英国诗人鲁伯特·布鲁克诗10首
鲁伯特·布鲁克（Rupert Brooke，1887—1915），剑桥才子，英国理想主义诗人。因其翩翩风度，被叶芝称为“英格兰最英俊的男人”，在文化界结交甚广，是乔治五世时期的文学明星。一战爆发即参加英国海军，后因败血症身亡。战时创作的优秀诗歌广为传颂，死后被英国政府和社会树立为爱国青年与战争诗人的典范。
Rupert Brooke: Poet-Soldier
Rupert Brooke was a poet, academic, campaigner, and aesthete who died serving in World War One, but not before his verse and literary friends established him as one of the leading poet-soldiers in British history. His poems are staples of military services, but the work has been accused of glorifying war. In all fairness, although Brooke did see the carnage first hand, he didn't get the chance to see how World War I developed.布鲁克是一位诗人、学者、活动家和唯美主义者，死于一战，但在他的诗歌和文学朋友们将他确立为英国历史上最重要的诗人士兵之一之前。他的诗是军事服务的主要部分，但这部作品被指责美化战争。公平地说，虽然布鲁克亲眼目睹了大屠杀，但他没有机会看到第一次世界大战是如何发展的。
Childhood
Born in 1887, Rupert Brooke experienced a comfortable childhood in a rarified atmosphere, living near--and then attending--the school Rugby, a famed British institution where his father worked as a housemaster. The boy soon grew into a man whose handsome figure transfixed admirers regardless of gender: almost six foot tall, he was academically clever, good at sports--he represented the school in cricket and, of course, rugby--and had a disarming character. He was also highly creative: Rupert wrote verse throughout his childhood, having allegedly gained a love of poetry from reading Browning.鲁伯特·布鲁克出生于1887年，他在一个贫瘠的环境中度过了一个舒适的童年，他住在英国著名的橄榄球学校，父亲在那里做家庭教师。这个男孩很快就长成了一个男人，他英俊的身材让所有的崇拜者都目不转睛：几乎6英尺高，他在学业上很聪明，擅长体育运动——他代表学校打板球，当然还有橄榄球——而且性格温和。他也很有创造力：鲁珀特在童年时期写诗歌，据说他从阅读勃朗宁中学到了对诗歌的热爱。
Education
A move to King's College, Cambridge, in 1906 did nothing to dim his popularity--friends included E.M. Forster, Maynard Keynes and Virginia Stephens (later Woolf)--while he broadened into acting and socialism, becoming president of the University's branch of the Fabian Society. His studies in the classics may have suffered as a result, but Brooke moved in elite circles, including that of the famous Bloomsbury set. Moving outside Cambridge, Rupert Brooke lodged in Grantchester, where he worked on a thesis and created poems devoted to his ideal of English country life, many of which formed part of his first collection, simply entitled Poems 1911. In addition, he visited Germany, where he learned the language.1906年，他搬到剑桥国王学院（King's College，Cambridge）并没有削弱他的声望，他的朋友包括E.M.Forster、Maynard Keynes和Virginia Stephens（后来的伍尔夫），而他则扩展到了演艺和社会主义领域，成为了费边学会（Fabian Society）分支机构的主席。他对古典文学的研究可能因此而受到影响，但布鲁克在精英圈子里活动，包括著名的布卢姆斯伯里集。离开剑桥后，鲁珀特·布鲁克在格兰彻彻斯特寄宿，在那里他写了一篇论文，并创作了一些诗，致力于他对英国乡村生活的理想，其中许多是他第一次收藏的一部分，简单地说就是1911年的诗。此外，他还访问了德国，在那里他学会了这门语言。
Depression and Travel
