叶芝诗16首
He Tells of the Perfect Beauty
O cloud-pale eyelids，dream-dimmed eyes，
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman's gaze
And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
And therefore my heart will bow，when dew
Is dropping sleep，until God burn time，
Before the unlabouring stars and you.
二
国色天香
巧笑倩兮，美目盼兮，
我为歌狂，穷经皓首伴风霜，
如痴如醉，一池笔墨写天香，
可一日惊遇陌路妇，她一瞥摄我魂丧，
如夜仰浩宇璀璨，遭神工鬼斧震创，
从此绝笔兮，待雨露滴落梦乡，
待天后天将临幸，臣下伏惟尚飨，
任上苍主宰兮，燃尽时光。
The Fiddler of Dooney
When I play on my fiddle in Dooney，
Folk dance like a wave of the sea；
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet，
My brother in Mocharabuiee.
I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer；
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.
When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state，
He will smile on the three old spirits，
But call me first through the gate；
For the good are always the merry，
Save by an evil chance，
And the merry love the fiddle，
And the merry love to dance:
And when the folk there spy me，
They will all come up to me，
With “Here is the fiddler of Dooney!”
And dance like a wave of the sea.
如果我们走完了一生，
来到使徒彼得的座前，
他会对我们三人的灵魂微笑，
会最先叫我进去到他身边；
因为好人总是快乐的，
除非遭受意外，碰上烦恼，
快乐的人喜欢琴声，
快乐的人喜欢舞蹈。
乡亲只要见到我，
就会呼啦一下把我围住，
就会欢呼“杜纳的琴手来了！”
就会跳起海浪般的舞。
The Arrow
I thought of your beauty，and this arrow，
Made out of a wild thought，is in my marrow.
There’s no man may look upon her，no man，
As when newly grown to be a woman，
Tall and noble but with face and bosom
Delicate in colour as apple blossom.
This beauty’s kinder，yet for a reason
I could weep that the old is out of season.
箭
一想到你，这样的美人，
一支狂欲的箭就会射穿我的心。
当你滟滟出落若芙蓉出水，
骇得有情郎啊无不垂目低身，
偷望你亭亭而华贵，容姣而姿盈，
肌肤白嫩，像落雪和飘云。
这天诞的尤物，却让我徒生了忧愁，
唯恐寒秋夺夏丽，芬芳碾为尘。
Adam’s Curse
We sat together at one summer's end，
That beautiful mild woman，your close friend，
And you and I，and talked of poetry.
I said，‘A line will take us hours maybe；
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought，
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement，or break stones
Like an old pauper，in all kinds of weather；
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these, and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers，schoolmasters，and clergymen
The martyrs call the world.’
And thereupon
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There's many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied，‘To be born woman is to know—
Although they do not talk of it at school—
That we must labour to be beautiful.’
I said，‘It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
precedents out of beautiful old books；
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.’
We sat grown quiet at the name of love；
We saw the last embers of daylight die，
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.
I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful，and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love；
That it had all seemed happy，and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
亚当的恶运
那年夏末我们闲聚，
就我和你，还有你漂亮的闺密，
我们谈论着诗歌，
我说：“写好一行诗可得费时琢磨，
可要读起来不像是即兴之笔，
我们的反复推敲就毫无意义。
那还不如放下身段，
弯腰弓背去擦厨房的地板，
或者做苦力一年四季去采石；
可要将悦耳的声音吟成诗，
这真比干什么都艰难，
可是银行家、教师及牧师，
这些世人眼中的骄子，却嚷言，
写诗纯属游手好闲。”
话音未落，
你漂亮的闺蜜接着说，
她的声音那样甜美，那样柔和，
不知有多少人为她而情痴，
她说：“生为女人心皆知――
尽管在学校不学这个技艺――
可我们皆会把自己打扮的美丽。”
我说：“是的，自从亚当落到人间，
没有劳作，哪有什么良田。
过去的恋人认为爱情就应当
要高贵，仪态万方，
能弹琴赋诗，会行棋书画，
举手投足，尽显优雅；
而如今，这竟然像是矫揉造作。”
说到爱情，我们一下陷入沉默，
这时白日的余辉已经消去，
在暮色浓郁的天际，
一弯残月，像被涨落的时间潮水
洗磨的贝壳，与群星结对，
又已升起，年复一年，日复一日。
我有一个心愿只想对你启齿，
你妩媚迷人，我要竭力
以古老而高贵的方式爱你；
这看似是非常的美妙，可我们却
心神俱疲，就像那一弯残月。
O Do Not Love Too Long
Sweetheart，do not love too long:
I loved long and long，
And grew to be out of fashion
Like an old song.
