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| 2015/12/25 11:37:17瀏覽1535｜回應4｜推薦178 | |
III.火誥 － 荒原 五部by T. S. Eliot
「仙子 已離去 甜蜜的泰晤士河，溫柔地流，直到我唱完歌」 (“The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.”)－The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot
III.火誥 (The Fire Sermon by T. S. Eliot)
高塔譯 2015
河上，樹的華蓋撐破：最後幾張葉片指頭(173行) 攫住並插入濕河岸，風 橫越褐黑土地，無聲無息，仙子 已離去 甜蜜的泰晤士河，溫柔地流，直到我唱完歌 河不載，空瓶、三明治紙 絲質手帕、硬紙盒、煙蒂 或其他夏夜証物。仙子已 離去 他們的朋友、閒蕩的城官王孫 已離去，未留下住址 傍著雷夢湖，我坐下，並哭泣… 甜蜜的泰晤士河，溫柔地流，直到我唱完歌 甜蜜的泰晤士河，溫柔地流，因我說話不大聲或冗長 但在我背後的冷風中，我聽到 骨頭卡搭作響，咯咯笑，從這耳到那耳
一頭老鼠躡爬，穿過植被(187行) 在岸上，拖著牠黏滑的肚皮 而我卻於晦暗的河道釣魚 在冬夜，煤氣店後 想我王兄的遇難 並想他之前，我王父的死 蒼白軀體裸躺於低窪濕地 骨頭拋入低矮，乾乾的閣樓 只有老鼠的腳橫衝直撞，年復一年 但在背後，我不時聽見 (196 行) 喇叭和汽車的聲音，他會 在春天，將史威尼帶到波特太太面前 噢，月亮照在波特太太身上 和她女兒身上 她們在蘇打水裡洗腳 噢，這些孩子的聲音，在教堂中歌唱
忒囈忒囈忒囈 唧唧唧唧唧 如此粗魯強迫 特鲁特鲁
幻城 (20行) 在冬午的褐霧下 尤金尼茲先生，史麥那商人 沒刮鬍，口袋裡滿是葡萄乾 到岸價格 倫敦：見票即付
以蹩腳法語請我 在坎能街飯店用餐 隨後在大都會度周末
在藍紫天光時刻，當眼和背 從桌子向轉而上抬時，當人肉引擎 等待 像計程車顫動等待時 我，提瑞席阿斯，雖盲，在兩種生命間顫動(218行) 有皺巴巴女人乳房的老人，能在 藍紫天光時刻，看到努力向家走去 使水手從海上回家 打字員在用茶時間回家，清理她的早餐 點燃 她的爐子，拿出罐頭食品的黃昏景象 窗外岌岌可危地晾著 她那殘陽撫觸，快晒乾的連身內衣 沙發上堆著(晚上作床) 襪子、拖鞋、小背心和束身內衣 我，提瑞席阿斯，有皺巴巴乳房的老人(228行) 看到這場景，預言其他部分 我亦等候期待的客人 他，長著肉疙瘩的年輕人，抵達 小代理商的職員，耽耽色眼 一個下流痞子，自信滿滿 就像綢帽戴在布雷德佛的百萬富翁頭上 時間現在合適，如他推測(235行) 餐已用完，她又厭又倦 試圖摟她抱她 雖非所欲，亦未推拒 臉紅心決，他立刻進擊 刺探的手一路無阻 他的虛榮心無需回報 還作勢歡迎漠然 (我，提瑞席阿斯早忍受過(243行) 這同張沙發或床，上演的一切 我曾傍著底比斯河，在牆下坐過 並曾在最下層的死者間走過 投以最後的施恩一吻 模索上路，尋找未點灯的樓梯…
她轉身對鏡照了一會(249行) 未察覺她的情人已離去 她的腦子讓半熟念頭過去 「好啦，現在已辦完：真高興已辦完」 當可愛的女人屈從墮落，並 孤獨地，在她的房內來回蹀踱時 她機械地用手撫平頭髮 並把唱片放在留聲機上
「這音樂蠕蠕水上，經過我身邊」(257行) 沿著史特蘭德，上至維多女王街 城啊城, 我有時候能聽到 在下泰晤士街的一家酒吧旁 曼陀鈴的愉悅低訴 以及裡面傳來的碰撞聲和嘈雜聲 在此，漁民到了中午休息：殉道 牆保存 艾歐尼亞不可思議的輝煌，白的和金的
河淌著汗(266行) 石油與焦油 舢板漂泊 隨著轉向潮 紅帆 大張 向下風，在沉重的桅上搖擺 舢板沖洗 漂流木頭 向下到格林威志 經過犬島 威阿啦啦 雷啊 哇啦啦 雷啊啦啦 伊莉莎白和萊謝思特(279行) 打著槳 船尾形成 鑲金貝殼 紅而金黃 輕快的浪湧 起細浪於兩岸 西南風 帶到下游 隆隆鐘響 白塔 威阿啦啦 雷啊 哇啦啦 雷啊啦啦 「電車和蒙塵的樹」 海勃里生我，里其蒙和邱 毀我。有賴里其蒙，我抬起膝 仰臥在狹窄不堪的獨木舟地板上」 「我的腳在慕爾加特，我的心」( 296行) 在我的腳下。事件之後 他哭。他允諾「重新來過」 我不予置評。我該憎恨什麼
「在馬加特沙灘上」(300 行) 我沒辦法連接 一無所有與一無所有 髒手的斷裂指甲 我們下等人指望 一無所有」
啦啦
我來到迦太基
燃燒燃燒燃燒燃燒 噢主 祢拔救我 噢主 祢拔救
燃燒 (311 行)
※ Sermon 取尚書中「康誥曰」的誥
III. The Fire Sermon The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf (line 173) Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
A rat crept softly through the vegetation(line 187) Dragging its slimy belly on the bank While I was fishing in the dull canal On a winter evening round behind the gashouse Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck And on the king my father’s death before him. White bodies naked on the low damp ground And bones cast in a little low dry garret, Rattled by the rat’s foot only, year to year. But at my back from time to time I hear (line 196) The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter They wash their feet in soda water Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!
