今年砍的
    更不用說去年、前年。
    柴已經變成灰色 ,皮也都剝落了
    整個柴垛稍微有些下陷 。鐵絲
    一圈一圈牢牢扎著,像個打好的包裹。
    柴垛的一頭,是還在生長的小樹
    支撐著,另一頭是斜樁和豎樁
    幾乎快要倒了。 我只是想 :
    一定是誰要干別的事情, 才把自己
    忙活好些天的東西給忘了。
    費那么大勁兒砍下,沒丟進爐子里燒火
    卻遠遠地留在這兒 ,讓它慢慢地腐爛
    無煙地燃燒,溫暖這冰凍的沼澤
    或許這樣更好點兒。

    The Wood-Pile

    Out walking in the frozen swamp one grey day
    I paused and said, “I will turn back from here.
    No, I will go on farther--and we shall see.”
    The hard snow held me, save where now and then
    One foot went down. The view was all in lines
    Straight up and down of tall slim trees
    Too much alike to mark or name a place by
    So as to say for certain I was here
    Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
    A small bird flew before me. He was careful
    To put a tree between us when he lighted,
    And say no word to tell me who he was
    Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
    He thought that I was after him for a feather--
    The white one in his tail; like one who takes
    Everything said as personal to himself.
    One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
    And then there was a pile of wood for which
    I forgot him and let his little fear
    Carry him off the way I might have gone,
    Without so much as wishing him good-night.
    He went behind it to make his last stand.
    It was a cord of maple, cut and split
    And piled--and measured, four by four by eight.
    And not another like it could I see.
    No runner tracks in this year"s snow looped near it.
    And it was older sure than this year"s cutting,
    Or even last year"s or the year"s before.
    The wood was grey and the bark warping off it
    And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
    Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
    What held it though on one side was a tree
    Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
    These latter about to fall. I thought that only
    Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
    Could so forget his handiwork on which
    He spent himself, the labour of his axe,
    And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
    To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
    With the slow smokeless burning of decay.


    □ 割 草

    樹林邊靜悄悄,只有一點聲音,
    那是我的長鐮在對大地低語。
    它在說些什么?我不知道;
    它可能說的是太陽的火熱,
    也可能在說四下里靜悄悄——
    所以才把聲音壓得這么低。
    不夢想忙里偷閑的造化,
    或仙女手中的大把黃金:
    真相之外的東西或許都無力
    就說這洼地中割草的愛,
    很可能對準的是還未戳起的花
    又驚走了綠瑩瑩的蛇。
    事實是最甜蜜的夢只有靠出力。
    我的長鐮低語,離開一堆堆干草。

    Mowing

    There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
    And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
    What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
    Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
    Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound—
    And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
    It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,
    Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
    Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
    To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,
    Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
    (Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
    The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.
    My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.


    □ 不深也不遠

    人們走上沙灘
    轉身朝著一個方向。
    他們背對著陸地
    整日凝望海洋。

    當一只船從遠處過來
    船身便不斷升高;
    潮濕的沙灘像明鏡
    映出一只靜立的鳥。

    也許陸地變化更多;
    但無論真相在哪邊——
    海水涌上岸來,
    人們凝望著海洋。

    他們望不太深。
    他們望不太遠。
    但有什么能夠遮擋
    他們凝望的目光?

    Neither Out Far Nor In Deep

    The people along the sand
    All turn and look one way.
    They turn their back on the land.
    They look at the sea all day.

    As long as it takes to pass
    A ship keeps raising its hull;
    The wetter ground like glass
    Reflects a standing gull

    The land may vary more;
    But wherever the truth may be--
    The water comes ashore,
    And the people look at the sea.

    They cannot look out far.
    They cannot look in deep.
    But when was that ever a bar
    To any watch they keep?


    □ 雪夜林邊停歇

    這是誰家的林子我清楚。
    他就住在那邊的村里頭;
    他不會知道我停在這兒
    望著他的樹林積滿白雪。

    我的小馬準抱著個疑團:
    干嗎停在樹林和冰庫間?
    附近既看不到一戶人家
    又是一年中最黑的夜晚。

    他搖了搖脖子上的鈴鐺
    好像在問出了什么差錯。
    除此之外,只聽見微風
    吹拂著毛絨絨的雪花響。

    樹林真好看,又黑又幽深,
    但我說話要算數,
    睡覺前還有多少路要趕,
    睡覺前還要趕多少路。

    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 promise to keep,
    And miles to go before I sleep,
    And miles to go before I sleep.

