标题: 叶芝的诗;When You Are Old;He Tells of the Perfect Beauty 等 [打印本页] 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-14 10:26 标题: 叶芝的诗;When You Are Old;He Tells of the Perfect Beauty 等
He Tells of the Perfect Beauty他述绝代佳人
William Butler Yeats威廉·巴特勒·叶芝
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman's gaze
And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
And therefore my heart will bow, when dew
Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,
Before the unlabouring stars and you.
哦,眼睑如薄雲,双目似梦幻,
诗人们辛劳累月经年
妄图以韵律塑造沉鱼落雁;
却被一女子的凝眸,
和苍穹中慵懒的众星瞬间倾翻:
因此当露珠滴落安眠,我心将垂首
于悠然的星辰与侬面前,
直至上帝把时间点燃。
[ 本帖最后由 ououmama 于 2011-12-18 21:15 编辑 ]. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-14 10:38 标题: When You Are Old 当你老了
When You Are Old -William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
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.
垂下头来,在红光闪耀的炉子旁,
凄然地轻轻诉说那爱情的消逝,
在头顶的山上它缓缓踱着步子,
在一群星星中间隐藏着脸庞。. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-14 10:41 标题: The Coming of Wisdom with Time 时光流逝智慧生
The coming of wisdom with time
Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.
时光流逝智慧生,
枝繁叶茂只一根;
年幼荒唐无所事,
艳阳光里摇花枝;
终老凋谢悟真知。. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-14 10:43 标题: He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven他要天堂霓裳
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
假如我有天堂的霓裳,
缀满金色、银色的光,
白昼、黑夜和黄昏
幽蓝、漆黑、朦胧的衣裳,
我会将此衣铺你脚下:
然贫穷似我却只有梦想;
我已将此梦铺你脚下
请轻移玉步,因你正踩在我的梦上。. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-14 10:45 标题: THE OLD MEN ADMIRING THEMSELVES IN THE WATER老人水中自赞
I HEARD the old, old men say,
'Everything alters,
And one by one we drop away.'
They had hands like claws, and their knees
Were twisted like the old thorn-trees
By the waters.
'All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters.'
吾闻老人言:
“万事皆会变。
一个接一个,
吾等会归天。”
埋葬在坟地,
浸泡在水里。
双手变为爪,
膝盖扭成犁。
“如江河之水,
奔腾入海里。
昔日之美丽,
流逝难寻觅。. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-14 10:46 标题: AFTER LONG SILENCE 长寂之后
peech after long silence: it is right,
All other lovers being estranged or dead,
Unfriendly lamplight hid under its shade,
The curtains drawn upon unfriendly night,
That we descant and yet again descant
Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song :
Bodily decrepitude is wisdom: young
We loved each other and were ignorant.
长时间静寂后的话语:是,
其他情人或疏远或谢世。
冷漠的灯光灯罩下躲藏,
无情的黑夜被窗帘阻挡。
我们促膝长谈、探讨着
崇高的主题绘画与曲作。
老态龙钟时才幡然醒悟,
年轻时相爱却如此麻木。. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-14 10:48 标题: A Drinking Song 饮酒歌
WINE comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
酒入口,
爱入眼;
吾等变老升天前,
终会将此谙。
吾举杯到咀边,
望汝而兴叹。. 作者: mmw 时间: 2011-12-14 13:05
谢谢分享!收藏。. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-15 07:55 标题: The Wild Swans At Coole柯尔庄园的野天鹅
柯尔庄园的野天鹅
树木披上了美丽的秋装,林中的小径一片干燥,在十月的暮色中,流水 把静谧的天空映照,
一块块石头中漾着水波,游着五十九只天鹅。自从我第一次数了它们,十九度秋天已经消逝,
我还来不及细数一遍,就看到 它们一下子全部飞起.大声拍打着它们的翅膀,形成大而破碎的圆圈翱翔。 我凝视这些光彩夺目的天鹅,此刻心中涌起一阵悲痛。一切都变了,自从第一次在河边,也正是暮色朦胧,我听到天鹅在我头上鼓翼,于是脚步就更为轻捷。还没有疲倦,一对对情侣,在冷冷的友好的河水中 前行或展翅飞入半空,它们的心依然年轻,不管它们上哪儿漂泊,它们 总是有着激情,还要赢得爱情。 现在它们在静谧的水面上浮游,神秘莫测,美丽动人, 可有一天我醒来,它们已飞去。 哦,它们会筑居于哪片芦苇丛、哪一个池边、哪一块湖滨, 使人们悦目赏心?(裘小龙译)
The Wild Swans At Coole
by: William Butler Yeats
THE trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty Swans.
