爱伦·坡诗8首
For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Lœda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!—they hold a treasure
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure—
The words—the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor!
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets—as the name is a poet's, too.
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto—Mendez Ferdinando—
Still form a synonym for Truth.—Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.
Deep in earth my love is lying
To M. L. S——
Of all who hail thy presence as the morning—
Of all to whom thine absence is the night—
The blotting utterly from out high heaven
The sacred sun—of all who, weeping, bless thee
Hourly for hope—for life—ah! above all,
For the resurrection of deep-buried faith
In Truth—in Virtue—in Humanity—
Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bed
Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen
At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!"
At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilled
In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes—
Of all who owe thee most—whose gratitude
Nearest resembles worship—oh, remember
The truest—the most fervently devoted,
And think that these weak lines are written by him—
By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think
His spirit is communing with an angel's.
致M. L. S——
在所有欢呼你的莅临为破晓的人中——
在所有视你的离去为黑夜的人中——
这饥渴者充分吸收那高天之上
神圣的阳光——在所有流着泪,时时
为希望——为生命之复活而感激你的人中——
啊!这饥渴者感激你,尤其为
被深埋的对真与善的信念的复苏——
在所有那些人中,他们在绝望的罪孽之床
躺着等死,却突然跃起,因听到
你轻柔的声音,“让那儿有光!”
因听到你轻柔的声音,那声音应验
在你天使般纯洁的目光之中——
在所有最受你恩惠——其感激之情
近乎于仰慕之情的人中——哦,请记住
这位最真诚——最热烈的崇拜者,
请记住这些无力的诗行是他写的——
是他,当他写这些诗行,他激动地感到
他的灵魂正在同一位天使说话。
To—— —— ——("Not long ago")
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained "the power of words"—denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue;
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words—two foreign soft dissyllables—
Italian tones made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit "dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill"—
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel,
Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures,"
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee,
I cannot write—I cannot speak or think,
Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along
Amid enpurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates—thee only.
致——(“曾几何时”)
曾几何时,写出以下诗行的诗人
还为才智而骄傲,还自以为是,
还坚信“言语的力量”——并否认
任何产生于人们大脑的思想
会超越人们舌头的表达能力;
而现在,仿佛是对他自负的嘲讽,
两个词——两个柔和的异国双音节词——
被造就只适宜用意大利声调呢哝,
只适宜那些在月光下的“赫尔蒙山上的
珍珠般的夜露中做梦的天使梦呓”——
已经在他的心灵深处涌动,
思想之灵魂的未加深思的思想,
更丰富、更激烈、更神圣的想象,
甚至超过以色拉费的那张竖琴,
尽管他有“神之造物中最美的声音”,
希望表达。而我!我的力量被消除。
笔从我颤抖的手中无力地落地。
以你可爱的名字为题,虽由你吩咐,
我不能写——不能说——不能想,
天啦,我不能感觉;因为这不是感觉:
这一动不动地站在敞开的梦幻之门
那黄金铸的门槛上,凝视,
出神地向下凝视那绮丽的景色,
心儿扑扑直跳,当我看向右边,
向左边,在向前延伸的整条路上,
在紫色的雾霭中,在迢迢远方,
在景色消失的天边——只有你。
The Conqueror Worm
Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!
That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for ever more,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
征服者爬虫
瞧!这是个喜庆之夜
在最近这些寂寞的年头!
一群天使,收拢翅膀,
遮好面纱,掩住泪流,
坐在一个剧场,观看
一出希望与恐怖之剧,
此时乐队间间断断
奏出天外之曲。
装扮成上帝的一群小丑,
叽叽咕咕,自言自语,
从舞台这头飞到那头——
他们只是木偶,来来去去
全由许多无形物支配,
无形物不断把场景变换,
从它们秃鹰的翅膀内
拍出看不见的灾难!
那出杂剧——哦,请相信
将不会被人遗忘!
因为那些抓不住幻想的人
永远都在追求幻想,
因为一个永远旋转的怪圈
最后总是转回原处,
因为情节之灵魂多是罪愆,
充满疯狂,充满恐怖。
可看哟,就在那群小丑之中
闯进了一个蠕动的怪物!
那可怕的怪物浑身血红,
从舞台角落扭动而出!
它扭动——扭动!真是可怕,
小丑都成了它的美餐,
天使们呜咽,见爬虫毒牙
正把淋淋人血浸染。
熄灭——熄灭——熄灭灯光!
罩住每一个哆嗦的影子,
大幕像一块裹尸布一样,
倏然落下像暴风骤雨,
这时脸色苍白的天使,
摘下面纱,起身,肯定
这是一幕叫《人》的悲剧,
而主角是那征服者爬虫。
Dream-Land
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE—out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the tears that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters—lone and dead,—
Their still waters—still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,—
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,—
By the mountains—near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—
By the grey woods,—by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp,—
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,—
By each spot the most unholy—
In each nook most melancholy,—
There the traveller meets, aghast,
Sheeted Memories of the Past—
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by—
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region—
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'Tis—oh 'tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not—dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringéd lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
梦境
在一条阴暗孤寂的路旁,
只有坏天使常去常住,
那儿有个名叫夜晚的幽灵,
在黑色的王位上发号施令,
我已经到家,但我刚刚
去过一个最最混沌的地方——
那里荒凉萧瑟,充满惊人的怪诞,
超越了空间——超越了时间。
无底的山谷,无边的洪波,
巨大的森林,岩洞和沟壑,
它们的形状无人能发现,
因为到处有雾珠弥漫;
群山始终是摇摇欲坠,
坠进没有海岸的海水;
海水永远在上升涌动,
涌向火焰一般的天空;
大湖浩渺,无边无际,
湖水凄清——凄清而死寂,——
忧伤的水——平静而冰凉,
百合花懒洋洋地依在湖旁。
在那些湖畔,湖无边无际,
湖水凄清,凄清而死寂,——
忧伤的水,忧伤而冰凉,
百合花懒洋洋地依在湖旁,——
在群山脚下——那条河附近,
河水汩汩淙淙,潺潺有声,——
在森林之旁——在沼泽之滨,
那儿有蟾蜍和蝾螈扎营,——
在阴惨的池塘和山中小湖,
那儿常有食尸鬼居住,——
在每一个最不圣洁的场所
在每一个最最阴郁的角落,——
旅行者会吃惊地不期而遇
裹着尸衣的过去的记忆——
裹尸衣的身影惊诧,喟叹
当他们走过流浪者身边
白袍朋友的身影早已被托付,
在痛苦中,给了天堂——给了黄土。
对于那充满悲哀的心
那地方有一种安慰和宁静——
对于走在阴影中的灵魂
那是——哦,那是个理想的仙境!
但对于旅行者,当穿行其间,
不可——也不敢直眼相看;
它的神秘永远也不会展露
给软弱的世人尚未闭的眼目;
它的国王希望如此,他已禁止
有睫毛的眼睑高高抬起;
所以,这悲伤的灵魂虽曾涉足,
但所见到的都隔着一层浓雾。
在一条阴暗孤寂的路旁,
只有坏天使常去常住,
那儿有个名叫夜晚的幽灵,
在黑色的王位上发号施令,
我已漂泊回家,但我刚刚
去过一个最最混沌的地方。
Eulalie
I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride—
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.
Ah, less—less bright
The stars of the night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
And never a flake
That the vapor can make
With the morn-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl—
Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and
careless curl.
Now Doubt—now Pain
Come never again,
For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
And all day long
Shines, bright and strong,
Astarté within the sky,
While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye—
While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
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