狄兰·托马斯诗9首
On a Wedding Anniversary
The sky is torn across
This ragged anniversary of two
Who moved for three years in tune
Down the long walks of their vows.
Now their love lies a loss
And Love and his patients roar on a chain;
From every true or crater
Carrying cloud, Death strikes their house.
Too late in the wrong rain
They come together whom their love parted:
The windows pour into their heart
And the doors burn in their brain.
此刻爱已丧失
爱神和他的病人在同一锁链下哀嚎；
从每个真理或火山口
死神挟来阴云，敲击他们的房门。
错误的雨中，一切太晚
他们相聚相会，爱却已分离：
窗户倾入他们的心扉
房门在大脑里燃烧。
On the Marriage of a Virgin
Waking alone in a multitude of loves when morning's light
Surprised in the opening of her nightlong eyes
His golden yesterday asleep upon the iris
And this day's sun leapt up the sky out of her thighs
Was miraculous virginity old as loaves and fishes,
Though the moment of a miracle is unending lightning
And the shipyards of Galilee's footprints hide a navy of doves.
No longer will the vibrations of the sun desire on
Her deepsea pillow where once she married alone,
Her heart all ears and eyes, lips catching the avalanche
Of the golden ghost who ringed with his streams her mercury bone,
Who under the lids of her windows hoisted his golden luggage,
For a man sleeps where fire leapt down and she learns through his arm
That other sun, the jealous coursing of the unrivalled blood.
太阳的震颤不再渴望她深海般的枕头
她在那里一度独自成婚，她的心，
她的耳朵，她的眼睛，她的双唇俘获他雪崩般
金色的灵魂，她水银般的身骨响彻他潺潺的溪流，
他从她那眼睑般的窗口扯起他金色的行李，
一团火焰跃过他的沉睡之地，她从他的怀抱中
懂得另一轮太阳，无敌的血液小心地奔流。
In my craft or sullen art
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
满怀他们一身的忧伤，
我在灯光的吟唱下写作
不是为野心或面包
也不是为炫耀
或在象牙舞台上卖弄风骚
而是为他们内心最深处
极普通的回报。
除了愤怒的月亮
我不为自傲的人
铺开浪花四溅的纸笺
也不为高耸的死尸
伴随夜莺和诗篇而写作
而是为了恋人们
他们怀抱岁月的忧伤，
不赐予赞美或酬劳
也不留意我的手艺或诗艺。
Lie still, sleep becalmed
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.
Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.
Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.
我们站在数里外的月光下瑟瑟发抖，
倾听大海奔流，仿佛鲜血流自喧闹的伤口，
而当咸床单在风暴般的歌声里崩裂，
所有溺水者的呼救在风中向前游动。
缓慢而忧伤的航行打开一条通道，
我们迎着狂风敞开漂泊小船的大门，
我的航行始于伤口归于伤口，
我们听到大海的歌声，看到咸床单的倾诉。
静静地躺下，安然入睡，嘴藏进喉咙，
或我们屈从，与你同行，穿越溺水的阴魂。
Fern Hill
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.
And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.
All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.
And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.