The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
by William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there,
a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there,
for peace comes dropping slow
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer,
and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now,
for always night and day,
I hear the lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway,
or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
湖岛因尼斯弗里岛
现在我正要起身离去,前去因尼斯弗里,
用树枝和泥土,在那里筑起小屋:
我要种九垄菜豆,养一箱蜜蜂在那里,
在蜂吟嗡嗡的林间空地幽居独处。
威廉·勃特勒·叶芝(WilliamButlerYeats,1865-1939),爱尔兰著名抒情诗人、剧作家,后期象征派大师,爱尔兰文艺复兴运动的领袖。生于都柏林一个画师家庭,自小喜爱诗画艺术,并对乡间的秘教法术颇感兴趣。1884年就读于都柏林艺术学校,不久违背父愿,抛弃画布和油彩,专意于诗歌创作。1888年在伦敦结识了萧伯纳、王尔德等人。1889年,叶芝与女演员毛特·戈尼结识。戈尼是爱尔兰民族自治运动的骨干,对叶芝一生的思想和创作影响很大。1896年,叶芝又结识了贵族出身的剧作家格雷戈里夫人,叶芝一生的创作都得力于她的支持。她的柯尔庄园被叶芝看作崇高的艺术乐园。他这一时期的创作虽未摆脱19世纪后期的浪漫主义和唯美主义的影响,但质朴而富于生气,著名诗作有《茵斯弗利岛》(1892)、《当你老了》(1896)等。
1899年,叶芝与格雷戈里夫人、约翰·辛格等开始创办爱尔兰国家剧场活动,并于1904年正式成立阿贝影院。这期间,他创作了一些反映爱尔兰历史和农民生活的戏剧,主要诗剧有《胡里痕的凯瑟琳》(1902)、《黛尔丽德》(1907)等,另有诗集《芦苇中的风》(1899)、《在七座森林中》(1903)、《绿盔》(1910)、《责任》(1914)等,并陆续出版了多卷本的诗文全集。叶芝及其友人的创作活动,史称“爱尔兰文艺复兴运动”。
1917年,叶芝成婚,定居于格雷戈里庄园附近的贝力利村。此后,由于局势动荡,事故迭起,叶芝在创作上极富活力,他的诗已由早期的虚幻朦胧转而为坚实、明朗。重要诗集有《柯尔庄园的野天鹅》(1919)、《马可伯罗兹与舞者》(1920)等,内有著名诗篇《基督再临》、《为吾女祈祷》、《1916年复活节》等。
1921年爱尔兰独立,叶芝出任参议员。1923年,“由于他那些始终充满灵感的诗,它们通过高度的艺术形成了整个民族的精神”,叶芝获得诺贝尔文学奖。
1928年发表诗集《古堡》,这是他创作上进入成熟期的巅峰之作,内有著名诗篇《驶向拜占廷》、《丽达与天鹅》、《在学童之间》和《古堡》等。晚年,叶芝百病缠身,但在创作上仍然热情不减,极其活跃。重要诗集有《回梯》(1929)、《新诗集》(1938),另有散文剧《窗棂上的世界》(1934)、诗剧《炼狱》(1938)等。1939年1月28日,叶芝病逝于法国的罗格布隆。
叶芝的诗具有雄辩的风格、明亮的色彩,意向突出而寓含哲理,情感浓厚而真切,构思精巧,语言洗练,且富有节奏,在艺术上有较高的造诣。其诗吸收浪漫主义、唯美主义、神秘主义、象征主义和玄学诗的精华,几经变革,最终熔炼出独特的风格,通常被视为英语诗从传统到现代过渡的缩影。
我们时代最伟大的诗人。叶芝就是我们时代的历史人物之一,这些人物是他们时代意识的一部分,没有他们就无从理解这一时代。 ——诗人艾略特
1923年,“由于他那些始终充满灵感的诗,它们通过高度的艺术形成了整个民族的精神”,叶芝获得诺贝尔文学奖。. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-17 18:54 标题: 在学童中间 Among School Children
Among School Children (1927)
WB Yeats
I
I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;
A kind old nun in a white hood replies;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,
To study reading-books and history,
To cut and sew, be neat in everything
In the best modern way - the children’s eyes
In momentary wonder stare upon
A sixty-year-old smiling public man.
