总是喜欢象罔的诗。 这也是他贴在MAYA的。
http://www.mayacafe.com/forum/topic1.php3?act=E
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/
&&&&
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。
