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文学作品:Byron - Epistle to Augusta 汉译

2014-09-02    来源:en84    【      美国外教 在线口语培训

文学作品汉译:请欣赏拜伦作品《Epistle to Augusta》

Epistle to Augusta

George Gordon Byron

My sister! my sweet sister! if a name 
Dearer and purer were, it should be thine; 
Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim 
No tears, but tenderness to answer mine: 
Go where I will, to me thou art the same—       
A loved regret which I would not resign. 
There yet are two things in my destiny,— 
A world to roam through, and a home with thee. 

The first were nothing—had I still the last, 
It were the haven of my happiness;        
But other claims and other ties thou hast, 
And mine is not the wish to make them less. 
A strange doom is thy father’s son’s, and past 
Recalling, as it lies beyond redress; 
Reversed for him our grandsire’s fate of yore,—        
He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore. 

If my inheritance of storms hath been 
In other elements, and on the rocks 
Of perils, overlook’d or unforeseen, 
I have sustain’d my share of worldly shocks,      
The fault was mine; nor do I seek to screen 
My errors with defensive paradox; 
I have been cunning in mine overthrow, 
The careful pilot of my proper woe. 

Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward.      
My whole life was a contest, since the day 
That gave me being, gave me that which marr’d 
The gift,—a fate, or will, that walk’d astray; 
And I at times have found the struggle hard, 
And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay:        
But now I fain would for a time survive, 
If but to see what next can well arrive. 

Kingdoms and empires in my little day 
I have outlived, and yet I am not old: 
And when I look on this, the petty spray       
Of my own years of trouble, which have roll’d 
Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away: 
Something—I know not what—does still uphold 
A spirit of slight patience;—not in vain, 
Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain.       

Perhaps the workings of defiance stir 
Within me,—or perhaps a cold despair, 
Brought when ills habitually recur,— 
Perhaps a kindlier clime, or purer air, 
(For even to this may change of soul refer,     
And with light armour we may learn to bear), 
Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not 
The chief companion of a calmer lot. 

I feel almost at times as I have felt 
In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks,        
Which do remember me of where I dwelt 
Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books, 
Come as of yore upon me, and can melt 
My heart with recognition of their looks; 
And even at moments I could think I see       
Some living thing to love—but none like thee. 

Here are the Alpine landscapes which create 
A fund for contemplation—to admire 
Is a brief feeling of a trivial date; 
But something worthier do such scenes inspire;      
Here to be lonely is not desolate, 
For much I view which I could most desire, 
And, above all, a lake I can behold 
Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old. 

Oh that thou wert but with me!—but I grow        
The fool of my own wishes, and forget 
The solitude, which I have vaunted so, 
Has lost its praise in this but one regret; 
There may be others which I less may show!— 
I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet      
I feel an ebb in my philosophy, 
And the tide rising in my alter’d eye. 

I did remind thee of our own dear Lake, 
By the old Hall which may be mine no more. 
Leman’s is fair; but think not I forsake      
The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore; 
Sad havoc Time must with my memory make, 
Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before; 
Though, like all things which I have loved, they are 
Resign’d for ever, or divided far.       

The world is all before me; I but ask 
Of Nature that with which she will comply— 
It is but in her summer’s sun to bask, 
To mingle with the quiet of her sky, 
To see her gentle face without a mask,        
And never gaze on it with apathy. 
She was my early friend, and now shall be 
My sister—till I look again on thee. 

I can reduce all feeling but this one; 
And that I would not;—for at length I see        
Such scenes as those wherein my life begun. 
The earliest—even the only paths for me— 
Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun, 
I had been better than I now can be; 
The passions which have torn me would have slept;       
I had not suffer’d and thou hadst not wept. 

With false Ambition what had I to do? 
Little with Love, and least of all with Fame; 
And yet they came unsought, and with me grew, 
And made me all which they can make—a name.        
Yet this was not the end I did pursue; 
Surely I once beheld a nobler aim. 
But all is over—I am one the more 
To baffled millions which have gone before. 

And for the future, this world’s future may       
From me demand but little of my care; 
I have outlived myself by many a day; 
Having survived so many things that were; 
My years have been no slumber, but the prey 
Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share        
Of life which might have fill’d a century, 
Before its fourth in time had pass’d me by. 

And for the remnant which may be to come 
I am content; and for the past I feel 
Not thankless,—for within the crowded sum      
Of struggles, happiness at times would steal, 
And for the present, I would not benumb 
My feelings farther—Nor shall I conceal 
That with all this I still can look around, 
And worship Nature with a thought profound.       

For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart 
I know myself secure, as thou in mine. 
We were and are—I am, even as thou art— 
Beings who ne’er each other can resign: 
It is the same, together or apart,       
From life’s commencement to its slow decline 
We are entwined—let death come slow or fast, 
The tie which bound the first endures the last!

1816.

