Ⅲ.
Here is a place of disaffection
Time before and time after
In a dim light: neither daylight
Investing form with lucid stillness
Turning shadow into transient beauty
With slow rotation suggesting permanence
Nor darkness to purify the soul
Emptying the sensual with deprivation
Cleansing affection from the temporal.
Neither plentitude nor vacancy. Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Filled with fancies and empty of meaning
Tumid apathy with no concentration
Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind
That blows before and after time,
Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs
Time before and time after.
Eructation of unhealthy souls
Into the faded air, the torpid
Driven on the wind that sweeps the gloomy hills of London,
Hampstead and Clerkenwell, Campden and Putney,
Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate.
Not here
Not here the darkness, in this twittering world.
Descend lower, descend only
Into the world of perpetual solitude,
World not world, but that which is not world,
Internal darkness, deprivation
And destitution of all property,
Dessication of the world of sense,
Evacuation of the world of fancy,
Inoperancy of the world of spirit;
This is the one way, and the other
Is the same, not in movement
But abstention from movememnt; while the world moves
In appetency, on its metalled ways
Of time past and time future.
三．
这是一个遗恨之地
此刻之前与之后
在暗淡的光线中：日光不会
赋予形体明澈和宁静
让阴影化为哪怕短暂的美丽
让缓慢的旋转传递永恒的气息
黑暗也不会洁净灵魂
去除肉体的享乐
净化尘世中的情感。
既无圆满也无空缺。只有一丝微光
闪过扭曲的饱经沧桑的脸
从一张转移到另一张，再到另一张
充满幻象又空洞无物
虚肿冷漠，无所专注
人们与纸屑，在冷风中旋转
风吹在时间之前与之后。
空气在孱弱的肺中出入
过去的和未来的时间
虚弱的灵魂嗳出的麻木
进入枯萎的空气，
被风裹挟着，掠过伦敦阴冷的山冈，
掠过汉姆斯蒂德和克拉肯威尔，开普敦和普特尼
海格特、普林姆罗斯和拉德盖特。
并非这里
并非这里，黑暗，在这个喋喋不休的世界里。
降得更低，只会降入
世界永久的孤独中，
世界不是世界，它只是那个不是世界的世界，
内在的黑暗，剥夺，
贫困，一无所有，
感觉枯竭的世界，
幻象撤离的世界，
精神无能的世界；
就是这条路，另一条
也一样，不是在运动中
而是在对运动的放弃中；世界依赖
本能，在它的碎石路上前行，
在过去的和未来的时间里。
IV.
Time and the bell have buried the day,
the black cloud carries the sun away.
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis
Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray
Clutch and cling?
Chill
Fingers of yew be curled
Down on us? After the kingfisher's wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world.
四．
时间和晚钟埋葬了白天，
乌云挟走太阳。
向日葵会转向我们吗？铁线莲
会侧身偏向我们吗？用卷须，花束，
紧紧抓住，贴住我们？
寒冷的
紫杉的手指会弯曲着
垂向我们吗？翠鸟的翅膀
以光线回答光线，之后是沉寂，光静止了
在旋转的世界的静止点上。
V.
Words move, music moves
Only in time; but that which is only living
Can only die. Words, after speech, reach
Into the silence.
Only by the form, the pattern,
Can words or music reach
The stillness, as a Chinese jar still
Moves perpetually in its stillness.
Not the stillness of the violin, while the note lasts,
Not that only, but the co-existence,
Or say that the end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. Words strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Will not stay still. Shrieking voices
Scolding, mocking, or merely chattering,
Always assail them. The Word in the desert
Is most attacked by voices of temptation,
The crying shadow in the funeral dance,
The loud lament of the disconsolate chimera.
The detail of the pattern is movement,
As in the figure of the ten stairs.
Desire itself is movement
Not in itself desirable;
Love is itself unmoving,
Only the cause and end of movement,
Timeless, and undesiring
Except in the aspect of time
Caught in the form of limitation
Between un-being and being.
Sudden in a shaft of sunlight
Even while the dust moves
There rises the hidden laughter
Of children in the foliage
Quick now, here, now, always-
Ridiculous the waste sad time
Stretching before and after.
五．
语言行进，音乐流淌
只在时间之中；但只有那活着的
才能死亡。语言，在言说之后，抵达
进入沉默。
只有获得形式和道路，
语言或音乐才能抵达
宁静，像一只中国瓷瓶
在静止中运动不息。
不是小提琴的静止，而是绕梁的旋律，
不仅如此，那是一种共存，
或者说，结局抵达开始，
而结局与开始一直在那里
在开始之前与结局之后。
一切都是现在。由于负重
语言紧张，开裂，甚至破碎，
在重压之下，跌倒，划走，消散
不再静止。尖叫声，
责骂声，嘲笑声，或哪怕低语声，
都在质问它们。世界在一片荒漠中
被诱惑击打，
死亡的舞蹈中哭喊的影子，
凯米亚拉孤单的高声悲号。
这过程的细处就是运动，
如同十级台阶所体现的形状。
欲望本身就是运动。
但并非值得想望；
爱本自静止不动，
它是运动的起因和终结，
超越时间和欲望
除非时间被确定的形式
定格在存在和非存在之间，
爱才会从静止中脱身。
突然，在一道日光中
——即使此刻灰尘扬起——
传来隐藏在树叶中的
孩子们的笑声
就在此刻，这里，此刻，始终
荒谬可笑的是那被虚度的悲伤的时间
它伸展着，向前向后。
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