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  • 圣诞特辑!和坤叔做了《死亡诗社》小程序,欢迎大家来。

    The Minstrels

    the minstrels played their christmas tune
    to-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
    while, smitten by a lofty moon,
    the encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
    gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
    that overpowered their natural green.
    吟游诗人哼着他们的圣诞节曲调,
    今夜,在我的田舍小屋下。
    此时,高耸的月亮给予他们灵感。
    层层的月桂树,覆盖着叶子,
    映射着饱满眩目的光泽,
    早已经超越了他们原有的颜色。

    through hill and valley every breeze
    had sunk to rest with folded wings:
    keen was the air, but could not freeze,
    nor check, the music of the strings;
    so stout and hardy were the band
    that scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
    穿过山谷的每一阵微风下沉收起翅膀:
    风是那么锋利,但永不冷漠,
    也不核对,弦音声声:
    一层层又如此的强烈刚强,
    用热烈的手摩擦着弦柱。

    and who but listened?--till was paid
    respect to every inmate's claim,
    the greeting given, the music played
    in honour of each household name,
    duly pronounced with lusty call,
    但是谁在听?这个取决于同住的人的主张,
    给个问候,做个音乐,为每个家里名字而自豪,
    正式而显著的强有力的呼叫,
    圣诞快乐哦~祝所有人!

  • Gitanjali
    Rabindranath Tagore
    吉檀迦利
    泰戈尔
    (冰心 译)

    1.
    Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure.
    This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again,
    and fillest it ever with fresh life.

    This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
    At the immortal touch of thy hands
    my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

    Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
    Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

    1.
    你已经使我永生,这样做是你的欢乐。这脆薄的杯儿,你不断地把它倒空,又不断地以新生命来充满。
    这小小的苇笛,你携带着它逾山越谷,从笛管里吹出永新的音乐。
    在你双手的不朽的按抚下,我的小小的心,消融在无边快乐之中,发出不可言说的词调。
    你的无穷的赐予只倾入我小小的手里。时代过去了,你还在倾注,而我的手里还有余量待充满。

    82.
    Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
    There is none to count thy minutes.
    Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
    Thou knowest how to wait.
    Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
    We have no time to lose, and having no time, we must scramble for our chances.
    We are too poor to be late.
    And thus it is that time goes by,
    while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
    and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
    At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate to be shut;
    but I find that yet there is time.

    82
    你手里的光阴是无限的,我的主。你的分秒是无法计算的。
    夜去明来,时代像花开花落。你晓得怎样来等待。
    你的世纪,一个接着一个,来完成一朵小小的野花。
    我们的光阴不能浪费,因为没有时间,我们必须争取机缘。我们太穷苦了,决不可迟到。
    因此,在我把时间让给每一个性急的,向我索要时间的人,我的时间就虚度了,最后你的神坛上就没有一点祭品。
    一天过去,我赶忙前来,怕你的门已经关闭;但是我发现时间还有充裕。

    【作者介绍】

    拉宾德拉纳特·泰戈尔(1861-1941),印度诗人、文学家。代表作有《吉檀迦利》、《飞鸟集》、《园丁集》、《新月集》等。 1913年,他以《吉檀迦利》成为第一位获得诺贝尔文学奖的亚洲人没获奖理由是:“由于他那至为敏锐、清新与优美的诗;这诗出之于高超的技巧,并由于他自己用英文表达出来,使他那充满诗意的思想业已成为西方文学的一部分”(because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with consummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West)。

    诺贝尔委员会中引用的就是今天分享给大家的第82篇。诗歌的英语版是泰戈尔本人从孟加拉语翻译过来的。

    BGM:Dream of Sky - Dancing Line (Cheetah Mobile Game)

  • The Solitary Reaper
    William Wordsworth

    Behold her, single in the field,
    Yon solitary Highland Lass!
    Reaping and singing by herself;
    Stop here, or gently pass!
    Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
    And sings a melancholy strain;
    O listen! for the Vale profound
    Is overflowing with the sound.

    No Nightingale did ever chaunt
    More welcome notes to weary bands
    Of travellers in some shady haunt,
    Among Arabian sands:
    A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
    In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
    Breaking the silence of the seas
    Among the farthest Hebrides.

    Will no one tell me what she sings?—
    Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
    For old, unhappy, far-off things,
    And battles long ago:
    Or is it some more humble lay,
    Familiar matter of to-day?
    Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
    That has been, and may be again?

    Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
    As if her song could have no ending;
    I saw her singing at her work,
    And o'er the sickle bending;—
    I listened, motionless and still;
    And, as I mounted up the hill,
    The music in my heart I bore,
    Long after it was heard no more.

    割麦女
    华兹华斯

    (卞之琳 译)

    看她,在田里独自一个,
    那个苏格兰高原的少女!
    独自在收割,独自在唱歌;
    停住吧,或者悄悄走过去!
    她独自割麦,又把它捆好,
    唱着一只忧郁的曲调;
    听啊!整个深邃的谷地
    都有这一片歌声在洋溢。
    从没有夜莺能够唱出
    更美的音调来欢迎结队商,
    疲倦了,到一个荫凉的去处
    就在阿拉伯沙漠的中央:
    杜鹃鸟在春天叫得多动人,
    也没有这样子荡人心魂,
    尽管它惊破了远海的静悄,
    响彻了赫伯里底群岛。
    她唱的是什么,可有谁说得清?
    哀怨的曲调里也许在流传
    古老,不幸,悠久的事情,
    还有长远以前的征战;
    或者她唱的并不特殊,
    只是今日的家常事故?
    那些天然的丧忧、哀痛,
    有过的,以后还会有的种种?
    不管她唱的是什么题目,
    她的歌好象会没完没了;
    我看见她边唱边干活,
    弯着腰,挥动她的镰刀——
    我一动也不动,听了许久;
    后来,当我上山的时候,
    我把歌声还记在心上,
    虽然早已听不见声响。

