狄兰·托马斯(Dylan Thomas)，1914年10月27日出生于威尔士。虽然狄兰主要是位诗人，他亦出版电影剧本和短篇小说，并公开演出自己的作品及在电台播音。托马斯曾数次访美，并以其狂放的朗诵才能在美国引起轰动。1953年，他的剧作《牛奶树下》公演取得了成功，并因此被邀请去美国，与作曲家斯特拉文斯基共同创作一部歌剧。而此时托马斯的健康却因酗酒每况愈下，但他不肯听从医生的劝告戒酒。结果在他刚庆祝完39岁生日后不久，于纽约醉酒而死。
二十四年
二十四年令泪水想起我的眼睛。
（埋葬死者以免她们在阵痛中步向坟地。）
我曾蹲在天然门廊的腹沟里，
像个裁缝，借食肉太阳的光，
缝制一件旅行用的寿衣。
盛装就死，肉欲之徜徉已开始，
我的红色血管里满是金钱，
朝着初级市镇最后的方向
我永久地前进。
Twenty-Four Years
Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave ln labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun,
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance for as long as forever is.
我的技艺或沉郁的艺术
在平静的夜里施展，
当只有月亮在发怒
而恋人们躺在床上
抱着他们所有的悲苦，
我在吟唱的灯光下潜心于
我的技艺或沉郁的艺术，
不是为了抱负或面包，
也不是为了在象牙舞台上
卖弄风骚，昂首阔步，
是为了他们最隐秘的心
这寻常的薪金。
除了恼怒的月亮，
我不会为那得意的人
在这些风起浪涌的纸张上抒写，
也不为有夜莺和圣歌
作伴的高耸的死人，
而只为恋人们，他们的臂膀
拥抱岁月的悲苦，
既不给以赞美或薪金，
也不会留意我的技艺或艺术。
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.
塔楼中的耳朵听见
塔楼中的耳朵听见
手在门上轰鸣
山墙里的眼睛看见
弄门锁的手指
我该开门还是
孤零零地等到我在这栋
白色房子里死去的那天
而不让陌生的眼睛发现？
手啊，你拿着的是毒药还是葡萄？
在这被肌肉之海
和骨头海岸绑住
的岛屿那一边，
土地位于声音之外
山丘位于心智之外
没有鸟或飞行的鱼
会打扰这岛屿的安寜。
这岛屿中的耳朵听见
风像火一样吹过
这岛屿中的眼睛看见
船只停泊在海湾
我该带着头发里的风
奔向那些船
还是等到我死去的那天
而不去迎接任何水手？
船啊，你装载的是毒药还是葡萄？
手在门上轰鸣
船只停泊在海湾
雨水敲打沙地和石板，
我该不该让那陌生人进来，
我该不该去迎接那水手，
或是等到我死去的那天？
陌生人的手和那些船的货舱，
你们带来的是毒药还是葡萄？
Ears In The Turrets Hear
Ears in the turrets hear
Hands grumble on the door,
Eyes in the gables see
The fingers at the locks.
Shall I unbolt or stay
Alone till the day I die
Unseen by stranger-eyes
In this white house?
Hands, hold you poison or grapes?
Beyond this island bound
By a thin sea of flesh
And a bone coast,
The land lies out of sound
And the hills out of mind.
No birds or flying fish
Disturbs this island's rest.
Ears in this island hear
The wind pass like a fire,
Eyes in this island see
Ships anchor off the bay.
Shall I run to the ships
With the wind in my hair,
Or stay till the day I die
And welcome no sailor?
Ships, hold you poison or grapes?
Hands grumble on the door,
Ships anchor off the bay,
Rain beats the sand and slates.
Shall I let in the stranger,
Shall I welcome the sailor,
Or stay till the day I die?
Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships,
Hold you poison or grapes?