And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,
Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
我是苹果小镇的王子，马车迎送，无比的荣耀，
很久以后我像君王一样拥有森林和绿叶
沿途长满雏菊和大麦
河岸上微风吹拂洒落的阳光。
此刻我青春无忧，声名赫赫，四周谷仓座座，
幸福的庭院深深，我一路欢歌，仿佛农场就是家园
阳光也曾一度年轻，
时光让我嬉戏，
蒙受他的恩宠金光闪耀
我是猎手，我是牧人，年轻灿烂，牛犊们应着
我的号角歌唱，山岗上狐狸吠声清脆而苍凉，
圣溪的鹅卵石里
传来安息日缓缓的钟声。
明媚的阳光整天地泼洒，那么美丽可爱，
田间的干草高及屋脊，烟囱飘出美妙的旋律，
那是嬉戏的空气，动人又湿润，
而火焰青翠如绿草。
每到夜色降临，稀疏的星空下
我赶着回家入睡，猫头鹰驮着农场而去，
皎洁的月光整夜地赐福，我在马厩听到欧夜鹰
衔起干草飞翔，一匹匹马
光一样闪入黑夜。
随后农场醒来，像一位流浪者身披白露
再次回归，肩上立着雄鸡：阳光普照大地
那是亚当和夏娃，
天空再次聚拢
那一天的太阳浑圆无边。
所以肯定是质朴的光芒诞生之后
在最初旋转的地方，痴迷的马群温情地
走出低声嘶鸣的绿色马厩
奔驰在美好的原野。
快乐的小屋旁，我荣幸地置身于狐群和雉鸡旁
新近形成的云朵下，幸福欢畅，内心悠长，
太阳日复一日地诞生，
我狂放不羁，
我的祝愿穿越高及屋脊的干草，
在蓝天下劳作，无忧无虑，时光在和谐的
旋律里转动，竟诵唱如此寥寥几首晨歌，
随后散发青春活力的孩子
随他步出优雅，
我无所牵挂，在羔羊般洁白的日子里，时光
拉起我手的影子，在冉冉升起的月光下，
爬上栖满燕子的阁楼，
我并不一路奔波入眠，
我该听到他与高高的原野一起飞翔，
醒来发现农场永远逃离了没有孩子的土地。
哦，我蒙受他的恩宠，年轻又飘逸，
时光赐我青春与死亡
尽管我戴着镣铐依然像大海一样歌唱。
In Country Sleep
I
Never and never, my girl riding far and near
In the land of the hearthstone tales, and spelled asleep,
Fear or believe that the wolf in a sheepwhite hood
Loping and bleating roughly and blithely shall leap,
My dear, my dear,
Out of a lair in the flocked leaves in the dew dipped year
To eat your heart in the house in the rosy wood.
Sleep, good, for ever, slow and deep, spelled rare and wise,
My girl ranging the night in the rose and shire
Of the hobnail tales: no gooseherd or swine will turn
Into a homestall king or hamlet of fire
And prince of ice
To court the honeyed heart from your side before sunrise
In a spinney of ringed boys and ganders, spike and burn,
Nor the innocent lie in the rooting dingle wooed
And staved, and riven among plumes my rider weep.
From the broomed witch's spume you are shielded by fern
And flower of country sleep and the greenwood keep.
Lie fast and soothed,
Safe be and smooth from the bellows of the rushy brood.
Never, my girl, until tolled to sleep by the stern
Bell believe or fear that the rustic shade or spell
Shall harrow and snow the blood while you ride wide and near,
For who unmanningly haunts the mountain ravened eaves
Or skulks in the dell moon but moonshine echoing clear
From the starred well?
A hill touches an angel! Out of a saint's cell
The nightbird lauds through nunneries and domes of leaves
Her robin breasted tree, three Marys in the rays.
Sanctum sanctorum the animal eye of the wood
In the rain telling its beads, and the gravest ghost
The owl at its knelling. Fox and holt kneel before blood.
Now the tales praise
The star rise at pasture and nightlong the fables graze
On the lord's-table of the bowing grass. Fear most
For ever of all not the wolf in his baaing hood
Nor the tusked prince, in the ruttish farm, at the rind
And mire of love, but the Thief as meek as the dew.
The country is holy: O bide in that country kind,
Know the green good,
Under the prayer wheeling moon in the rosy wood
Be shielded by chant and flower and gay may you
Lie in grace. Sleep spelled at rest in the lowly house
In the squirrel nimble grove, under linen and thatch
And star: held and blessed, though you scour the high four
Winds, from the dousing shade and the roarer at the latch,
Cool in your vows.
