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Dover Beach詩歌欣賞

時間:2024-10-30 17:39:59 詩歌 我要投稿
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Dover Beach詩歌欣賞

  詩歌欣賞:Dover Beach

Dover Beach詩歌欣賞

  by Matthew Arnold

  The sea is calm tonight.

  The tide is full, the moon lies fair

  Upon the straits; on the French coast, the light

  Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

  Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

  Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

  Only, from the long line of spray

  Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

  Listen! you hear the grating roar

  Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

  At their return, up the high strand,

  Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

  With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

  The eternal note of sadness in.

  Sophocles long ago

  Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought

  Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

  Of human misery; we

  Find also in the sound a thought,

  Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

  The Sea of Faith

  Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore

  Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

  But now I only hear

  Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

  Retreating, to the breath

  Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear

  And naked shingles of the world.

  Ah, love, let us be true

  To one another! for the world, which seems

  To lie before us like a land of dreams,

  So various, so beautiful, so new,

  Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

  Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

  And we are here as on a darkling plain

  Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

  Where ignorant armies clash by night.

  Of the elder dead.

  Winds of summer fields

  Recollect the way,——

  Instinct picking up the key

  Dropped by memory.

  一百年以后

  在一百年以后,

  沒有人知道這個地方——

  極度的痛苦,命名了那里,

  安寧如同靜寂。

  雜草得意洋洋地蔓延,

  陌生的人們漫步,拼讀

  那死亡接骨木的

  孤獨正字表。

  夏日田地的風

  追憶起那條道路——

  直覺挖掘出那答案

  在記憶的點滴里。

  Wild Nights-Wild Nights!

  Wild nights! Wild nights!

  Were I with thee

  Wild nights should be

  Our luxury!

  Futile-the winds

  To a heart in port—

  Done with the compass

  Done with the chart!

  Rowing in Eden

  Ah, the sea!

  Might I but moor-To-night

  In thee!

  暴風雨夜-暴風雨夜

  暴風雨夜!暴風雨夜!

  我若和你同在一起,

  暴風雨夜就是

  豪奢的喜悅!

  風,無能為力——

  心,已在港內(nèi)——

  羅盤,不必!

  海圖,不必!

  泛舟在伊甸園——

  啊,海!

  但愿我能,今夜

  泊在你的水城。ń瓧髯g)

  暴風雨夜——暴風雨夜。硪粋翻譯版本)

  暴風雨夜——暴風雨夜!

  我若和你在一起

  暴風雨夜該是

  我們的歡娛!

  徒勞——這狂風——

  對著一顆泊港的心——

  不用羅盤——

  不用海圖!

  蕩漿伊甸園——

  啊,大海!

  今夜——但愿我泊在

  你的胸懷里!

  I never saw a moor

  I never saw a Moor——

  I never saw the Sea——

  Yet know I how the Heather looks

  And what a Billow be.

  I never spoke with God

  Nor visited in Heaven——

  Yet certain am I of the spot

  As if the Checks were given——

  我從未看過荒原

  我從未看過荒原——

  我從未看過海洋——

  可我知道石楠的容貌

  和狂濤巨浪。

  我從未與上帝交談

  也不曾拜訪過天堂——

  可我好像已通過檢查

  一定會到那個地方.(金舟譯)

  Compensation

  For each ecstatic instant

  We must an anguish pay

  In keen and quivering ratio

  To the ecstasy.

  For each beloved hour

  Sharp pittances of years,

  Bitter contested farthings

  And coffers heaped with tears.