Brooke's life now began to darken, as an engagement to one girl--Noel Olivier--was complicated by his affection for Ka (or Katherine) Cox, one of his fellows from the Fabian society. Friendships were soured by the troubled relationship and Brooke suffered something which has been described as a mental breakdown, causing him to travel restlessly through England, Germany and, on the advice of his Doctor who prescribed rest, Cannes. However, by September 1912 Brooke seemed to have recovered, finding companionship and patronage with an old Kings student called Edward Marsh, a civil servant with literary tastes and connections. Brooke completed his thesis and gained election to a fellowship at Cambridge whilst captivating a new social circle, whose members included Henry James, W.B. Yeats, Bernard Shaw, Cathleen Nesbitt--with whom he was particularly close--and Violet Asquith, daughter of the Prime Minister. He also campaigned in support of Poor Law reform, prompting admirers to propose a life in parliament.布鲁克的生活现在开始变得阴暗起来，因为他和一个女孩诺埃尔·奥利维尔订婚，因为他对卡（或凯瑟琳）考克斯的喜爱而变得复杂起来，考克斯是费边社会的一个伙伴。这段混乱的关系破坏了友谊，布鲁克遭受了精神崩溃的折磨，导致他焦躁不安地穿越英格兰、德国，并在医生的建议下，前往戛纳。然而，到了1912年9月，布鲁克似乎已经康复了，他找到了一位名叫爱德华·马什（Edward Marsh）的老国王学生的陪伴和资助，他是一位有文学品味和人脉的公务员。布鲁克完成了他的论文，并在剑桥大学获得了奖学金，同时吸引了一个新的社交圈，其成员包括亨利·詹姆斯、W.B.叶芝、萧伯纳、凯瑟琳·奈斯比特——他和她关系特别密切——还有首相的女儿维奥莱特·阿斯奎斯。他还为支持糟糕的法律改革而奔走，促使崇拜者提议在议会生活。
In 1913 Rupert Brooke traveled again, first to the United States - where he wrote a series of dazzling letters and more formal articles - and then through islands down to New Zealand, finally pausing in Tahiti, where he wrote some of his more fondly acclaimed poetry. He also found more love, this time with a native Tahitian called Taatamata; however, a shortage of funds caused Brook to return to England in July 1914. War broke out a few weeks later.1913年，鲁珀特·布鲁克再次旅行，先是去了美国——在那里他写了一系列令人眼花缭乱的信和更正式的文章——然后穿过岛屿来到新西兰，最后在大溪地停留，在那里他写了一些他更受欢迎的诗歌。他也找到了更多的爱，这一次他和一个名叫塔塔玛塔的塔希提土著人在一起；然而，由于资金短缺，布鲁克于1914年7月回到英国。几周后战争爆发了。
Rupert Brooke Enters the Navy / Action in North Europe
Applying for a commission in the Royal Naval Division--which he gained easily as Marsh was the secretary to the First Lord of the Admiralty--Brooke saw action in the defense of Antwerp during early October 1914. The British forces were soon overrun, and Brooke experienced a marching retreat through the devastated landscape before arriving safely in Bruges. This was Brooke's only experience of combat. He returned to Britain awaiting redeployment and, during the next few weeks of training and preparation, Rupert caught flu, the first in a series of wartime illnesses. More importantly for his historical reputation, Brooke also wrote five poems which were to establish him among the canon of First World War writers, the 'War Sonnets': 'Peace', 'Safety', 'The Dead', a second 'The Dead', and ' The Soldier'.布鲁克在申请皇家海军部的一个委员会时，他很容易就获得了这个职位，因为马什是海军部第一任领主的秘书，布鲁克在1914年10月初看到了保卫安特卫普的行动。英军很快就被占领了，布鲁克经历了一次行军撤退，穿过被摧毁的土地，然后安全抵达布鲁日。这是布鲁克唯一的战斗经验。他回到英国等待重新部署，在接下来的几个星期的训练和准备中，鲁伯特染上了流感，这是一系列战时疾病中的第一个。更重要的是，布鲁克还写了五首诗，使他成为第一次世界大战作家的经典之作，即“战争十四行诗”：“和平”、“安全”、“死者”、第二首“死者”和“士兵”。
Brooke Sails to the Mediterranean