书寄奥古斯达

我的姐姐!我亲密的姐姐!假如有
比这更亲更纯的名称,它该说给你:
千山万水隔开了我们,但我要求
不是你的泪,而是回答我的情谊。
无论我漂泊何方,你在我的心头
永远是一团珍爱的情愫,一团痛惜。
呵,我这余生还有两件事情留给我——
或漂游世界,或与你共享家庭之乐。

如果我有了后者,前者就不值一提,
你会成为我的幸福之避难的港湾;
但是,还有许多别的关系系住你,
我不原意你因为我而和一切疏淡。
是乖戾的命运笼罩着你的兄弟——
不堪回首,因为它已经无可转圜;
我的遭逢正好和我们祖父的相反:
他是在海上,我却在陆上没一刻安然。

如果可以说,他的风暴是被我承当
在另一种自然里,在我所曾经忽略
或者从未料到的危险的岩石上,
我却忍受了人世给我的一份幻灭,
那是由于我的过失,我并不想掩藏,
用一种似是而非的托辞聊以自解;
我已经够巧妙地使自己跌下悬崖,
我为我特有的悲伤作了小心的领航员。

既然错处是我的,我该承受它的酬报。
我的一生就是一场斗争,因为我
自从有了生命的那一天,就有了
伤害它的命运或意志,永远和它违拗;
而我有时候感于这种冲突的苦恼,
也曾经想要摇落这肉体的枷锁:
但如今,我却宁愿多活一个时候,
哪怕只为了看看还有什么祸事临头。

在我渺小的日子里,我也曾阅历
帝国的兴亡,但是我并没有衰老;
当我把自己的忧患和那一切相比,
它虽曾奔腾象海湾中狂暴的浪涛,
却成了小小水化的泼溅,随时平息:
的确,有一些什么——连我也不明了——
在支持这不知忍耐的灵魂;我们并不
白白地(即使仅仅为它自己)贩来痛苦。

也许是反抗的精神在我的心中,
造成的结果——也许是冷酷的绝望
由于灾难的经常出现而逐渐滋生,——
也许是清新的空气,更温煦的地方
(因为有人以此解释心情的变动,
我们也无妨把薄薄的甲胄穿上),
不知是什么给了我奇怪的宁静,
它不是安祥的命运所伴有的那一种。

有时候,我几乎感到在快乐的童年
我所曾感到的:小溪、树木和花草
和往昔一样扑到我的眼底,使我忆念
我所居住的地方,在我青春的头脑
还没有牺牲给书本以前。我的心间
会为这我曾经熟识的自然的面貌
而温馨;甚至有时候,我以为我看见
值得爱的生命——但有谁能象你那般?

阿尔卑斯在我面前展开,这片景象
是冥想的丰富的源泉;——对它赞叹,
不过是烦琐的一天中应景的文章;
细加观赏却能引起更珍贵的灵感。
在这里,孤独并不就令人觉得凄凉,
因为有许多心愿的事物我都能看见;
而且,最重要的是,我能望着一片湖
比我们家乡的更秀丽,虽然比较生疏。
 
哦,要是能和你在一起,那多幸福!
但我别为这痴望所愚弄吧,我忘记
我在这里曾经如此夸耀的孤独,
就会因为这仅有的埋怨而泄了气;
也许还有别的怨言,我更不想透露——
我不是爱发牢骚的人,不想谈自己;
但尽管如此,我的哲学还是讲下去了,
我感到在我的眼睛里涌起了热潮。

我在向你提起我们家乡可爱的湖水,
呵,湖旁的那老宅也许不再是我的。
莱芒湖固然美丽,但不要因此认为
我对更亲密的故土不再向往和追忆:
除非是时光把我的记忆整个儿摧毁,
否则,它和它都不会从我的眼里褪去;
虽然,你们会和一切我所爱的事物一样,
不是要我永远断念,就是隔离在远方。

整个世界在我面前展开;我向自然
只要求她同意给予我享受的东西——
那就是在夏日的阳光下躺在湖边,
让我和她的蓝天的寂静融和在一起,
让我看到她没訛枣幕的温和的脸,
热烈地注视她,永远不感到厌腻。
她曾是我早年的友好,现在应该是
我的姐姐——如果我不曾又向你注视。

呵,我能抹煞任何感情,除了这一个;
这一个我却不情愿,因为我终于面临
有如我生命开始时所踏进的景色:
它对我是最早的、也是唯一的途径。
如果我知道及早地从人群退缩,
我绝不会濒临象现在这样的处境;
那曾经撕裂我的心的激情原会安息,
我不至于被折磨,你也不至于哭泣。

我和骗人的“野心”能有什么因缘?
我不认得,“爱情”,和“声誉”最没有关系;
可是它们不请自来,并和我纠缠,
使我得到名声——只能如此而已。
然而这并不是我所抱韵最后心愿;
事实上,我一度望到更高贵的目的。
但是一切都完了——我算是另外一个,
我以前的千百万人都这样迷惘地活过。

而至于未来,这个世界的未来命运
不能引起我怎样的关切和注意;
我已超过我该有的寿命很多时辰,
我还活着,这样多的事情却已逝去。
我的岁月并没有睡眠,而是让精神
保持不断的警惕,因为我得到的
是一份足以充满一世纪的生命,
虽然,它的四分之一还投有被我走尽。

至于那可能来到的、此后的余生
我将满意地接待;对于过去,我也不
毫无感谢之情——因为在无尽挣扎中,
除痛苦外,快乐也有时偷偷袭入;
至于现在,我却不愿意使我的感情
再逐日麻痹下去。尽管形似冷酷,
我不愿隐瞒我仍旧能四方观看,
并且怀着一种深挚的情思崇拜自然。

至于你,我亲爱的姐姐呵,在你心上
我知道有我,一如你占据我的心灵;
无论过去和现在,我们——我和你一样——
一直是两个彼此不能疏远的生命;
无论一起或者分离,都不会变心肠。
从生命的开始直到它逐渐的凋零,
我们相互交缠一—任死亡或早、或晚,
这最早的情谊将把我们系到最后一天!
            
1816年

(查良铮 译)



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