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[译文] 默温(W.S. Merwin)诗选译

本帖最後由 九生 於 2014-11-12 03:11 編輯

目录:

歌——《移动的靶子》(1963)
十二月的夜——《虱》(1967)
为一次即将到来的灭绝而作——《虱》(1967)
为我的死亡周年纪念日而作——《虱》(1967)
乞丐与国王——《未完成的伴奏作品》(1973)
任何时候——《瞳孔》(2001)
洪水之前——《瞳孔》(2001)
————————————————————————————————————————————



自然是在夜晚。
在翻覆的独弦诗琴下
我正走在那条
具有奇异声响的路上。

这边尘埃,那边尘埃。
我聆听两边
但继续前行。
我想起审判席上的树叶
宣布冬天。

我想起带着捆道路的雨
雨携着它所有的路
没有地方

年轻如我,衰老如我,

我忘记了明天,瞎眼的男人。
我忘记了被埋藏的窗户间的生命。
窗帘里的眼睛。
墙壁
穿过蜡菊生长。
我忘记了沉默
这微笑的拥有者。

这一定是我曾想做的,
在两个沙漠间夜行
哼唱。
                                《移动的靶子》(1963)

十二月的夜

寒冷的斜坡正站在黑暗中
而树的南面摸上去依然干燥

沉重的树枝爬进长满羽毛的月光里
我走上前注视这些
在夜晚变老的白色植物
最老的
已先走向了废墟

我听见杜鹃被月亮弄醒
水流过它
自己的手指没有穷尽

今夜,再一次
我发现了一个唯一的祈祷,而它与人类无关。
                                          《虱》1967

为一次即将到来的灭绝而作

灰鲸
现在我们正将你送向结束
伟大的神
告诉他
跟随你的我们发明了宽恕
而什么都没宽恕

我写着仿佛你能明白
仿佛我能说出来
在垂死者中
总得有点伪装
当你离开这些向追踪点头致意的海浪
你的缺失
告诉了他我们是另一天的
造物

困惑将如回音般减弱
沿着你内心的群山蜿蜒
不被我们听见
然后找到出路
抛下它的未来
让其与我们的未来
死去

当你再也看不见
那感受光亮的幼鲸
想想你将在黑暗的花园和
庭院里的发现
海牛大海雀大猩猩……
这些排起来数不胜数无法替代的主人
如群星般早已注定的
我们的祭品
请在它们中加入你的话语
告诉他
我们才是重要的
                          《虱》1967

为我的死亡周年纪念日而作

每一年都在不知不觉中,我度过这一日
当最后的火焰对我挥手时
沉默便将启程
这不倦的旅者
如暗星的光

然后我将再也不会
在犹如陌生衣服的生活中找我自己
再也不会对大地
和某个女人的爱
以及男人们的无耻感到讶异
再也不会如今日这般在三天雨后来写作
来听鹪鹩的歌唱和雨水的止息
再也不会躬身,对着莫名之物。
                                                  《虱》1967

乞丐与国王

在晚上
所有未曾使用的时辰
都已倒空
乞丐们正等着将它们收集起来
为了打开它们
在每个时辰里寻找太阳
赋予它乞丐的名字
整夜对它歌唱
它多美好

但我们每人
都有我们自己痛苦的王国
尚未将它们全部发现
还在日夜航行来寻找它们
必然的毫无疑问的不安的
充满了一种沉默的用途
它的时间
就像一根脱离手掌的手指在世上
                                       《未完成的伴奏作品》(1973)

任何时候

自我最后一次凝视它
日子过去了多久
而它带走的时间
仍在它里面
此刻在这透明的光里
伴随声音里的飞行
树叶里的开始
我想起每件事物
并且在它之前在我之前
是以光速呈现
在远方,我是
向它伸出手的人
看见所有时间更加迅速
在它从未离开的地方
在万物出现之前
黑暗正思索着光亮
                         《瞳孔》(2001)

洪水之前

为何他曾向我许诺
我们可以给自己造
一艘全靠我们自己的方舟
在房子外面
在纽约街上
在新泽西友联市
对着有轨电车的歌唱
在诺亚的故事之后
再没人相信水
会漫过一切
当我告诉我父亲
我想在后院的厨房下面
造一艘我们自己的方舟
我们是否可以
他对我说可以
我说我想建造,我们能否建造时
他许诺我说了可以
为何他要答应这件
我要我们去做却
没有人会相信的事情
我说我们在建造
一艘方舟因为暴雨
将要袭来,千真万确
却没有人相信
我们会在那造一艘方舟
没有人愿意相信
洪水正在来临
                        《瞳孔》The Pupil (2001)

九生译

附原文:

Air

Naturally it is night.
Under the overturned lute with its
One string I am going my way
Which has a strange sound.