On February 27th, 1915 Brooke sailed for the Dardanelles, although problems with enemy mines led to a change of destination and a delay in deployment. Consequently, by March 28th Brooke was in Egypt, where he visited the pyramids, partook in the usual training, suffered sunstroke and contracted dysentery. His war sonnets were now becoming famous throughout Britain, and Brooke refused an offer from high command to leave his unit, recover, and serve away from the front lines.1915年2月27日，在达尼尔·布鲁克的目的地，由于地雷和地雷的问题，推迟了对达尼尔·布鲁克的部署。因此，到了3月28日，布鲁克来到了埃及，在那里他参观了金字塔，参加了平时的训练，中暑并感染了痢疾。他的战争十四行诗现在在全英国都很出名，布鲁克拒绝了最高司令部的提议，让他离开部队，恢复战斗，离开前线服役。
Death of Rupert Brooke
By April 10th Brook's ship was on the move again, anchoring off the island of Skyros on April 17th. Still suffering from his earlier ill-health, Rupert now developed blood poisoning from an insect bite, placing his body under fatal strain. He died in the afternoon of April 23rd, 1915, aboard a hospital ship in Tris Boukes Bay. His friends buried him under a stone cairn on Skyros later that day, although his mother arranged for a grander tomb after the war. A collection of Brooke's later work, 1914 and Other Poems, was published in swiftly after, in June 1915; it sold well.到了4月10日，布鲁克的船又开始移动，于4月17日在斯凯罗斯岛附近停泊。鲁珀特仍然饱受早前病痛的折磨，现在因虫咬而出现血液中毒，使他的身体处于致命的紧张状态。1915年4月23日下午，他在特里斯布克斯湾的一艘医院船上去世。那天晚些时候，他的朋友们把他埋在斯凯罗斯的一个石穴下，尽管战后他的母亲安排了一个更大的坟墓。布鲁克后来的作品集，1914年和其他诗集，于1915年6月出版，畅销。
A Legend Forms
An established and rising poet with a strong academic reputation, important literary friends and potentially career-changing political links, Brooke's death was reported in The Times newspaper; his obituary contained a piece purportedly by Winston Churchill, although it read as little more than a recruiting advert. Literary friends and admirers wrote powerful--often poetic--eulogies, establishing Brooke, not as a lovelorn wandering poet and deceased soldier, but as a mythologized golden warrior, a creation which remained in post-war culture.布鲁克是一位久负盛名的诗人，有着很强的学术声誉、重要的文学朋友和可能改变职业生涯的政治联系，布鲁克的死被《泰晤士报》报道；他的讣告中有一篇据称是温斯顿·丘吉尔写的文章，不过读起来不过是一则招聘广告。文学界的朋友和崇拜者写了强有力的——通常是诗意的——颂歌，确立了布鲁克，不是一个失恋的流浪诗人和死去的士兵，而是一个神话般的黄金战士，一个在战后文化中仍然存在的创造物。
Few biographies, no matter how small, can resist quoting the comments of W.B. Yeats, that Brooke was "the most handsome man in Britain", or an opening line from Cornford, "A young Apollo, golden haired." Even though some had harsh words for him--Virginia Woolf later commented on occasions when Brooke's puritan upbringing appeared beneath his normally carefree exterior--a legend was formed.很少有传记，无论多小，都能拒绝引用W.B.叶芝的评论，布鲁克是“英国最帅的男人”，或者康福德的开场白，“一个年轻的阿波罗，尽管有人对他有严厉的批评——弗吉尼亚·伍尔夫后来在布鲁克一贯无忧无虑的外表下看到布鲁克的清教徒教养时这样评论——一个传奇故事就形成了。
Rupert Brooke: An Idealistic Poet
Rupert Brooke wasn't a war poet like Wilfred Owen or Siegfried Sassoon, soldiers who confronted the horrors of war and affected their nation's conscience. Instead, Brooke's work, written in the early months of the war when success was still in sight, was full of cheerful friendship and idealism, even when faced with potential death. The war sonnets swiftly became focal points for patriotism, thanks largely to their promotion by church and government--'The Soldier' formed part of the 1915 Easter Day service in St. Paul's Cathedral, the focal point of British religion--while the image and ideals of a brave youth dying young for his country were projected onto Brooke's tall, handsome stature and charismatic nature.布鲁克不是威尔弗雷德·欧文或齐格弗里德·沙宣那样的战争诗人，他们面对战争的恐怖，影响着国家的良知。相反，布鲁克的作品，写在战争的最初几个月，当时成功还在眼前，即使面对潜在的死亡，也充满了令人愉快的友谊和理想主义。战争十四行诗很快成为爱国主义的焦点，这主要归功于教会和政府的宣传——《士兵》是1915年英国宗教的焦点圣保罗大教堂复活节仪式的一部分，而一个年轻勇敢的年轻人为国国牺牲的形象和理想被投射到布鲁克的高高高上，英俊的身材和富有魅力的天性。