Yet out of the beaked, web dark and the pouncing boughs
Be you sure the Thief will seek a way sly and sure
And sly as snow and meek as dew blown to the thorn,
This night and each vast night until the stern bell talks
In the tower and tolls to sleep over the stalls
Of the hearthstone tales my own, last love; and the soul walks
The waters shorn.
This night and each night since the falling star you were born,
Ever and ever he finds a way, as the snow falls,
As the rain falls, hail on the fleece, as the vale mist rides
Through the haygold stalls, as the dew falls on the wind
Milled dust of the apple tree and the pounded islands
Of the morning leaves, as the star falls, as the winged
Apple seed glides,
And falls, and flowers in the yawning wound at our sides,
As the world falls, silent as the cyclone of silence.
II
Night and the reindeer on the clouds above the haycocks
And the wings of the great roc ribboned for the fair!
The leaping saga of prayer! And high, there, on the hare
Heeled winds the rooks
Cawing from their black bethels soaring, the holy books
Of birds! Among the cocks like fire the red fox
Burning! Night and the vein of birds in the winged, sloe wrist
Of the wood! Pastoral beat of blood through the laced leaves!
The stream from the priest black wristed spinney and sleeves
Of thistling frost
Of the nightingale's din and tale! The upgiven ghost
Of the dingle torn to singing and the surpliced
Hill of cypresses! The din and tale in the skimmed
Yard of the buttermilk rain on the pail! The sermon
Of blood! The bird loud vein! The saga from mermen
To seraphim
Leaping! The gospel rooks! All tell, this night, of him
Who comes as red as the fox and sly as the heeled wind.
Illumination of music! The lulled black backed
Gull, on the wave with sand in its eyes! And the foal moves
Through the shaken greensward lake, silent, on moonshod hooves,
In the winds' wakes.
Music of elements, that a miracle makes!
Earth, air, water, fire, singing into the white act,
The haygold haired, my love asleep, and the rift blue
Eyed, in the haloed house, in her rareness and hilly
High riding, held and blessed and true, and so stilly
Lying the sky
Might cross its planets, the bell weep, night gather her eyes,
The Thief fall on the dead like the willy-nilly dew,
Only for the turning of the earth in her holy
Heart! Slyly, slowly, hearing the wound in her side go
Round the sun, he comes to my love like the designed snow,
And truly he
Flows to the strand of flowers like the dew's ruly sea,
And surely he sails like the ship shape clouds. Oh he
Comes designed to my love to steal not her tide raking
Wound, nor her riding high, nor her eyes, nor kindled hair,
But her faith that each vast night and the saga of prayer
He comes to take
Her faith that this last night for his unsacred sake
He comes to leave her in the lawless sun awaking
Naked and forsaken to grieve he will not come.
Ever and ever by all your vows believe and fear
My dear this night he comes and night without end my dear
Since you were born:
And you shall wake, from country sleep, this dawn and each first dawn,
Your faith as deathless as the outcry of the ruled sun.
