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Selected poems:《奧登詩選:1948-1973》
2021/11/20 04:50:23瀏覽336|回應0|推薦9
Selected poems:《奧登詩選:1948-1973

https://www.books.com.tw/products/CN11315949
奧登詩選:1948-1973
作者:() 奧登
出版社:上海譯文出版社
出版日期:2016/01/01
語言:簡體中文

1927年初出茅廬到1973年魂歸詩國,近半個世紀里,奧登不斷給英語詩歌注入新的氣象。他的作品從政治寫到宗教,從城市寫到鄉村,華美詞章俯拾皆是,街談巷議亦可入詩。
本書是奧登自願保留的詩歌全集的下卷,文本獲得過他本人的首肯。此書連同已經出版的詩選上卷包括了此前各版奧登詩集的全部內容,並且涵蓋詩人后期的所有短詩集,可以說,奧登詩歌的精華已盡數裒輯於此。縱覽書中篇什,令人不禁贊嘆奧登詩藝之精巧,情懷之廣博,而古老的西方文學傳統,更是在他筆下,一次又一次重現往日的榮光。


愛得更多的那人

仰望著群星,我很清楚,
即便我下了地獄,它們也不會在乎,
但在這塵世,人或獸類的無情
我們最不必去擔心。

當星辰以一種我們無以回報的
激情燃燒著,我們怎能心安理得?
倘若愛不可能有對等,
願我是愛得更多的那人。

自認的仰慕者如我這般,
星星們都不會瞧上一眼,
此刻看著它們,我不能
說自己整天思念著一個人。

倘若星辰都已殞滅或消失無蹤,
我會學著觀看一個空無的天穹,
並感受它全然暗黑的莊嚴,
儘管這會花去我些許的時間。

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.


言辭

說出一個句子就會讓一個世界呈現,
預言過的一切都會產生預期的結果;
我們會懷疑講話的人,而非聽到的語言:
言辭對不誠實的言辭完全無話可說。

而在語法處理上,它必須完整明確;
話說到一半,你不能變換主題,
也不能改變時態去滿足聽覺:
阿卡狄亞傳奇通常也是不幸的故事。

我們時刻都會想要閒扯八卦,
可應該說出事實,而非一味虛構,
要麼就去尋找一種音節合韻的咒語,

偶然的言語表達是不是我們的命運,
如一齣歌舞默劇裡的農夫,或是
遠征途中來到某個荒僻十字路口的騎士?

Words

A sentence uttered makes a world appear
Where all things happen as it says they do;
We doubt the speaker, not the tongue we hear:
Words have no word for words that are not true.

Syntactically, though, it must be clear;
One cannot change the the subject halfway through,
Nor alter tenses to appease the ear:
Arcadian tales are hard-luck stories too.

But should we want to gossip all the time
Were fact not fiction for us at its best,
Or find a charm in syllables that rhyme,

Were not our fate by verbal chance expressed,
As rustics in a ring-dance pantomime
The Knight at some lone crossroads of his quest?



養老院

   
世人皆有命限,但每個人的毀敗方式
各有微妙不同。精英人物會把自己打扮得很得體,
   
拄著根拐杖走來走去,會嫺熟地讀完
一整本書,或會挑容易上手的奏鳴曲彈幾段
   
節奏舒緩的樂章。(然而,他們感官上的自由
或許正是他們精神上的禍因:
   
世事洞明、瞭解底細的他們,更容易陷入
哭不出來的憂鬱。) 隨後登場的是那些坐在輪椅上的
   
普通的大多數,他們長時間守著電視,
還要在好脾氣的理療師指揮下參加大合唱,
   
不合群的呢,就在自個兒的靈薄獄裡喃喃自語,
最後是病入膏肓的喪失機能者,缺乏遠見,
   
無法開口,無從指摘,一如他們拙劣模仿的
植物一樣。(植物會大量蒸發水分,卻從不會
   
自我毀損。) 可是,一個紐帶已將他們聯為一體:
雖然這個世界時不時會出岔子,這裡所有的老人
   
在一個帶有世俗身份的觀眾看來
卻更自由自在、也更悅目。一個孩子若對母親
   
感到失望,還能在祖母那裡尋求庇護,
他會得到新的評價,還能聽個故事。到目前為止,
   
我們都知道會發生什麼事,可他們那代人將最先經歷
這樣的衰亡過程,不是待在家裡,而是被打發到
   
一間編了號的監護病房,如無人認領的行李,
被人出於好心堆放在一起。
                       
當我搭乘地鐵
   
花半小時去陪伴某個人,就會再次回想
她風華正茂時的美麗與優雅,
   
週末探訪時要裝出很快樂的樣子,這不是一樁
好差使。倘若我希望她沒有苦痛地立刻永遠睡去,
   
祈求上帝或自然 (如我所知她也禱告)
突然中斷她的各項生理機能,會不會顯得太冷酷?

Old Peoples Home

All are limitory, but each has her own
nuance of damage.  The elite can dress and decent themselves,
    are ambulant with a single stick, adroit
to read a book all through, or play the slow movements of
    easy sonatas. (Yet, perhaps their very
carnal freedom is their spirits bane: intelligent
    of what has happened and why, they are obnoxious
to a glum beyond tears.)  Then come those on wheels, the average
    majority, who endure T.V. and, led by
lenient therapists, do community-singing, then
    the loners, muttering in Limbo, and last
the terminally incompetent, as improvident,
    unspeakable, impeccable as the plants
they parody. (Plants may sweat profusely but never
    sully themselves.)  One tie, though, unites them: all
appeared when the world, though much was awry there, was more
    spacious, more comely to look at, its Old Ones
with an audience and secular station.  Then a child,
    in dismay with Mamma, could refuge with Gran
to be revalued and told a story.  As of now,
    we all know what to expect, but their generation
is the first to fade like this, not at home but assigned
    to a numbered frequent ward, stowed out of conscience
as unpopular luggage.
                                       As I ride the subway
    to spend half-an-hour with one, I revisage
who she was in the pomp and sumpture of her hey-day,
    when week-end visits were a presumptive joy,
not a good work.  Am I cold to wish for a speedy
    painless dormition, pray, as I know she prays,
that God or Nature will abrupt her earthly function?


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