罗伯特·弗罗斯特诗21首
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Swing the picture on the wall;
There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound—
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labour knows.
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.
Mending Wall
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbours.'
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbours.'
修墙
有个东西老是在跟墙为难，
往墙根塞进冻土膨胀。
墙顶的圆石乱落在阳光之下；
墙缝开裂，两人能并排走过。
猎人的工作却是另一番：
我曾经跟着他们一游猎场，
他们把那里的石头全翻起来
把藏在下面的兔子驱赶出来，
让狂吠的狗高兴。这墙上的缝
出现时，谁也没有发觉，
春天整修我们才看到。
我通知山那边我的邻人
约好日子会面查看界线
在我们中间重新把墙筑起。
我们走着，中间始终隔一堵墙
落到谁那边的石头，就由谁去料理，
有的像长面包，有的几乎滚圆，
非得念咒才能使它们平衡：
“待住别动，让我们转身！”
搬石头，我们手指磨出茧，
哦，这也算一种户外游戏，
一边一人，比游戏没差多少；
这地方，根本就不用砌墙：
他种的是松树，我种的苹果。
我的苹果不会越过边界
到他树下吃松子，我告诉他。
他只是说：“墙高有睦邻。”
春天使我头脑发热，我在想
有可能我能让他明白一点：
“为什么要睦邻？不是因为
别人家里养着牛？这里没牛。
筑墙前我就得问个明白：
我究竟围进什么，围出什么；
我究竟会得罪谁，要防范谁。
的确有个东西在跟墙为难，
盼墙倒塌。”我告诉他那是“妖怪”，
实际上不是妖怪，我希望
他自己能明白。我看到他
搬石头，每只手都抓住一块，
像旧石器时代野蛮人手执武器。
我感到他好像走在黑暗中，
不只是在树木的阴影里。
他信守父辈之言，不越雷池一步，
他挺满意自己一直没有忘本。
于是又说一遍：“墙高有睦邻。”
After Apple-picking
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
摘苹果之后
我的长梯两梢穿过树叶，
刺向静静蓝天，
旁边有个没装满的桶
也许还有两三个苹果
没摘净，留在枝头。
但我已经干完这活。
冬夜本来就该休息，
苹果的香味使我瞌睡。
可是我再擦眼睛也忘不了
这景象，今晨我从水槽
捞出一片薄冰，透过它
看到这灰黄的枯草世界。
冰融化了，我松手让它跌碎，
但是它还没
落到地上我已昏昏欲睡，
我已经能说出
我会梦见什么景象。
好大的苹果，时隐时现，
一头是枝，一头是花，
每个褐斑都十分鲜明。
我的脚背还在疼痛，
脚底似乎还踩着梯子。
我能感到梯子随树枝摇晃。
还不断听到地窖里
隆隆的声音，
那是一桶桶苹果入仓。
我摘苹果太久，
累得够呛，盼望已久的收获
反而使我厌倦。
千万个果子要摘，
得轻拿轻放，不能掉地。
所有那些
碰到地面的，
哪怕没破皮，没戳上刺儿，
只得堆起来酿酒，
似乎一钱不值。
你能明白是什么扰我安睡，
无论是哪种睡眠。
要是土拨鼠没有走，
倒可以问问它
我描写的这袭来的睡意
是否像他那长长的蛰眠，
还是如同人的睡眠？
The Sound of Trees
I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.
树声
树让我感到惊奇。
为什么我们能够
让树在家门口
日夜喧闹不休，
其他声音却受不了？
白天我们受它折磨，
失去安宁的准绳，
失去稳定的心绪，
却染上倾听的神气。
树是那种人，老说要走，
但永远没有出发；
老是谈长长见识，
现在年老睿智，
倒可以就此留下。
有时，我从窗口，从门里
注视着树枝摇曳，
我的脚难以举步，
我的头倚向一边。
总有一天，当树开腔，
翻来滚去，气势汹汹，
催赶头上的白云，
我将远走高飞，
我将孤注一掷。
我将不多说话，
但是一去不返。
'Out, Out—'
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them 'Supper.' At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. 'Don't let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!'