II
I dream of a Ledaean body, bent
Above a sinking fire. A tale that she
Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event
That changed some childish day to tragedy -
Told, and it seemed that our two natures blent
Into a sphere from youthful sympathy,
Or else, to alter Plato’s parable,
Into the yolk and white of the one shell.
III
And thinking of that fit of grief or rage
I look upon one child or t’other there
And wonder if she stood so at that age -
For even daughters of the swan can share
Something of every paddler’s heritage -
And had that colour upon cheek or hair,
And thereupon my heart is driven wild:
She stands before me as a living child.
IV
Her present image floats into the mind -
Did Quattrocento finger fashion it
Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind
And took a mess of shadows for its meat?
And I though never of Ledaean kind
Had pretty plumage once - enough of that,
Better to smile on all that smile, and show
There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow.
V
What youthful mother, a shape upon her lap
Honey of generation had betrayed,
And that must sleep, shriek, struggle to escape
As recollection or the drug decide,
Would think her son, did she but see that shape
With sixty or more winters on its head,
A compensation for the pang of his birth,
Or the uncertainty of his setting forth?
VI
Plato thought nature but a spume that plays
Upon a ghostly paradigm of things;
Solider Aristotle played the taws
Upon the bottom of a king of kings;
World-famous golden-thighed Pythagoras
Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings
What a star sang and careless Muses heard:
Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird.
VII
Both nuns and mothers worship images,
But those the candles light are not as those
That animate a mother's reveries,
But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
And yet they too break hearts - O Presences
That passion, piety or affection knows,
And that all heavenly glory symbolise -
O self-born mockers of man’s enterprise;
VIII
Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?
在学童中间
1
我边走边问,打从长教室穿过,
和蔼的白头巾老修女回答问题,
孩子们学做算术,练习唱歌
学习各样的读本,还有历史,
剪裁和缝纫都要求干净利索,
样式最好又时新——孩子们时不时
出于好奇心,免不了抬眼注目
一位六十岁含笑的头面人物。
A sudden blow:the great wings beating stil 突然袭击:在踉跄的少女身上,
Above the staggering girl,her thighs caressed 一双巨翅还在乱扑,一双黑蹼
By the dark webs,her nape caught in his bill, 抚弄她的大腿,鹅喙衔着她的颈项,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. 他的胸脯紧压她无计脱身的胸脯。
How can those terrified vague fingers push 手指啊,被惊呆了,哪还有能力
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs? 从松开的腿间推开那白羽的荣耀?
And how can body,laid in that white rush 身体呀,翻倒在雪白的灯心草里,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies? 感到的唯有其中那奇异的心跳!
A shudder in the loins engenders there 腰股内一阵颤栗.竟从中生出
The broken wall,the burning roof and tower 断垣残壁、城楼上的浓烟烈焰
And Agamemnon dead. 和阿伽门农之死。
Being so caught up, 当她被占有之时
So mastered by the brute blood of the air, 当地如此被天空的野蛮热血制服
Did she put on his knowledge with his power 直到那冷漠的喙把她放开之前,
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop? 她是否获取了他的威力,他的知识?. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-17 19:06 标题: 驶向拜占庭
by/ 叶芝
Sailing to Byzantium
By William butler Yeats
THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
What shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?
Never had I more
Excited, passionate, fantastical
Imagination, nor an ear and eye
That more expected the impossible -
No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,
Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back
And had the livelong summer day to spend.
It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,
Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend
Until imagination, ear and eye,
Can be content with argument and deal
In abstract things; or be derided by
A sort of battered kettle at the heel.
一
我将怎样对付这荒唐事——
心呵,不安的心呵——这漫画,
这象拴在狗尾巴上拴在了我身上的
衰弱的老年?