[ 本帖最后由 戴玨 于 2008-4-10 04:43 编辑 ]
最新回复
不要温和地走入那良夜，
老年人应该燃烧并对着日暮呼喊；
怒斥、怒斥那光明的微灭。
尽管聪明人临终时知道黑暗真确，
是因为他们的话语没有迸出闪电，
他们并不温和地走入那良夜。
好人，当最后一浪涌过，号呼他们脆弱的功业
本可以很光辉地起舞于绿色的海湾，
也怒斥、怒斥那光明的微灭。
狂放的人碰见并歌唱过太阳的飞越，
意识到，太晚了，他们曾使它在途中哀叹，
他们也并不温和地走入那良夜。
沉肃的人，临死时用目眩的视觉
看到瞎眼也能像流星般闪耀而欣欢，
也怒斥、怒斥那光明的微灭。
而您呀，我的父亲，身处高度的悲切，
请用您的热泪诅咒、祝福我，我祈愿。
不要温和地走入那良夜，
怒斥、怒斥那光明的微灭。
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
原载《诗天空》
我对墓穴里的那些家伙所有的亏欠
我对墓穴里的那些家伙所有的亏欠
和由苍白财产遗赠的全部死者
存放在好运的骨头，盛血的烧瓶里，
像山扁豆叶一样沿着残败的根茎轻微地骚动。
噢，我所亏欠的有我遗传到的肉体，
拉扯我神经的我父亲的爱，
在我头上唱歌的我姊妹的泪
给我伤口添盐的我兄弟的血
我是装着爱的水滴的滚烫血管的继承人，
我憔悴的血管装满了，带有死亡的迹像，
我是敏锐感官的继承人，只这感官便令肉体
熟悉了一种不会忘记的麻痒，
我围着这遗产绕行犹如太阳围着他那
有酒味的天空绕行一样，而月亮就像蜡烛
照亮了我的气候。我是那些妇人
的继承人，她们已挤出了最后的笑容，
我是那些用一场瘟疫喂大的孩子们的继承人，
我是那些在激吻中垂死的年轻崇拜者的继承人。
所有这样的疾病我在我的血液中医治，
而所有这样的爱是在呼吸中播种出来的灌木。
那就看看吧，我的眼睛，看着这迟钝的财富
随便看下死者的种种姿势；
日夜不停我从坟墓里透过向右的潜望镜
观察衣衫褴褛的地球；
日夜不停我穿著这些在老化的肋骨上
滋蔓的相同的蜡衣漫步；
一整夜我的财富卷着被单安睡。
那就看看吧，我的眼睛，看着这鲜红的珍藏物，
也看看吧，我的谷粒，看着这下垂的麦子；
一整夜我的财富卷着被单安睡。
All That I Owe the Fellows of the Grave
All that I owe the fellows of the grave
And all the dead bequeathed from pale estates
Lies in the fortuned bone, the flask of blood,
Like senna stirs along the ravaged roots.
O all I owe is all the flesh inherits,
My fathers' loves that pull upon my nerves,
My sisters tears that sing upon my head
My brothers' blood that salts my open wounds
Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop,
My fallen filled, that had the hint of death,
Heir to the telling senses that alone
Acquaint the flesh with a remembered itch,
I round this heritage as rounds the sun
His winy sky, and , as the candles moon,
Cast light upon my weather. I am heir
To women who have twisted their last smile,
To children who were suckled on a plague,
To young adorers dying on a kiss.
All such disease I doctor in my blood,
And all such love's a shrub sown in the breath.
Then look, my eyes, upon this bonehead fortune
And browse upon the postures of the dead;
All night and day I eye the ragged globe
Through periscopes rightsighted from the grave;
All night and day I wander in these same
Wax clothes that wax upon the ageing ribs;
All night my fortune slumbers in its sheet.
Then look, my heart, upon the scarlet trove,
And look, my grain, upon the falling wheat;
All night my fortune slumbers in its sheet.
