Archive for the ‘诗歌’ Category

“把一个空空的太阳留在床上”——聂鲁达

两个快乐的恋人成了一个面包,
一滴落在草地里的月亮。
行走,他们投下两个影子,影子流淌到了一起,
醒来,他们把一个太阳空空地留在床上。

从所有可能的真理中,他们选出了这个日子;
他们拿着它,不是用麻绳而是用一个芳香
他们没有切碎和平;他们没有打碎词语;
他们的快乐是一座透明的塔。

空气和酒伴随着恋人。
夜晚以它的愉悦的花瓣让他们开心。
他们有拥有所有康乃馨的权利。

两个快乐的恋人,没有结束,没有死亡,
他们出生,他们死去,很多次,当他们生活着:
他们有本然之物的永恒生命。

Two happy lovers make one bread,
a single moon drop in the grass.
Walking, they cast two shadows that flow together;
Waking, they leave one sun empty in their bed.

Of all the possible truths, they chose the day;
they held it, not with ropes but with an aroma.
They did not shred the peace; they did not shatter words;
their happiness is a transparent tower.

The air and wine accompany the lovers.
The night delights them with its joyous petals.
They have a right to all the carnations.

Two happy lovers, without an ending, with no death,
they are born, they die, many times while they live;
they have the eternal life of the Natural.
_______
Translated by Stephen Tapscott
From ONE HUNDRED LOVE SONNETS,Pablo Neruda

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礼拜六

你的额头闪着光
当我们相对
凝视,
我是你
照亮的水面
收藏了世界的倒影。
而世界
因为你的看
就在了

窗外车声如波涛
我们的夜
是否总在海边?
你我十指相扣
搭建一座
托起日出的塔

聆听你的时候
我蒸发成
灵魂
比时间更安静
比空间
更空旷

凝视你的时候
我还原为
身体,还原为
一片湿润的泥土

泥土上的树
正在长出春天

 

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悲伤是一次休息

“逻各斯是一团永恒的活火,在一定的分寸上燃烧,在一定的分寸上熄灭。”——题记

悲伤是一次休息
悲观也是。
这个冬天太长了
积雪不愿化掉
沾上尘土
就留在了世上。
世界从来不是我所认为的样子
然而这无关紧要。
在的仍在,
不在的
仍在被杜撰
或怀念。
教学楼的厕所墙壁上曾有很多涂鸦
比如:每个人
都应该去
和书店门口的那个乞丐
说说话
他是个很好的人。
如今墙被刷成漆黑
黑得发亮
几乎能照出人影。
我看见图书馆门口
有个年轻的学生
坐在地上
盘着腿,腿上趴着一只很美
很谦虚的导盲犬
他衣着整齐,背着书包
戴着帽子
雪飘在帽檐上
还没落地,就化了
他是不想把狗带进图书馆么
尽管是允许的。
我常觉得自己也是盲人
不仅因为雕塑
之眼只是一个简单的凹陷
听觉比视觉更真实
触觉比听觉更真实
尽管
很多时候
手都放在虚空之中。

悲伤是一次休息
悲观也是。
艺术家拿起一块现实
把它晃匀,晃浑浊
就有了一件作品

滑梯上的积雪滑了下来
折叠在滑梯口下
路灯照着它
像条温暖的毛毯。
社区里有家神经病医院
(注意,
不是精神病院)
偶尔有病人或老人
转圈散步
和我迎面碰上——
已经走了两圈
或三圈
仿佛就要这么一直走下去
在同一个地方
碰见陌生的人
陌生的事物。
社区里大方的猫看见我就随地打滚;
房子和房子之间的树枝
在傍晚或阴天
呈现出神秘的蜷曲;
车都整齐地
停在路边
仿佛交通顺畅的马路
在时间上的
一个切片——
哦,道路、时间
多么让人着迷的词
还有那些被反复言说
却总也说不清的
不在
又不得
不在的事物

在纯粹理性中永居
或已然死去
什么曾被暗示,什么将被默许

悲伤是一次休息
悲观也是。
艺术家站在生活面前
等着自己
沉淀完毕
于是有了一件作品

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译聂鲁达:整一

 

