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| 2025/03/22 06:12:29瀏覽179｜回應0｜推薦3 | |
| Selected poems：馬克．斯特蘭德的《一個人的暴風雪》（二抄） 這是屬於但丁詩歌的氣氛，我們處於一個陰森森的地方，它是詩人的天堂或煉獄。假如《黑暗的港口》(Dark Harbor)中有一句尤其長久地迴響在我心中的話，那就是：“他們已準備好說出先前沒能說出的言辭——”這仍是晚期的史蒂文斯的口吻，但它的不同之處完全屬於馬克．斯特蘭德。 ——哈樂德‧布魯姆（Harold Bloom），〈馬克‧斯特蘭德 (1934-2017)〉，《詩人與詩歌》 書名：一個人的暴風雪 作者：馬克．斯特蘭德（Mark Strand） 譯者：桑婪 出版社：湖南文藝 出版日期：2025/01 〈黑暗港灣〉(Dark Harbor) —1993— 序 詩（Proem) “這就是我的主街，”他說，當他 那天早上出發，離開城鎮去往別處， 進入茂密的森林，升起的太陽 給森林覆上一層粉色，但他行走之處依舊黑暗。 “這就是那條路。”他接著說，當他期待著 他確信將在他面前打開的 巨大空間，一片荒涼的海， 狂暴的天空將在其上投下它歌曲 朦朧的形狀，他會揮動手臂 開始標記，幾乎像畫家會做的那樣， 標記價值高低不一的細部，粗略構想的 對這個或那個的柔軟比喻和呼喚， 在四周迴響、爆炸。他會將它們抽打 成型。萬物都會有一個邊界。天氣 燃燒的意願，吹過頭頂，將成為他的沈思。 “這就是那生活。”他說，當他抵達 他所尋找的通向大海的眾多外緣中的第一個，他扣上 外套，竪起衣領，開始呼吸。 "This is my Main Street," he said as he started off That morning, leaving the town to the others, Entering the high woods tipped in pink By the rising sun but still dark where he walked. "This is the way," he continued as he watched For the great space that he felt sure Would open before him, a stark sea over which The turbulent sky would drop the shadowy shapes Of its song, and he would move his arms And begin to mark, almost as a painter would, The passages of greater and lesser worth, the silken Tropes and calls to this or that, coarsely conceived, Echoing and blasting all around. He would whip them Into shape. Everything would have an edge. The burning Will of weather, blowing overhead, would be his muse. "This is the life," he said, as he reached the first Of many outer edges to the sea he sought, and he buttoned His coat, and turned up his collar, and began to breathe. XV 這光是怎樣的？它說空氣是金色的， 甚至那些綠樹也可以被保存 片刻，看起來滿綴珠玉， 而我的手，當我將它舉過自己身體的 影子時，它變成一束火焰，指引 通往某個世界的路，無人從那裡返回， 而人人都去往那裡。可能之物的光澤 調整著自身以適應場所的改變：離別的 凝望，即將沈入雲層的太陽， 在群山鋸齒狀的邊緣蹣跚， 然後迅速消失。那個新地方，那個夜晚， 廣闊、空蕩，像光之墳冢，轉身離去， 向下沈沒，成為無人記得的事物。 What light is this that says the air is golden, That even the green trees can be saved For a moment and look bejeweled, That my hand, as I lift it over the shade Of my body, becomes a To a world from which no one returns, yet toward Which everyone travels? The sheen of the possible Is adjusting itself to a change of venue: the look Of farewell, the sun dipping under the clouds, Faltering at the serrated edge of the mountains, Then going quickly. And the new place, the night, Spacious, empty, a tomb of lights, turning away, And going under, becoming what no one remembers XVI 這是真的，有人曾說，在一個 沒有天堂的世界裡，一切都是告別。 無論你是否揮手， 那都是告別，如果你的雙眼沒有溢出淚水 那仍是告別，如果你假裝不去注意， 討厭那消逝的，那仍是告別。 無論如何都是告別。棕櫚樹葉 垂在明亮的綠色環礁湖上，潛水的 鵜鶘，歇息的泳者閃耀的身體， 都是終極寂靜的一部分，沙子 和風的移動，身體秘密的移動 也是它的一部分，一種簡樸使存在 變成一個哀悼的時刻，或一個 值得慶祝的時刻，因為人還能做些別的什麼？ 除了感受鵜鶘羽翼的重量， 棕櫚葉陰影的濃密，和讓泳者 背部變黑的細胞？這些都超越了偶然性的 扭曲，超越了音樂的逃避。終局 一再發生。我們感覺到它 在睡眠的誘惑中，在月亮的成熟中， 在杯中等待著的酒中。 