This way the dust, that way the dust.
I listen to both sides
But I keep right on.
I remember the leaves sitting in judgment
And then winter.

I remember the rain with its bundle of roads.
The rain taking all its roads.
Nowhere.

Young as I am, old as I am,

I forget tomorrow, the blind man.
I forget the life among the buried windows.
The eyes in the curtains.
The wall
Growing through the immortelles.
I forget silence
The owner of the smile.

This must be what I wanted to be doing,
Walking at night between the two deserts,
Singing.  
                             The Moving Target, Atheneum (New York, NY), 1963.

December Night

The cold slope is standing in darkness
But the south of the trees is dry to the touch

The heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers
I came to watch these
White plants older at night
The oldest
Come first to the ruins

And I hear magpies kept awake by the moon
The water flows through its
Own fingers without end

Tonight once more
I find a single prayer and it is not for men
                                            The Lice, 1967.

For A Coming Extinction

Gray whale
Now that we are sending you to The End
That great god
Tell him
That we who follow you invented forgiveness
And forgive nothing

I write as though you could understand
And I could say it
One must always pretend something
Among the dying
When you have left the seas nodding on their stalks
Empty of you
Tell him that we were made
On another day

The bewilderment will diminish like an echo
Winding along your inner mountains
Unheard by us
And find its way out
Leaving behind it the future
Dead
And ours

When you will not see again
The whale calves trying the light
Consider what you will find in the black garden
And its court
The sea cows the Great Auks the gorillas
The irreplaceable hosts ranged countless
And fore-ordaining as stars
Our sacrifices
Join your word to theirs
Tell him
That it is we who are important
                                              The Lice, 1967.

For the Anniversary of My Death

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveler
Like the beam of a lightless star

Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what
                                                     The Lice, 1967.

Beggars And Kings
  
In the evening
all the hours that weren't used
are emptied out
and the beggars are waiting to gather them up
to open them
to find the sun in each one
and teach it its beggar's name
and sing to it It is well
through the night

but each of us
has his own kingdom of pains
and has not yet found them all
and is sailing in search of them day and night
infallible undisputed unresting
filled with a dumb use
and its time
like a finger in a world without hands
                                       Writings to an Unfinished Accompaniment, Atheneum (New York, NY), 1973.

Any Time
  
How long ago the day is
when at last I look at it
with the time it has taken
to be there still in it
now in the transparent light
with the flight in the voices
the beginning in the leaves
everything I remember
and before it before me
present at the speed of light
in the distance that I am
who keep reaching out to it
seeing all the time faster
where it has never stirred from
before there is anything
the darkness thinking the light
                            The Pupil, Knopf (New York, NY), 2001.

Before The Flood

Why did he promise me
that we would build ourselves
an ark all by ourselves
out in back of the house
on New York Avenue
in Union City New Jersey
to the singing of the streetcars
after the story
of Noah whom nobody
believed about the waters
that would rise over everything
when I told my father
I wanted us to build
an ark of our own there
in the back yard under
the kitchen could we do that
he told me that we could
I want to I said and will we
he promised me that we would
why did he promise that
I wanted us to start then
nobody will believe us
I said that we are building
an ark because the rains
are coming and that was true
nobody ever believed
we would build an ark there
nobody would believe
that the waters were coming
                                       The Pupil, Knopf (New York, NY), 2001.
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感谢九生的译本。仔细读 学习默温的深层意象和不同译本的美妙

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转底片留存,,,

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再读,深深感谢
外不住境,内不住心,可取法试试

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再读,对诗人和诗歌,有了新的理解。
外不住境,内不住心,可取法试试

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