我该不该去迎接那水手，
或是等到我死去的那天？
狄兰•托马斯
柏桦译
1
我看见夏天的男孩在毁灭
使金色的地区荒芜，
没有粮仓安置丰收，土地冰冻
在酷热里，冬天冲走了
僵直的爱情，拿来的少女
在他们的热潮中淹死了满载的苹果。
这些光之男孩，其愚蠢是些凝结者，
弄酸沸腾的蜂蜜；
严霜的面包树，手指伸进蜂群；
阳光下他们把寒冷、疑惑、黑暗的丝线
织入了神经，
而月亮的信号是空间的零点。
我看见夏天的男孩在母亲身子里
用劲撕裂子宫的气候，
以小巧的拇指分开昼与夜；
在深处，在四分之一的月亮
和太阳的阴影中，他们漆着母亲，
就像阳光漆着他们的脑壳。
我看见通过种子的变化
这些男孩将塑成无用的男人，
或者从热里以跳跃弄瘸空气；
从他们心里爱与光的三伏的脉搏
砰然冲破他们的喉咙。
哦，看那冰里的夏天的脉搏。
2
季节受到挑战或踉跄于
协调的时刻，
那儿如死般准确，我们敲响星星，
那儿冬之沉睡的男人吐出
黑舌头的时钟，
没有吹回月夜正当她在吹。
我们是黑暗的否认者，让我们
从一个夏天的女人身上召集死亡，
强悍的生命来自情人的痉挛，
来自美丽的死者，他涨红了大海
明亮的眼虫闪耀于海妖的灯盏，
也来自于稻草人种植的子宫。
我们夏天的男孩旋转于四面来风，
似铁的海草的绿
高举喧闹的大海并抖落鸟群，
拾起波浪与泡沫之球，
以它的潮水闷死荒漠，
为一个花环梳理乡村的庭园。
在春天，冬青穿过我们的前额，
血与浆果如此之高，
把欢乐的花花公子钉在树上；
这里爱之潮湿的肌肉干了、死了，
这里无爱的追求打破一吻。
3
我看见夏天的男孩在毁灭。
男人在他狂想的荒芜里。
男孩充满口袋并属外来。
而我是你父亲那样的一个人。
我们是燧石和沥青的儿子。
哦，当他们穿过，看那两端亲吻。
《我切开的面包》
狄兰•托马斯
柏桦译
这片我切开的面包曾是燕麦，
这生在外来树上的酒
曾果实垂落。
白天的男人，夜里的酒
使庄稼低下，葡萄欢乐。
这酒里夏天的血，
曾敲破饰着藤蔓的果肉。
这面包里，
燕麦曾在风中欢欣，
人打碎太阳，把风拉倒。
这切碎的肉，这让你饮的血
在血管中造成了孤独。
燕麦和葡萄天生具有
肉感的根与汁。
你撕咬我的面包，你喝我的酒。
《我与睡眠结伴》
狄兰•托马斯
柏桦译
我与睡眠结伴，它吻着我的脑筋，
让时间之泪垂下；睡者的眼睛
朝向光，像月亮照着我。
布置好紧跟，我沿人们飞翔，
跌入梦或向天空。
我逃出地球，全身裸体；攀登天空，
到达远离星辰的第二级；
那儿我们哭泣，我及另一个死魂，
我母亲的眼睛闪耀在高高的树梢；
我已逃离大地，轻若羽毛。
我父亲的球叩响轮觳与合唱。
我们踩着的土地也是你父亲的土地，
我们踩着的这土地承受了一群天使，
他们羽翼中父性的脸如此甜蜜。
这是些做梦人，呼吸并凋零。
凋零，我肘部的幽灵，母亲的眼睛
吹动天使，我失落于云的海岸，
那里紧靠唠叨的坟墓的阴影；
我把这些梦者吹上床，
他们继续沉睡，不知魂魄。
活跃于空气中所有的物质
提高了声音，在词汇之上攀登，
我用手和头发拼出我的幻象。
多么轻，睡在这沾泥的星星上。
多么深，醒自这满世界的云层。
那长高的时间的梯子升向太阳，
鸣响爱情或丢失，直到最后一次。
人的血一寸寸嘲弄。
一个老而疯的人仍在攀登他的亡魂。
而我父亲的亡魂在雨中攀登。
《心之气候的进程》
狄兰•托马斯
柏桦译
心之气候的进程，
把潮湿变干；金色的射击
向冰冻的墓地猛袭。
四分之一血脉的气候，
变黑夜为白天；阳光里的血
照亮活着的小虫。
眼光中警告的进程，
盲目的骨头；子宫
在死亡里驱赶就像生命冲出。
黑暗在眼睛的气候里，
是一半的光；深不可测的海
乱撞于无角度的陆地。
那造就一片腰的森林的种子，
叉开一半的果实；一半坠落，
在沉睡的风中减缓。
肉与骨中的气候，
又湿又干；快速者与死者
在眼前若两个亡魂游动。
世界气候之进程，
鬼影变幻；每一个受母爱的孩子
坐在双重的阴影里。
进程把月亮吹进太阳，
扯下皮肤褴褛的帷幕；
它抛开了它的死亡。
《当微光再不锁住》
狄兰•托马斯
柏桦译
当微光再不锁住，
却锁进我手指的长虫；
不要诅咒海，它疾驰于我的拳头。
时间之嘴像海绵吮吸，
牛奶的酸于每一个铰链，
吞干了胸中的水波。
当海的乳汁被吮吸
以及干燥的海底打开，
我派我的家伙侦察天空，
那天空的头发与骨头
把我的物质的瓶口扎向他的肋骨，
还以神经和脑筋缝补我。
我的雷管已定时充满他的心，
他吹燃就像炸药吹向光
并与太阳一起举行安息日。
当星星，假设形状，
把睡眠的稻草拉进他的眼睛
他在梦中淹死了他父亲的魔术。
所有的流血穿上盔甲，坟墓中
红头发的癌症仍然活着，
白内障的眼睛蒙上了布匹；
一些死者没剃掉灌木的下巴，
苍蝇飞出血的口袋；
他已经记住基督划过十字的死亡。
睡眠航行于时间之潮，
干燥的坟里的马尾草
把死亡抛进忙碌的大海；
睡眠在海床上滚动着沉默，
那儿鱼的食物是喂养的阴影，
而谁通过花朵潜望天空。
当微光的螺旋翻转，
母亲的奶像沙一样硬；
我将我的大使送向光，
由于机会的诡计他落入睡眠，
施法招回死尸的形状，
并从他心中抢走我的液体。
醒来，我的睡者，面朝太阳，
一个工人处于城镇的清晨
他显示了留下的罂粟的马屁精。
光之栅栏垮了，
除了骑者，所有的一切摔倒，
而世界吊在树上。
《结婚纪念日》
狄兰•托马斯
柏桦译
天空已被撕破
这褴褛的结婚纪念日
在合拍的三年中
双方徘徊在誓约的路上。
现在爱已不存在
爱及他的病人在锁链上哀嚎
来自每一件真实，每一座火山口。
卷着阴云，死亡撞击他们的房间。
错误的雨中，他们太迟了
呆在一起爱却分开。
窗户灌注他们胸中
房门在他们头脑里燃烧。
快闪，最近这里杀气很旺。
I see the boys of summer
I