       

    □ 未選擇的路

    金黃的樹林里分出兩條路,
    可惜我不能都去走。
    我這個過客,久久的站在那兒,
    向著一條極目望去
    不知道它在叢林中伸向何處;

    而我選擇了另一條,或許這樣才公平,
    說不定還有更好的理由:
    因為它長滿青草,召喚我去踩踏;
    盡管就這一點來說,兩條路
    好像沒什么不同。而且,

    那天清晨,兩條路都鋪滿了
    落葉,未經腳印污染。
    哦,就把第一條留待來日吧!
    但一想到條條道路相連接,
    恐怕我難以再回來。

    也許多年以后在某個地方
    我會輕聲嘆息著說起這件事:
    樹林中分出兩條路,而我——
    而我選擇了人跡少的那一條,
    這,就造成了天大的不同。

    The Road Not Taken

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveler,long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could
    To where it bent in the undergrowth;

    Then took the other,as just as fair,
    And having perhaps the better claim,
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear
    Though as for that the passing there
    Had worn them really about the same,

    And both that morning equally lay
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh,Ikept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    Idoubted if I should ever come back.

    Ishall be telling this with a sgih
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood,and I--
    Itook the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.


    □ 出生地

    和遠處的大山相比
    這邊似乎沒有任何希望,
    父親建造房屋,攏起泉水,
    用一圈圍墻鎖住所有東西。
    四周的地面不只長荒草,
    它還養育了我們各自的生命。
    我們兄弟姐妹一共十二個。
    大山看起來喜歡熱鬧,
    不久就認識了我們——
    它的微笑總像包含著什么。
    直到今天大山還不知道我們的名字。
    (何況姑娘們已出嫁隨了夫姓。)
    它曾把我們推離它的懷抱。
    現在它的懷里長滿樹木。

    The Birthplace

    Here further up the mountain slope
    Than there was every any hope,
    My father built, enclosed a spring,
    Strung chains of wall round everything,
    Subdued the growth of earth to grass,
    And brought our various lives to pass.
    A dozen girls and boys we were.
    The mountain seemed to like the stir,
    And made of us a little while--
    With always something in her smile.
    Today she wouldn"t know our name.
    (No girl"s, of course, has stayed the same.)
    The mountain pushed us off her knees.
    And now her lap is full of trees.


    □ 白樺樹

    彎曲,或左或右:每當我看見
    白樺樹穿過又直又黑的樹木,
    我都會想,是個小男孩在蕩它們。
    但是蕩,不會像冰那樣使它們
    一直彎著。在冬天的早晨,
    雨過天晴,你一定會看見白樺樹
    給冰壓彎了。當風輕輕吹過來,
    它們表面的冰塊就會碎裂,發出
    奇妙的喀嚓聲,閃射出五顏六色。
    很快,太陽會撕下它們的水晶外套,
    又在凍硬的雪地上摔得粉碎——
    這么一大堆碎玻璃,盡夠你掃,
    你還以為是天頂的華蓋塌了下來。
    重壓,會使樹枝觸到地上的枯草,
    但是,它們似乎不會折斷,不過
    一旦被壓彎了,就再也直不起來;
    很長時間以后,你會在樹林里
    看見它們還那么彎著,枝葉垂地,
    好像女孩子手腳并用趴在地上
    將洗過的頭發甩到身后,等太陽曬干。
    但我要說的是,即便這樣,
    白樺樹彎曲是由于冰的緣故,
    我也還會想:是個小男孩蕩彎了它們
    在他放牛來回路過的時候——
    這孩子,離城太遠,不能玩棒球,
    那他能玩的,就只有自己的發明,
    夏天、冬天,他都能自己玩個美。
    他把他爸爸的白樺樹當馬騎,
    一棵又一棵,挨個兒來征服,
    直到制服了所有的白樺樹,
    沒一棵不彎下,沒留一棵還能讓他
    征服。他在那兒學到的全部
    心得,就是爬樹時不能太猴急,
    這樣,樹就不會一下子彎到地面上。
    他始終都能保持身體的平衡,
    穩穩地爬向樹梢,爬得小心翼翼,
    就像你平時往酒杯里斟啤酒,
    想來個滿杯,甚至稍稍冒出點兒。
    然后,他嗖地一下蹬腳跳開,
    踢著雙腿落下,蹲到地上來。
    我過去就是這樣一個蕩樹的孩子
    現在,做夢都想回到那種日子。
    那總是在我無力思考的時候,
    而人生太像一座讓人迷路的森林,
    你的臉撞上了蜘蛛網,又痛又癢,
    忽然一只眼又流淚,因為
    一根小樹枝在它睜著時抽了它一下。
    我真想離開這人世一時半會兒,
    然后再回來,重新過日子。
    但愿命運這東西別誤會我的意思,
    只成全我心愿的一半,把我卷走
    永遠回不來。這人間最適合愛,
    因為我不知道,還有什么更好的去處。
    就讓我爬上一棵白樺樹離去:
    攀著黑黑的樹枝,沿雪白的樹干直上,
    直到那樹再也支撐不住,
    彎下來,把我重新送回到地面。
    去一下又回來,這樣挺好的。
    人能做的事,比蕩白樺樹好不到哪去。