All through the years of our youth
Neither could have known
Their own thought from the other's，
We were so much at one.
But O，in a minute she changed—
O do not love too long，
Or you will grow out of fashion
Like an old song.
莫要久陷爱河
亲爱的，不要总耳鬓厮磨，
我就是久陷爱河，
这居然竟变得单调乏味，
就像一首老歌。
我俩的整个青春年华，
爱得不分你我，
对周围的世界是非常的陌生，
众人皆是过客。
可是啊她瞬间变了心——
啊，莫要久陷爱河，
你会感到变得单调乏味，
就像一首老歌。
A Woman Homer Sung
If any man drew near
When I was young，
I thought，‘He holds her dear，’
And shook with hate and fear.
But O!’twas bitter wrong
If he could pass her by
With an indifferent eye.
Whereon I wrote and wrought，
And now，being grey，
I dream that I have brought
To such a pitch my thought
That coming time can say，
‘He shadowed in a glass
What thing her body was.’
For she had fiery blood
When I was young，
And trod so sweetly proud
As’twere upon a cloud，
A woman Homer sung，
That life and letters seem
But an heroic dream.
一个荷马讴歌的女人
我年轻的时候，
一遇有男人走过，
我就想：“他对女人有情，”
于是便极为紧张而神经。
可是啊！男人从女人身边走过，
连一眼都不瞅，
这又该多让人难受。
于是我开始我的写作工作，
如今，已是满头银色，
我梦想我已把我的思想
炼成了锋利的投枪，
未来可以这样说：
“男人把女人的丰姿艳容
镶在了一面镜子中。”
我年轻的时候，
有女人的激荡和火热，
常迈着挺直婀娜的步伐，
就宛若走入云霞，
一个女人，能受到荷马的讴歌，
她的生命与文字就显得
是一个英雄的梦泽。
No Second Troy
Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery，or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways，
Or hurled the little streets against the great，
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire，
With beauty like a tightened bow，a kind
That is not natural in an age like this，
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why，what could she have done，being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
没有第二个特洛伊
为什么，为什么我要责备她，
难道就是因为她让我一生浪迹天涯，
难道就是因为她最近在教唆
那群凡俗愚鲁势举暴动以螳斧击隆车，
而不知匹夫之勇能否填满欲火？
是什么竟使她如此心静神安，
居然让她的高贵就这样轻易被点燃，
居然让她的美丽就像一张绷紧的弓，
自命不凡、孤独冷酷、厉色怒横，
而不知与时代违忤格格不能相容？
她能干成什么？她何以竟变美如妖？
难道还会有特洛伊等她焚烧？
All Things Can Tempt Me
ALL things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was a woman’s face，or worse—
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land；
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
Than this accustomed toil. When I was young，
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet sing it with such airs
That one believed he had a sword upstairs；
Yet would be now，could I but have my wish，
Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish.
谁易我心
曾经误为一个女色，甚者——
为我那刚愎自用的国度的蛊惑，
我竟被这些诱使放弃了写诗；
如今，我专心于我钟情的辛劳创作，
世间纷纭，都不能再易我心。
年少时，我倾囊买喜爱的诗歌，
每读到那些诗人的荡气回肠，
顿时便崇敬他们马革裹尸的气魄。
如今啊，只要我能纵情放浪，
我宁做一条鱼，忍受冰冷和寂寞。
Brown Penny
I whispered，‘I am too young，'
And then，‘I am old enough’；
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
‘Go and love，go and love，young man，
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah，penny，brown penny，brown penny，
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
Oh，love is the crooked thing，
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it，
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah，penny，brown penny，brown penny，
One cannot begin it too soon.
铜便士
我悄悄说：“我还年轻呢，”
可是又想，“我也算长大成才。”
于是我抛起一枚便士，
占一下是否可以谈情说爱。
“去爱吧，去爱吧，小伙子，
只要姑娘年轻又漂亮。”
啊，便士，铜便士，铜便士，
我一下便坠入了情网。
啊，爱情真是难以捉摸的事情，
就是世上最聪明的人
对它也是五味杂陈，
他就是想到星星全都消遁，
想到月亮被天狗吃掉，
他也弄不出爱情的宝典。
啊，便士，铜便士，铜便士，
小伙子最好啊别早恋。
September
What need you，being come to sense，
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer，until
You have dried the marrow from the bone?