  • 《一局棋戏》是艾略特长诗《荒原》的第二部分。

    by失踪人口回归的雪梨

    The Wasteland II
    T. S. Eliot
    荒原
    艾略特
    (查良铮 译)

    II. A Game of Chess

    The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
    Glowed on the marble, where the glass
    Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
    From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
    (Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
    Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
    Reflecting light upon the table as
    The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
    From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
    In vials of ivory and coloured glass
    Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
    Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
    And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
    That freshened from the window, these ascended
    In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
    Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
    Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
    Huge sea-wood fed with copper
    Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
    In which sad light a carvéd dolphin swam.
    Above the antique mantel was displayed
    As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
    The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
    So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale
    Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
    And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
    “Jug Jug” to dirty ears.
    And other withered stumps of time
    Were told upon the walls; staring forms
    Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
    Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
    Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
    Spread out in fiery points
    Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

    “My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
    “Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
    “What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
    “I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

    I think we are in rats’ alley
    Where the dead men lost their bones.

    “What is that noise?”
    The wind under the door.
    “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?”
    Nothing again nothing.
    “Do
    “You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
    “Nothing?”

    I remember
    Those are pearls that were his eyes.
    “Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?”

    But
    O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
    It’s so elegant
    So intelligent
    “What shall I do now? What shall I do?”
    “I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
    “With my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?
    “What shall we ever do?”
    The hot water at ten.
    And if it rains, a closed car at four.
    And we shall play a game of chess,
    Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

    When Lil’s husband got demobbed, I said—
    I didn’t mince my words, I said to her myself,
    HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
    Now Albert’s coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
    He’ll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
    To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
    You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
    He said, I swear, I can’t bear to look at you.
    And no more can’t I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
    He’s been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
    And if you don’t give it him, there’s others will, I said.
    Oh is there, she said. Something o’ that, I said.
    Then I’ll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
    HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
    If you don’t like it you can get on with it, I said.
    Others can pick and choose if you can’t.
    But if Albert makes off, it won’t be for lack of telling.
    You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
    (And her only thirty-one.)
    I can’t help it, she said, pulling a long face,
    It’s them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
    (She’s had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
    The chemist said it would be all right, but I’ve never been the same.
    You are a proper fool, I said.
    Well, if Albert won’t leave you alone, there it is, I said,
    What you get married for if you don’t want children?
    HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
    Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
    And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—
    HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
    HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
    Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.
    Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
    Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

  • My Last Duchess
    Robert Browning

    That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
    Looking as if she were alive. I call
    That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands
    Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
    Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
    “Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read
    Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
    The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
    But to myself they turned (since none puts by
    The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
    And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
    How such a glance came there; so, not the first
    Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
    Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
    Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
    Fra Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps
    Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
    Must never hope to reproduce the faint
    Half-flush that dies along her throat.” Such stuff
    Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
    For calling up that spot of joy. She had
    A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
    Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
    She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
    Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
    The dropping of the daylight in the West,
    The bough of cherries some officious fool
    Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
    She rode with round the terrace—all and each
    Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
    Or blush, at least. She thanked men—good! but thanked
    Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
    My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
    With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
    This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
    In speech—which I have not—to make your will
    Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
    Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
    Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
    Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
    Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—
    E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
    Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,
    Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
    Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
    Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
    As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
    The company below, then. I repeat,
    The Count your master’s known munificence
    Is ample warrant that no just pretense
    Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
    Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
    At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
    Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
    Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
    Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

    我的前公爵夫人
    罗伯特.勃朗宁
    (飞白 译)

    墙上的这幅面是我的前公爵夫人,
    看起来就像她活着一样。如今,
    我称它为奇迹:潘道夫师的手
    经一日忙碌,从此她就在此站立。
    你愿坐下看看她吗?我有意提起
    潘道夫,因为外来的生客(例如你)
    凡是见了画中描绘的面容、
    那真挚的眼神的深邃和热情,
    没有一个不转向我(因为除我外
    再没有别人把画上的帘幕拉开),
    似乎想问我可是又不大敢问;
    是从哪儿来的——这样的眼神?
    你并非第一个人回头这样问我。
    先生,不仅仅是她丈夫的在座
    使公爵夫人面带欢容,可能
    潘道夫偶然说过:“夫人的披风
    盖住她的手腕太多,”或者说:
    “隐约的红晕向颈部渐渐隐没
    这绝非任何颜料所能复制。”
    这种无聊话,却被她当成好意,
    也足以唤起她的欢心。她那颗心——
    怎么说好呢?——要取悦容易得很,
    也太易感动。她看到什么都喜欢,
    而她的目光又偏爱到处观看。
    先生,她对什么都一样!她胸口上
    佩戴的我的赠品,或落日的余光;
    过分殷勤的傻子在园中攀折
    给她的一枝樱桃,或她骑着
    绕行花圃的白骡——所有这一切
    都会使她同样地赞羡不绝,
    或至少泛起红晕。她感激人.好的!
    但她的感激(我说不上怎么搞的)
    仿佛把我赐她的九百年的门第
    与任何人的赠品并列。谁愿意
    屈尊去谴责这种轻浮举止?即使
    你有口才(我却没有)能把你的意志
    给这样的人儿充分说明:“你这点
    或那点令我讨厌。这儿你差得远
    而那儿你超越了界限。”即使她肯听
    你这样训诫她而毫不争论,
    毫不为自己辩解,——我也觉得
    这会有失身份,所以我选
    绝不屈尊。哦,先生,她总是在微笑,
    每逢我走过;但是谁人走过得不到
    同样慷慨的微笑?发展至此,
    我下了令:于是一切微笑都从此制止。
    她站在那儿,像活着一样。请你起身
    客人们在楼下等。我再重复一声:
    你的主人——伯爵先生闻名的大方
    足以充分保证:我对嫁妆
    提出任何合理要求都不会遭拒绝;
    当然.如我开头声明的,他美貌的小姐
    才是我追求的目标。别客气,让咱们
    一同下楼吧。但请看这海神尼普顿
    在驯服海马,这是件珍贵的收藏,
    是克劳斯为我特制的青铜铸像。