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
“熄了，熄了——”
电锯在院场里嘎嘎地闹，呼呼地叫，
倒出木屑，推下炉子般长的木条，
微风吹过，带出有甜味的香气。
从那儿，只要抬起眼，就可以
数出夕阳之下有五重山岭
重叠在一起，一直延展到佛蒙特 3 。
电锯嘎嘎地吵，呼呼地叫，
时而轻快地转，时而负上重荷。
全天工作快结束，一切平安，
我真希望当时他们早收工，
哪怕让这孩子高兴，给他半小时，
对男孩来说半个小时是件大事。
他的姐姐扎着围裙，站在一边，
对他们说：“晚饭好了。”正说着，那电锯
似乎想证明它也懂什么是晚饭，
跳出来，好像跳出来，落在孩子手上——
一定是他自己伸过手去。不管如何，
双方都没回避见面。可是那手！
男孩的第一声呼叫竟是惨笑，
他猛地转身，朝大家举起手臂，
半是求救，半是想阻止生命
淌泻出来。这时他看明白了——
因为他已经懂事，大孩子了，
干大人的活，虽然心里还是孩子。
他明白糟了。“别让他割掉我的手——
姐姐，医生来时，别让他割掉我的手！”
好的。可是手早已经断了。
医生用麻药让他失去感觉，
他躺着，鼓着嘴呼气吸气。
此后——听脉搏的人惊慌起来，
没人能相信。他们听他的心跳。
很轻——更轻——消失！——就此告终。
无计可施了。而他们，因为自己
并非死者，所以各自去干自己的事。
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
没有走的路
黄色的林子路分两道，
可惜我不能两条都走。
我站立良久，形影孤独，
远远眺望，顺着一条路，
看它转到灌木林后。
我选了另一条，同样宜人，
挑上这条或许有点道理：
这条路草深，似乎少行人；
实际上来往的迹印，
使两条路相差无几。
而且早晨新落的叶子
覆盖着路，还没人踩，
哦，我把第一条留给下次！
前途多歧，我也知道，
我也怀疑哪能重新回来。
多年，多年后，在某地，
我将讲这件事，叹口气：
树林里路分两股，而我呢——
选上的一条较少人迹，
千差万别由此而起。
Dust of Snow
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
雪片
在铁杉树枝头，
栖停着一只乌鸦，
它朝我的身上
撒下片片雪花。
这使我的心里
情绪为之一变，
总算使这一天
没有愁闷到晚。
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
凡是金的怎能光华长留
大自然最初的绿芽是金子，
但这种颜色她最难保持。
她的叶子起先花一般秀丽；
但只能维持一个小时。
叶子退化成繁叶满枝，
而乐园跌入愁苦人世，
而黎明坠毁变成白昼，
凡是金的怎能光华长留。
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
雪夜林边驻脚
我认识这片林子的主人。
不过他的房子却在邻村；
他不会想到我在此逗留
伫望着白雪灌满了树林。
我的小马定是觉得离奇
荒野中没有农舍可休息
在林子和冰冻的湖之间
在一年中最黑的夜里。
它把颈上的铃摇了一摇
想问问是不是出了差错。
回答它的只有低声絮语——
风柔和地吹，雪羽毛般落。
林子真美，幽深，乌黑，
可是许诺的事还得去做，
还要走好多里才能安睡，
还要走好多里才能安睡。
Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
熟悉黑夜
我早就已经熟悉这种黑夜。
我冒雨出去——又冒雨归来。
我已经越出街灯照亮的边界。
我看到这城里最惨的小巷。
我经过敲钟的守夜人身边，
我低垂下眼睛，不愿多讲。
我站定，我的脚步再听不见，
打另一条街翻过屋顶传来
远处一声被人打断的叫喊，
但那不是叫我回去，也不是再见；
在更远处，在远离人间的高处，
有一尊发光的钟悬在天边。
它宣称时间既不错误又不正确。
但我早就已经熟悉这种黑夜。
What Fifty Said
When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.
Now when I am old my teachers are the young.
What can't be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I go to school to youth to learn the future.
五十至言
过去我年轻，我的教师高龄。
我抛弃火，追求形式，直到冰冷。
我备受痛苦，像浇铸溶液。
为懂得过去，我进学校，向长者学。
现在我老了，我的教师年少。
我只会绽缝裂口，没法熔化重浇。
我费力学功课为了弥补缝裂。
为理解未来，我进学校，向后生学。
Spring Pools
These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods—
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
From snow that melted only yesterday.
春潭
这些水潭虽然深藏在树林中，
依然映出整个天空一碧无限，
它好像潭边花朵，轻颤哆嗦，
也会像潭边花朵，转眼飘逝，
不是顺流而下，沿着小溪大河，
而是缘根而上，带来满树绿荫。
那些树木，枝头紧闭的芽蕾
将使大地色浓，变成深树茂林——
让树木三思吧，然后使出力量，
把这如水的花，这如花的水
从昨天刚刚融化的雪面上
全抹掉，全饮干，一扫而尽。
On Looking Up by Chance at the Constellations
You'll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves,
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drouth will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.
偶尔抬头看星
你得等很久很久，才能看到
天上有新鲜事，除了飘忽的云，
流动的北极光，像刺痛的神经。
太阳和月亮会合，但不接触，
不会撞出火花，轰然炸裂。
行星似乎在轨道上互相干扰
但什么也没发生，没出乱子，
我们大可安心过我们的日子。
要找使我们清醒的冲击、剧变，
不必找日月星辰，得另请高明。
固然，雨将结束最长的干旱，
中国人则说，治久必乱。
可是，观星者不值得通宵守望，
想看到太空的宁静突然告终，
就他的时间，他的视野而言。
这宁静至少今夜绝对安全。
Provide, Provide
The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag
Was once the beauty Abishag,
The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good
For you to doubt the likelihood.