在露珠浸润的日子，欢快地跳出落叶满地的狼窝
窜入玫瑰林的房子吞食你的心肝。
睡吧，慢慢地酣然入睡，不要过于沉迷拼读，
我的女孩在夜晚漫游乡村童话里的玫瑰和州郡：
牧鹅人或猪绝不会变成农家院落里的国王
或火一般热烈的哈姆雷特
冰一样冷酷的王子，
蜂拥在灌木林的男孩和雄鹅，发狂而叮当作响
拂晓前，设法从你那儿获取那颗蜜糖般的心，
天真的谎言也不会在生根的幽谷求欢
与打孔，并在我骑手哭泣的羽毛间撕裂。
羊齿草一再替你挡开女巫扫泼的泡沫，
乡村的花朵入睡，翠绿的树林默然看护。
快快地躺下睡吧，
安然又宁静，滑离灯心草丛呼呼的风声。
我的女孩，除非丧钟鸣响，摇你入梦乡
钟声从不相信或害怕野外的影子或符咒
在你远近一路驰骋时，会耙犁或雪埋你的鲜血，
谁会幽灵般怯懦地出没寒鸦栖息的山崖？
除了月光在群星璀璨的井口清越地回响
谁会隐匿于月明的幽谷？
山岗触及天使！夜莺赞美的歌声飘自
圣人的小屋，穿越女修道院和落叶斑斓的屋顶，
知更鸟落在树梢，三圣母玛利亚在月光下闪现。
至高无上的至圣所，林中动物的眼睛
在雨中水珠般倾诉，最阴森的幽灵猫头鹰
发出不祥的哀鸣。狐狸和林地跪在血泊里。
此刻童话颂扬
星星在草场上空升起，彻夜地放牧寓言
在绿草摇曳的圣桌。永远不必害怕
裹着羊毛头巾咩咩叫的狼，也不必害怕
长着獠牙的王子，在春情荡漾的农庄陷入
爱情的泥潭，但是要警惕那露水般温顺的贼。
乡村多么神圣：哦，住在自然亲切的乡村里，
感奋绿野的美好，
玫瑰林中的月光在祈祷者的脚下飘荡，
愿歌声和鲜花庇护你，愿你快乐永远
欣然就寝。安然入睡在松鼠窜动的小树林，
低矮的小屋，亚麻、茅草、星光遮蔽着屋顶：
愿你尽享神的祝福，虽然你穿越的狂风
刮自四处潮湿的影子和咆哮的锁孔，
尽管誓言那么冷漠。
但是走出鸟嘴、蛛网的黑暗和摇动的树枝，
别忘记那贼正偷偷而执着地搜寻而来，
飞雪般隐秘，露珠般温顺地飘向荆棘，
就在今夜以及每一个辽阔的夜晚，直到丧钟
在塔楼里敲响，在炉边童话的马厩上空
送我自身最终的爱进入梦乡；灵魂走过
修剪一新的水面。
今夜以及你星星般降生后的每一个夜晚，
他不停地搜寻而来，犹如冬雪飘落，
雨点洒落，冰雹猛击羊群，犹如山谷里的迷雾
飘过干草般金黄的马厩，露珠飘落苹果树上
飞旋的尘土，飘落在晨叶击打的荒岛，
犹如星星陨落，犹如翻飞的苹果籽
轻轻地滑行
又飘落，鲜花般盛开在我们腰间开裂的伤口，
犹如世界沉落，犹如寂静的旋风无声无息。
2
夜晚，驯鹿在干草堆上空的云层腾挪
大鹏为仙女装上展翅的双翼！
祈祷的英雄传奇遍布四方！在那兔子般
跃动的狂风里
白嘴鸦随高翔的黑色教堂啼鸣，一本飞鸟的圣书！
红色的狐狸在火一样的雄鸟间
燃烧！夜晚，鸟在林中翻飞，血脉奔涌！
透过田间的翠花秀叶，血液不停地搏动！
小溪流自牧师黑手腕的灌木林，流自
夜莺喧闹的童话中
含霜蓟丛的袖管！幽谷的孤魂声嘶力竭地歌唱！
松柏丛生的小山斜披白色的法袍！
喧闹的童话涉掠的庭院里，奶汁
雨点般敲打着奶桶！血的布道！
血脉响亮的飞鸟！英雄传奇从人鱼
跃向六翼天使！
传播福音的白嘴鸦！今夜的一切都在诉说
他的降临，狐狸般猩红，尾风般隐秘而狡诈。
音乐的启示！宁静的黑脊海鸥
眼含沙砾飞翔于碧波之上！小马驹掠过
绿意颤栗的湖面，寂静的月光马蹄声碎，
清风令人警觉。
音乐的一切元素创造大自然的奇迹！
泥土、空气、流水和烈火诵唱白色的一幕，
我梦中的心肝宝贝，头发干草般金黄，双眸
透出一丝蔚蓝，室内光影浮动，她独自驰骋
在高高的山岗，纯真而尽享神的祝福，天空
静静地展卧，
也许划过行星，钟声哭泣，夜晚聚拢她的目光，
那个贼像露水般不容分说地降临死尸，
只为转动她神圣心灵中的世界！
他隐秘而狡诈，听到她腰间的伤口绕着太阳
而转动，慢慢地走向我的心肝，犹如谋划的冬雪，
他正走向鲜花
盛开的河岸，像露水流入秩序井然的大海，
他肯定要出航，犹如船形的云朵。哦，他正
谋划着靠近我的宝贝，不去偷取她的海潮去冲刷
伤口，也不去偷取她的驰骋，她的双眸，她点燃的秀发，
而是偷取她的信仰，每一个辽远的夜晚以及
祈祷者的传奇，
就在昨夜他带走她的信仰，为他并不神圣的目的，
在非法的阳光苏醒之际，他又将她遗弃，
让她独自赤裸着身，哀叹他的离去
无论你如何信誓旦旦，不管你是相信还是害怕，
我的心肝宝贝，今夜他正走来，自从你降临人世
夜晚永不停息：
你会从梦中的乡村醒来，在黎明以及每个最初的黎明，
你的信仰永生不灭，仿佛受制的太阳爆发的呐喊。
Over Sir John's Hill
Over Sir John's hill,
The hawk on fire hangs still;
In a hoisted cloud, at drop of dusk, he pulls to his claws
And gallows, up the rays of his eyes the small birds of the bay
And the shrill child's play
Wars
Of the sparrows and such who swansing, dusk, in wrangling hedges.