For men were born to pray and save：
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone，
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet they were of a different kind，
The names that stilled your childish play，
They have gone about the world like wind，
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman's rope was spun，
And what，God help us，could they save?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone，
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide；
For this that all that blood was shed，
For this Edward Fitzgerald died，
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone，
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone，
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet could we turn the years again，
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain，
You'd cry‘Some woman's yellow hair
Has maddened every mother's son':
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be，they're dead and gone，
They're with O'Leary in the grave.
年月
你们的意识里有什么，
大概只知伸手进油腻的钱柜
把五毛加为一元，
祈祷，直至在祈祷中战栗，
生来就是为敲骨吸髓，
生来就是为贪求荣华富贵。
罗曼蒂克的爱尔兰已经死亡，
同民族英雄一起被埋葬。
但是总有一些不同的人，
他们视你们的儿戏如芥尘，
他们飘然，风行世界，
他们无暇祈祷自身，
可刽子手却对他们举起了绳索，
上帝啊，你可听闻！
罗曼蒂克的爱尔兰已经死亡，
同民族英雄一起被埋葬。
多少人为此而走，
风雨无阻，随潮远飞大陆，
又有多少鲜血为此而流，
爱德华、罗伯特、华尔夫，
他们为理想勇敢无畏，
甚至不惜抛弃头颅。
罗曼蒂克的爱尔兰已经死亡，
同民族英雄一起被埋葬。
如果时间能够倒流，
他们会被流放一生
忍受孤独和痛苦，
你们会喊，“他们也有六欲七情，
怎么能忍受情欲煎熬，”
他们太不珍惜自己的生命。
但让他们去吧，他们已经死亡，
同民族英雄一起被埋葬。
Beggar to Beggar Cried
‘Time to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air，’
Beggar to beggar cried，being frenzy-struck，
‘And make my soul before my pate is bare.’
‘And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes，’
Beggar to beggar cried，being frenzy-struck，
‘And the worse devil that is between my thighs.’
And though I'd marry with a comely lass，
She need not be too comely—let it pass，'
Beggar to beggar cried，being frenzy-struck，
‘But there's a devil in a looking-glass.’
‘Nor should she be too rich，because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch，’
Beggar to beggar cried，being frenzy-struck，
‘And cannot have a humorous happy speech.’
‘And there I'll grow respected at my ease，
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.’
Beggar to beggar cried，being frenzy-struck，
‘The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.’
乞丐
别离尘世间，远走去他乡，
沐日浴海风，颐身养健壮——
乞丐在对呼，大声在喊叫——
人要有思想，不能废韶光。
讨个好老婆，弄个安乐窝，
平心过日子，不想再漂泊——
乞丐在对呼，大声在喊叫——
情已有独钟，切莫寻欢乐。
男人有花心，追逐美人妇，
咱可娶糟糠，贤惠即应足——
乞丐在对呼，大声在喊叫——
色欲当适宜，过则毁筋骨。
贤内勤持家，不求贵与富，
人若贪财宝，满身皆铜臭——
乞丐在对呼，大声在喊叫——
庸俗不可耐，没有好谈吐。
我自恋逍遥，与人乐融融，
夜坐花园里，万籁寂无声——
乞丐在对呼，大声在喊叫——
鸿雁举飞翅，呼鸣入长空。
Fallen Majesty
Although crowds gathered once if she but showed her face，
And even old men's eyes grew dim，this hand alone，
Like some last courtier at a gypsy camping-place
Babbling of fallen majesty，records what's gone.
The lineaments，a heart that laughter has made sweet，
These，these remain，but I record what's gone. A crowd
Will gather，and not know it walks the very street
Whereon a thing once walked that seemed a burning cloud.
落没的女王
昔遇女王驾到，就立刻会掀起人潮，
连老人的双眼都激动得晶光闪耀，
但我像吉普赛营地的末日那批最后的臣子
站在陛下哀叹一样，记录着杳缈。
多少音容笑貌，多少心驰神飘，
这些，这些都依在，但是我记录着杳缈。
人潮依在，但不知相拥正走过的街巷
曾经走过像一团燃烧的云的人潮。
The Wild Swans at Coole
The trees are in their autumn beauty，
The woodland paths are dry，
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky；
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.
The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count；
I saw，before I had well finished，
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures，
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I，hearing at twilight，
The first time on this shore，
The bell-beat of their wings above my head，
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still，lover by lover，
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air；
Their hearts have not grown old；
Passion or conquest，wander where they will，
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift on the still water，
Mysterious，beautiful；
Among what rushes will they build，
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?