  補償

  為每一個狂喜的瞬間

  我們必須償以痛苦至極,

  刺痛和震顫

  正比于狂喜。

  為每一個可愛的時刻

  必償以多年的微薄薪餉,

  辛酸爭奪來的半分八厘

  和浸滿淚水的錢箱。(金舟譯)

  I heard a fly buzz——when I died ——

  I heard a Fly buzz —— when I died ——

  The stillness in the Room

  Was like the stillness in the Air ——

  Between the Heaves of Sotrm ——

  The Eyes around —— had wrung when them dry ——

  And breaths were gathering firm

  For that last Onset —— when the King

  Be witnessed —— in the Room ——

  I willed my keepsakes ——Signed away

  What portion of me be

  Assignable —— and then it was

  There interposed a Fly ——

  With Blue —— uncertain stumbling Buzz ——

  Between the light —— and me ——

  And the the windows failed ——and then

  I could not see to see ——

  我聽到蒼蠅的嗡嗡聲——當我死時

  我聽到蒼蠅的嗡嗡聲——當我死時

  房間里,一片沉寂

  就像空氣突然平靜下來——

  在風暴的間隙

  注視我的眼睛——淚水已經(jīng)流盡—

  我的呼吸正漸漸變緊

  等待最后的時刻——上帝在房間里

  現(xiàn)身的時刻——降臨

  我已經(jīng)分掉了——關于我的

  所有可以分掉的

  東西——然后我就看見了

  一只蒼蠅——

  藍色的——微妙起伏的嗡嗡聲

  在我——和光——之間

  然后窗戶關閉——然后

  我眼前漆黑一片——

  How happy is the little Stone

  How happy is the little Stone

  That rambles in the Road alone,

  And doesn't care about Careers

  And Exigencies never fears ——

  Whose Coat of elemental Brown

  A passing Universe put on,

  And independent as the Sun

  Associates or glows alone

  Fulfilling absolute Decree

  In casual simplicity ——

  這顆小石何等幸福

  這顆小石何等幸福

  獨自在路旁漫步

  它不汲汲于功名

  也從不為變故擔心

  變幻的宇宙

  也得被它質(zhì)樸的棕色外衣

  它獨立不羈如太陽

  與眾輝煌

  或獨自閃光

  它順應天意

  單純

  一味自然

  詩歌欣賞:Emily Dickinson 《After a hundred years》

  I'm nobody! Who are you?

  I'm nobody! Who are you?

  Are you nobody, too?

  Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!

  They're banish us, you know!

  How dreary to be somebody!

  How public, like a frog

  To tell your name the livelong day

  To an admiring bog!

  我是無名之輩!你是誰?

  我是無名之輩!你是誰?

  你也是無名之輩?

  那咱倆就成了一對-別出聲!

  他們會把咱們排擠-要小心!

  多無聊-身為赫赫顯要!

  多招搖-不過像只青蛙

  向一片仰慕的泥沼

  整日里炫耀自己的名號!

  After a hundred years

  After a hundred years

  Nobody knows the place,——

  Agony that enacted there,

  Motionless as peace.

  Weeds triumphant ranged,

  Strangers strolled and spelled

  At the lone orthography

  Of the elder dead.

  Winds of summer fields

  Recollect the way,——

  Instinct picking up the key

  Dropped by memory.

  一百年以后

  在一百年以后,

  沒有人知道這個地方——

  極度的痛苦,命名了那里,

  安寧如同靜寂。

  雜草得意洋洋地蔓延,

  陌生的人們漫步,拼讀

  那死亡接骨木的

  孤獨正字表。

  夏日田地的風

  追憶起那條道路——

  直覺挖掘出那答案

  在記憶的點滴里。

  Wild Nights-Wild Nights!

  Wild nights! Wild nights!

  Were I with thee

  Wild nights should be

  Our luxury!

  Futile-the winds

  To a heart in port—

  Done with the compass

  Done with the chart!

  Rowing in Eden

  Ah, the sea!

  Might I but moor-To-night

  In thee!

  暴風雨夜-暴風雨夜

  暴風雨夜!暴風雨夜!

  我若和你同在一起,

  暴風雨夜就是

  豪奢的喜悅!

  風,無能為力——

  心,已在港內(nèi)——

  羅盤,不必!

  海圖,不必!

  泛舟在伊甸園——

  啊,海!

  但愿我能,今夜

  泊在你的水城!(江楓譯)

  暴風雨夜——暴風雨夜。硪粋翻譯版本)

  暴風雨夜——暴風雨夜!

  我若和你在一起

  暴風雨夜該是

  我們的歡娛!