    [Colette有话说]

    这是一首谋杀者的自白。

    罗伯特·勃朗宁(Robert Browning,1812-1889),英国诗人、剧作家,主要作品有《戏剧抒情诗》(Dramatic Lyrics),《环与书》(The Ring and the Book),诗剧《巴拉塞尔士》(Paracelsus)。他的夫人伊丽莎白·布朗宁,又称勃朗宁夫人,也是英国维多利亚时代受人尊敬的诗人之一。

    《我的前公爵夫人》作于1842年,是勃朗宁早期戏剧独白诗的佳作之一。戏剧独白诗(Dramatic Monologue)的说话者所面对的不是读者,而是剧中人,这样一首诗宛如一篇小说,不明确交代场景,但是读者能够从字里行间体察出特定的情境,读出一个非常鲜活的人像。

    这首诗中的独白者是一位意大利文艺复兴时期的公爵。他预备再度结婚,对象是一位伯爵小姐,伯爵先生派来使者谈判婚事。公爵领着使者参观他的艺术收藏,中间有他已故夫人的画像。本诗就是公爵在画像前对伯爵使者谈论他对前妻的不满。读到最后我们才会发现,因为前妻不愿做他循规蹈矩的所有物,公爵大概是把她除掉了。

    诗歌用“英雄排偶句”(heroic couplet)写成,十分口语化,这个看似彬彬有礼、实则冷酷无情的公爵性格非常鲜明。

    BGM:恰空-巴赫

  • If You Were Coming in The Fall
    Emily Dickinson
    如果你秋天来
    艾米莉·狄金森
    (丁骏 译)

    If you were coming in the Fall,
    I’d brush the summer by
    With half a smile, and half a spurn,
    As housewives do, a Fly.
    如果你秋天来,
    我就把夏天掸走,
    浅笑半弃,
    如同主妇们对,一只苍蝇。

    If I could see you in a year,
    I&`&d wind the months in balls —
    And put them each in separate Drawers,
    For fear the numbers fuse —
    如果我一年后能见你,
    我就把所有的月份绕成球——
    一球放一个抽屉,
    只因害怕数字会熔焊——

    If only centuries, Delayed,
    I&`&d count them on my hand,
    Subtracting, till my fingers dropped
    Into Van Diemen’s Land.
    如果只是迟了,几个世纪,
    我就在我的手上数,
    减啊减,直到我的指头都掉了
    落入塔斯马尼亚之土。

    If certain, when this life was out—
    That yours and mine, should be,
    I&`&d toss it yonder, like a Rind,
    And take Eternity—
    如果肯定,等这一生完结——
    才是,你的和我的,
    我就把这一生远远掷了,如一张果皮,
    再就着永恒——

    But, now, uncertain of the length
    Of this, that is between,
    It goads me, like the Goblin Bee—
    That will not state — its sting.
    可眼下,长短不得而知
    这,见与不见之间,
    刺痛着我,就像那妖蜂——
    不会说出——它的蜇刺。

    [Colette有话说]

    艾米莉·狄金森(Emily Dickinson,1830-1886)的诗已经不适第一次推啦。她生前高产而孤僻,不愿见客,诗歌也很少发表,人们称她为“阿默斯特的女尼”。她去世数十年后才得到文学界的认真关注,被现代派诗人追认为先驱。

    狄金森的诗歌韵脚不齐,常用短句、跳脱常规的大写字母和标点符号,置格律以至语法于不顾。诗人佛罗斯特(Robert Frost)谈到她的诗风时称:
    “她一落笔就是‘我来了!’然后一头跳进去,往往无暇照顾格律、韵脚。”
    (When she started a poem, it was ‘Here I come!’ and she came plunging through. The meter and rhyme often had to take care of itself.)

    《如果你秋天来》里有爱、分离、恐惧,当然还有时间——瞬间,死亡和永恒。狄金森的诗歌语言精简,比喻尖新,比如第一节中主妇掸走苍蝇的意象。第三节中,Van Dieman&`&s land指澳洲的塔斯马尼亚,美国人一度认为那是在地球上离美洲最远的地方。另外,澳大利亚又被称作“Down Under”,所以这里可能也有俏皮的双关。

    雪梨查到这首诗有两个版本,另一个版本更加押韵,比如第二节最后一句是“Until their time befalls”。如果有人能查到另一个版本的来源,那就太好了。雪梨不知道那是诗人自己的修改版还是出版社的篡改版。

    BGM: Something Can Grow - Tony Anderson

  • She Walks in Beauty
    Lord Byron

    She walks in beauty, like the night
    Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that’s best of dark and bright
    Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
    Thus mellowed to that tender light
    Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

    One shade the more, one ray the less,
    Had half impaired the nameless grace
    Which waves in every raven tress,
    Or softly lightens o’er her face;
    Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
    How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

    And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
    So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
    The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
    But tell of days in goodness spent,
    A mind at peace with all below,
    A heart whose love is innocent!


    她在幽美中行走
    拜伦
    (周永启译)

    她在幽美中行走
    像静夜——万里无云,满天星斗,
    一切明暗交织的美色
    都在她那容貌和双眸中汇合,
    如此融就的柔和光泽,
    艳丽的白天岂能轻得?

    增一分阴影,减一丝光线,
    都将有损那难以言喻的、
    飘动在她的每束乌黑的发髻上
    或轻轻笼罩在她面庞上的风采。
    恬静甜美的思想在她脸上表现
    她的心地是多么纯洁,可爱!