    Birches

    When I see birches bend to left and right
    Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
    I like to think some boy"s been swinging them.
    But swinging doesn"t bend them down to stay.
    Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
    Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
    After a rain. They click upon themselves
    As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
    As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
    Soon the sun"s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
    Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
    Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
    You"d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
    They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
    And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
    So low for long, they never right themselves:
    You may see their trunks arching in the woods
    Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
    Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
    Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
    But I was going to say when Truth broke in
    With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
    I should prefer to have some boy bend them
    As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
    Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
    Whose only play was what he found himself,
    Summer or winter, and could play alone.
    One by one he subdued his father"s trees
    By riding them down over and over again
    Until he took the stiffness out of them,
    And not one but hung limp, not one was left
    For him to conquer. He learned all there was
    To learn about not launching out too soon
    And so not carrying the tree away
    Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
    To the top branches, climbing carefully
    With the same pains you use to fill a cup
    Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
    Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
    Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
    So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
    And so I dream of going back to be.
    It"s when I"m weary of considerations,
    And life is too much like a pathless wood
    Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
    Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
    From a twig"s having lashed across it open.
    I"d like to get away from earth awhile
    And then come back to it and begin over.
    May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
    And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
    Not to return. Earth"s the right place for love:
    I don"t know where it"s likely to go better.
    I"d like to go by climbing a birch tree~
    And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
    Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
    But dipped its top and set me down again.
    That would be good both going and coming back.
    One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.


    □ 火與冰

    有人說世界將毀于火,
    有人說毀于冰。
    依據我個人的體驗
    我贊同火和傾向火的人。
    但若注定要毀兩次,
    那么我有更深的體會
    要說破壞
    冰的威力同樣大
    說毀于冰的說了算。

    Fire and Ice

    Some say the world will end in fire,
    Some say in ice.
    From what I"ve tasted of desire
    I hold with those who favour fire.
    But if it had to perish twice,
    I think I know enough of hate
    To say that for destruction ice
    Is also great
    And would suffice.


    □ 樹在我的窗前

    樹在我的窗前,
    天黑我掩窗扇,
    卻未拉上窗簾,
    于我和樹之間。

    我見樹冠如夢,
    樹葉婆娑起舞,
    并非高談闊論,
    顯露深奧哲理。

    樹在暗中搖曳,
    若它見我入夢,
    定當見我難眠,
    獨自彷徨踱步。

    那日命運作弄,
    將我和樹相連,
    樹知外面風雨,
    我知個中變幻。

    Tree At My Window

    Tree at my window, window tree,
    My sash is lowered when night comes on;
    But let there never be curtain drawn
    Between you and me.

    Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
    And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
    Not all your light tongues talking aloud
    Could be profound.

    But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
    And if you have seen me when I slept,
    You have seen me when I was taken and swept
    And all but lost.

    That day she put our heads together,
    Fate had her imagination about her,
    Your head so much concerned with outer,
    Mine with inner, weather.

      

    □ 摘完蘋果

    梯子搭在樹上,豎起兩個尖
    指向空蕩的天,
    下面,地上一只木桶
    還未裝滿,或許
    還有兩三個蘋果
    我摘不到手。不過這會兒,
    我算是摘完蘋果了。
    天色已晚,冬天像在催眠
    蘋果的香味:我已經打瞌睡了。
    我擦擦眼睛,卻擦不掉奇景:
    這就像今天早晨,
    我從水槽里揭起一層薄冰
    把它舉到眼前,觀看一個
    白霜壓草的世界。
    冰化了,我由它掉下、粉碎
    可是,在它掉下之前,
    我早已昏昏然,快要入睡。
    我還說得出,那是
    怎樣的一個夢:
    膨脹得好大的蘋果,忽隱忽現,
    一會在枝頭,一會在花間,
    紅褐色的斑點,清清楚楚。
    好酸痛呀我的腳板
    梯子的橫檔一直頂著它們。
    樹枝彎下時,梯子好像也在搖晃。
    一聲聲轟隆,那是
    一堆堆蘋果正往地窖里送。
    我不知道自己摘過多少次蘋果了
    早已厭倦了所謂的收成。
    成千上萬的蘋果,伸手就能摘到,
    需要輕輕拿,輕輕放
    就是不能掉地上,因為一掉地,
    即使沒碰傷,沒扎破,
    也只好送給人家,去做酒,
    算是白忙活了。
    可見,打擾我瞌睡的是什么,
    不管這算不算瞌睡。
    如果土撥鼠還未走遠,
    聽我講睡夢怎樣來到我身邊,
    它就會告訴我,這像不像
    它的睡眠,
    或者,這不過是人的睡眠。