  徒勞——這狂風——

  對著一顆泊港的心——

  不用羅盤——

  不用海圖!

  蕩漿伊甸園——

  啊,大海!

  今夜——但愿我泊在

  你的胸懷里!

  I never saw a moor

  I never saw a Moor——

  I never saw the Sea——

  Yet know I how the Heather looks

  And what a Billow be.

  I never spoke with God

  Nor visited in Heaven——

  Yet certain am I of the spot

  As if the Checks were given——

  我從未看過荒原

  我從未看過荒原——

  我從未看過海洋——

  可我知道石楠的容貌

  和狂濤巨浪。

  我從未與上帝交談

  也不曾拜訪過天堂——

  可我好像已通過檢查

  一定會到那個地方.(金舟譯)

  Compensation

  For each ecstatic instant

  We must an anguish pay

  In keen and quivering ratio

  To the ecstasy.

  For each beloved hour

  Sharp pittances of years,

  Bitter contested farthings

  And coffers heaped with tears.

  補償

  為每一個狂喜的瞬間

  我們必須償以痛苦至極,

  刺痛和震顫

  正比于狂喜。

  為每一個可愛的時刻

  必償以多年的微薄薪餉,

  辛酸爭奪來的半分八厘

  和浸滿淚水的錢箱。(金舟譯)

  I heard a fly buzz——when I died ——

  I heard a Fly buzz —— when I died ——

  The stillness in the Room

  Was like the stillness in the Air ——

  Between the Heaves of Sotrm ——

  The Eyes around —— had wrung when them dry ——

  And breaths were gathering firm

  For that last Onset —— when the King

  Be witnessed —— in the Room ——

  I willed my keepsakes ——Signed away

  What portion of me be

  Assignable —— and then it was

  There interposed a Fly ——

  With Blue —— uncertain stumbling Buzz ——

  Between the light —— and me ——

  And the the windows failed ——and then

  I could not see to see ——

  我聽到蒼蠅的嗡嗡聲——當我死時

  我聽到蒼蠅的嗡嗡聲——當我死時

  房間里,一片沉寂

  就像空氣突然平靜下來——

  在風暴的間隙

  注視我的眼睛——淚水已經(jīng)流盡—

  我的呼吸正漸漸變緊

  等待最后的時刻——上帝在房間里

  現(xiàn)身的時刻——降臨

  我已經(jīng)分掉了——關于我的

  所有可以分掉的

  東西——然后我就看見了

  一只蒼蠅——

  藍色的——微妙起伏的嗡嗡聲

  在我——和光——之間

  然后窗戶關閉——然后

  我眼前漆黑一片——

  How happy is the little Stone

  How happy is the little Stone

  That rambles in the Road alone,

  And doesn't care about Careers

  And Exigencies never fears ——

  Whose Coat of elemental Brown

  A passing Universe put on,

  And independent as the Sun

  Associates or glows alone

  Fulfilling absolute Decree

  In casual simplicity ——

  這顆小石何等幸福

  這顆小石何等幸福

  獨自在路旁漫步

  它不汲汲于功名

  也從不為變故擔心

  變幻的宇宙

  也得被它質(zhì)樸的棕色外衣

  它獨立不羈如太陽

  與眾輝煌

  或獨自閃光

  它順應天意

  單純

  一味自然

  詩歌欣賞:California Plush

  by Frank Bidart

  The only thing I miss about Los Angeles

  is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and

  radio blaring

  bearing right into the center of the city, the Capitol Tower

  on the right, and beyond it, Hollywood Boulevard

  blazing

  ——pimps, surplus stores, footprints of the stars

  ——descending through the city

  fast as the law would allow

  through the lights, then rising to the stack

  out of the city

  to the stack where lanes are stacked six deep

  and you on top; the air

  now clean, for a moment weightless

  without memories, or

  need for a past.

  The need for the past

  is so much at the center of my life

  I write this poem to record my discovery of it,

  my reconciliation.