    她的面颊和眉睫
    是如此温柔、安详、富有情意,
    其间微笑动人,神采奕奕,
    这全说明她一向慈善为怀,
    她的思想与世无争,
    她的心地天真仁爱。


    [Colette有话说]

    乔治·戈登·拜伦(George Gordon Byron,1788—1824),英国浪漫主义诗人。世袭男爵,所以也称为Lord Byron。代表作包括有长篇的《唐璜》及《恰尔德·哈罗尔德游记》。

    我们说英国浪漫主义诗人的时候,一般都会提到六位诗人:老一派的威廉·布莱克、柯勒律治、华兹华斯,和年轻一派的济慈、雪莱和拜伦。他们看重自然世界,有股神秘主义的劲头,相对于古典派而言,更为自由和个人主义。据说,拜伦的私生活不很检点,以至于当时和他传出绯闻的卡罗林·兰姆女爵(Lady Caroline Lamb)在刚同他邂逅时,称拜伦为“mad, bad, and dangerous to know”。

    这首诗是拜伦有名的短篇。据称,诗中的女性是拜伦的表妹威尔莫特夫人。拜伦在一次舞会上偶遇身着黑色丧服的威尔莫特夫人,被她的美丽所打动,便写下这首诗。雪梨觉得译者在翻译的时候,看到“One shade more, one ray less, Had half impaired the nameless grace”这句,一定想到了宋玉描写东家之子的话:“增之一分则太长,减之一分则太短。著粉则太白,施朱则太赤。”

    这首诗也有很多译本,诗名就有不少译法,比如《她举步娉婷》、《她在美中行》等。

    BGM: Facile - Kevin MacLeod

  • Bluebird
    Charles Bukowski

    there's a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I'm too tough for him,
    I say, stay in there, I'm not going
    to let anybody see
    you.
    there's a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
    cigarette smoke
    and the whores and the bartenders
    and the grocery clerks
    never know that
    he's
    in there.

    there's a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I'm too tough for him,
    I say,
    stay down, do you want to mess
    me up?
    you want to screw up the
    works?
    you want to blow my book sales in
    Europe?
    there's a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I'm too clever, I only let him out
    at night sometimes
    when everybody's asleep.
    I say, I know that you're there,
    so don't be
    sad.
    then I put him back,
    but he's singing a little
    in there, I haven't quite let him
    die
    and we sleep together like
    that
    with our
    secret pact
    and it's nice enough to
    make a man
    weep, but I don't
    weep, do
    you?

    蓝鸟
    查尔斯·布考斯基
    (徐淳刚 译)

    在我心里有一只蓝鸟
    想要出去
    但我对它很粗暴
    我说,呆在那儿,我不会
    让任何人看见
    你。

    在我心里有一只蓝鸟
    想要出去
    但我给它灌威士忌,让它
    吸烟雾
    妓女、调酒师
    杂货店的伙计
    永远不知道
    它在
    那儿。

    在我心里有一只蓝鸟
    想要出去
    但我对它很粗暴
    我说,
    继续呆着,你想扰乱
    我吗?
    你想搞砸
    我的作品吗?
    你想让我的诗集在欧洲
    卖不动吗?

    在我心里有一只蓝鸟
    想要出去
    但我很聪明,只让它
    夜晚偶尔出去
    当所有人都睡着了
    我说,我知道你在那儿
    所以不必
    伤心。

    然后我带回它
    但它的歌声很小
    在喉咙里,我没有很快让它

    我们睡在一起就像
    因为
    我们
    秘密的协议
    它很好,足以
    让一个男人
    哭泣,但我不会
    哭泣,你
    呢?

    [Colette有话说]

    查尔斯·布考斯基(Charles Bukowski,1920-1994),德裔美国诗人、小说家。他的作品受洛杉矶的社会环境影响很大,用粗粝、不加修饰的语言反应美国社会边缘穷苦白人的生活:苦工、酒精、女人、抑郁、孤独。《时代》杂志曾将他称为“美国下层人民的桂冠诗人”(the laureate of lowlife)。

    这首诗歌围绕蓝鸟这个意象展开。这是藏在诗人内心的鸟,有微弱的歌声,想要挣脱诗人肉体的束缚。可是诗人用酒精、用烟草去扼杀他,只在夜深人寂时偷偷将他放出一小会儿。

    蓝鸟具体象征什么,有人觉得是生命的本真,有人觉得是文学的创造力。雪梨觉得,蓝鸟或许是诗人心中难以示人的脆弱面。布考斯基笔下的主人公多是潦倒的混蛋,有很冲的所谓男人的味道;他的文字也像是工人喝的劣酒,包装粗糙,喝上几口就呛得人直咳嗽。然而写诗的人——不管再怎么隐藏——心中都有脆弱的一面,像是尚未愈合的伤口,还露着粉色的肉。这样的脆弱面和他赖以为生的文学无疑是相抵触的,所以蓝鸟只能是他隐藏最深的秘密。

    BGM: Metamorphosis One - Philip Glass

  • Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines
    Pablo Neruda
    translated by W.S. Merwin

    Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

    Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

    The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

    Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
    I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

    Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
    I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

    She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
    How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

    Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
    To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

    To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
    And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

    What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
    The night is starry and she is not with me.

    This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
    My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

    My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
    My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

    The same night whitening the same trees.
    We, of that time, are no longer the same.

    I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
    My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

    Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
    Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

    I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
    Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

    Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
    my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

    Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
    and these the last verses that I write for her.


    今夜我可以写出最哀伤的诗篇
    聂鲁达
    (陈黎 / 张芬龄 译)

    今夜我可以写出最哀伤的诗篇。
    写,譬如说,「夜缀满繁星,
    那些星,灿蓝,在远处颤抖。」

    晚风在天空中回旋歌唱。

    今夜我可以写出最哀伤的诗篇。
    我爱她,而有时候她也爱我。

    在许多仿佛此刻的夜里我拥她入怀。
    在永恒的天空下一遍一遍地吻她。

    她爱我,而有时候我也爱她。
    你怎能不爱她专注的大眼睛?

