狄兰·托马斯诗选译(Poems by Dylan Thomas)
发布: 2010-3-11 20:56 | 作者: 戴玨
4) 不要温和地走入那良夜
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射闪电，
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.
5) 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；
日夜不停我穿着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.