It is true, as someone has said, that in A world without heaven all is farewell. Whether you wave your hand or not, It is farewell, and if no tears come to your eyes It is still farewell, and if you pretend not to notice, Hating what passes, it is still farewell. Farewell no matter what. And the palms as they lean Over the green, bright lagoon, and the pelicans Diving, and the glistening bodies of bathers resting, Are stages in an ultimate stillness, and the movement Of sand, and of wind, and the secret moves of the body Are part of the same, a simplicity that turns being Into an occasion for mourning, or into an occasion Worth celebrating, for what else does one do, Feeling the weight of the pelicans’ wings, The density of the palms’ shadows, the cells that darken The backs of bathers? These are beyond the distortions Of chance, beyond the evasions of music. The end Is enacted again and again. And we feel it In the temptations of sleep, in the moon’s ripening, In the wine as it waits in the glass XLIII 整個下午我都在想 “在富人鄰里聽見悲哀的鋼琴聲” 和“聖潔天使學院的鋼琴練習”多麼相似， 想著彈鋼琴的女孩們如何不再在這兒。然而它絕非 一種與房間光線交織的恢宏音樂， 沒什麼能淹沒我們休息或安靜的慾望。 它就在那裡，彷彿快樂之源—— 完美無瑕，無人發覺——儘管事情並不總有好結局。 此刻綠葉在一場初雪下憂思， 房屋隨時間而變暗。夏天的聲音 已經離開。紫色的樹林渲染著遠處， 形成一種對乏味秋天的告別。 雪已經降臨，鋼琴黑色的形體 在沈睡，無法被喚醒，就像那些 已經離開的女孩，那些樹葉，以及這裡所有的一切。 All afternoon I have thought how alike Are “The Lament of the Pianos Heard in Rich Neighborhoods” And “Piano Practice at the Academy of the Holy Angels,” And how the girls that played are no longer here. Yet it was never A vast music that mingled with the lusters of the room, Nothing that would drown our desire for rest or silence. It was just there like the source of delight— Unblemished, unobserved—though things did not always turn out well. As now the green leaves brood under an early snow, And the houses are darkened by time. The sounds of summer Have left. The purple woods, which color the distance, Form a farewell for the monotonous autumn. The snows have come, and the black shapes of the pianos Are sleeping and cannot be roused, like the girls themselves Who have gone, and the leaves, and all that was just here. XLV 我確信你會覺得這裡煙霧朦朧， 許多的石頭小屋需要大加修補。 成群的靈魂裹著在披風之中，坐在原野裡 或漫遊在蜿蜒的泥土路上。他們彬彬有禮， 忘卻了自己的身體，風穿過他們， 發出沙沙聲。不久以前， 我停在一地歇息，一場 濃霧自河上盤旋而起。有個人 聲稱多年前就認識我， 他走過來，說那裡有許多詩人 四處遊蕩，希望獲得新生。 他們已準備好說出之前不能說出的言語—— 那些言語的缺席曾是愛、 痛苦，甚至是愉悅的緘默。然後他加入一小群人， 聚在一堆火旁。我相信我認出了 其中一些面孔，但當我靠近時，他們將頭藏在了 翅膀下。我向河上的山巒 看去，那裡夕陽和朝陽 金色的光全然相同，我看到有什麼 在來回飛翔，拍打著翅膀。而後它停在空中。 是一個天使，一個善天使，它即將歌唱。 I am sure you would find it misty here, With lots of stone cottages badly needing repair. Groups of souls, wrapped in cloaks, sit in the fields Or stroll the winding unpaved roads. They are polite, And oblivious to their bodies, which the wind passes through, Making a shushing sound. Not long ago, I stopped to rest in a place where an especially Thick mist swirled up from the river. Someone, Who claimed to have known me years before, Approached, saying there were many poets Wandering around who wished to be alive again. They were ready to say the words they had been unable to say Words whose absence had been the silence of love, Of pain, and even of pleasure. Then he joined a small group, Gathered beside a fire. I believe I recognized Some of the faces, hut as I approached they tucked Their heads under their wings. I looked away to the hills Above the river, where the golden lights of sunset And sunrise are one and the same, and saw something flying Back and forth, fluttering its wings. Then it stopped in mid-air. It was an angel, one of the good ones, about to sing. |
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| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