    今夜我可以写出最哀伤的诗篇。
    想到不能拥有她。感到已经失去她。 

    听到那辽阔的夜,因她不在更加辽阔。
    诗遂滴落心灵,如露珠滴落草原。

    我的爱不能叫她留下又何妨?
    夜缀满繁星而她离我远去。

    都过去了。在远处有人歌唱。在远处。
    我的心不甘就此失去她。

    我的眼光搜寻著仿佛要走向她。
    我的心在找她,而她离我远去。

    相同的夜漂白著相同的树。
    昔日的我们已不复存在。

    如今我确已不再爱她,但我曾经多爱她啊。
    我的声音试着借风探触她的听觉。

    別人的。她就将是別人的了。一如我过去的吻。
    她的声音,她明亮的身体。她深邃的眼睛。
    如今我确已不再爱她。但也许我仍爱着她。
    爱是这么短,遗忘是这么长。

    因为在许多仿佛此刻的夜里我拥她入怀,
    我的心不甘就此失去她。

    即令这是她带给我的最后的痛苦,
    而这些是我为她写的最后的诗篇。


    [配文]

    诗歌选自聂鲁达(1904-1972)二十岁完成的诗集 《二十首情诗和一首绝望的歌》,据说是为诗人大学时结交的两个女孩所作。这是二十首情诗的最后一首。之前播出过的《我喜欢你是寂静的》也出自同一诗集。

    聂鲁达是智利诗人,诗歌原文是西班牙语。英语和汉语都是译本,很多细节值得推敲。 譬如有名的一句,黄灿然的版本是:
    我不再爱她,确实如此。但也许我爱她。
    相爱是那么短暂,相忘是那么长久。

    陈黎和张芬龄译作:
    如今我确已不再爱她。但也许我仍爱着她。
    爱是这么短,遗忘是这么长。

    文学的各类体裁里,诗歌尤难翻译。对于这首诗的中文译本,大家可以有各自的见解。如果都不满意,也可以自己尝试翻译。

    BGM:Nuvole Bianche - Ludovico Einaudi

  • The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost

    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, I kept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    I doubted if I should ever come back.

    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.

    未选择的路
    罗伯特·弗罗斯特
    (顾子欣 译)

    黄色的树林里分出两条路,
    可惜我不能同时去涉足,
    我在那路口久久伫立,
    我向着一条路极目望去,
    直到它消失在丛林深处。

    但我却选择了另外一条路,
    它荒草萋萋,十分幽寂,
    显得更诱人,更美丽;
    虽然在这条小路上,
    很少留下旅人的足迹。

    那天清晨落叶满地,
    两条路都未经脚印污染。
    啊,留下一条路等改日再见!
    但我知道路径延綿无尽头,
    恐怕我难以再回返。

    也许多少年后在某个地方,
    我将轻声叹息将往事回顾:
    一片树林里分出两条路——
    而我选择了人际更少的一条,
    从此决定了我一生的道路。

    [配文]

    罗伯特·弗罗斯特(1874—1963年),美国诗人,四次获得普利策奖。他的诗歌文字朴素,可能也与诗人的经历有关,他做过鞋匠、教师和农场主,他的文字也很像是生命的牧歌,是20世纪比较少有的不太具备现代派风格的诗人。

    “路”这个意象,从来不止蕴含了脚下踏的泥土地这样实在的含义。屈原说“路漫漫其修远兮”,鲁迅说“其实地上本没有路”,但丁说“走自己的路”,马克思说“人类学会走路,也得学会摔跤”。这首诗歌十分有名,蕴含普世的人生哲理,但是有多种解读方式。雪梨觉得这首诗写出了做抉择的困难——前路凶吉未卜的不安,和不能重新来过的遗憾。日后不论肥马轻裘还是风餐雨宿,回想当时做的决定,不知作何感想。

    很多人拿这首诗说诗人自己的职业选择。他放弃了教职,一心写诗。可是雪梨觉得,如果诗人心中全无遗憾,那么这首诗的名字就不会叫“The Road not Taken”了。

    BGM: Heartbreaking - Kevin MacLeod

  • If
    Rudyard Kipling

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
    Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

    If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;
    If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!


    如果
    拉迪亚德·吉卜林

    如果所有人都失去理智,咒骂你,
    你仍能保持头脑清醒;
    如果所有人都怀疑你,
    你仍能坚信自己,让所有的怀疑动摇;
    如果你要等待,不要因此厌烦,
    为人所骗,不要因此骗人,
    为人所恨,不要因此抱恨,
    不要太乐观,不要自以为是;

    如果你是个追梦人——不要被梦主宰;
    如果你是个爱思考的人——不要以思想者自居;
    如果你遇到骄傲和挫折
    把两者当骗子看待;
    如果你能忍受,你曾讲过的事实
    被恶棍扭曲,用于蒙骗傻子;
    或者,看着你用毕生去看护的东西被破坏,
    俯下身去,用破旧的工具把它修补;

    如果在你赢得无数桂冠之后,
    然后孤注一掷再搏一次,
    失败过后,东山再起,
    不要抱怨你的失败;
    如果你能迫使自己,
    在别人走后,长久坚守阵地,
    在你心中已空荡荡无一物,
    只有意志告诉你“坚持!”;

    如果你与人交谈,能保持风度,
    伴王同行,能保持距离;
    如果仇敌和好友都不害你;
    如果所有人都指望你,却无人全心全意;
    如果你花六十秒进行短程跑,
    填满那不可饶恕的一分钟——
    你就可以拥有一个世界,
    这个世界的一切都是你的,
    更重要的是,孩子,你是个顶天立地的人。

