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[转帖] 爱尔兰乡村诗人Patrick Kavanagh

爱尔兰乡村诗人Patrick Kavanagh


茵尼斯吉恩:七月夜晚
作者:帕特里克·卡瓦纳

自行车三三两两经过——
比利·布莱南家的谷仓今晚有场舞会,
还有永远半真半假的传说
还有挤眉弄眼摩肩擦踵的欢声笑语。
八点半路上没有一个人影
直走了一英里,没有影子
有可能是个男人或女人,也没有
一颗足球出来敲击石头的秘密。

虽然人人都说诗人爱沉思
我和所有诗人一样厌恶它。
啊,亚历山大·谢尔科克明白
自己当国王当政府当国家的苦楚。
一条一英里的路就是一个王国。我就是
河岸、石头以及每个绽放之物的国王。

Inniskeen Road: July Evening
The bicycles go by in twos and threes -
There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn tonight,
And there's the half-talk code of mysteries
And the wink-and-elbow language of delight.
Half-past eight and there is not a spot
Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown
That might turn out a man or woman, not
A footfall tapping secrecies of stone.

I have what every poet hates in spite
Of all the solemn talk of contemplation.
Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight
Of being king and government and nation.
A road, a mile of kingdom. I am king
Of banks and stones and every blooming thing.


无知
作者:帕特里克·卡瓦纳

他们笑话我的所爱——
比格福斯天幕下的三角形小山。他们说
我被小农场的山楂树篱圈住了不知道外面的世界。
可是我知道通往生活的入口和通往所有地方的入口一样,都是爱。

我为我的所爱感到羞愧
于是将她远远甩开,还骂她作水沟
而她却带着紫罗兰对我微笑。

但现在我回到了她长满荆棘的怀抱;
秋老虎的一天,清晨的露珠挂在
发蔫的番茄株上——
我多大年纪了?

我不知道我多大年纪了,
我没到要死的年纪;
我对女人一无所知,
对城市一无所知,
我不能死
除非我走出这些山楂树篱。

Innocence
by Patrick Kavanagh
They laughed at one I loved -
The triangular hill that hung
Under the Big Forth. They said
That I was bounded by the whitethorn hedges
Of the little farm and did not know the world.
But I knew that love's doorway to life
Is the same doorway everywhere.

Ashamed of what I loved
I flung her from me and called her a ditch
Although she was smiling at me with violets.

But now I am back in her briary arms;
The dew of an Indian Summer morning lies
On bleached potato-stalks -
What age am I?

I do not know what age I am,
I am no mortal age;
I know nothing of women,
Nothing of cities,
I cannot die
Unless I walk outside these whitethorn hedges.

作者简介:帕特里克·卡瓦纳(1904-1967)被众多评论家和爱尔兰文学人物称为自叶芝以来最优秀的爱尔兰诗人,《爱尔兰时报》2000年的“国人最喜爱的诗歌”调查中,排名前50的诗中有10首来自卡瓦纳。


The Hospital"

A year ago I fell in love with the functional ward
Of a chest hospital: square cubicles in a row
Plain concrete, wash basins—an art lover’s woe,
Not counting how the fellow in the next bed snored.
But nothing whatever is by love debarred,
The common and banal her heat can know.
The corridor led to a stairway and below
Was the inexhaustible adventure of a gravelled yard.

This is what love does to things: the Rialto Bridge,
The main gate that was bent by a heavy lorry,
The seat at the back of a shed that was a suntrap.
Naming these things is the love-act and its pledge;
For we must record love’s mystery without claptrap,
Snatch out of time the passionate transitory.

医院
一年前我爱上了一所胸腔医院的功能病房:
一排四四方方的格间
全是混凝土,脸盆——一个艺术爱好者的痛苦,
还没算上隔壁床的家伙的鼾声。
但万事万物都没有被爱禁止,
从她的热度可以知道是不是常见的老毛病。
走廊通往一段楼梯,底下
石头院子里有无穷无尽的探险。

这是爱的作用:利阿托桥、
被一辆大卡车撞弯了的大门、
一个阳光明媚的小屋后面的座椅。
能说出这些东西就是爱的表现和承诺;
我们必须记录下爱的神秘,不用任何虚词,
从时间的手里抓住那转瞬即逝的浓烈。


On Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.

在拉格兰路上
秋天的一天我在拉格兰路上第一次遇到她,当时就知道
她的黑发会织出一张罗网,被困住的话有一天我可能会后悔;
我看到了危险,但我着了迷地沿着那条路一直走去,
还宣称,让悲伤化作天亮时的一片落叶。

十一月我们在格拉夫敦街上轻松漫游,
就像走在深谷的岩石峭壁边,那激情承诺的价值露出苗头,
红心女王还在烤馅饼,我却没有抓住大好机会——
唉,我爱的太深太沉于是真就被幸福抛弃。

我献给她精神的礼物,我献给她神秘符号,
能认出的只有认得出真正的声音、石头、词语和色彩之神的艺术家。
我为她作诗供吟唱毫不吝啬。
诗里有她的名字和她的黑发,那黑发将像乌云一样笼罩五月的田野

现在,在一条老鬼们碰头的安静的街上,我看到
她要远离我,那么迫不及待。我的理智必须承认
我追求了不该追求的一个泥人——
天使要是追求了泥人他就会失去翅膀,在天亮时分。


ravine n. a small narrow steep-sided valley that is larger than a gully and smaller than a canyon and that is usually worn by running water 深谷,峡谷
ledge n. a narrow flat surface or shelf; especially : one that projects from a wall of rock

Inniskeen Road: July Evening
The bicycles go by in twos and threes -
There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn tonight,
And there's the half-talk code of mysteries
And the wink-and-elbow language of delight.
Half-past eight and there is not a spot
Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown
That might turn out a man or woman, not
A footfall tapping secrecies of stone.

I have what every poet hates in spite
Of all the solemn talk of contemplation.
Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight
Of being king and government and nation.
A road, a mile of kingdom. I am king
Of banks and stones and every blooming thing.
茵尼斯吉恩:七月夜晚
自行车三三两两经过——
比利·布莱南家的谷仓今晚有场舞会,
还有永远半真半假的传说
还有挤眉弄眼摩肩擦踵的欢声笑语。
八点半路上没有一个人影
直走了一英里,没有影子
有可能是个男人或女人,也没有
一颗足球出来敲击石头的秘密。

虽然人人都说诗人爱沉思
我和所有诗人一样厌恶它。
啊,亚历山大·谢尔科克明白
自己当国王当政府当国家的苦楚。
一条一英里的路就是一个王国。我就是
河岸、石头以及每个绽放之物的国王。
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