  It was in Bishop, the room was done

  in California plush: we had gone into the coffee shop, were told

  you could only get a steak in the bar:

  I hesitated,

  not wanting to be an occasion of temptation for my father

  but he wanted to, so we entered

  a dark room, with amber water glasses, walnut

  tables, captain's chairs,

  plastic doilies, papier-m?ché bas-relief wall ballerinas,

  German memorial plates "bought on a trip to Europe,"

  Puritan crosshatch green-yellow wallpaper,

  frilly shades, cowhide

  booths——

  I thought of Cambridge:

  the lovely congruent elegance

  of Revolutionary architecture, even of

  ersatz thirties Georgian

  seemed alien, a threat, sign

  of all I was not——

  to bode order and lucidity

  as an ideal, if not reality——

  not this California plush, which

  also

  I was not.

  And so I made myself an Easterner,

  finding it, after all, more like me

  than I had let myself hope.

  And now, staring into the embittered face of

  my father,

  again, for two weeks, as twice a year,

  I was back.

  The waitress asked us if we wanted a drink.

  Grimly, I waited until he said no……

  Before the tribunal of the world I submit the following

  document:

  Nancy showed it to us,

  in her apartment at the model,

  as she waited month by month

  for the property settlement, her children grown

  and working for their father,

  at fifty-three now alone,

  a drink in her hand:

  as my father said,

  "They keep a drink in her hand":

  Name Wallace du Bois

  Box No 128 Chino, Calif.

  Date July 25 ,19 54

  Mr Howard Arturian

  I am writing a letter to you this afternoon while I'm in the

  mood of writing. How is everything getting along with you these

  fine days, as for me everything is just fine and I feel great except for

  the heat I think its lot warmer then it is up there but I don't mind

  it so much. I work at the dairy half day and I go to trade school the

  other half day Body & Fender, now I am learning how to spray

  paint cars I've already painted one and now I got another car to

  paint. So now I think I've learned all I want after I have learned all

  this. I know how to straighten metals and all that. I forgot to say

  "Hello" to you. The reason why I am writing to you is about a job,

  my Parole Officer told me that he got letter from and that you want

  me to go to work for you. So I wanted to know if its truth. When

  I go to the Board in Feb. I'll tell them what I want to do and where

  I would like to go, so if you want me to work for you I'd rather have

  you sent me to your brother John in Tonapah and place to stay for

  my family. The Old Lady says the same thing in her last letter that

  she would be some place else then in Bishop, thats the way I feel

  too.a(chǎn)nd another thing is my drinking problem. I made up my mind

  to quit my drinking, after all what it did to me and what happen.

  This is one thing I'll never forget as longs as I live I never want

  to go through all this mess again. This sure did teach me lot of things

  that I never knew before. So Howard you can let me know soon

  as possible. I sure would appreciate it.

  P.S From Your Friend

  I hope you can read my Wally Du Bois

  writing. I am a little nervous yet

  ——He and his wife had given a party, and

  one of the guests was walking away

  just as Wallace started backing up his car.

  He hit him, so put the body in the back seat

  and drove to a deserted road.

  There he put it before the tires, and

  ran back and forth over it several times.

  When he got out of Chino, he did,

  indeed, never do that again:

  but one child was dead, his only son,

  found with the rest of the family

  immobile in their beds with typhoid,

  next to the mother, the child having been

  dead two days:

  he continued to drink, and as if it were the Old West

  shot up the town a couple of Saturday nights.

  "So now I think I've learned all I want

  after I have learned all this: this sure did teach me a lot of things

  that I never knew before.

  I am a little nervous yet."

  It seems to me

  an emblem of Bishop——

  For watching the room, as the waitresses in their

  back-combed, Parisian, peroxided, bouffant hairdos,

  and plastic belts,

  moved back and forth

  I thought of Wallace, and

  the room suddenly seemed to me

  not uninteresting at all:

  they were the same. Every plate and chair

  had its congruence with

  all the choices creating

  these people, created

  by them——by me,

  for this is my father's chosen country, my origin.

  Before, I had merely been anxious, bored; now,

  I began to ask a thousand questions……

  He was, of course, mistrustful, knowing I was bored,

  knowing he had dragged me up here from Bakersfield

  after five years

  of almost managing to forget Bishop existed.