    [配文]

    约瑟夫·鲁德亚德·吉卜林(Joseph Rudyard Kipling,1865-1936),生于印度,英国作家、诗人。42岁时获得诺贝尔文学奖。他是英国第一位、也是迄今为止最年轻的诺贝尔文学奖获得者。去年翻拍成电影的《奇幻森林》就是根据他的儿童小说The Jungle Book改编的。

    吉卜林生活的年代处于欧洲殖民扩张时代,他的部分作品被一些人指责带有种族和帝国主义色彩。乔治·奥威尔(George Orwell)称他为“大英帝国主义的先知”(called him a "prophet of British imperialism")。

    但是吉卜林最有名的诗歌《如果》与殖民主义无关。很多人都以为这首诗是诗人写给自己的儿子的。但是据诗人所说,这首诗似乎写给英国政治家Leander Starr Jameson之子。全诗充满了维多利亚时期的自我克制。怎样做一个“顶天立地的人”?诗人给出了他自己的答案。不知道读者觉得自己可以做到多少呢?

    这首诗也被刻在歌手迈克·杰克逊的墓地墙上。

    BGM: Eternal Hope - Kevin MacLeod

  • i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
    e.e.cummings

    i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
    my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
    i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
    by only me is your doing,my darling)
    i fear
    no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
    no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
    and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
    and whatever a sun will always sing is you

    here is the deepest secret nobody knows
    (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
    and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
    higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
    and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

    i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)


    我将你的心带在身上
    卡明斯

    我将你的心带上
    放进我心里
    从未分离
    无论我前往何方都有你伴我身旁
    即便我单独成事
    那也是出于我的爱人,你的力量
    面对命运我从不恐慌
    只因你就是我命运的方向
    万千世界于我皆如浮云
    只因你在我眼中就是天地四方
    你永远是月亮所想表达的
    太阳所想歌唱的
    这秘密无人知晓,在我心底埋藏
    它是根本中的根本
    稚嫩中的稚嫩
    是天上天
    是生命之树在生长
    这棵树高于灵魂之期盼,
    高于思想之所
    及是造化的奇迹,能够隔离参商
    我将你的心带上
    放进我心里


    [配文]
    爱德华·艾斯特林·卡明斯(Edward Estlin Cummings,1894-1962),美国诗人、画家、评论家、作家、剧作家。受教于剑桥拉丁语学校和哈佛大学。
    如果大家在读他的诗歌时觉得读不通顺,未必是因为自己的英语水平不够。诗人很喜欢改革语法,变异词汇,运用全新的书写格式。
    这首诗雪梨没有找到满意的译本。所有的中文版本似乎都将卡明斯古怪的标点运用和诗歌排版全然舍弃了,或许是因为太难翻译。

    BGM: Claro de Luna - Debussy

  • Sonnet
    Act 1 Scene 5, Romeo & Juliet
    William Shakespeare

    ROMEO:
    If I profane with my unworthiest hand
    This holy shrine, the gentle sin (fine) is this:
    My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
    To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

    JULIET;
    Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
    Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
    For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
    And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

    ROMEO:
    Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

    JULIET:
    Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

    ROMEO:
    O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
    They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

    JULIET:
    Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

    ROMEO:
    Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
    (He kisses her.)
    Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

    JULIET
    Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

    ROMEO
    Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
    Give me my sin again. (He kisses her.)

    JULIET
    You kiss by th' book.
    (104-112)

    罗密欧与朱丽叶
    第一幕第五场 舞会初遇

    罗密欧:
    要是我这俗手上的尘污
    亵渎了你的神圣的庙宇,
    这两片嘴唇,含羞的信徒,
    愿意用一吻乞求你宥恕。
    朱丽叶:
    信徒,莫把你的手儿侮辱,
    这样才是最虔诚的礼敬;
    神明的手本许信徒接触,
    掌心的密合远胜如亲吻。
    罗密欧:
    生下了嘴唇有什么用处?
    朱丽叶:
    信徒的嘴唇要祷告神明。
    罗密欧:
    那么我要祷求你的允许,
    让手的工作交给了嘴唇。
    朱丽叶:
    你的祷告已蒙神明允准。
    罗密欧:
    神明,请容我把殊恩受领。
    (吻朱丽叶)
    这一吻涤清了我的罪孽。
    朱丽叶:
    你的罪却沾上我的唇间。
    罗密欧:
    啊,我的唇间有罪?感谢你精心的指摘!
    让我收回吧。
    朱丽叶:
    你可以亲一下《圣经》。

    Colette有话说:

    这个译本好像是朱生豪先生的,最后一句的翻译有待商榷。虽然全诗都是宗教隐喻,但是最后一句很多人作“你的吻宛如教科书”解。
    这首诗是罗密欧与朱丽叶在舞会初遇时两人的第一段对话。相比于普鲁塔克十四行诗全程男性声音主导,这首十四行诗由两人共同创作完成,可以说象征爱情中的平等。
    当然啦,这首诗的中心思想大概是“朱丽叶啊我的女神(literally),让我给你爱的吻”。比如前四行,一般舞台表现为罗密欧牵起朱丽叶的手,表达“我的手太糙,不如让我的唇来弥补”——诶呀呀呀这个浪公子。
    读过这一段,可能也会让人觉得这个伶俐的朱丽叶并不是纯洁的小白绵羊吧。啧啧。

    小播知道自己很久没有出现了,下次录诗也不知道是什么时候。可能是明天,可能是明年吧(一溜烟逃远)
    很想念大家呢。

    BGM:Phascination Phase -- Carter Burwell, from the Twilight Score

  • Sonnet 130
    William Shakespeare

    My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
    Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
    If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
    If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
    I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
    But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
    And in some perfumes is there more delight
    Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
    I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
    That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
    I grant I never saw a goddess go;
    My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
    And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
    As any she belied with false compare.