And blithely they squawk
To fiery tyburn over the wrestle of elms until
The flash the noosed hawk
Crashes, and slowly the fishing holy stalking heron
In the river Towy below bows his tilted headstone.
Flash, and the plumes crack,
And a black cap of jack
Daws Sir John's just hill dons, and again the gulled birds hare
To the hawk on fire, the halter height, over Towy's fins,
In a whack of wind.
There
Where the elegiac fisherbird stabs and paddles
In the pebbly dab-filled
Shallow and sedge, and 'dilly dilly,' calls the loft hawk,
'Come and be killed,'
I open the leaves of the water at a passage
Of psalms and shadows among the pincered sandcrabs prancing
And read, in a shell,
Death clear as a bouy's bell:
All praise of the hawk on fire in hawk-eyed dusk be sung,
When his viperish fuse hangs looped with flames under the brand
Wing, and blest shall
Young
Green chickens of the bay and bushes cluck, 'dilly dilly,
Come let us die.'
We grieve as the blithe birds, never again, leave shingle and elm,
The heron and I,
I young Aesop fabling to the near night by the dingle
Of eels, saint heron hymning in the shell-hung distant
Crystal harbour vale
Where the sea cobbles sail,
And wharves of water where the walls dance and the white cranes stilt.
It is the heron and I, under judging Sir John's elmed
Hill, tell-tale the knelled
Guilt
Of the led-astray birds whom God, for their breast of whistles,
Have mercy on,
God in his whirlwind silence save, who marks the sparrows hail,
For their souls' song.
Now the heron grieves in the weeded verge. Through windows
Of dusk and water I see the tilting whispering
Heron, mirrored, go,
As the snapt feathers snow,
Fishing in the tear of the Towy. Only a hoot owl
Hollows, a grassblade blown in cupped hands, in the looted elms
And no green cocks or hens
Shout
Now on Sir John's hill. The heron, ankling the scaly
Lowlands of the waves,
Makes all the music; and I who hear the tune of the slow,
Wear-willow river, grave,
Before the lunge of the night, the notes on this time-shaken
Stone for the sake of the souls of the slain birds sailing.