  But he soon became loquacious, ordered a drink,

  and settled down for

  an afternoon of talk……

  He liked Bishop: somehow, it was to his taste, this

  hard-drinking, loud, visited-by-movie-stars town.

  "Better to be a big fish in a little pond."

  And he was: when they came to shoot a film,

  he entertained them; Miss A——, who wore

  nothing at all under her mink coat; Mr. M——,

  good horseman, good shot.

  "But when your mother

  let me down" (for alcoholism and

  infidelity, she divorced him)

  "and Los Angeles wouldn't give us water any more,

  I had to leave.

  We were the first people to grow potatoes in this valley."

  When he began to tell me

  that he lost control of the business

  because of the settlement he gave my mother,

  because I had heard it

  many times,

  in revenge, I asked why people up here drank so much.

  He hesitated. "Bored, I guess.

  ——Not much to do."

  And why had Nancy's husband left her?

  In bitterness, all he said was:

  "People up here drink too damn much."

  And that was how experience

  had informed his life.

  "So now I think I've learned all I want

  after I have learned all this: this sure did teach me a lot of things

  that I never knew before.

  I am a little nervous yet."

  Yet, as my mother said,

  returning, as always, to the past,

  "I wouldn't change any of it.

  It taught me so much. Gladys

  is such an innocent creature: you look into her face

  and somehow it's empty, all she worries about

  are sales and the baby.

  her husband's too good!"

  It's quite pointless to call this rationalization:

  my mother, for uncertain reasons, has had her

  bout with insanity, but she's right:

  the past in maiming us,

  makes us,

  fruition

  is also

  destruction:

  I think of Proust, dying

  in a cork-linked room, because he refuses to eat

  because he thinks that he cannot write if he eats

  because he wills to write, to finish his novel

  ——his novel which recaptures the past, and

  with a kind of joy, because

  in the debris

  of the past, he has found the sources of the necessities

  which have led him to this room, writing

  ——in this strange harmony, does he will

  for it to have been different?

  And I can't not think of the remorse of Oedipus,

  who tries to escape, to expiate the past

  by blinding himself, and

  then, when he is dying, sees that he has become a Daimon

  ——does he, discovering, at last, this cruel

  coherence created by

  "the order of the universe"

  ——does he will

  anything reversed?

  I look at my father:

  as he drinks his way into garrulous, shaky

  defensiveness, the debris of the past

  is just debris——; whatever I reason, it is a desolation

  to watch……

  must I watch?

  He will not change; he does not want to change;

  every defeated gesture implies

  the past is useless, irretrievable……

  ——I want to change: I want to stop fear's subtle

  guidance of my life——; but, how can I do that

  if I am still

  afraid of its source?

  詩歌欣賞:Dora Diller

  by Jack Prelutsky

  "My stomach's full of butterflies!"

  lamented Dora Diller.

  Her mother sighed. "That's no surprise,

  you ate a caterpillar!"

  詩歌欣賞:Dream and Poem

  All are common experiences,

  All are ordinary images,

  Once they happen to come into dreams,

  What novelties they can make!

  All are ordinary feelings,

  All are common words,

  Once a poet happens to catch them,

  What magic poetry they can create!

  One never knows how strong is the wine

  Until drunk,

  One never knows how deep is the feeling

  Until loved,

  You are not able to write my poems,

  As I cannot dream your dreams.

  夢與詩

  都是平常經(jīng)驗,

  都是平常影象,

  偶然涌到夢中來,

  變幻出多少新奇花樣!

  都是平常情感,

  都是平常言語,

  偶然碰著個詩人,

  變幻出多少新奇詩句!

  醉過才知酒濃,

  愛過才知情重,

  你不能做我的詩,

  正如我不能做你的夢!

  詩歌欣賞:Drinking With Someone In The

  As the two of us drink

  together, while mountain

  flowers blossom beside, we

  down one cup after the other

  until I am drunk and sleepy

  so that you better go!

  Tomorrow if you feel like it

  do come and bring your lute

  along with you!

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