[转载]翻译《瑞丁监狱之歌》
2013-11-16 22:35阅读：
The Ballad of Reading
Gaol
by
Oscar Wilde
He did not wear his scarlet
coat,
For blood and wine are
red,
And blood and wine were on his
hands
When they found him with the
dead,
The poor dead woman whom he
loved,
And murdered in her
bed.
He walked amongst the Trial
Men
In a suit of shabby grey;
A cricket cap was on his
head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who
looked So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud
that went With sails of silver by.
I walked, with other souls in
pain,
Within another
ring,
And was wondering if the man
had done
A great or little
thing,
When a voice behind me
whispered low,
'That fellow's got to
swing.'
Dear Christ! the very prison
walls
Suddenly seemed to
reel
And the sky above my head
became Like a casque of
scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in
pain,
My pain I could not
feel
I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish
day
With such a wistful
eye;
The man had killed the thing he
loved
And so he had to
die.
Yet each man kills the thing he
loves
By each let this be
heard,
Some do it with a bitter
look,
Some with a flattering
word,
The coward does it with a
kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they
are young,
And some when they are
old;
Some strangle with the hands of
Lust,
Some with the hands of
Gold
The kindest use a knife,
because
The dead so soon grow
cold.
Some love too little, some too
long,
Some sell, and others
buy;
Some do the deed with many
tears,
And some without a
sigh:
For each man kills the thing he
loves,
Yet each man does not die.
He does not die a death of
shame
On a day of dark
disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his
neck,
Nor a cloth upon his
face,
Nor drop feet foremost through
the floor
Into an empty
place
He does not sit with silent men
Who watch him night and
day;
Who watch him when he tries to
weep,
And when he tries to
pray;
Who watch him lest himself
should rob
The prison of its
prey.
He does not wake at dawn to
see
Dread figures throng his
room,
The shivering Chaplain robed in
white,
The Sheriff stern with
gloom,
And the Governor all in shiny
black,
With the yellow face of
Doom.
He does not rise in piteous
haste
To put on
convict-clothes,
While some coarse-mouthed
Doctor gloats, and notes
Each new and nerve-twitched
pose,
Fingering a watch whose little
ticks
Are like horrible
hammer-blows.
He does not know that sickening
thirst
That sands one's throat,
before
The hangman with his gardener's
gloves
Slips through the padded
door,
And binds one with three
leathern thongs,
That the throat may thirst no
more.
He does not bend his head to
hear
The Burial Office
read,
Nor, while the terror of his
soul
Tells him he is not
dead,
Cross his own coffin, as he
moves into the hideous shed.
He does not stare upon the
air
Through a little roof of
glass;
He does not pray with lips of
clay
For his agony to
pass;
Nor feel upon his shuddering
cheek
The kiss of
Caiaphas.
《瑞丁监狱之歌》
奥斯卡·王尔德
他没有穿那件猩红外套，
血液和葡萄酒已经足够
他的手上沾满了它们
他的爱人被谋杀在床边
可怜的无辜的爱人
他呆坐在她的面前
他将要接受审判
破旧的上衣
头顶的板球帽
遮盖不了他步履中的飘摇
我从未见过如此满怀忧愁的双眼
让人此生再难以忘怀
透过头顶那片狭窄的天空
银色的流动的浮云在囚徒们眼前闪现
我与其他痛苦的灵魂一起
离开，进入另一个牢圈
我想知道他是否做过
不管是重罪还是轻判
一个声音从身后传来，在耳畔低语
“他应该被绞死！”
万能的主！无尽的牢狱高墙
突然间似乎也在摇晃
我头顶上遥远的苍穹
也变成犹如滚钢铸造的盔帽
即便我是一个痛苦的灵魂
对那折磨也丝毫无感
我仅仅明白那个诡异的念头
加快了他的步伐，也明白
他为何要活着面对这世俗的一天
带着那种忧愁的眼神
他的所爱在他的手中毁灭
他只能以生命相还
可是，每个人都在毁灭他的所爱
你不妨听听他们每个人的方式
一些人用他们恶毒的双眼，
一些人使用阿谀奉承的花言，
懦夫毁会凑上轻轻的一吻
勇者直接拔出锋利的刀剑
有人毁所爱时尚且年少
有人毁所爱时已然年老 （此两句为借用，这个翻的太好啦！）
有人被欲望之手操纵着进残杀
有人借着财富之力实施屠戮
只有仁慈的人才使用利刃
使得死者可以瞬间冰冷
有人爱得太深，有人爱的太浅，
有人进行出卖，有人从事收买
有人毁所爱时泪流满面
有人毁所爱时没有丝毫感叹
尽管每个人都在毁灭他们的所爱
却未必每个人都受死亡的审判
他并非死于羞耻
在一个黑暗的蒙羞之日
脖子上没有绞索束缚
脸上也没有蒙上黑布
双脚没有站上地板上的那个洞穴
等着死神的降落
他远离了那些沉默的人群
那些时刻监视着的人们
他们监视他不让他哭泣
他们监视他不让他祈祷
他们唯恐他独自了断
释放监牢里这个囚犯
黎明破晓前他没有睁开双眼
骇人的身影挤满他的房间
身着白袍的牧师瑟瑟发抖，
司法长官阴沉着脸，
狱长的黑衣仿佛在闪着光亮
蜡黄的颜色预示了判决
他没有在仓促中可怜兮兮的起床
穿上那代表罪行的衣裳
满嘴恶毒的医生处在一旁
每一个动作都放出幸灾乐祸的目光
时钟滴滴答答地走过
每一声都像落地的铁锤令人恐慌