以及那些在黄昏嘈杂的灌木篱上天鹅般哀鸣的飞禽。
它们咯咯地欢叫
跳上角斗的榆树林上火热的刑场
直到入套的雄鹰猛然
出击，山下托依河 里昂首阔步
悠然潜行的圣鹭垂首于倾斜的墓碑。
猛然一击，羽毛飞散，
约翰爵爷公正的山岗阁下
戴上一顶寒鸦的黑帽，受骗的鸟群再次快速飞向
燃烧的雄鹰，飞向高悬的刑架，一阵狂风掠过
托依河上闪亮的鱼鳍。
那儿
悲哀的鱼鹰入水觅食
踱步在卵石比目鱼密布的
浅滩和芦苇荡，“宝贝，宝贝”，空中的雄鹰呼唤，
“请过来受死”，
我打开水的页面，翻到圣歌
及其阴影的章节，周围的沙蟹伸展利螯欢快地爬动，
阅读，一枚贝壳里，
死亡浮标铃一样清晰：
在鹰眼的黄昏不断地诵唱，赞美燃烧的雄鹰，
在火红的翅翼下垂悬他恶毒的导火线，
赐福
于
港湾和灌木丛中咯咯欢叫的年幼无知的小鸡，
“宝贝，宝贝，请过来一起受死”。
我们感到悲哀，因为欢乐的鸟群从此离别石滩和榆树，
苍鹭和我，
我年轻的伊索 ，在鳗鱼的幽谷旁，面对临近的夜晚
讲述寓言，神圣的苍鹭颂唱在贝壳垂挂的远方，
在港湾般透明的幽谷
大海的卵石升起风帆，
在水域码头，岸墙跃动，白鹤亭亭玉立。
苍鹭和我，在法官约翰爵爷的榆树山下，
揭示迷途的
鸟群
犯下的罪孽，上帝因为它们唿哨的胸脯
宽恕它们，
听到麻雀的呼唤，因那灵魂之歌拯救它们，
上帝刮起的旋风一片宁静。
此刻悲哀的苍鹭立在杂草丛生的岸边。
透过黄昏和流水之窗，我看到俯身低语的苍鹭
映着河水，捕食
在托依河的泪水中，
而折断的羽毛雪花般飘舞。只有猫头鹰
哀鸣在劫后的榆树林，一片草叶吹入合拢的手心，
此刻约翰爵爷的山岗
不再有
幼稚的雄鸟或雌鸟在啼鸣。苍鸳，走在
波光粼粼的洼地，
奏出所有的乐音；我聆听岸柳相间的河水
缓缓流动的旋律，
在夜晚袭来之前，在这时光摇撼的石头上掩埋
那些音符，为了蒙难鸟群的灵魂安然出航。
In the White Giant's Thigh
Through throats where many rivers meet, the curlews cry,
Under the conceiving moon, on the high chalk hill,
And there this night I walk in the white giant's thigh
Where barren as boulders women lie longing still
To labour and love though they lay down long ago.
Through throats where many rivers meet, the women pray,
Pleading in the waded bay for the seed to flow
Though the names on their weed grown stones are rained away,
And alone in the night's eternal, curving act
They yearn with tongues of curlews for the unconceived
And immemorial sons of the cudgelling, hacked
Hill. Who once in gooseskin winter loved all ice leaved
In the courters' lanes, or twined in the ox roasting sun
In the wains tonned so high that the wisps of the hay
Clung to the pitching clouds, or gay with anyone
Young as they in the after milking moonlight lay
Under the lighted shapes of faith and their moonshade
Petticoats galed high, or shy with the rough riding boys,
Now clasp me to their grains in the gigantic glade,
Who once, green countries since, were a hedgerow of joys.
Time by, their dust was flesh the swineherd rooted sly,
Flared in the reek of the wiving sty with the rush
Light of his thighs, spreadeagle to the dunghill sky,
Or with their orchard man in the core of the sun's bush
Rough as cows' tongues and thrashed with brambles their buttermilk
Manes, under the quenchless summer barbed gold to the bone,
Or rippling soft in the spinney moon as the silk
And ducked and draked white lake that harps to a hail stone.
