.6794179转载请声明出处7正7方7翻7译7网3.673959E-02
吉普赛人
我请求一个吉普赛朋友
去摸仿一个古时的形象
并说着古人的名训。
她收回她的下巴,
把她的脖子和头弄成
尼罗河方尖碑顶之状
说:
从你嘴中取出塞口物,孩子,
且尽管保持沈默。
别告诉人任何事，因没有人听,
可你的嘴唇却要准备好随时开讲。
Gypsy
I asked a gypsy pal
To imitate an old image
And speak old wisdom.
She drew in her chin,
Made her neck and head
The top piece of a Nile obelisk
and said:
Snatch off the gag from thy mouth, child,
And be free to keep silence.
Tell no man anything for no man listens,
Yet hold thy lips ready to speak.
西班牙人
用黑眼睛盯着我。
桃树下我对你别无所求，
用你带风暴之矛的黑眼睛
刺入我的阴郁吧。
桃花下的空气是粉色的雾。
Spanish
Fasten black eyes on me.
I ask nothing of you under the peach trees,
Fasten your black eyes in my gray
with the spear of a storm.
The air under the peach blossoms is a haze of pink.
迷失
落寞和孤独
整夜飘于湖上
烟雾弥漫处，
小船的汽笛
无休止号哭，
象走失的孩童
哭泣加烦恼
将港口的胸脯
和眼睛追逐。
LOST
DESOLATE and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor's breast
And the harbor's eyes.
铁锤
我一直看到
旧神离去
和新神到来。
日复一日
年复一年
偶像倒下
和偶像升起。
今天
我崇拜铁锤。
The Hammer
I have seen
The old gods go
And the new gods come.
Day by day
And year by year
The idols fall
And the idols rise.
Today
I worship the hammer.
神秘的传记
克里斯多夫.哥伦布曾是个饥汉
环绕了半个世界追寻自己；
他开始受穷，行乞，最后坐牢，
克里斯多夫如此饥饿，如此贫苦，
克里斯多夫戴着冰冷的钢手铐，
高贵著名的克里斯多夫.哥伦布。
Mysterious Biography
Christo Colombo was a hungry man,
hunted himself half way round the world;
he began poor, panhandled, ended in jail,
Christofo so hungry, Christofo so poor,
Christofo in the chilly, steel bracelets,
honorable distinguished Christofo Colombo.
拿破仑
那小男孩吹着泡泡
空气漂浮闪亮发光
带着彩虹的欢欣虚幻轻柔：
它们漂浮着破灭着以至消亡。
那男子吹着泡泡
制造国家，国王和将领
还有行军征战杀戮并
因手上沾血而大笑的军队—
可这些军队，国王和将领
已破碎消逝死光光。
Napoleon
The little boy blew bubbles
Floating the air to glisten and shine
With a rainbow joy and airiness silken:
They floated and broke and were gone.
The man blew bubbles,
Made nations and kings and captains
And armies that marched and slaughtered
And laughed at the blood on their hands—
But the armies and kings and captains
Are broken and vanished and gone.
芝加哥诗人
我向一个无名之辈敬礼。
我看到他在一面镜子里。
他微笑着--我也微笑。
他弄皱他前额的皮肤，
眉头紧锁--我也同样。
我做他所做的每件事。
我说：“你好，我认识你。”
而说这话的我是个说谎者。
哎，这个全然相反的人！
说谎者，傻瓜，梦想家，演员，
士兵，满是灰尘的饮尘者—
哎！他将随我而去
走下黑暗的阶梯
当没有别人在注意，
当所有别人都离去。
他挽起我的胳膊肘，
除了他--我丢失所有。
Chicago Poet
I saluted a nobody.
I saw him in a looking-glass.
He smiled—so did I.
He crumpled the skin on his forehead,
frowning—so did I.
Everything I did he did.
I said,”Hello, I know you.”
And I was a liar to say so.
Ah, this looking-glass man!
Liar, fool, dreamer, play-actor,
Soldier, dusty drinker of dust—
Ah! he will go with me
Down the dark dtairway
When nobody else is looking,
When everybody else is gone.
He locks his elbow in mine,
I lose all—but not him.
草
在奥斯特里茨和滑铁卢把尸体堆高，
将他们铲埋地下并让我工作—
我是草；我掩盖所有。
在盖底斯堡把他们堆高
在伊波和凡尔登把他们堆高
将他们铲埋地下并让我工作。
两年，十年，然后乘客问列车员：
这是什么地方？
我们现在何处？
我是草。
让我工作。
Grass
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo,
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
我们的地狱
密尔顿给我们开启了地狱
让我们看一看.
但丁做了同样的事.
每个地狱都很独特.
一个是密尔顿的, 一个是但丁的.
密尔顿写下了一切他的
人间地狱.
但丁写下了一切他的
人间地狱.
若你为我开启你的地狱
而我为你开启我的地狱
它们将是两个独特的地狱,
我们每人都展示我们的
人间地狱.
你的是一个地狱, 我的是另一个地狱.
Our Hells
Milton unlocked hell for us
and let us have a look.
Dante did the same.
Each of these hells is special.
One is Milton’s, one Dante’s.
Milton put in all that for him
was hell on earth.
Dante put in all that for him
was hell on earth.
If you unlock your hell for me
And I unlock my hell for you
They will be two special hells,
Each of us showing what for us
is hell on earth.
Yours is one hell, mine another.
给死去的意象派诗人的信
艾米莉.狄金森：
你给了我们有灵魂的大黄蜂，
蜀葵之中永远的旅行者，
及上帝如何在后花园周围玩耍。
斯蒂文.克莱恩：
战争是仁慈的 而直到你来前我们不知道战争是仁慈的；
也不知道海里冒出的黑色骑士和矛与盾，
也不知道想有就有的梦中发生的含糊话语和枪击。
Letters to Dead Imagists
Emily Dickinson:
You gave us the bumblebee who has a soul,
The everlasting traveler among the hollyhocks,
And how God plays around a backyard garden.
Stevie Crane:
War is kind and we never knew the kindness of war till you came;
Nor the black riders and spear and shield our of the sea
Nor the mumblings and shots that rise from dreams on call.
---By Carl Sandburg (美1878-1967)
主要作品有[芝加哥诗集]
.6794179转载请声明出处7正7方7翻7译7网3.673959E-02 |