我从不曾有过更加
兴奋的、热情的、奇异的
想像力,也不曾有过更加期望
不可能之事的耳朵和眼睛
不,在童年不曾,当时带着鱼竿和苍蝇,
或更低级的蠕虫,我爬上布尔本山的背脊,
有终生般漫长的夏日可消磨。
似乎我必须命令诗神去收拾行李,
而选择柏拉图和普罗提诺作朋友,
直到想像力、耳朵和眼睛
能够满足于论证,经营
抽象的事物;或者被一种
破旧的水壶跟在身后嘲弄。
II
I pace upon the battlements and stare
On the foundations of a house, or where
Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;
And send imagination forth
Under the day's declining beam, and call
Images and memories
From ruin or from ancient trees,
For I would ask a question of them all.
Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once
When every silver candlestick or sconce
Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine.
A serving-man, that could divine
That most respected lady's every wish,
Ran and with the garden shears
Clipped an insolent farmer's ears
And brought them in a little covered dish.
Some few remembered still when I was young
A peasant girl commended by a song,
Who'd lived somewhere upon that rocky place,
And praised the colour of her face,
And had the greater joy in praising her,
Remembering that, if walked she there,
Farmers jostled at the fair
So great a glory did the song confer.
And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,
Or else by toasting her a score of times,
Rose from the table and declared it right
To test their fancy by their sight;
But they mistook the brightness of the moon
For the prosaic light of day -
Music had driven their wits astray -
And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.
Strange, but the man who made the song was blind;
Yet, now I have considered it, I find
That nothing strange; the tragedy began
With Homer that was a blind man,
And Helen has all living hearts betrayed.
O may the moon and sunlight seem
One inextricable beam,
For if I triumph I must make men mad.
And I myself created Hanrahan
And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn
From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages.
Caught by an old man's juggleries
He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro
And had but broken knees for hire
And horrible splendour of desire;
I thought it all out twenty years ago:
Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;
And when that ancient ruffian's turn was on
He so bewitched the cards under his thumb
That all but the one card became
A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards,
And that he changed into a hare.
Hanrahan rose in frenzy there
And followed up those baying creatures towards -
O towards I have forgotten what - enough!
I must recall a man that neither love
Nor music nor an enemy's clipped ear
Could, he was so harried, cheer;
A figure that has grown so fabulous
There's not a neighbour left to say
When he finished his dog's day:
An ancient bankrupt master of this house.
Before that ruin came, for centuries,
Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees
Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs,
And certain men-at-arms there were
Whose images, in the Great Memory stored,
Come with loud cry and panting breast
To break upon a sleeper's rest
While their great wooden dice beat on the board.
As I would question all, come all who can;
Come old, necessitous. half-mounted man;
And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant;
The red man the juggler sent
Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,
Gifted with so fine an ear;
The man drowned in a bog's mire,
When mocking Muses chose the country wench.
Did all old men and women, rich and poor,
Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,
Whether in public or in secret rage
As I do now against old age?
But I have found an answer in those eyes
That are impatient to be gone;
Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,
For I need all his mighty memories.
Old lecher with a love on every wind,
Bring up out of that deep considering mind
All that you have discovered in the grave,
For it is certain that you have
Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing
Plunge, lured by a softening eye,
Or by a touch or a sigh,
Into the labyrinth of another's being;
Does the imagination dwell the most
Upon a woman won or woman lost?
If on the lost, admit you turned aside
From a great labyrinth out of pride,
Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought
Or anything called conscience once;
And that if memory recur, the sun's
Under eclipse and the day blotted out.