    十四行诗第130
    莎士比亚
    (梁实秋 译)

    我情人的眼睛和太阳不能比;
    珊瑚远比她的嘴唇红得多:
    如果雪是白的,她的奶就是黑的;
    如果发是金丝,她头上是一片乌黑:

    我见过粉红色玫瑰,又白又红,
    但在她腮上我看不见这样的玫瑰;
    有些香水的香气之浓
    胜过我情人口里吐出的气味:

    我爱听她说话,但是我心里有数,
    音乐有远为悦耳的声响;
    我承认没见过天仙走路——
    我的情人走路是踏在地上。

    但是,天啊,我的爱人之美丽
    正不下于被人妄相比拟的任何妇女。


    Colette有话说:

    好久没念短诗啦。

    莎士比亚的十四行诗前几十首都在劝一位男青年抓住大好年华娶妻生子,后十几首突然出现了一位Black Lady,并不知道是谁。这首诗有股写腻了诗歌、用烦了比喻的破罐子破摔劲,但是很可爱。

    抖森和艾伦·里克曼(斯内普教授)都念过这首诗!

    BGM: One Day - Black Dawn

  • The Waste Land
    T.S.Eliot

    I. The Burial of the Dead

    April is the cruellest month, breeding
    Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
    Memory and desire, stirring
    Dull roots with spring rain.
    Winter kept us warm, covering
    Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
    A little life with dried tubers.
    Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
    With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
    And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
    And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
    Bin gar keine Russin, stamm&`&aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
    And when we were children, staying at the archduke&`&s,
    My cousin&`&s, he took me out on a sled,
    And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
    Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
    In the mountains, there you feel free.
    I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

    What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
    Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
    You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
    A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
    And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
    And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
    There is shadow under this red rock,
    (Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
    And I will show you something different from either
    Your shadow at morning striding behind you
    Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
    I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
    Frisch weht der Wind
    Der Heimat zu,
    Mein Irisch Kind,
    Wo weilest du?
    "You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
    They called me the hyacinth girl."
    —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
    Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
    Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
    Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
    Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
    Öd&`&und leer das Meer.

    Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
    Had a bad cold, nevertheless
    Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
    With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
    Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
    (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
    Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
    The lady of situations.
    Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
    And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
    Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
    Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
    The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
    I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
    Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
    Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
    One must be so careful these days.

    Unreal City,
    Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
    A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
    I had not thought death had undone so many.
    Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
    And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
    Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
    To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
    With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
    There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying "Stetson!
    You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
    That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
    Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
    Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
    Oh keep the Dog far hence, that&`&s friend to men,
    Or with his nails he&`&ll dig it up again!
    You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!"

    荒原
    艾略特
    (查良铮 译)

    一、死者的葬礼

    四月最残忍,从死了的
    土地滋生丁香,混杂着
    回忆和欲望,让春雨
    挑动着呆钝的根。
    冬天保我们温暖,把大地
    埋在忘怀的雪里,使干了的
    球茎得一点点生命。
    夏天来得意外,随着一阵骤雨
    到了斯坦伯吉西;我们躲在廊下,
    等太阳出来,便到郝夫加登
    去喝咖啡,又闲谈了一点钟。
    我不是俄国人,原籍立陶宛,是纯德国种。
    我们小时侯,在大公家做客,
    那是我表兄,他带我出去滑雪撬,
    我害怕死了。他说,玛丽,玛丽,
    抓紧了呵。于是我们冲下去。
    在山中,你会感到舒畅。
    我大半夜看书,冬天去到南方。

    这是什么根在抓着,是什么树杈
    从这片乱石里长出来?人子呵,
    你说不出,也猜不着,因为你只知道
    一堆破碎的形象,受着太阳拍击,
    而枯树没有阴凉,蟋蟀不使人轻松,
    干石头发不出流水的声音。只有
    一片阴影在这红色的岩石下,
    (来吧,请走进这红岩石下的阴影)
    我要指给你一件事,它不同于
    你早晨的影子,跟在你后面走
    也不象你黄昏的影子,起来迎你,
    我要指给你恐惧是在一撮尘土里。
      风儿吹得清爽,
      吹向我的家乡,
      我的爱尔兰孩子,
      如今你在何方?
    “一年前你初次给了我风信子,
    他们都叫我风信子女郎。”
    ——可是当我们从风信子花园走回,天晚了,
    你的两臂抱满,你的头发是湿的,
    我说不出话来,两眼看不见,我
    不生也不死,什么也不知道,
    看进光的中心,那一片沉寂。
    荒凉而空虚是那大海。

    索索斯垂丝夫人,著名的相命家,
    患了重感冒,但仍然是
    欧洲公认的最有智慧的女人,
    她有一副鬼精灵的纸牌。这里,她说,
    你的牌,淹死的腓尼基水手,
    (那些明珠曾经是他的眼睛。看!)
    这是美女贝拉磨娜,岩石的女人,
    有多种遭遇的女人。
    这是有三根杖的人,这是轮盘,
    这是独眼商人,还有这张牌
    是空白的,他拿来背在背上,
    不许我看见。我找不到。
    那绞死的人。小心死在水里。
    我看见成群的人,在一个圈里转。
    谢谢你。如果你看见伊奎通太太,
    就说我亲自把星象图带过去:
    这年头人得万事小心呵。

    不真实的城,
    在冬天早晨棕黄色的雾下,
    一群人流过伦敦桥,呵,这么多
    我没有想到死亡毁灭了这么多。
    叹息,隔一会短短地嘘出来,
    每个人的目光都盯着自己的脚。
    流上小山,流下威廉王大街,
    直到圣玛丽·乌尔诺教堂,在那里
    大钟正沉沉桥着九点的最后一响。
    那儿我遇到一个熟人,喊住他道:
    “史太森!你记得我们在麦来船上!
    去年你种在你的花园里的尸首,
    它发芽了吗?今年能开花吗?
    还是突然霜冻搅乱了它的花床?
    哦,千万把狗撵开,那是人类之友,
    不然他会用爪子又把它掘出来!
    你呀,伪善的读者——我的同类,我的兄弟!”