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
There in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.
These boys of light are curdlers in their folly,
Sour the boiling honey;
The jacks of frost they finger in the hives;
There in the sun the frigid threads
Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves;
The signal moon is zero in their voids.
I see the summer children in their mothers
Split up the brawned womb's weathers,
Divide the night and day with fairy thumbs;
There in the deep with quartered shades
Of sun and moon they paint their dams
As sunlight paints the shelling of their heads.
I see that from these boys shall men of nothing
Stature by seedy shifting,
Or lame the air with leaping from its heats;
There from their hearts the dogdayed pulse
Of love and light bursts in their throats.
O see the pulse of summer in the ice.
II
But seasons must be challenged or they totter
Into a chiming quarter
Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars;
There, in his night, the black-tongued bells
The sleepy man of winter pulls,
Nor blows back moon-and-midnight as she blows.
We are the dark deniers, let us summon
Death from a summer woman,
A muscling life from lovers in their cramp,
From the fair dead who flush the sea
The bright-eyed worm on Davy's lamp,
And from the planted womb the man of straw.
We summer boys in this four-winded spinning,
Green of the seaweeds' iron,
Hold up the noisy sea and drop her birds,
Pick the world's ball of wave and froth
To choke the deserts with her tides,
And comb the country gardens for a wreath.
In spring we cross our foreheads with the holly,
Heigh ho the blood and berry,
And nail the merry squires to the trees;
Here love's damp muscle dries and dies,
Here break a kiss in no love's quarry.
O see the poles of promise in the boys.
III
I see you boys of summer in your ruin.
Man in his maggot's barren.
And boys are full and foreign in the pouch.
I am the man your father was.
We are the sons of flint and pitch.
O see the poles are kissing as they cross.
另：第二段最后一句”O see the poles of promise in the boys.“没有对应的译文，是输入时错误吧？
[ 本帖最后由 fll6ty 于 2008-4-7 22:08 编辑 ]
This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wind at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy.
Once in this wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.
This flesh you break, thisblood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.