Who once were a bloom of wayside brides in the hawed house
And heard the lewd, wooed field flow to the coming frost,
The scurrying, furred small friars squeal, in the dowse
Of day, in the thistle aisles, till the white owl crossed
Their breast, the vaulting does roister, the horned bucks climb
Quick in the wood at love, where a torch of foxes foams,
All birds and beasts of the linked night uproar and chime
And the mole snout blunt under his pilgrimage of domes,
Or, butter fat goosegirls, bounced in a gambo bed,
Their breasts full of honey, under their gander king
Trounced by his wings in the hissing shippen, long dead
And gone that barley dark where their clogs danced in the spring,
And their firefly hairpins flew, and the ricks ran round—
(But nothing bore, no mouthing babe to the veined hives
Hugged, and barren and bare on Mother Goose's ground
They with the simple Jacks were a boulder of wives)—
Now curlew cry me down to kiss the mouths of their dust.
The dust of their kettles and clocks swings to and fro
Where the hay rides now or the bracken kitchens rust
As the arc of the billhooks that flashed the hedges low
And cut the birds' boughs that the minstrel sap ran red.
They from houses where the harvest kneels, hold me hard,
Who heard the tall bell sail down the Sundays of the dead
And the rain wring out its tongues on the faded yard,
Teach me the love that is evergreen after the fall leaved
Grave, after Beloved on the grass gulfed cross is scrubbed
Off by the sun and Daughters no longer grieved
Save by their long desires in the fox cubbed
Streets or hungering in the crumbled wood: to these
Hale dead and deathless do the women of the hill
Love forever meridian through the courters' trees
And the daughters of darkness flame like Fawkes fires still.
渴望生育渴望爱情，尽管她们躺下已久。
透过众多河流汇集的咽喉，女人们祈祷，
祈求种子漂进那蹚过的港湾，
尽管雨水已洗去杂草丛生的石块上的大名，
孤单地躺在无尽的夜晚，蜷缩着身子，
她们舔着麻鹬的舌头，渴望的儿子尚未怀上，
他们在远古的山岗，靠刀棍砍伐树林。
她们曾在鹅皮般的冬天，在求爱的小道
恋上所有的冰叶，或在烤肉般的阳光下，
在高高的马车上成双成对，车上满载的干草
触及垂落的云彩，或与哪位年轻人寻欢作乐，
躺在被点燃的信念之下，月光如流淌的乳汁，
月影下她们的衬裙被风高高地吹起，
或因一旁粗野的马夫羞红了脸，
此刻她们抱紧我，向着大片林间空地上的谷物，
那也曾是绿色原野上快乐的篱笆墙。
时光荏苒，她们的尘土是猪倌暗地扎根的血肉，
嫁在猪圈闻着臭味，却因他双腿冲刺的光芒
而燃烧，面对污秽的天空鹰翼般张开，
或是相伴果园里的情人，在阳光的杂树丛
狂暴如母牛狂舔，随荆棘的枝条颠摇奶酪般的
灵魂，夏日般不熄的热情如金钩直达肉骨，
或在月光下的小树林如丝般轻轻波动，
野鸭游弋的白色湖面因冰雹般的石子激起琴声阵阵。
她们曾是路边的新娘如花般盛开在山楂装点的新房，
听到淫荡的求爱园淹没在寒霜下，急匆匆的小修士
一身浓毛，在暮色苍苍、紫蓟丛生的走廊里
发出喜悦的尖叫，直到白色的猫头鹰掠过
她们的乳胸，穹顶下喧闹一片，长角的公羊爬上来，
飞快窜入做爱的树林，狐狸的火炬喷涌白沫，
连环的夜晚里，所有的飞禽走兽和睦地喧闹，
而鼹鼠的尖嘴笨拙地拱起对圆穹顶的朝圣，
或者，黄油般肥胖的牧鹅女，跃动在摇床，
双乳涨满蜂蜜，在嘶嘶作响的鹅棚里
承接雄鹅王翅翼不断的拍击，那片黑暗的
麦地早已消逝，春天里她们的木屐曾在那舞动，
她们萤火虫般的发夹飞落，干草垛跟着旋转——
（但什么都未孕育，没有婴儿紧抱血脉的蜂巢
吮吸，鹅妈妈赤裸的土地上荒凉贫瘠，
她们是质朴的杰克那卵石般的妻子）——
此刻麻鹬的哀鸣让我俯身亲吻她们尘土的嘴唇。
她们的水罐和时钟上的尘埃飘来荡去，
此刻干草漂浮，羊齿长满锈迹斑斑的厨房，
犹如钩镰的弧口，它们曾削低了篱笆，
