夜莺颂

类别:文学名著 作者:约翰·济慈 本章:夜莺颂

    夜莺颂

    我的心在痛,困顿和麻木

    刺进了感官,有如饮过毒鸠,

    又象是刚刚把鸦片吞服,

    于是向着列斯忘川下沉:

    并不是我嫉妒你的好运,

    而是你的快乐使我太欢欣--

    因为在林间嘹亮的天地里,

    你呵,轻翅的仙灵,

    你躲进山毛榉的葱绿和荫影,

    放开歌喉,歌唱着夏季。

    哎,要是有一口酒!那冷藏

    在地下多年的清醇饮料,

    一尝就令人想起绿色之邦,

    想起花神,恋歌,阳光和舞蹈!

    要是有一杯南国的温暖

    充满了鲜红的灵感之泉,

    杯沿明灭着珍珠的泡沫,

    给嘴唇染上紫斑;

    哦,我要一饮而离开尘寰,

    和你同去幽暗的林中隐没:

    远远地、远远隐没,让我忘掉

    你在树叶间从不知道的一切,

    忘记这疲劳、热病、和焦躁,

    这使人对坐而悲叹的世界;

    在这里,青春苍白、消瘦、死亡,

    而“瘫痪”有几根白发在摇摆;

    在这里,稍一思索就充满了

    忧伤和灰色的绝望,

    而“美”保持不住明眸的光彩,

    新生的爱情活不到明天就枯凋。

    去吧!去吧!我要朝你飞去,

    不用和酒神坐文豹的车驾,

    我要展开诗歌底无形羽翼,

    尽管这头脑已经困顿、疲乏;

    去了!呵,我已经和你同往!

    夜这般温柔,月后正登上宝座,

    周围是侍卫她的一群星星;

    但这儿却不甚明亮,

    除了有一线天光,被微风带过,

    葱绿的幽暗,和苔藓的曲径。

    我看不出是哪种花草在脚旁,

    什么清香的花挂在树枝上;

    在温馨的幽暗里,我只能猜想

    这个时令该把哪种芬芳

    赋予这果树,林莽,和草丛,

    这白枳花,和田野的玫瑰,

    这绿叶堆中易谢的紫罗兰,

    还有五月中旬的娇宠,

    这缀满了露酒的麝香蔷薇,

    它成了夏夜蚊蚋的嗡萦的港湾。

    我在黑暗里倾听:呵,多少次

    我几乎爱上了静谧的死亡,

    我在诗思里用尽了好的言辞,

    求他把我的一息散入空茫;

    而现在,哦,死更是多么富丽:

    在午夜里溘然魂离人间,

    当你正倾泻着你的心怀

    发出这般的狂喜!

    你仍将歌唱,但我却不再听见--

    你的葬歌只能唱给泥草一块。

    永生的鸟呵,你不会死去!

    饥饿的世代无法将你蹂躏;

    今夜,我偶然听到的歌曲

    曾使古代的帝王和村夫喜悦;

    或许这同样的歌也曾激荡

    露丝忧郁的心,使她不禁落泪,

    站在异邦的谷田里想着家;

    就是这声音常常

    在失掉了的仙域里引动窗扉:

    一个美女望着大海险恶的浪花。

    呵,失掉了!这句话好比一声钟

    使我猛醒到我站脚的地方!

    别了!幻想,这骗人的妖童,

    不能老耍弄它盛传的伎俩。

    别了!别了!你怨诉的歌声

    流过草坪,越过幽静的溪水,

    溜上山坡;而此时,它正深深

    埋在附近的溪谷中:

    噫,这是个幻觉,还是梦寐?

    那歌声去了:--我是睡?是醒?

    查良铮译

    Ode to A Nightingale

    Jos

    My  aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

    My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

    Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

    One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk

    tis not t,

    But being too hine happiness,--

    t t-rees

    In some melodious plot

    Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

    Singest of summer in full-ted ease.

    O, for a draugage! t h been

    Coold a long age in th,

    tasting of Flora and try green,

    Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!

    O for a beaker full of th,

    Full of true, the blushful hippocrene,

    it the brim,

    And purple-stained mouth

    t I mighe world unseen,

    And o t dim

    Fade far ae forget

    t never known,

    t

    and her groan;

    gray hairs,

    re-thin, and dies;

    to to be full of sorrow

    And leaden-eyed despairs,

    y cannot keep rous eyes,

    Or ne to-morrow.

    Ao thee,

    Not ced by Bacchus and his pards,

    But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

    tards

    Already ender is t,

    And hrone,

    Clusterd around by all arry Fays;

    But ,

    Save w from he breezes blown

    through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

    I cannot see  my feet,

    Nor  incense he boughs,

    But, in embalmed darkness, guess eac

    h endows

    t, and t-tree wild;

    e oral eglantine;

    Fast fading violets coverd up in leaves;

    And mid-Mays eldest child,

    the coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

    t of flies on summer eves.

    Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

    I h,

    Calld  names in many a mused rhyme,

    to take into t breath;

    No rico die,

    to cease upon t h no pain,

    pouring forthy soul abroad

    In sucasy!

    Still  thou sing, and I have ears in vain--

    to thy high requiem become a sod.

    t not born for deatal Bird!

    No ions tread thee down;

    t was heard

    In ancient days by emperor and clown:

    Per found a path

    t of Ruth, when, sick for home,

    Sood in tears amid the alien corn;

    t oft-times h

    Cs, opening on the foam

    Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

    Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

    to toll me back from to my sole self!

    Adieu! t c so well

    As so do, deceiving elf.

    Adieu! adieu! tive anthem fades

    Past till stream,

    Up tis buried deep

    In t valley-glades:

    as it a vision, or a waking dream?

    Fled is t music:--Do I wake or sleep?


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