Poet Or Glorifier of War
While Brooke's work is often said to have either reflected or affected the mood of the British public between late 1914 and late 1915, he was also--and often still is--criticized. For some, the 'idealism' of the war sonnets is actually a jingoistic glorification of war, a carefree approach to death which ignored the carnage and brutality. Was he out of touch with reality, having lived such a life? Such comments usually date from later in the war, when the high death tolls and unpleasant nature of trench warfare became apparent, events which Brooke wasn't able to observe and adapt to. However, studies of Brooke's letters reveal that he certainly was aware of the desperate nature of conflict, and many have speculated on the impact further time would have had as both the war and his skill as a poet, developed. Would he have reflected the reality of the war? We cannot know.虽然布鲁克的作品经常被认为反映或影响了1914年末至1915年末英国公众的情绪，但他也受到批评，而且经常受到批评。对一些人来说，战争十四行诗中的“理想主义”实际上是对战争的一种赞美，一种漠视屠杀和残暴的无忧无虑的死亡方式。他过着这样的生活，是不是脱离了现实？这样的评论通常可以追溯到战争的后期，那时壕沟战的高死亡人数和令人不快的性质变得明显，布鲁克无法观察和适应这些事件。然而，对布鲁克书信的研究表明，他当然意识到了冲突的绝望性质，许多人猜测，随着战争和他作为一个诗人的技能的发展，未来时间会产生什么影响。他会反映战争的现实吗？我们不知道。
Lasting Reputation
Although few of his other poems are considered great, when modern literature looks away from World War One there is a definite place for Brooke and his works from Grantchester and Tahiti. He is classed as one of the Georgian poets, whose verse style had noticeably progressed from previous generations, and as a man whose true masterpieces were still to come. Indeed, Brooke contributed to two volumes entitled Georgian Poetry in 1912. Nevertheless, his most famous lines will always be those opening 'The Soldier', words still occupying a key place in military tributes and ceremonies today.虽然他的其他诗歌很少被认为是伟大的，当现代文学远离一战时，布鲁克和他的作品在格兰切斯特和大溪地的确有一席之地。他被列为格鲁吉亚诗人之一，他的诗歌风格明显地从前几代人中发展而来，他是一个真正的杰作还在后头的人。事实上，布鲁克在1912年写了两卷书，题为《格鲁吉亚诗歌》。然而，他最著名的台词将永远是那些“士兵”的开场白，在今天的军事悼念和仪式中仍然占据着重要的位置。
The Dead
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There’s none of these so lonely and poor of old,
But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
These laid the world away; poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,
That men call age; and those who would have been,
Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,
Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain,
Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,
And paid his subjects with a royal wage;
And Nobleness walks in our ways again;
And we have come into our heritage.