切割鸟群的枝条，让游吟诗人口流红色的树液。
她们从丰收下跪的房室将我紧紧地拥抱，
听到响亮的钟声驶过死者的一个个礼拜天
雨水在颓败的院落里拧干自己的口舌，
她们告诉我爱情常青，即便树叶落满坟地，
阳光擦洗失落于草丛的十字基督，
女儿们不再悲伤，她们仍然会
在狐狸生养的大街滋生起欲望，
或在碎败的树林里饥肠辘辘：
山岗上的女人将穿过求爱者的树林，
永远疯狂地热恋那些健壮不灭的死者，
黑暗中的女儿像福克斯 的火药静静地燃烧。
Elegy
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died
The darkest way, and did not turn away,
A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride
On that darkest day. Oh, forever may
He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed
Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow
Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost
Or still all the numberless days of his death, though
Above all he longed for his mother's breast
Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground
The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed.
Let him find no rest but be fathered and found,
I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed,
In the muted house, one minute before
Noon, and night, and light. The rivers of the dead
Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw
Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea.
[An old tormented man three-quarters blind,
I am not too pround to cry that He and he
Will never never go out of my mind.
All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain,
Being innocent, he dreaded that he died
Hating his God, but what he was was plain:
An old kind man brave in his burning pride.
The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned.
Even as a baby he had never cried;
Nor did he now, save to his secret wound.
Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide.
Here among the light of the lording sky
An old blind man is with me where I go
Walking in the meadows of his son's eye
On whom a world of ills came down like snow.
He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres'
Last sound, the world going out without a breath:
Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears,
And caught between two nights, blindness and death.
O deepest wound of all that he should die
On that darkest day. Oh, he could hide
The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
Until I die he will not leave my side.]
人群中勃发青春，决不迷失
或沉寂在那死亡无穷无尽的岁月，
尽管他依然渴望母亲的乳汁，
最终安息并化为尘土，仁慈的大地上
死亡那最黑暗的公正，盲目又不幸。
让他不屑安息，却被生养，重返人世，
在沉默的屋内，蜷缩的内室间，
在他失明的病榻边，我祈祷
在正午、夜晚和黎明前的那一刻。
死亡之河在我握住的可怜的手心流淌，
透过他看不见的眼睛，我看到大海之根。
（一个受苦的老人丧失了四分之三视力，
我没那么高傲，不会不屑于哭泣，
上帝和他将永驻我心。
他的骨头在哭泣，除了痛苦，缺乏一切，
他如此天真，害怕死时会
憎恨上帝，他清楚自己是什么样的人：
勇敢、善良、炽热孤傲的垂暮之人。
屋内的手杖是他的；书是他的珍藏。
自打出生起他就从不哭泣；
此刻他也不哭，除了自身的隐痛。
我看见最后一丝光芒滑过他的眼睛。
在这君临天下的光线之中
一位失明的老人随我走上
他儿子目所能及的草地，
不幸的世界像雪片一样降临。
他死去时哭了，最终害怕世上
最后的声音，世界消逝得无声无息：
傲然不屑哭泣，脆弱得无法控制泪水，
深陷于两个夜晚之间，失明与死亡。
推荐阅读：