有个浓稠的东西,整一地,呆在深度里
重复着它的数,它的同一的征兆。
多么明显:石头触摸了时间
在它们精炼的物质中有年纪的气味
海从盐和沉睡中带来的水的气味

我仅被一件事物所环绕,一个单一的时刻:
矿物之重,蜜之光,
它们黏住“夜”这个词的声音:
麦子、象牙、和泪水的色调
皮革、林木、羊毛之物
古旧的,衰败的,整一的
在我四周聚拢如墙

我沉默地工作,在我之上旋转
如乌鸦于死亡之上,如乌鸦在悲悼之中
我在冥思,孤立于季节的广阔
在中心,被静默的地理所环绕:
一个片面的温度从天空落下
被混淆的整一体构成的渺远王国
在我周围聚拢。

Unity

Pablo Neruda
Translated by Clayton Eshleman

There is something dense, united, settled in the depths,
repeating its number, its identical sign.
How it is noted that stones have touched time,
in their refined matter there is an odor of age,
of water brought by the sea, from salt and sleep.

I’m encircled by a single thing, a single movement:
a mineral weight, a honeyed light
cling to the sound of the word “noche”:
the tint of wheat, of ivory, of tears,
things of leather, of wood, of wool,
archaic, faded, uniform,
collect around me like walls.

I work quietly, wheeling over myself,
a crow over death, a crow in mourning.
I mediate, isolated in the spread of seasons,
centric, encircled by a silent geometry:
a partial temperature drifts down from the sky,
a distant empire of confused unities
reunites encircling me.

Donald D. Walsh的译本中,倒数第二行,an ultimate empire,最终的王国。
Eshleman则译作a distant empire,渺远的王国。

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Carmen

 

Care amice, tibi est verum: venisti, vidisti, vicisti
sed mihi, inveni, eram, amavi et amo

te specto ut meam animam sentiam
te audio ut vitam canere incipiam

non dico, amor se dicit carmine——

sola res quae est aeterna est natura
viri sunt filii solis
feminae sunt filiae lunae

primo tecta et oppida fecerunt
vixerunt feliciter

deinde verba fecerunt
ut facta scribi possent

libertatem fecerunt
ut omnis vir esset suus dominus
omnisque femina esset sua regina

ardebant autem plura
bella fecerunt, bellis saeva invenerunt

atque pulchras pulchraque ceperunt
deinde fines fecerunt
ut sua tenerent

tamem, civitates et moenia et servitus fuerunt
fuerunt plura misera quam gaudia

e lacrimis deos deorumque aras fecerunt
atque homines spes in eos posuerunt

sidera fuerunt oculi deorum
terram spectaverunt et tacuerunt

sed spes quas homines in deos posuerunt
fuerunt gravissimae
sidera non erant oculi deorum

atque sunt mortes deorum
O, aeternae mortes
quae nunc noctem serenis luminibus spargunt

ambulo quaerens Omnia sidera
tene taedam mihi, care amice
dice mihi numerum eorum

video in flamma mortes fulgentes
atque vitas ardentes

mors est vita quae manet tempori
O, filius viri et umbra maiorum

 

 

Song

 

Dear friend, for you this is true: you came, you saw, and you conquered
but for me: I met, I was, and I loved and love

I look at you so that I may feel my soul
I listen to you so that I may begin to sing of life

I do not say love, love speaks itself by a poem——

the only thing that is eternal is nature
men are the sons of the sun
women are the daughters of the moon

at the beginning, they made houses and towns
and lived happily

then they invented words
so that deeds could be written down

they invented freedom
so that every man is his own master
and every woman is her own queen

but they were wanting more
they made war
in wars they came upon cruelty

they captured beautiful women and things
and then invented boundaries
to keep their possessions

therefore, states, walls, and slavery came to be
miseries were more than joys

out of tears humans invented gods and altars of gods
and put hopes in them

stars were the eyes of gods
they looked at the land and were silent

but the hopes humans put in gods were too heavy
stars were no longer gods’s eyes
they became the deaths of gods

