查尔斯 怀特, 美国诗人. 译的这首诗选自他的诗集<Black Zodiac>. 这本书获一九九七年普利策奖.
诗
-- 半是李贺
每样东西都渴望没有重量,
有一个不受语言纠缠的地方,
一种沉默, 一种风度,
天白的像刚吐的丝,
西边, 一面冷缩的镜子,
落日如枯草.
如果上帝像我们一样痛苦,
他也会伤心,
忧郁, 不安.
----------
李贺, 故事说, 总是一早离家,
骑着驴, 一个童仆随后,
背着一个老式的绒绣袋子.
灵感来了就写几句, 丢进袋子里.
晚上回来, 把这些句子作成诗,
不管它们怎么杂乱无章.
他母亲曾说,
“不呕尽心血他不会休.”
他真的呕尽心血.
像济慈,
死时相信他没留下名子.
绝望里, 觉得自己命中最苦
– 没有运气.
二十七岁, 临终, 见有人来,
一身紫袍, 骑着红龙,
手持一块令牌, 对他说,
“我来这里招李贺.”
李贺下了床, 哭了.
卧病的小屋像黑龙潭, 远方大雪封路,
猴子们在柏林上窜跃, 糊涂的人们口含白玉.
----------
南边的小山, 多么悲哀,
苍白的绝望,
写在唐代十二月蓝透的纸上.
话有什么用, 没有话
面对十二月里这张冷冷的布告,
和它带来的感受.
我们像云, 挂在天地之间,
有无之处,
有时有影, 有时无.
Poem Half in the Manner of Li Po
All things aspire to weightlessness,
some place beyond the lip of language,
Some silence, some zone of grace,
Sky white as raw silk,
opening mirror cold-sprung in the west,
Sunset like dead grass.
If God hurt the way we hurt,
he, too, would be heart-sore,
Disconsolate, unappeasable.
-----------
Li Ho, the story goes, would leave home
Each day at dawn, riding a colt, a servant boy
walking behind him,
An antique tapestry bag
Strapped to his back.
When inspiration struck, Ho would write
The lines down and drop them in the bag.
At night he'd go home and work the lines up into a poem,
No matter how disconnected and loose-leafed they were.
His mother once said,
"He won't stop until he has vomited out his heart."
And so he did.
Like John Keats,
He died believing his name would never be written among the
Characters.
Without hope, he thought himself--that worst curse--unlucky.
At twenty-seven, at death's line, he saw a man come
In purple, driving a red dragon,
A tablet in one hand, who said,
"I'm here to summon Li Ho."
Ho got from his bed and wept.
Far from the sick room's dragon-dark, snow stormed the passes,
Monkeys surfed the bo trees
and foolish men ate white jade.
-----------
How mournful the southern hills are,
how white their despair
Under December's T'ang blue blank page.
What's the use of words--there are no words
For December's chill redaction,
for the way it makes us feel.
We hang like clouds between heaven and earth,
between something and nothing,
Sometimes with shadows, sometimes without.
最新回复
“不呕尽心血他不会休.”
-----------------------------------------
他母亲曾说,
“不呕尽心血他不会停止.”
感觉你的意思对了，但中文里语言的弹性不理想。
网上下载原出处的标题打错：Li Po （这是李白）
诗中是 Li Ho （李贺）。
"He won't stop until he has vomited out his heart."
是儿要当呕出心乃已尔！
李长吉小传（李商隐 著）
京兆杜牧为李长吉集叙，状长吉之奇甚尽，世传之。长吉姊嫁王氏者，语长吉之事尤备。长吉细瘦，通眉，长指爪。能苦吟疾书，最先为昌黎韩愈所知。所与游者，王参元、杨敬之、权璩、崔植辈为密。每旦日出与诸公游，未尝得题然后为诗，如他人思量牵合以及程限为意。恒从小奚奴，骑距驴，背一古破锦囊，遇有所得，即书投囊中。及暮归，太夫人使婢受囊出之，见所书多，辄曰：“是儿要当呕出心乃已尔！”上灯，与食，长吉从婢取书，研墨叠纸足成之，投他囊中。非大醉及吊丧日率如此，过亦不复省。王、杨辈时复来探取写去。长吉往往独骑往还京、洛，所至或时有著，随弃之，故沈子明家所余四卷而已。长吉将死时，忽昼见一绯衣人，驾赤虬，持一板书若太古篆或霹雳石文者，云：“当召长吉。”长吉了不能读，(焱欠)下榻叩头，言阿(上弥下女)老且病，贺不愿去。绯衣人笑曰：“帝成白玉楼，立召君为记。天上差乐，不苦也！”长吉独泣，边人尽见之。少之，长吉气绝。常所居窗中，(火孛)(火孛)有烟气，闻行车(口彗)管之声。太夫人急止人哭，待之如炊五斗黍许时，长吉竟死。王氏姊非能造作谓长吉者，实所见如此。呜呼！天苍苍而高也，上果有帝耶？帝果有苑圃宫室观阁之玩耶？苟信然，则天之高邈，帝之尊严，亦宜有人物文采愈此世者，何独眷眷于长吉而使其不寿耶？噫！又岂世所谓才而奇者，不独地上少，即天上亦不多耶？长吉生时二十七年，位不过奉礼太常，时人亦多排摈毁斥之。又岂才而奇者，帝独重之，而人反不重耶？又岂人见会胜帝耶？
QUOTE:
谢谢指正. 译文是根据那本书里的原文. 是LI HO. 写贴子时偷懒, Just copied the English version from one of the web sites without proof-reading. 让张祈抓了把柄(这斯年轻, 不跟他计较[ 本帖最后由 beautyofsadness 于 2008-2-24 21:37 编辑 ]
刚来不几天，什么都新鲜，乱插嘴。
一种沉默, 一种风度,
grace可能是指天恩。
Like John Keats,
He died believing his name would never be written among the
Characters.
死时相信他没留下名子.
這裏Characters應是指知名人物。
Without hope, he thought himself--that worst curse--unlucky.
绝望里, 觉得自己命中最苦
– 没有运气.
這句說的是他覺得自己很不幸，遭受到了最毒的詛咒。
and foolish men ate white jade.
糊涂的人们口含白玉.
幹嗎用“口含”？是吞食。
What's the use of words—there are no words
For December's chill redaction,
for the way it makes us feel.
话有什么用, 没有话
面对十二月里这张冷冷的布告,
和它带来的感受.
“面對”不好，這段是說沒有合適的詞語可用來編輯十二月的寒冷，等等。
[ 本帖最后由 戴玨 于 2008-2-29 07:30 编辑 ]