二
我漫步在雉堞之上,凝望
一座房子的基础,或者那地方:
树木象一根熏黑的手指从地里涌出;
在白昼渐渐衰弱的光线下
把想像力派出,把意象
和记忆从废墟
或古老的树木中唤出,
因为我要向它们全都提一个问题。
在那山脊那边曾住着弗兰赤太太,有一回
当每一盏银烛台或灯台
照亮暗黑的红木餐桌和葡萄酒的时候,
一个仆人他能够猜透
那极受尊敬的夫人的每一个愿望
跑去用园艺剪刀
饺掉一个无礼农夫的双耳,
并用一只带盖的小碟端来奉上。
少数几个人还记得我小的时候
有一首歌唱到一个农家女,
她从前住在那多石之地的某处;
他们赞美她脸的颜色。
在对她的赞美中得到更大乐趣,
记得,如果她在那里走过,
市场上的农夫们就竞相争夺
那支歌所授予的那么伟大的一项荣誉。
而某些人,不是被那些诗句就是被接连
数十次为她干杯弄得颠倒狂乱,
从桌边站起来,宣称应当
以他们的所见来检验他们的幻想;
但是他们把月亮的光辉
错当成白昼单调的光线
音乐已使他们的智能迷乱
有一个溺死在科隆尼大沼泽里。
奇怪,作这歌的人却是个瞎子;
然而,现在我考虑过后,觉得
没什么奇怪的;那悲剧始自
荷马,他就是个瞎子,
而海伦背叛了所有活着的心。
呵,但愿月光和日光仿佛
是一道纠缠不分的光束,
因为如果我得胜,我必定使人们发疯。
我自己创造了罕拉汉
并驱赶他从邻近农舍的某处
醉醺醺或清醒地穿过曙色。
被一个老者的魔术所迷惑,
他蹒跚,翻滚,摸索,来来去去,
跌断了双膝只是为了佣金
和欲望的可怕辉煌;
我二十年前想出了这一切:
好伙伴们在一个旧场院里玩纸牌;
当轮到那老朽的恶棍时,
他给手指下面的纸牌施了魔法,
使得除一张牌之外所有的牌都变化
成一群猎犬而不是一把牌,
他把那张牌则变化成一只野兔。
罕拉汉从那里狂跳而出,
跟上那些狂吠的造物跑向
呵,跑向什么我已忘记,够了!
我必须回忆一个人,他如此苦恼,
音乐或一只被剪下的仇敌的耳朵
都不能使他兴奋快乐;
一个已变成了荒唐的传闻,
以至于他结束了狗一般的日子的时候
竟没有一个邻居剩下来闲说他的人物:
这所房子的老朽的破产的主人。
在那毁记来临之前,数百年来,
不断有打着齐膝绑腿或穿着铁鞋的
粗鲁士兵攀登那狭窄的楼梯,
从前在那里有某些兵士,
他们的储存在“大记忆”里的形象
现在大呼小叫胸膛起伏着前来
突然显现在一个睡眠者的安歇处,
同时他们的大木头色子敲打在桌子上。
既然我想询问所有人,能来的就都来吧;
穷困潦倒、登上一半的老人,来吧;
领来美人的盲目徘徊的赞赏者;
那被魔法师打发跑过
被上帝遗弃的草地的红发男人;收受
一只精美的耳朵作为礼物的弗兰赤太太;
当嘲弄的缨斯选中那乡下姑娘时。
那溺死在沼泽的淤泥里的男人。
是否所有年老的男人和女人,无论贫富,
无论是公开还是私下发着狂怒
在这些岩石上踱步或从这门前走过,
都曾象我现在这样冲着老年发火? 100
但是我已经从那些急于
离去的眼睛里找到了答案;
那么走吧;但留下罕拉汉,
因为我需要他所有的强大记忆。
在每一个方向都有一个爱人的老淫棍,
从那深思远虑的头脑中倾倒出
你在那坟墓里发现的一切,
因为你肯定计算过
每一次未能预知、一无所见,
被一瞥销魂的眼波110
或一下触摸或一声叹息所诱惑,
而往另一人的存在的迷宫里的投入;
是否想像力最多着意于
一个赢得的或失去的女人?
如果在于失去者,就承认你由于
骄傲、怯懦、某种过于精明的愚蠢
念头或曾经被叫做良心的任何
东西而避开了一个大迷宫;
承认如果记忆浮现,太阳
就会被侵蚀,白昼就会被遮暗。
III
It is time that I wrote my will;
I choose upstanding men
That climb the streams until
The fountain leap, and at dawn
Drop their cast at the side
Of dripping stone; I declare
They shall inherit my pride,
The pride of people that were
Bound neither to Cause nor to State.