The Dead
These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colours of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; known
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.
There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.
Fragment
I strayed about the deck, an hour, to-night
Under a cloudy moonless sky; and peeped
In at the windows, watched my friends at table,
Or playing cards, or standing in the doorway,
Or coming out into the darkness. Still
No one could see me.
I would have thought of them
—Heedless, within a week of battle—in pity,
Pride in their strength and in the weight and firmness
And link’d beauty of bodies, and pity that
This gay machine of splendour ’ld soon be broken,
Thought little of, pashed, scattered. …
Only, always,
I could but see them—against the lamplight—pass
Like coloured shadows, thinner than filmy glass,
Slight bubbles, fainter than the wave’s faint light,
That broke to phosphorus out in the night,
Perishing things and strange ghosts—soon to die
To other ghosts—this one, or that, or I.
Jealousy
When I see you, who were so wise and cool,
Gazing with silly sickness on that fool
You’ve given your love to, your adoring hands
Touch his so intimately that each understands,
I know, most hidden things; and when I know
Your holiest dreams yield to the stupid bow
Of his red lips, and that the empty grace
Of those strong legs and arms, that rosy face,
Has beaten your heart to such a flame of love,
That you have given him every touch and move,
Wrinkle and secret of you, all your life,
—Oh! then I know I’m waiting, lover-wife,
For the great time when love is at a close,
And all its fruit’s to watch the thickening nose
And sweaty neck and dulling face and eye,
That are yours, and you, most surely, till you die!
Day after day you’ll sit with him and note
The greasier tie, the dingy wrinkling coat;
As prettiness turns to pomp, and strength to fat,
And love, love, love to habit!
And after that,
When all that’s fine in man is at an end,
And you, that loved young life and clean, must tend
A foul sick fumbling dribbling body and old,
When his rare lips hang flabby and can’t hold
Slobber, and you’re enduring that worst thing,
Senility’s queasy furtive love-making,
And searching those dear eyes for human meaning,
Propping the bald and helpless head, and cleaning
A scrap that life’s flung by, and love’s forgotten,—
Then you’ll be tired; and passion dead and rotten;
And he’ll be dirty, dirty!
O lithe and free
And lightfoot, that the poor heart cries to see,
That’s how I’ll see your man and you!—
But you
—Oh, when that time comes, you’ll be dirty too!
Peace
Now, God be thanked who has matched us with his hour,
And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping!
With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power,
To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping,
Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary;
Leave the sick hearts that honor could not move,
And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary,
And all the little emptiness of love!
Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,
Where there’s no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,
Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;
Nothing to shake the laughing heart’s long peace there,
But only agony, and that has ending;
And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
Retrospect
In your arms was still delight,
Quiet as a street at night;
And thoughts of you, I do remember,
Were green leaves in a darkened chamber,
Were dark clouds in a moonless sky.
Love, in you, went passing by,
Penetrative, remote, and rare,
Like a bird in the wide air,
And, as the bird, it left no trace
In the heaven of your face.
In your stupidity I found
The sweet hush after a sweet sound.
All about you was the light
That dims the greying end of night;
Desire was the unrisen sun,
Joy the day not yet begun,
With tree whispering to tree,
Without wind, quietly.
Wisdom slept within your hair,
And Long-Suffering was there,
And, in the flowing of your dress,
Undiscerning Tenderness.
And when you thought, it seemed to me,
Infinitely, and like a sea,
About the slight world you had known
Your vast unsconsciousness was thrown . . .
O haven without wave or tide!
Silence, in which all songs have died!
Holy book, where hearts are still!
And home at length under the hill!
O mother quiet, breasts of peace,
Where love itself would faint and cease!