    After Apple-Picking

    My long two-pointed ladder"s sticking through a tree
    Toward heaven still,
    And there"s a barrel that I didn"t fill
    Beside it, and there may be two or three
    Apples I didn"t pick upon some bough.
    But I am done with apple-picking now.
    Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
    The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
    I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
    I got from looking through a pane of glass
    I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
    And held against the world of hoary grass.
    It melted, and I let it fall and break.
    But I was well
    Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
    And I could tell
    What form my dreaming was about to take.
    Magnified apples appear and disappear,
    Stem end and blossom end,
    And every fleck of russet showing dear.
    My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
    It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
    I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
    And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
    The rumbling sound
    Of load on load of apples coming in.
    For I have had too much
    Of apple-picking: I am overtired
    Of the great harvest I myself desired.
    There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
    Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
    For all
    That struck the earth,
    No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
    Went surely to the cider-apple heap
    As of no worth.
    One can see what will trouble
    This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
    Were he not gone,
    The woodchuck could say whether it"s like his
    Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
    Or just some human sleep.


    □ 一只小鳥

    我希望一只鳥能夠走開,
    不要整天在我門前歌唱;

    我一旦似乎不能再忍受,
    就會從門口向它拍拍手。

    過錯有幾分是在我這邊。
    鳥自己的曲調無可指責。

    當然這里面一定有問題。
    或許希望總使歌聲停止。

    A Minor Bird

    I have wished a bird would fly away,
    And not sing by my house all day;

    Have clapped my hands at him from the door
    When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

    The fault must partly have been in me.
    The bird was not to blame for his key.

    And of course there must be something wrong
    In wanting to silence any song.


    □ 城中小溪

    農場還在那里,雖不愿和
    城市街道相同,卻不得不戴上
    一個門牌號碼。那像肘狀
    繞過房子的小溪怎樣了呢?
    我如同一個了解小溪的人問著,
    它的力量和沖動,我曾將手指
    浸入水中,讓它從指縫中流過,
    將花朵擲進去測試它的涌流。
    還在生長的藍草,或許已被水泥
    固定在城中的人行道上;
    蘋果樹被送進爐底的火焰中。
    濕木材會不會同樣服務于溪水?
    此外該怎樣處置那不再需要的
    永久性力量?將大量的垃圾廢品傾倒
    在源頭,使其止?溪流翻滾
    跌入石頭下面幽深的下水道
    在惡臭與黑暗中依然存在、涌流——
    它做這些,也許并不為別的
    什么,只是為了忘記恐懼。
    除了遠古地圖沒誰會知道
    一條如此流動的小溪。但我懷疑
    它是否想永遠呆在下面,而不顯現
    曾經奔流的身影,使這新建的
    城市,既不能工作也無法入眠。

    A Brook in the City

    The firm house lingers, though averse to square
    With the new city street it has to wear A number in.
    But what about the brook
    That held the house as in an elbow-crook?
    I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength
    And impulse, having dipped a finger length
    And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed
    A flower to try its currents where they crossed.
    The meadow grass could be cemented down
    From growing under pavements of a town;
    The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.
    Is water wood to serve a brook the same?
    How else dispose of an immortal force
    No longer needed? Staunch it at its source
    With cinder loads dumped down? The brook was
    thrown Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
    In fetid darkness still to live and run -
    And all for nothing it hd ever done
    Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
    No one would know except for ancient maps
    That such a brook ran water. But I wonder
    If from its being kept forever under
    The thoughts may not have risen that so keep
    This new-built city from both work and sleep.


    □ 閑談時間

    當一位朋友在路上喊我
    而且減慢了馬兒意味深長的步伐,
    在那無人注意的小山上
    我并沒有停手四處張望
    只是埋頭應了聲:“干什么?”
    不,這里沒有工夫閑談。
    我將鋤頭插入松土,
    刃底立起足有五英尺,
    然后緩慢地走開了,去石墻那邊
    為了一個人來這兒坐坐。

    A Time to Talk

    When a friend calls to me from the road
    And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
    I don"t stand still and look around
    On all the hills I haven"t hoed,
    And shout from where I am, "What is it?
    No, not as there is a time talk.
    I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
    Blade-end up and five feet tall,
    And plod:I go up to the stone wall
    For a friendly visit.

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