柯尔庄园的野天鹅
园林尽染，落木萧萧，
曲径沁透出幽爽，
十月的暮色，一抹红霞
静映在湖面上，
湖水溢在石间，荡漾着微波，
游着五十九只天鹅。
自从我最初开始计数，
转眼十九个金秋，
可未等我再数一遍，天鹅
便忽地腾身飞走。
它们拍打着翅膀，散漫盘旋，
画了一个破碎的圆圈。
我最愿欣赏这群美丽的天鹅，
可此刻却不禁伤心。
万事已变，记得第一次在湖边，
也是暮色沉沉，
我听到天鹅在头顶的振翅声，
遂把脚步放轻。
它们仍不知疲倦，成双成对
在温凉的水中漂游，
或又奋力搏击直穿云天，
它们的心还未朽，
它们不管漂泊浪迹到何方，
总是激情昂扬。
此刻它们游在静静的水中，
是那样神秘又美妙，
可有一天我醒来，它们已飞去，
不知它们会迁徙到
什么样的湖畔池边栖居，
继续令人心醉神迷。
A Song
I thought no more was needed
Youth to prolong
Than dumb-bell and foil
To keep the body young.
O who could have foretold
That the heart grows old?
Though I have many words，
What woman’s satisfied，
I am no longer faint
Because at her side?
O who could have foretold
That the heart grows old?
I have not lost desire
But the heart that I had；
I thought ’twould burn my body
Laid on the death-bed，
for who could have foretold
That the heart grows old?
歌
我想没有什么东西
能比奋力击剑
更能使身强体壮
使青春如愿。
啊，谁能预告啊
我的心已变老？
我有千言万语，
能讨得女人的喜欢，
但我更有体魄
躺在她的身边。
啊，谁能预告啊
我的心已变老？
我的欲望不减，
但是心却已衰疲；
我想我心已陈尸床上
焚毁我的肉体。
啊，谁能预告啊
我的心已变老？
The Scholars
Bald heads forgetful of their sins，
Old，learned，respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men，tossing on their beds，
Rhymed out in love’s despair
To flatter beauty’s ignorant ear.
All shuffle there；all cough in ink；
All wear the carpet with their shoes；
All think what other people think；
All know the man their neighbour knows.
Lord，what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way?
学者
一群博学可敬的老学究，
头发已经脱落，仍不知无聊
整天不停地编辑注释那些诗行，
无非一些年轻人扑在床上，
无病呻吟爱情的绝望，
讨好枕边天真无知的美娘。
全不住地在墨水里咳嗽，
脚在下面磨蹭，直把地毯磨破，
想的跟别人想的没有不同，
认识的人邻居认得更清，
天啊，他们会说什么，
伽图也是这样走过了一生？
On Woman
May God be praised for woman
That gives up all her mind，
A man may find in no man
A friendship of her kind
That covers all he has brought
As with her flesh and bone，
Nor quarrels with a thought
Because it is not her own.
Though pedantry denies，
It's plain the Bible means
That Solomon grew wise
While talking with his queens，
Yet never could，although
They say he counted grass，
Count all the praises due
When Sheba was his lass，
When she the iron wrought，or
When from the smithy fire
It shuddered in the water:
Harshness of their desire
That made them stretch and yawn，
pleasure that comes with sleep，
Shudder that made them one.
What else He give or keep
God grant me—no，not here，
For I am not so bold
To hope a thing so dear
Now I am growing old，
But when，if the tale's true，
The Pestle of the moon
That pounds up all anew
Brings me to birth again—
To find what once I had
And know what once I have known，
Until I am driven mad，
Sleep driven from my bed，
By tenderness and care，
pity，an aching head，
Gnashing of teeth，despair；
And all because of some one
perverse creature of chance，
And live like Solomon
That Sheba led a dance.
论女人
赞美上帝
造出的单纯的女人，
男人之间找不到
与女人那样的感情，
女人依偎男人，
看做是男人给了她骨肉身心，
她不会与男人争吵，
脑中没有争吵这根筋。
尽管学究否认，
但是圣经清楚写着，
所罗门就是与后妃谈论
因而变得聪明；
尽管有人说他数过草棘，
但是他无法数尽赞美之辞
来赞美他与士巴
相亲相爱的欢喜，
士巴就如若在冶炼，
就如若把烧红的铁
投入水中战栗，
使他们在强烈欲望的震动中
全身松弛而瘫疲，
甜美地睡入梦，
颤拥如一体。
无论上帝是赐予或保有，
他让我——不，不是在这，
我现在已经老了，
不会再有那样的胆量，
还敢希望激情燃烧，
可如果这个故事是真的，
那么月亮的碾槌
就会把一切重新捣碎，
让我再获新生——
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