    Colette有话说:

    这是艾略特的长诗《荒原》的第一部分。诗歌写于1922年,一战结束后四年。里面的德语是T.S.Eliot自己念的!因为小播不会德语啊。Madame Sosostris好像是Lia Williams,她念得好棒。

    (念有故事情节的诗好有趣!虽然这首诗根本不知道在讲什么……但是好有趣!有没有人想听小播念Romeo & Juliet的楼台会!)

    小播虽然很想给大家解读这首诗,但是一直觉得现代主义的诗歌无法解读……不过还是可以给大家介绍一下诗歌中的主要引用:
    What are the roots that clutch 至 under the shadow of this red rock,典出《圣经》;
    Frisch weht der Wind的四句德语和Oed&`& und leer das Meer都典出瓦格纳歌剧《特里斯坦与伊索尔德》,一部爱情悲剧;
    "Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!"摘自莎士比亚《暴风雨》,讲的是,呃,一个人在海底躺啊躺啊躺久了,眼眶里就长出了珍珠……
    Unreal city可能指法国诗人波德莱尔《恶之花》,这一段也影射但丁《炼狱》中的……对,炼狱。

    BGM:Una Mattina - Ludovico Einaudi

  • Love
    Roy Croft

    I love you,
    Not only for what you are,
    But for what I am
    When I am with you.

    I love you,
    Not only for what
    You have made of yourself,
    But for what
    You are making of me.

    I love you
    For the part of me
    That you bring out;
    I love you
    For putting your hand
    Into my heaped-up heart
    And passing over
    All the foolish, weak things
    That you can't help
    Dimly seeing there,
    And for drawing out
    Into the light
    All the beautiful belongings
    That no one else had looked
    Quite far enough to find.

    I love you because you
    Are helping me to make
    Of the lumber of my life
    Not a tavern
    But a temple;
    Out of the works
    Of my every day
    Not a reproach
    But a song.

    I love you
    Because you have done
    More than any creed
    Could have done
    To make me good,
    And more than any fate
    To make me happy.

    You have done it
    Without a touch,
    Without a word,
    Without a sign.
    You have done it
    By being yourself.



    罗伊·克里夫特

    我爱你,
    不光因为你的样子,
    还因为,
    和你在一起时,我的样子。
    我爱你,
    不光因为你为我而做的事,
    还因为,
    为了你,我能做成的事。
    我爱你,
    因为你能唤出,
    我最真的那部分。

    我爱你,
    因为你穿越我心灵的旷野,
    如同阳光穿越水晶般容易。
    我的傻气,我的弱点,
    在你的目光里几乎不存在。
    而我心里最美丽的地方,
    却被你的光芒照得通亮。
    别人都不曾费心走那么远,
    别人都觉得寻找太麻烦,
    所以没人发现过我的美丽,
    所以没人到过这里。

    我爱你,
    因为你将我的生活化腐朽为神奇。
    因为有你,
    我的生命,
    不再是平凡的旅店,
    而成为了恢弘的庙宇,
    我日复一日的工作里,
    不再充满抱怨,
    而是美妙的旋律。

    我爱你,
    因为你比信念更能使我的生活变得无比美好,
    因为你比命运更能使我的生活变得充满欢乐。
    而你做出这一切的一切,
    不费一丝力气,
    一句言辞,
    一个暗示,
    你做出这一切的一切,
    只是因为你就是你,
    毕竟,
    这也许就是朋友的含义。


    Colette有话说:

    作者是个谜。

    这首诗在1979年的一本诗集中出现,此后常在婚礼中被人引用。但是Roy Croft此人身世无迹可寻。一说诗人是爱尔兰人,一说此诗为德语诗歌的英文译本。

    其实也不用太纠结…总之,亲爱的朋友,(两只!)生日快乐。

    BGM:N°036

  • 【我是醒目的方括号】
    本期朗读:凯蒂
    凯蒂可是小播压箱底多年的英音女神!看在祭出凯蒂女神和叶芝两大杀器的份上,不如我们就别提一个月没更新这件事了好吗(望天)
    本来四月想读艾略特的《荒原》,然而诗歌第一句说得好,April is the cruelest month……我的四月连尾巴都没见着就奔腾着过去了……所以。
    请大家欣赏我的女神的英音咯!

    When You Are Old
    William Butler Yeats

    When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
    And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
    And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
    Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

    How many loved your moments of glad grace,
    And loved your beauty with love false or true,
    But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
    And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

    And bending down beside the glowing bars,
    Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
    And paced upon the mountains overhead
    And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

    当你老了
    叶芝
    (冰心译)

    当你老了,头发花白,睡意沉沉,
    倦坐在炉边,取下这本书来,
    慢慢读着,追梦当年的眼神,
    那柔美的神采与深幽的晕影。
    多少人爱过你青春的片影,
    爱过你的美貌,以虚伪或是真情,
    惟独一人爱你那朝圣者的心,
    爱你哀戚的脸上岁月的留痕。
    在炉栅边,你弯下了腰,
    低语着,带着浅浅的伤感,
    爱情是怎样逝去,又怎样步上群山,
    怎样在繁星之间藏住了脸。

    Colette有话说:

    这首诗有太多译版,小播读过就不止二十种。对于翻译,读者一向是青菜萝卜各有所爱,如果大家有兴趣也可以读一下飞白、余光中、屠岸、婴宁的译本。

    BGM:Guitar Backing Track In A Minor -- Tom Bailey