新浪博客
实之中的某些人类思维活动和行为，貌似荒诞，实则另有弦外之音。
她浇花。她听见水从阳台上滴下。
木板浸湿，腐烂。第二天
当阳台坍塌时，她仍留在空中，
平静，美丽。她怀里抱着
两大盆天竺葵和她的微笑。
（冯默谌 译）
Evening
She watered the flowers. She listened to the water dripping from the balcony.
The planks get soaked and rot. Tomorrow,
when the balcony collapses, she will remain up in the air,
Calm, beautiful, holding in her arms
the two big pot of her geraniums and her smile.
一天，他做完了水罐、花盆和陶锅。还剩些
黏土。他捏了个女人。她的乳房
硕大又结实。他走神，很晚才回家。
他的妻子嘀咕，埋怨。他没理她。第二天
他留下了更多的黏土，第三天更多。
他不想回家。他的妻子离开了他。
他的眼睛燃烧。他裸着半身。他系着一条红腰带。
他整夜都和泥女人睡在一起。黎明时
你能听见他在车间的栅栏后唱歌。
他解开他的腰带。赤裸。完全地赤裸。
围在他身边的是
空水罐，空陶锅，空花盆
和那个美丽的，目盲的，又聋又哑，乳房被咬过的女人。
（冯默谌 译）
On day he finished with the pitchers, the flower pots, the cooking pots. Some clay
was left over. He made a woman. Her breasts
were big and firm. His mind wandered .He returned home late.
His wife grumbled. He didn't answer her. Next day
he kept more clay and even more the following day.
He wouldn't go back home. His wife left him.
His eye burn.He' s half-naked. He wears a red waist-band.
He lies all night with clay women. At dawn
you can hear him sing behind the fence of the workshop.
He took off his red waist-band too. Naked. Completely naked.
And all around him
the empty pitcher, the empty cooking pots, the empty flower pots
and the beautiful, blind, deaf-and-dumb women with the bitten breasts.
在巨大的喧闹中,
寂静的裂缝。我们清楚地听到
寂静的深度。时光膨胀。
老人拄杖过桥。
两个骑自行车的人，在山的地平线上。
大鸟出现。
（冯默谌 译）
Hearing
Amidst great clamor,
Fissures of silence.We clearly hear
the silent depth.Time expands.
Old men with canes cross the bridge.
Two cyclists on the hill’s horizon.
Large birds appear.
1985
整天，都有一股腐烂的，潮湿的地板味——
在阳光下晒干，蒸发。鸟儿
从屋顶往下看了会儿，然后飞走。
夜里，在邻近的小客栈里，挖墓者坐着，
吃银鱼，喝酒，唱着
一首充满黑洞的歌——
一阵微风从洞中吹来。
树叶、灯光颤动，他书架上的纸也随之颤动。
（冯默谌 译）
The Day of a Sick Man
All day, a smell of rotting, wet floor boards
they dry and steam in the sun. The birds
glance down momentarily from the roof tops and fly away.
At night, in the neighbouring tavern ,sit the grave-diggers,
they eat whitebait, they drink, they sing
a song full of black holes -
a breeze starts blowing out from the holes.
and the leaves, the lights quiver, the paper lining his shelves quivers too.
黎明时，寂静笼罩在冒烟的废墟中。
与火搏斗了一夜的人们
现在睡着了，疲惫而平静，在他们甜蜜的屈服中，
其他人带有一种模糊的，漫无目的的，胜利的微笑。
只有他醒着。事实上，他不愿入眠，
他不知道自己是胜利者，还是失败者，
也许只是模糊地猜测──也许
唯一的胜利者就是：他想要知道这个结果的决定。
1955─1956
（冯默谌 译）
AFTER THE FIRE
When it dawned, the silence was heavy amidst the smoking ruins.
Those who had wrestled with the fire all night
were now sleeping, weary and tranquil within their sweet submission,
others with the smile of a vague and aimless triumph.
Only he was awake. He was, in fact, avoiding sleep,
without knowing if he was the victor or the defeated,
guessing only vaguely that perhaps─perhaps
the only victory was this: his decision to learn which.
1955─1956
这座城市灯火通明；在夜空下，
两盏明亮的红灯莫名其妙地在高处闪烁;
窗，桥，街道，出租车，公共汽车。
“我也有一辆自行车——”他说；“我做梦。”他说。
房间里的女人移动目光；她没说一个字;
她的衣服右侧未缝;如果她站着，
就能看到她的肩膀弯了。至于别的，
“我不想谈——”他说;你保留它们，如碎水杯般；
你把它们拿下，当垃圾收集者经过时，
带有一种愧疚的渴望，清晨，美丽的水杯
裹在旧报纸里，总是担忧
你可能会把它们撞在楼梯的栏杆上，因为
它们依然发出一种深沉的声音，穿透——那坚实之声
仿佛与窗玻璃，风和墙壁合谋。
盲人音乐家疲倦地走上楼梯;他把小提琴
放在椅上;他打开它;在它
三个水杯中的两个，晶莹剔透，浑然一体。
（冯默谌 译）
The Unexpressed
The city all lit up under its evening sky;
two bright red lights blink inexplicably high up;
the windows, the bridge, the streets, the taxis, the buses.
