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Wallace Stevens--The Idea of Order at Key West 汉译

2015-12-11    来源:网络    【      美国外教 在线口语培训

Wallace Stevens--The Idea of Order at Key West 汉译

The Idea of Order at Key West

Wallace Stevens

She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.

The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.

For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? We said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.

If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.

It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.

Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker's rage to order words of the sea,
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.

译文:

基韦斯特的秩序意念

华莱士·斯蒂文斯

她的歌唱超越了大海之灵。
海水从不在脑际或声音里成形,
像身体之为身体,飘拂着
虚袖;可它摹拟的动作
时刻在呼叫,无时无刻不引起呼叫,
虽然叫人听懂,却不属于我们,
不是人类的,是真确的海洋之音哪。

大海不是一个面具,她也如是。
歌曲和水声并不是驳杂无章
即使她听到什么唱什么,
因为她一字一句唱出口。
也许字里行间翻动着
滚转的水和呼啸的风;
入耳的可是她的歌,不是海涛。

她唱的歌曲是她创造的。
蒙头遮脸、呼天抢地的海洋
只是她沿岸漫步低唱的地方。
这是谁的神灵?深知那是
我们追寻的神灵才有此一问,
她一边唱,还得以此一再相问。

假如只是大海阴沉的声音
升起,或是甚至给千万波涛渲染;
假如只是沉海珊瑚给墙围着,
以及穹苍白云的天外之音,
尽管清越,也只是深沉气流,
吁气呼呼的风之言语,绵绵无尽的
长夏里重复长夏的声音,而且
只是声音而已。可是不止这样吧,
不止她的声音,我们的声音,
在海和风无聊的奔跃之间,
戏剧性的距离,青铜影子重叠于
高高的地平线,岭色山岚
萦绕天和海。

是她的声音啊
天光消褪时显得最鲜明,
给时日量度暗换的寂寥。
她是她歌中之境的唯一
塑造者。她歌唱的时候,海洋,
不管有我无我,变成了
她歌中之我,因为她是创造者。于是
我们目睹她独个儿怡然举步,
领悟到她心中一无所有,只有
歌中之境,缔造于歌唱之中。

雷蒙·弗南戴,你知道就告诉我吧,
为什么一曲既终,我们转过身
面向城里,告诉我为什么闪烁的灯火
——停泊这里的渔船上的灯火,
夜幕低垂以后,在空中倾斜——
雄据了黑夜,平分了海洋,
厘定了明亮的地带和炽热的两极,
摆布着、深化着、魅惑着黑夜

可怜的雷蒙,寻求秩序天赐的狂热啊!
创造者的狂热,为了把海的字句,
芬芳之门、星光隐约的字句排成秩序,
为了给我们自己,我们的出处,
更阴森的界限,更锐利的声音。

1935



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