转:沃尔科特、米沃什分别写给洛威尔的诗（胡桑译）

沃尔科特、米沃什分别写给洛威尔的诗（胡桑译）
胡桑 发表于 - 2008-3-9 18:23:00



R.T.S.L. (1917-1977)

Derek Walcott



As for that other thing

which comes when the eyelid is glazed

and the wax gleam

from the unwrinkled forehead

asks no more questions

of the dry mouth,



whether they open the heart like a shirt

to release a rage of swallows,

whether the brain

is a library for worms,

on the instant of that knowledge

of the moment

when everything became so stiff,



so formal with ironical adieux,

organ and choir,

and I must borrow a black tie,

and at what moment in the oration

shall I break down and weep —

there was the startle of wings

breaking from the closing cage

of your body, your fist unclenching

these pigeons circling serenely

over the page,



and,

as the parentheses lock like a gate

1917 to 1977,

the semicircles close to form a face,

a world, a wholeness,

an unbreakable O,

and something that once had a fearful name

walks from the thing that used to wear its name,

transparent, exact representative,

so that we can see through it

churches, cars, sunlight,

and the Boston Common,

not needing any book.



《罗伯特·洛威尔（1917—1977）》①

（圣卢西亚）沃尔科特

胡桑译



当眼睑上釉

其他的事物才到来

蜡在光滑的额头

发出微光

对干燥的唇

不问更多的问题



他们打开心脏像解开衬衫

是否为了解除燕子的愤怒，

当一切变得僵硬，

在这片刻的

知识中

大脑是否是

给蠕虫的图书馆，



与反讽的告别、管风琴和

唱诗班在一起是如此正式，

我必须借一条黑领带，

在致辞中，我该在

什么时刻停下来哭——

曾有受惊的翅膀

从你身体正在关闭的牢笼里

挣脱，你的拳松开

这些在书页上

宁静盘旋的鸽子，



以及，

括号像大门一样紧锁

1917到1977，

两个半圆关闭构成面孔，

世界，整体

一个牢不可破的O，

某种一度具有可怕名字的事物

从曾常常穿戴其名字的事物中走出，

透明，十分典型，

因此，透过它，我们可以看到

教堂、汽车、日光

和波士顿公共绿地②，

不需要任何书籍。



注释：

①此诗英文原名R.T.S.L. (1917-1977)，R.T.S.L.即美国诗人罗伯特·洛威尔Robert Traill Spence Lowell英文名字的首字母缩写。1917-1977即洛威尔的生卒年。

②波士顿公共绿地，Boston Common，美国波士顿市中心一片著名绿地。1640年，波士顿成为马萨诸塞州首府，第一任州长温索坡（John Winthrop）将此地开辟为公共绿地。那是十年前，传教士布来斯顿 (William Blackstone)卖给他的一块土地。





To Robert Lowell

Czeslaw Milosz



I had no right to talk of you that way,

Robert. An emigre's envy

Must have prompted me to mock

Your long depressions, weeks of terror,

Presumed vacations in the safety of the wards.

It was not from pride in my normalcy.

Insanity, I knew, was insinuating itself

In a thin thread into my very being

And only waited for my permission

To carry me into its murky regions.

And I was watchful. Like a lame man,

I used to walk upright to hide my affliction.

You didn't have to. For you it was permitted.

Not for me, a refugee on this continent

Where so many newcomers vanished without a trace.

Forgive me my mistake. Your will was of no use

Against an illness that held you like a stigma,

And beneath my anger was the vanity,

unjustifiable, of the humiliated. A bit belated,

I write to you across what separates us:

Gestures, conventions, idioms, mores.



致罗伯特·洛威尔

（波兰）米沃什

胡桑译



我无权以那种方式谈论你，

罗伯特。一个流亡者的嫉妒

必定会促使我嘲弄

你长时间的沮丧，恐怖的数周，

假设的安全病房里的假期。

这并非来自我正常的傲慢。

我知道，疯狂曾一丝丝

潜入我的生命

只在等我的许可

将我带入其晦暗地带。

我警戒着。就像一个瘸子，

我常常笔直走路，掩饰我的疾病。

你却不用。因为你已被许可。

而我不会，我，这块大陆上的流亡者，

这里那么多新移民销声匿迹。

请宽恕我的误解。你徒劳地反抗疾病，

它宰制你，犹如耻辱，

而在我的愤怒深处是受辱者的

无可辩驳的虚荣。延误之后，

我给你写诗，穿过隔离我们的东西：

手势、习俗、方言、传统习惯。