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| 2015/11/30 05:33:35瀏覽18600｜回應0｜推薦12 | |
| Selected poem：濟慈 (John Keats) 的《夜鶯頌》(Ode to a Nightingale) 相較於法文詩，對於英文詩的涉獵極少，好比是英國浪漫主義的幾位大師：華茲華斯 (William Wordsworth)、柯勒律治 (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)、拜倫 (George Gordon Byron)、雪萊 (Percy Bysshe Shelley)、濟慈 (John Keats)......，他們流傳下來的許多名詩都是只聞其名，卻不曾略知其一二。 最近恰巧在讀費茲傑羅 (F. Scott Fitzgerald) 的《夜未央》(Tender Is the Night)，才赫然發現書名出自濟慈的《夜鶯頌》，也就趁機找了一些濟慈的詩作。 詩人余光中在 2012 年出版的《濟慈名著譯述》，介紹並選譯了濟慈的十四行詩、抒情詩、長詩、頌體 (ode) 和幾封書信，相當具有參考價值，以下摘要《夜鶯頌》相關的評論和翻譯共賞。 【Excerpt】 1819 年 4、5 月間，還未滿二十四歲的濟慈詩興潮湧，一口氣寫了五首頌歌，後之論者稱之為「五大頌歌」(The Five Great odes)，並且認為濟慈之為大詩人，一半賴此。也有不少學者認為，稍後完成的〈秋之頌〉(To Autumn) 無懈可擊，足與五大頌歌並列。其中〈希臘古甕頌〉(Ode on a Grecian Urn) 與〈夜鶯頌〉(Ode to a Nightingale) 最享盛名，評論甚多，譯者也不少。 〈夜鶯頌〉是濟慈最有名的詩作，歷來與雪萊的〈雲雀歌〉齊名。拜倫生前比他們聲譽高出許多，但是主要以長詩見稱，短篇的抒情詩卻未見如何出色，所以盛名之下竟然沒有與〈夜鶯頌〉、〈雲雀歌〉相當的代表作。雪萊的詩比較剛直，以氣取勝；濟慈的詩比較委婉，以韻見長。雪萊富使命感，以先知與革命家自任；濟慈其耽美癖，以愛神與賽姬之祭師自許。雪萊的詩以自我的意志為動力，像一個性格演員；濟慈的詩以深入萬物為能事，務求演什麼要像什麼，所以最強調「無我之功」(negative capability)，主張不可以主觀強加於萬物。 〈夜鶯頌〉 我真心痛，催眠的麻痺，折磨 著我，好像剛剛服了毒芹， 或乾了鴉片酊，連渣吞沒， 才一會，竟已向忘川沉浸： 不是為妒嫉你好運氣， 是見你幸福而深感幸福—— 只為你，輕飛的樹精，在林間 在載歌的空地， 山毛櫸青青，樹影密布， 你飽滿的歌喉頌揚夏天。 哦，多想喝一口葡萄的醇醪， 在深邃的地窖歷久冷藏， 其味如花，如鄉野的芳草， 如舞，如南國之歌，如享豔陽！ 哦，多想滿杯溫潤的南方， 斟滿真正害羞的仙泉， 有泡如珠，在杯邊眨眼， 把嘴唇染得多豔紫； 讓我飲罷能告別人世， 隨你遁入朦朧的林間。 遠遁吧，羽化吧，渾然忘掉 你在密葉間未經的世情， 未經的疲勞，高燒，煩惱， 不聞世人向彼此呻吟； 麻痺得留不住慘白的髮莖， 少年無顏色，憔悴而成鬼； 每一起念就滿懷傷情， 和眼神沉重的心灰； 美人的明眸不能長保， 也難盼新歡苦戀過明朝。 遠遁，遠遁，讓我飛向你， 不是搭乘酒神的豹輦， 而是駕著詩神的隱翼， 儘管此心已困頓而不前； 真到你處了？夜色猶未央， 也許月后已高就寶位， 四周簇擁著仙扈星妃； 但林間卻不見透光， 除非由微風吹來，自天庭； 穿過綠蔭，順著蜿蜒的苔徑。 看不見腳下是什麼芳馨 或是枝頭懸什麼香料， 但只憑暗香就能夠猜到 是什麼花譜值月正當令， 正開在草地，荊叢與果林—— 白山楂，還有薔薇花野生； 速謝的紫羅蘭掩葉待朽； 五月中旬要生頭胎： 將綻的麝香玫瑰，帶露如酒， 夏暮把嗡嗡的飛蟲引來。 在暗中我傾聽，有好幾次 幾乎要愛上安逸的死神， 冥想用詩韻暱喚他名字， 將我平靜的呼吸融入夜氛； 此刻就死去似乎更豐富， 歸化於子夜，不覺痛苦， 乘你正滔滔傾瀉魂魄， 以如此的狂歡極樂！ 你一面唱吧，我充耳不聞—— 輓歌雖莊嚴，我已成土。 你並非生而為死，不朽之禽， 非饑荒的世代所能作踐： 今夕匆匆我聆聽的鳴聲 帝王和村夫古來早聽見： 或許相同的歌聲曾經 也傷了露絲的心，只因念家， 她在異國的麥田裡泣下； 同樣的歌聲頻頻 迷住了魔窗，開向海上， 向驚波駭浪，在寂寞仙鄉。 寂寞啊！這字眼像一記鐘聲， 敲醒我回到自身的孤影！ 別了！幻想其實騙不了人， 儘管她騙出了名，騙子妖精。 別了！別了！你的哀歌飄過 附近的牧場，飄過平溪， 飄上了山坡，終於埋沒 在另一邊的谷地： 剛才是幻境，是半寤半寐？ 那音樂已沉——我是醒是睡？ (余光中譯) Ode to a Nightingale (1819) by John Keats 1. My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: ’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,— That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 2. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: 3. Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. 4. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 5. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves; And mid-May’s eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 6. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. 7. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 8. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep? (資料來源：https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Ode_to_a_Nightingale) |
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| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