I fellowed sleep
I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain,
Let fall the tear of time; the sleeper's eye,
Shifting to light, turned on me like a moon.
So, planing-heeled, I flew along my man
And dropped on dreaming and the upward sky.
I fled the earth and, naked, climbed the weather,
Reaching a second ground far from the stars;
And there we wept, I and a ghostly other,
My mothers-eyed, upon the tops of trees;
I fled that ground as lightly as a feather.
'My fathers' globe knocks on its nave and sings.'
'This that we tread was, too, your fathers' land.'
'But we tread bears the angelic gangs,
Sweet are their fathered faces in their wings.'
'These are but dreaming men. Breathe, and they fade.'
Faded my elbow ghost, the mothers-eyed,
As, blowing on the angels, I was lost
On that cloud coast to each grave-gabbing shade;
I blew the dreaming fellows to their bed
Where still they sleep unknowing of their ghost.
Then all the matter of the living air
Raised up a voice, and, climbing on the words,
I spelt my vision with a hand and hair,
How light the sleeping on this soily star,
How deep the waking in the worlded clouds.
[size=13.5pt]A Process in theWeather of the Heart
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
When once the twilight locks no longer
When once the twilight locks no longer
Locked in the long worm of my finger
Nor damned the sea that sped about my fist,
The mouth of time sucked, like a sponge,
The milky acid on each hinge,
And swallowed dry the waters of the breast.
When the galactic sea was sucked
And all the dry seabed unlocked,
I sent my creature scouting on the globe,
That globe itself of hair and bone
That, sewn to me by nerve and brain,
Had stringed my flask of matter to his rib.
My fuses are timed to charge his heart,
He blew like powder to the light
And held a little sabbath with the sun,
But when the stars, assuming shape,
Drew in his eyes the straws of sleep
He drowned his father's magics in a dream.
All issue armoured, of the grave,
The redhaired cancer still alive,
The cataracted eyes that filmed their cloth;
Some dead undid their bushy jaws,
And bags of blood let out their flies;
He had by heart the Christ-cross-row of death.
Sleep navigates the tides of time;
The dry Sargasso of the tomb
Gives up its dead to such a working sea;
And sleep rolls mute above the beds
Where fishes' food is fed the shades
Who periscope through flowers to the sky.
When once the twilight screws were turned,
And mother milk was stiff as sand,
I sent my own ambassador to light;
By trick or chance he fell asleep
And conjured up a carcass shape
To rob me of my fluids in his heart.
Awake, my sleeper, to the sun,
A worker in the morning town,
And leave the poppied pickthank where he lies;
The fences of the light are down,
All but the briskest riders thrown
And worlds hang on the trees.
On A Wedding AnniversaryThe 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 tune 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.
[ 本帖最后由 fll6ty 于 2008-4-7 20:44 编辑 ]
QUOTE:
譯文并沒少那行，只是擺到中間去了。原文開始是個倒裝句，正常的語序是：By singing light I labour in my craft or sullen art...
當然這樣一來，譯文就得連著題目一起讀才會感覺流暢些。
你彈弓都不借我，閃他幹嗎？
[ 本帖最后由 戴玨 于 2008-4-8 04:45 编辑 ]
能从啤酒泡沫看到雪的人，果然厉害。
屡败屡战，曾大人语。后会有期。
I advance for as long as forever is.
这两句记得以前读过一个译本：
朝着最初的城镇最终的方向，
我昂首走去，要走永恒那么长。
我作了點修改。
我对墓穴里的那些家伙所有的亏欠、我对墓穴里的那些家伙所有的亏欠
《我看见夏天的男孩》、《结婚纪念日》
＿＿如上，这些 狄兰·托马斯 的诗，总让我在这盘旋不己
我要抽个时间，全列表到纸上；
像从图书馆借来 拉金少数诗作 那样列表在纸上
以慰聊咖啡厅角落静静允自品赏 ^_^
3Q))) 诗友，提供的好诗赏！！
[ 本帖最后由 冰夕 于 2008-4-10 07:39 编辑 ]
好贴，收藏
我的技艺或沉郁的艺术，
不是为了抱负或面包，
也不是为了在象牙舞台上
卖弄风骚，昂首阔步，
是为了他们最隐秘的心
这寻常的薪金。