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xw

#1  Newfoundland(E. J. Pratt)

Newfoundland

E. J. Pratt

Here the tides flow,
And here they ebb;
Not with that dull, unsinewed tread of waters
Held under bonds to move
Around unpeopled shores—
Moon-driven through a timeless circuit
Of invasion and retreat;
But with a lusty stroke of life
Pounding at stubborn gates,
That they might run
Within the sluices of men’s hearts,
Leap under throb of pulse and nerve,
And teach the sea’s strong voice
To learn the harmonies of new floods,
The peal of cataract,
And the soft wash of currents
Against resilient banks,
Or the broken rhythms from old chords
Along dark passages
That once were pathways of authentic fires.

Red is the sea-kelp on the beach,
Red as the heart’s blood,
Nor is there power in tide or sun
To bleach its stain.
It lies there piled thick
Above the gulch-line.
It is rooted in the joints of rocks,
It is tangled around a spar,
It covers a broken rudder,
It is red as the heart’s blood,
And salt as tears.

Here the winds blow,
And here they die,
Not with that wild, exotic rage
That vainly sweeps untrodden shores,
But with familiar breath
Holding a partnership with life,
Resonant with the hopes of spring,
Pungent with the airs of harvest.
They call with the silver fifes of the sea,
They breathe with the lungs of men,
They are one with the tides of the sea,
They are one with the tides of the heart,
They blow with the rising octaves of dawn,
They die with the largo of dusk,
Their hands are full to the overflow,
In their right is the bread of life,
In their left are the waters of death.

Scattered on boom
And rudder and weed
Are tangles of shells;
Some with backs of crusted bronze,
And faces of porcelain blue,
Some crushed by the beach stones
To chips of jade;
And some are spiral-cleft
Spreading their tracery on the sand
In the rich veining of an agate’s heart;
And others remain unscarred,
To babble of the passing of the winds.

Here the crags
Meet with winds and tides—
Not with that blind interchange
Of blow for blow
That spills the thunder of insentient seas;
But with the mind that reads assault
In crouch and leap and the quick stealth,
Stiffening the muscles of the waves.
Here they flank the harbours,
Keeping watch
On thresholds, altars and the fires of home,
Or, like mastiffs,
Over-zealous,
Guard too well.

Tide and wind and crag,
Sea-weed and sea-shell
And broken rudder—
And the story is told
Of human veins and pulses,
Of eternal pathways of fire,
Of dreams that survive the night,
Of doors held ajar in storms.

Online text © 1998-2006 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From Newfoundland Verse | 1923

上回写纽芬兰后,才知道普拉特写的这一首《纽芬兰》,气慨非凡!

转过来欣赏。

http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/8801/


2006-6-26 20:29
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xw

#2  

纽芬兰

潮在这里涨,
潮在这里落;
并不伴着沉闷,缺少雄健的踏浪
在这荒无人烟的海岸
受着约束流淌--
被月亮驱赶穿过永恒
进攻当撤退的循环;
而带着生命欲望的一击
在顽固的大门前碰撞,
它们可以
在人类心脏的水闸下奔流
在脉搏与神经的悸动下跳跃
教给大海雄壮的声音
学会新的洪水带来的和谐,
大瀑布的轰鸣
海潮温柔的排浪
拍击着有弹力的岸边
或者那古老的弦乐破碎的节奏
沿着幽暗的通道
那里曾走过真正的火

……

风儿在这里吹起,
风儿在这里停歇,
没有那狂热、异样的咆哮
徒劳地跑过无人涉足的海岸,
但带着熟悉的呼吸
与生命结成同伴
同春天的希望遥相呼应
伴着收获的气息扑鼻而来。

它们与大海的银笛一道吹响,
它们与人的心肺一道呼吸,
它们同大道的浪潮一体,
它们同心的浪潮一体。
它们与黎明的高八音鸣奏,
它们与黄昏的缓板消失,
它们的双手充满了溢流,
右手是生命之粮,
左手是死亡之水。

……

海潮、海风、海岩,
海草、海贝
还有破碎的晶石--
讲述着一个故事:
关于人类的脉搏
关于火焰永恒的通路,
关于夜尽的残梦,
关于暴风雨中微启的门。

(汤潮译)

===

这里有汉译的片断,可以参考着阅读。原诗不好解的。


2006-6-26 20:50
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xw

#3  

瞧,这伊甸里有那么多加拿大籍,普拉特的诗都没有人侃侃,唉!

我再贴一首短一点的,在拉布拉多亲手抄来的,另附廖康,WOA等的
翻译:

Erosion

E.J.Pratt

It took the sea a thousand years
A thousand years to trace;
The granite features of this cliff
In crag and scarp and base.

It took the sea an hour one night
An hour of storm to place;
the sculpture of these granite seams
Upon a woman's face.

&&&

Thank you for sharing with us the poem "Erosion" and please critique my attempt of rendering it freely into Chinese.

侵蚀

E.J.布拉特

大海温情,冲刷了一千年,
才把这些皱褶深深浅浅
一点点,一点点
刻上礁岩的身躯和脸面。

大海无情,冲撞仅一瞬间,
竟把礁岩那苍老的容颜
一下子,一下子
就刻上妇人皎洁的脸面。

廖康译,请诸位斧正!

&&&

廖先生抓住了Pratt的精髓。偶班门弄斧不成,就弄锋利的小刀子,向译诗行家看齐, 从直译学起。


Erosion 蚀

E.J. Pratt

It took the sea a thousand years
A thousand years to trace
The granite features of this cliff
In crag and scarp and base.

千年沧海
一千年汹涌不停歇
刺透了峭壁的背脊
上下遍刻粗犷和细节

It took the sea an hour one night
An hour of storm to place
the sculpture of these granite seams
Upon a woman's face

第一千零一个夜晚
一袭短促的风暴
只用礁石冷酷的锋刃
雕蚀出女人脸庞的棱角

WOA译


2006-6-27 13:07
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