O infinite deep I never knew,
I would come back, come back to you,
Find you, as a pool unstirred,
Kneel down by you, and never a word,
Lay my head, and nothing said,
In your hands, ungarlanded;
And a long watch you would keep;
And I should sleep, and I should sleep!
Safety
Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, ‘Who is so safe as we?’
We have found safety with all things undying,
The winds, and morning, tears of men and mirth,
The deep night, and birds singing, and clouds flying,
And sleep, and freedom, and the autumnal earth.
We have built a house that is not for Time’s throwing.
We have gained a peace unshaken by pain for ever.
War knows no power. Safe shall be my going,
Secretly armed against all death’s endeavour;
Safe though all safety’s lost; safe where men fall;
And if these poor limbs die, safest of all.
The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Sonnet Reversed
Hand trembling towards hand; the amazing lights
Of heart and eye. They stood on supreme heights.
Ah, the delirious weeks of honeymoon!
Soon they returned, and, after strange adventures,
Settled at Balham by the end of June.
Their money was in Can. Pacs. B. Debentures,
And in Antofagastas. Still he went
Cityward daily; still she did abide
At home. And both were really quite content
With work and social pleasures. Then they died.
They left three children (besides George, who drank):
The eldest Jane, who married Mr Bell,
William, the head-clerk in the County Bank,
And Henry, a stock-broker, doing well.
Tiare Tahiti
Mamua, when our laughter ends,
And hearts and bodies, brown as white,
Are dust about the doors of friends,
Or scent ablowing down the night,
Then, oh! then, the wise agree,
Comes our immortality.
Mamua, there waits a land
Hard for us to understand.
Out of time, beyond the sun,
All are one in Paradise,
You and Pupure are one,
And Taü, and the ungainly wise.
There the Eternals are, and there
The Good, the Lovely, and the True,
And Types, whose earthly copies were
The foolish broken things we knew;
There is the Face, whose ghosts we are;
The real, the never-setting Star;
And the Flower, of which we love
Faint and fading shadows here;
Never a tear, but only Grief;
Dance, but not the limbs that move;
Songs in Song shall disappear;
Instead of lovers, Love shall be;
For hearts, Immutability;
And there, on the Ideal Reef,
Thunders the Everlasting Sea!
And my laughter, and my pain,
Shall home to the Eternal Brain.
And all lovely things, they say,
Meet in Loveliness again;
Miri’s laugh, Teïpo’s feet,
And the hands of Matua,
Stars and sunlight there shall meet
Coral’s hues and rainbows there,
And Teüra’s braided hair;
And with the starred tiare’s white,
And white birds in the dark ravine,
And flamboyants ablaze at night,
And jewels, and evening’s after-green,
And dawns of pearl and gold and red,
Mamua, your lovelier head!
And there’ll no more be one who dreams
Under the ferns, of crumbling stuff,
Eyes of illusion, mouth that seems,
All time-entangled human love.
And you’ll no longer swing and sway
Divinely down the scented shade,
Where feet to Ambulation fade,
And moons are lost in endless Day.
How shall we wind these wreaths of ours,
Where there are neither heads nor flowers?
Oh, Heaven’s Heaven!—but we’ll be missing
The palms, and sunlight, and the south;
And there’s an end, I think, of kissing,
When our mouths are one with Mouth....
Taü here, Mamua,
Crown the hair, and come away!
Hear the calling of the moon,
And the whispering scents that stray
About the idle warm lagoon.
Hasten, hand in human hand,
Down the dark, the flowered way,
Along the whiteness of the sand,
And in the water’s soft caress,
Wash the mind of foolishness,
Mamua, until the day.
Spend the glittering moonlight there
Pursuing down the soundless deep
Limbs that gleam and shadowy hair,
Or floating lazy, half-asleep.
Dive and double and follow after,
Snare in flowers, and kiss, and call,
With lips that fade, and human laughter
And faces individual,
Well this side of Paradise! ....
There’s little comfort in the wise.
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