'I too had a bicycle - he said; - 'I was dreaming' - he said.
The woman in the room looked away; she didn't say a word;
her dress was unstitched on the right side; if she stood
one could see her shoulder was bent. As for the rest,
one can' talk about them - he said; you keep them like broken water glasses;
you take them down yourself, when the rubbish collector passes,
with a guilty eagerness, early in the morning, the beautiful water glasses
wrapped in old newspapers, always anxious
you might knock them against the rails of the staircase, because
they still ring
with a deep sound, penetrating - that unbreakable sound
as if conspiring with the window panes, with the wind, with the walls.
The blind musician then goes up the stair exhausted; he puts down
his violin case on the chair; he opens it; in it
are two of the three water glasses, glittering, whole.
太阳才不管你的任何犹豫──
赤裸裸地想要你，赤裸裸地占有你，
直到夜幕降临，为你穿衣。
太阳去后，只剩悔恨。
悔恨之后，太阳又再次升起。
1938.9 雅典
（冯默谌 译）
SUCCESSION
The sun does not consider any of your hesitations—
naked it wants you and naked it takes you,
until night comes to dress you.
After the sun, there is repentance.
After repentance, the sun again.
Athens, September, 1938
下午满是掉落的灰泥，黑石，干荆棘。
下午有种难以描述的色彩，由半途留下的旧脚印，
院子里埋着的旧罐而成，疲倦和青草在它们的上面。
两个死人，五个死人，十二个——难以计数，数不胜数。
每小时都有人离去。窗口后
站着那些消失的人，还有他们未喝水的水罐。
而那颗坠落在夜色边缘的星，
如一只被割去的耳朵，听不到蟋蟀唧唧，
听不到我们的借口——听不到
我们的歌——独自，独自，
独自，与众隔绝，对一切谴责或辩解漠不关心。
（冯默谌 译）
Afternoon
The afternoon is all fallen plaster, black stones, dried thorns.
The afternoon has a difficult color made of old footsteps left halfway,
made of old buried jugs in the yard, and on them tiredness and grass.
Two dead men, five dead men, twelve - how many, how many.
Each hour has its dead. Behind the windows
stand those missing and the pitcher with the water they didn't drink.
And that star that fell at the edge of the night
is like the cut off ear that doesn't hear the crickets
that doesn't hear our excuses - doesn't deign
to hear our songs - alone, alone,
alone, cut off, indifferent to condemnation or justification.
1946-1947
(加载中)
她浇花。她听见水从阳台上滴下。
木板浸湿，腐烂。第二天
当阳台坍塌时，她仍留在空中，
平静，美丽。她怀里抱着
两大盆天竺葵和她的微笑。
（冯默谌 译）
Evening
She watered the flowers. She listened to the water dripping from the balcony.
The planks get soaked and rot. Tomorrow,
when the balcony collapses, she will remain up in the air,
Calm, beautiful, holding in her arms
the two big pot of her geraniums and her smile.
一天，他做完了水罐、花盆和陶锅。还剩些
黏土。他捏了个女人。她的乳房
硕大又结实。他走神，很晚才回家。
他的妻子嘀咕，埋怨。他没理她。第二天
他留下了更多的黏土，第三天更多。
他不想回家。他的妻子离开了他。
他的眼睛燃烧。他裸着半身。他系着一条红腰带。
他整夜都和泥女人睡在一起。黎明时
你能听见他在车间的栅栏后唱歌。
他解开他的腰带。赤裸。完全地赤裸。
围在他身边的是
空水罐，空陶锅，空花盆
和那个美丽的，目盲的，又聋又哑，乳房被咬过的女人。
（冯默谌 译）
On day he finished with the pitchers, the flower pots, the cooking pots. Some clay
was left over. He made a woman. Her breasts
were big and firm. His mind wandered .He returned home late.
His wife grumbled. He didn't answer her. Next day
he kept more clay and even more the following day.
He wouldn't go back home. His wife left him.
His eye burn.He' s half-naked. He wears a red waist-band.
He lies all night with clay women. At dawn
you can hear him sing behind the fence of the workshop.
He took off his red waist-band too. Naked. Completely naked.
And all around him
the empty pitcher, the empty cooking pots, the empty flower pots
and the beautiful, blind, deaf-and-dumb women with the bitten breasts.
在巨大的喧闹中,
寂静的裂缝。我们清楚地听到
寂静的深度。时光膨胀。
老人拄杖过桥。
两个骑自行车的人，在山的地平线上。
大鸟出现。
（冯默谌 译）
Hearing
Amidst great clamor,
Fissures of silence.We clearly hear
the silent depth.Time expands.
Old men with canes cross the bridge.
Two cyclists on the hill’s horizon.
Large birds appear.