Neither to slaves that were spat on,
Nor to the tyrants that spat,
The people of Burke and of Grattan
That gave, though free to refuse -
Pride, like that of the morn,
When the headlong light is loose,
Or that of the fabulous horn,
Or that of the sudden shower
When all streams are dry,
Or that of the hour
When the swan must fix his eye
Upon a fading gleam,
Float out upon a long
Last reach of glittering stream
And there sing his last song.
And I declare my faith:
I mock Plotinus' thought
And cry in Plato's teeth,
Death and life were not
Till man made up the whole,
Made lock, stock and barrel
Out of his bitter soul,
Aye, sun and moon and star, all,
And further add to that
That, being dead, we rise,
Dream and so create
Translunar paradise.
I have prepared my peace
With learned Italian things
And the proud stones of Greece,
Poet's imaginings
And memories of love,
Memories of the words of women,
All those things whereof
Man makes a superhuman,
Mirror-resembling dream.
As at the loophole there
The daws chatter and scream,
And drop twigs layer upon layer.
When they have mounted up,
The mother bird will rest
On their hollow top,
And so warm her wild nest.
I leave both faith and pride
To young upstanding men
Climbing the mountain-side,
That under bursting dawn
They may drop a fly;
Being of that metal made
Till it was broken by
This sedentary trade.
Now shall I make my soul,
Compelling it to study
In a learned school
Till the wreck of body,
Slow decay of blood,
Testy delirium
Or dull decrepitude,
Or what worse evil come -
The death of friends, or death
Of every brilliant eye
That made a catch in the breath -
Seem but the clouds of the sky
When the horizon fades;
Or a bird's sleepy cry
Among the deepening shades.
三
该是我写遗嘱的时候了;
我选择那些上溯溪水
直到流泉飞湍之处,
黎明时分在滴水的
石岸边下钩垂钓的
挺拔的人们;我宣布
他们将继承我的骄傲,
那些既不系于原因亦不
系于状态,既不系于遭
唾辱的奴隶也不系于施130
唾辱的暴君的人们的骄傲;
那是柏克和格拉坦的人们,
他们率直地拒绝,却给予
骄傲,就象清晨的骄傲,
当那急速的光松驰之时,
或传说中号角的骄傲,
或骤来的暴雨的骄傲,
当所有的河流干涸之时,
或那个时刻的骄傲,
当那天鹅必须把目光凝聚
在一道正在消逝的闪光上, 140
在一条晶亮的溪流
长长的最后流域上漂浮而出,
在那里唱它临终的歌之时。
我还宣布我的信仰:
我嘲笑普罗提诺的思想,
公然对柏拉图大嚷,
在人类组合起全部,
用他的苦难的灵魂
制造出各种零件, 150
对,太阳月亮星星,一切,
再给这加上一条,
即,死后,我们站起,
做梦,如此创造出来
超越月亮的乐园之前,
死亡与生命并不存在。
我已准备好讲和,
与博学的意大利玩意
和骄做的古希腊石刻,
与诗人的想像
和对爱情的记忆, 160
对女人的言语的记忆,
人类用以制造一个
超人类的镜子似的
梦的所有那些东西。
犹如在那里的了望孔里,
寒鸦低鸣和厉啼,
衔去一层一层的细枝。
在它们登堂入室之后,
做母亲的鸟儿将歇卧170
在它们的空虚的顶上,
就那样温暖她的陋窠。
我把信仰和骄傲都留赠
那些攀登那山崖的
挺拔的年轻的人们,
以便他们在喷薄的曙色下
可以投下一只虫饵;
它是用那种金属造成,
直到它被这
静坐的功夫折断。
现在我将使我的灵魂
通过强迫它去一所
博学的学校研习学问,
直到肉体的毁坏, 190
血液的逐渐衰竭,
烦躁的精神错乱
或迟钝的老朽衰年,
或什么更坏的不幸来临:
朋友的死亡,或那
令人呼吸梗塞的每一个
灿烂的眼波的死亡
仿佛只是地平线隐没
之后天空中的云霓;
或逐渐加深的荫影间
一只鸟儿的瞌睡的鸣啼。
(1926年). 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-17 19:27 标题: Youth and Age 青年与老年
Much did I rage when young,
Being by the world oppressed,
But now with flattering tongue
It speeds the parting guest.