Twit twit twit Jug jug jug jug jug jug So rudely forc’d. Tereu
Under the brown fog of a winter noon Mr. Eugenides, the Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants C.i.f. London: documents at sight, Asked me in demotic French To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel Followed by a weekend at the Metropole. At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, (line 218) Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun’s last rays, On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs (line 228) Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest— I too awaited the expected guest. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a The time is now propitious, as he guesses, (line 243) The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all (line 243) Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .
She turns and looks a moment in the glass, (line 249) Hardly aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: “Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.” When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.
“This music crept by me upon the waters” (line 257) And along the O City city, I can sometimes hear Beside a public bar in The pleasant whining of a mandoline And a clatter and a chatter from within Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls Of Magnus Martyr hold Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold. The river sweats(line 266) Oil and tar The barges drift With the turning tide Red sails Wide To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. The barges wash Drifting logs Down Past the Isle of Dogs. Weialala leia Wallala leialala
Elizabeth and Leicester(line 279) Beating oars The stern was formed A gilded shell Red and gold The brisk swell Rippled both shores Southwest wind Carried down stream The peal of bells White towers Weialala leia Wallala leialala
“Trams and dusty trees. Highbury bore me. Undid me. By Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.”
“My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart(line 296) Under my feet. After the event He wept. He promised a ‘new start.’ I made no comment. What should I resent?”
“On I can connect Nothing with nothing. The broken fingernails of dirty hands. My people humble people who expect Nothing.” la la
To
Burning burning burning burning O Lord Thou pluckest me out O Lord Thou pluckest Burning (line 311)
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