Die early and avoid the fate.
Or if predestined to die late,
Make up your mind to die in state.
Make the whole stock exchange your own!
If need be occupy a throne,
Where nobody can call you crone.
Some have relied on what they knew,
Others on being simply true.
What worked for them might work for you.
No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard
Or keeps the end from being hard.
Better to go down dignified
With boughten friendship at your side
Than none at all. Provide, provide!
未雨绸缪
瞧那个丑老婆子鹤发鸡皮，
一桶水，一块抹布，来洗楼梯，
她就是婀比夏格 4 ，出名的美女，
影界的骄傲，好莱坞艳星。
多少人得意之极一跌千寻，
叫你没法怀疑我说的真情。
死得早，或能侥幸逃脱厄运，
如果是命中注定寿终正寝，
打定主意死也得威风凛凛。
要想法拥有整个证券交易所，
必要的话就应该占住王座，
在那里谁敢把你叫老虔婆？
有的人一心想靠满肚学识，
也有人想靠做人一老一实。
他们能用得上，你不妨一试。
哪怕你过去曾经主宰舞台，
防不了有朝一日无人理睬，
难逃个晚境堪悯老来伤悲。
能死得堂皇体面当然最妙，
买来的友谊在身边养终送老，
有比没强。未雨绸缪吧，早防为好！
Neither Out Far Nor in Deep
The people along the sand
All turn and look one way.
They turn their back on the land.
They look at the sea all day.
As long as it takes to pass
A ship keeps raising its hull;
The wetter ground like glass
Reflects a standing gull.
The land may vary more;
But wherever the truth may be—
The water comes ashore,
And the people look at the sea.
They cannot look out far.
They cannot look in deep.
But when was that ever a bar
To any watch they keep?
不深也不远
沙滩上所有的人
都面朝大海眺望。
他们终日背对大地，
他们终日凝望海洋。
一只船驶过眼前
不断颠簸，露出船身。
地面潮湿犹如镜子，
站立的海鸥照出身影。
大地更是千变万化；
但无论真理究在何方——
海水不断卷过海岸，
人们永远眺望海洋。
他们无法看得很深，
他们无法看得很远。
但这何曾挡住他们
终日眺望的视线？
Come In
As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music—hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.
Too dark in the woods for a bird
By sleight of wing
To better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.
The last of the light of the sun
That had died in the west
Still lived for one song more
In a thrush's breast.
Far in the pillared dark
Thrush music went—
Almost like a call to come in
To the dark and lament.
But no, I was out for stars;
I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked;
And I hadn't been.
进去
当我走到树林的边缘，
听——鸫鸟啼啭！
此刻林外正是黄昏，
林中已很幽暗。
太暗了，林鸟再也不能
靠灵巧的飞行
把巢铺得更好来过夜，
却还能高啭清音。
落日的最后一线余晖
已在西天消失，
但它仍照亮在一曲歌中
照在鸫鸟心里。
从耸立的森林深处
传来鸟鸣嘹呖——
好像是招我进去，进去
到幽暗中悲泣。
啊不，我出来为寻找星星；
我不想进入森林。
哪怕是请我也不愿进去；
况且我未受邀请。
A Cloud Shadow
A breeze discovered my open book
And began to flutter the leaves to look
For a poem there used to be on Spring.
I tried to tell her "There's no such thing!"
For whom would a poem on Spring be by?
The breeze disdained to make reply;
And a cloud shadow crossed her face
For fear I would make her miss the place.
云影
轻风发现我打开的书本，
乱翻书页，东找西寻，
想找那首写春天的诗。
我告诉她：“没这回事！”
谁能写诗把春天描述？
但轻风不屑给我答复；
一丝云影飘过她脸庞
怕我让她找错了诗章。
The Gift Outright
The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England's, still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.
全心全意的奉献
这大地先属于我们，我们才属于她。
她先属于我们有一百多年之后
我们才成为她的人民。在马萨诸塞，
在弗吉尼亚，她一直是我们的；
但我们那时却属于英国，是殖民地，
我们拥有的尚未拥有我们，
我们不再拥有的却拥有我们。
我们留下了一些使我们软弱的东西。
结果发现原来我们是在阻碍
我们自己，不让我们属于这大地，
此后，我们才在献身中得到解救。
我们就这样无保留地献出自己
（为赠送这礼物却打了多少次仗）
献给这正向西伸展着的莽莽大地，
未入籍典，未加妆饰，未事增华，
她当时如此，现在也是如此。
Away!
Now I out walking
The world desert,
And my shoe and my stocking
Do me no hurt.
I leave behind
Good friends in town.
Let them get well-wined
And go lie down.
Don't think I leave
For the outer dark
Like Adam and Eve
Put out of the Park.
Forget the myth.
There is no one I
Am put out with
Or put out by.
Unless I'm wrong
I but obey
The urge of a song:
I'm—bound—away!
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