1985
整天，都有一股腐烂的，潮湿的地板味——
在阳光下晒干，蒸发。鸟儿
从屋顶往下看了会儿，然后飞走。
夜里，在邻近的小客栈里，挖墓者坐着，
吃银鱼，喝酒，唱着
一首充满黑洞的歌——
一阵微风从洞中吹来。
树叶、灯光颤动，他书架上的纸也随之颤动。
（冯默谌 译）
The Day of a Sick Man
All day, a smell of rotting, wet floor boards
they dry and steam in the sun. The birds
glance down momentarily from the roof tops and fly away.
At night, in the neighbouring tavern ,sit the grave-diggers,
they eat whitebait, they drink, they sing
a song full of black holes -
a breeze starts blowing out from the holes.
and the leaves, the lights quiver, the paper lining his shelves quivers too.
黎明时，寂静笼罩在冒烟的废墟中。
与火搏斗了一夜的人们
现在睡着了，疲惫而平静，在他们甜蜜的屈服中，
其他人带有一种模糊的，漫无目的的，胜利的微笑。
只有他醒着。事实上，他不愿入眠，
他不知道自己是胜利者，还是失败者，
也许只是模糊地猜测──也许
唯一的胜利者就是：他想要知道这个结果的决定。
1955─1956
（冯默谌 译）
AFTER THE FIRE
When it dawned, the silence was heavy amidst the smoking ruins.
Those who had wrestled with the fire all night
were now sleeping, weary and tranquil within their sweet submission,
others with the smile of a vague and aimless triumph.
Only he was awake. He was, in fact, avoiding sleep,
without knowing if he was the victor or the defeated,
guessing only vaguely that perhaps─perhaps
the only victory was this: his decision to learn which.
1955─1956
这座城市灯火通明；在夜空下，
两盏明亮的红灯莫名其妙地在高处闪烁;
窗，桥，街道，出租车，公共汽车。
“我也有一辆自行车——”他说；“我做梦。”他说。
房间里的女人移动目光；她没说一个字;
她的衣服右侧未缝;如果她站着，
就能看到她的肩膀弯了。至于别的，
“我不想谈——”他说;你保留它们，如碎水杯般；
你把它们拿下，当垃圾收集者经过时，
带有一种愧疚的渴望，清晨，美丽的水杯
裹在旧报纸里，总是担忧
你可能会把它们撞在楼梯的栏杆上，因为
它们依然发出一种深沉的声音，穿透——那坚实之声
仿佛与窗玻璃，风和墙壁合谋。
盲人音乐家疲倦地走上楼梯;他把小提琴
放在椅上;他打开它;在它
三个水杯中的两个，晶莹剔透，浑然一体。
（冯默谌 译）
The Unexpressed
The city all lit up under its evening sky;
two bright red lights blink inexplicably high up;
the windows, the bridge, the streets, the taxis, the buses.
'I too had a bicycle - he said; - 'I was dreaming' - he said.
The woman in the room looked away; she didn't say a word;
her dress was unstitched on the right side; if she stood
one could see her shoulder was bent. As for the rest,
one can' talk about them - he said; you keep them like broken water glasses;
you take them down yourself, when the rubbish collector passes,
with a guilty eagerness, early in the morning, the beautiful water glasses
wrapped in old newspapers, always anxious
you might knock them against the rails of the staircase, because
they still ring
with a deep sound, penetrating - that unbreakable sound
as if conspiring with the window panes, with the wind, with the walls.
The blind musician then goes up the stair exhausted; he puts down
his violin case on the chair; he opens it; in it
are two of the three water glasses, glittering, whole.
太阳才不管你的任何犹豫──
赤裸裸地想要你，赤裸裸地占有你，
直到夜幕降临，为你穿衣。
太阳去后，只剩悔恨。
悔恨之后，太阳又再次升起。
1938.9 雅典
（冯默谌 译）
SUCCESSION
The sun does not consider any of your hesitations—
naked it wants you and naked it takes you,
until night comes to dress you.
After the sun, there is repentance.
After repentance, the sun again.
Athens, September, 1938
下午满是掉落的灰泥，黑石，干荆棘。
下午有种难以描述的色彩，由半途留下的旧脚印，
院子里埋着的旧罐而成，疲倦和青草在它们的上面。
两个死人，五个死人，十二个——难以计数，数不胜数。
每小时都有人离去。窗口后
站着那些消失的人，还有他们未喝水的水罐。
而那颗坠落在夜色边缘的星，
如一只被割去的耳朵，听不到蟋蟀唧唧，
听不到我们的借口——听不到
我们的歌——独自，独自，
独自，与众隔绝，对一切谴责或辩解漠不关心。
（冯默谌 译）
Afternoon
The afternoon is all fallen plaster, black stones, dried thorns.
The afternoon has a difficult color made of old footsteps left halfway,
made of old buried jugs in the yard, and on them tiredness and grass.
Two dead men, five dead men, twelve - how many, how many.
Each hour has its dead. Behind the windows
stand those missing and the pitcher with the water they didn't drink.
And that star that fell at the edge of the night
is like the cut off ear that doesn't hear the crickets
that doesn't hear our excuses - doesn't deign
to hear our songs - alone, alone,
alone, cut off, indifferent to condemnation or justification.
1946-1947
(加载中)