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
(1916年9月25日). 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-17 19:33 标题: A Prayer for my Daughter 为我女儿的祈祷
Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind.
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.
I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And-under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.
May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.
Helen being chosen found life flat and dull
And later had much trouble from a fool,
While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless could have her way
Yet chose a bandy-legged smith for man.
It's certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of plenty is undone.
In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful;
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty's very self, has charm made wise.
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.
May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.
My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there's no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.
An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of plenty's horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind?
Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy Still.
And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.
(1919年6月). 作者: ououmama 时间: 2011-12-17 19:37 标题: The Second coming 基督再临
No. 194 The Second coming 第二次降临
V1:傅浩 译;V2:于中旻 译
The Second coming
V1:第二次降临
V2:第二次来临
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Pythagoras planned it. Why did the people stare?
His numbers, though they moved or seemed to move
In marble or in bronze, lacked character.
But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love
Of solitary beds, knew what they were,
That passion could bring character enough,
And pressed at midnight in some public place
Live lips upon a plummet-measured face.
No! Greater than Pythagoras, for the men
That with a mallet or a chisel modelled these
Calculations that look but casual flesh, put down
All Asiatic vague immensities,
And not the banks of oars that swam upon
The many-headed foam at Salamis.
Europe put off that foam when Phidias
Gave women dreams and dreams their looking-glass.
One image crossed the many-headed, sat
Under the tropic shade, grew round and slow,
No Hamlet thin from eating flies, a fat
Dreamer of the Middle Ages. Empty eyeballs knew
That knowledge increases unreality, that
Mirror on mirror mirrored is all the show.
When gong and conch declare the hour to bless
Grimalkin crawls to Buddha's emptiness.
When Pearse summoned Cuchulain to his side.
What stalked through the Post Office? What intellect,
What calculation, number, measurement, replied?
We Irish, born into that ancient sect
But thrown upon this filthy modern tide
And by its formless spawning fury wrecked,
Climb to our proper dark, that we may trace
The lineaments of a plummet-measured face.
William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.
I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.
May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.
Helen being chosen found life flat and dull
And later had much trouble from a fool,
While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless could have her way
Yet chose a bandy-leggd smith for man.
It's certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.
In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful;
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty's very self, has charm made wise,
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.
May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.
My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there's no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.
An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind?
Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still.
And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.
阮小晨译. 作者: ououmama 时间: 2012-3-10 13:32 标题: 姑娘的心The Heart of the Woman
威廉•巴特勒•叶芝
虔诚温馨的小闺房,对我已经没意义,他晚上和我来约会,我们拥抱在一起。
妈妈的爱和温暖的家,对我已经没意义,我的万缕金丝发,能为我俩遮风雨。
露水般的眼睛和金丝发,我已不在乎生和死,我的心贴着他的心,生生死死不分离
The Heart of the Woman
The Heart of the Woman
W.B. Yeats
O what to me the little room
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into the gloom,
And my breast lies upon his breast.
O what to me my mother's care,
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.
O hiding hair and dewy eyes,
I am no more with life and death,
My heart upon his warm heart lies,
My breath is mixed into his breath.. 作者: xhl5623 时间: 2012-4-10 09:42
发一首根据叶芝的诗Down by the Salley Gardens 谱曲的歌曲 http://www.yinyuetai.com/video/182798http://www.yinyuetai.com/video/182798
Down by the Salley Gardens
My love and I did meet
She passed the Salley Gardens
With little snow-white feet
She bid me take love easy
As the leaves grow on the tree
But I being young and foolish
With her did not agree
In a field by the river
My love and I did stand
And on my leaning shoulder
She laid her snow-white hand
She bid me take life easy
As the grass grows on the weirs
But I was young and foolish
And now I am full of tears
走进垂柳花园 萧饮寒译
走进垂柳花园 我与爱人在此邂逅 她穿过垂柳花园 纤足如雪般皎白 她嘱我善待爱情 如同树上的葇叶 但我却年轻无知 未细听她的心声 在河畔那片田野 我和爱人并肩而立 在我微倾的肩上 抚着她雪白的纤手 她嘱我善待爱情 如同堰上的荑草 但我却年轻无知 而今唯有泪水涟涟