O, eternal deaths
which now sprinkle night with serene lights——

I walk searching all the stars
Hold a torch for me, dear friend

Tell me how many they are
in fire I see deaths shining, and lives burning

death is what life remains for time
O, the son of man, the shadow of ancestors


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萤火虫

夏天脱掉了我的衣服
空气和皮肤同一个温度
和心同一个温度
我走在小径上
小径蜿蜒在草地上
一只,两只
萤火虫,一晃而过
一晃而过
像快乐从心中飞了出来
飞到眼前
让我看清,它的模样

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Stevensian Narrations

Face, or Faith

You want to paint the good weather
But what appears on the paper
Is a word

Egon Schiele painted your face
But you wear the mask
Of flesh and blood

Which warm you
Deny you, make you, and attach you
To the real world

It is night
Passers-by are losing their contours
The world is obscure

But you sit in silence as solid as a cell
Thoughts are the male prisoners
Loves are the female ones

Since every weighty being has inertia
Light is what good weather remains in you
And you are what future remains

at the present


Eclipse

In your tranquility I see the world as it is
In your joy I see the world as it should be
In your sorrow, if you have any,
I am eaten by an eclipse
Which deprives the living of their essence

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谜语

我太挤了
那么多东西在体内摩肩接踵
一个个蒙面的茫然
埋伏的慌乱
蜷缩的愉悦
还有无名的,撞击着的情绪——
内视时我被迫
带上悲观的墨镜
看世界的眼睛却放大了事物
局部的真实

我想腾出自己像搬空一座房子
但我掏出这些之后
并没有一座房子剩下
就像所有被掏出的
其实本不存在

荒草丛中落着许多蒲公英
从金色变成晶莹的絮
然后被风吹散了——
萤火虫快来了

我在熟悉这徐徐的生机
仿佛这是惟一值得去熟悉的

我在变成其中的一部分
因为这是我惟一可以成为的

我不曾把你当作神,真的
不曾。但你让我看到
神的光芒所能照亮的
一切

多么空旷啊,这里。
路的尽头便是天空
有时一朵云飘在那儿
有时发光的湛蓝告诉我
虚无是蓝色的

我该如何写下哀伤而不怨艾
我该如何写下快乐
却不让快乐从心中流走

你别告诉我答案
让我再猜一会儿

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纪念碑

纪念碑正对国会山,和白宫成钝角
纪念碑一百七十米高,乳白色
由大理石、花岗岩,和片麻岩铸成
纪念碑铸造了三十六年
因美国内战和缺钱而暂停二十三年
纪念碑曾是最高的建筑
高于教堂
低于第二年完工的艾菲尔铁塔
纪念碑矗立在土著被赶走的大地上
纪念碑是白人的骄傲
纪念碑是文明那根巨大的阴茎
让新大陆受了孕生出文明、秩序
国家、现代化,生出所有凝固
如纪念碑如永恒如死的块状精神
纪念碑现在笔直地指向天空
仿佛要从虚空中,操些意义出来

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有无相生

你从有限进入无限
把一杯水
倒进海

我把无限放回有限
钻进一粒种子
兀自欢喜

你画一条直线
永远画不出尽头

我切割一截线段
总也看不到虚无

此生我读不完这许多书
一本挨着一本
针锋相对
又起承转合

你写过的和将写下的
都在里面
就像诗在语言里
我取出一首

给你
再取出一首,给你

此生我认不全小城里
所有的事物
我从事物之间走过

像穿过一扇
又一扇虚掩的门

我是事物中的一个
也是空隙中的一个

你和我之间
一个语言,在说话
一个沉默听着它说

或者反之

一个无在说话
一个有听着它说
或者反之

有时忘了曾说过的
有时以为将要说的
早已被反复说出

有时我拨快指针
让我更快
走近你
有时我让钟表停下来
让我有更多时间
准备一个
美好的自己

沿着你的静默
行走在河边

我是一阵缓慢的风吗

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