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赵迁的博客

“我有当受的洗还未成就,我的心里是何等的迫切呢!”

 
 
 

日志

 
 

试译艾略特《四个四重奏》(第四篇)  

2012-03-31 15:04:01|  分类: 默认分类 |  标签: |举报 |字号 订阅

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Little Gidding

 

 

第四篇:小吉丁

Ⅰ.

Midwinter spring is its own season

Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,

Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.

When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,

The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,

In windless cold that is the heart's heat,

Reflecting in a watery mirror

A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.

And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,

Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire

In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing

The soul's sap quivers. There is no earth smell

Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time

But not in time's covenant. Now the hedgerow

Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom

Of snow, a bloom more sudden

Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,

Not in the scheme of generation.

Where is the summer, the unimaginable

Zero summer?

 

If you came this way,

Taking the route you would be likely to take

From the place you would be likely to come from,

If you came this way in may time, you would find the hedges

White again, in May, with voluptuary sweetness.

It would be the same at the end of the journey,

If you came at night like a broken king,

If you came by day not knowing what you came for,

It would be the same, when you leave the rough road

And turn behind the pig-sty to the dull facade

And the tombstone. And what you thought you came for

Is only a shell, a husk of meaning

From which the purpose breaks only when it is fulfilled

If at all. Either you had no purpose

Or the purpose is beyond the end you figured

And is altered in fulfilment. There are other places

Which also are the world's end, some at the sea jaws,

Or over a dark lake, in a desert or a city.

But this is the nearest, in place and time,

Now and in England.

 

If you came this way,

Taking any route, starting from anywhere,

At any time or at any season,

It would always be the same: you would have to put off

Sense and notion. You are not here to verify,

Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity

Or carry report. You are here to kneel

Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more

Than an order of words, the conscious occupation

Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying.

And what the dead had no speech for, when living,

They can tell you, being dead: the communication

Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.

Here, the intersection of the timeless moment

Is England and nowhere. Never and always.

一.

隆冬里的春天是它自己的季节

恒久,虽然在日落前湿透,

它停止在时间里,在两极与回归线之间。

短暂的白天变得最光亮时,因为霜和火——

匆忙的日光点燃了沟渠和池塘里的冰,

在无风的严寒中,那是心脏的热量,

在水淋淋的镜面反射出

一道炫目的、夺人视力的光,在晌午之后。

这光比柴火或火盆里的更强烈,更刺目,

它激起哑默的灵魂:没有风,只有圣灵降临节的火,

——在一年里的黑暗时节。在融化和冰冻之间,

灵魂颤抖着。没有泥土的气息,

没有生命的气息。这是春天的时日,

但不在时间的契约里。现在矮木篱笆

被暂时开放的雪花染白了一个小时,

雪花——一次比夏日花朵更突然的开放,

不经过花苞,也不会凋零,

也不会落入世代繁衍的计划。

夏天在哪里,那不可想象的

零度的夏天?

 

如果你前来这里,

走你最可能走的路线,

从那你最可能出发的地方,

如果你是在五月到来,你应该发现

树篱再次变白,带着放纵的甜蜜,在五月。

在旅程的终点,可能结果都一样,

如果你像一个困顿的国外连夜赶来,

如果你在白天赶来却不知为何而来,

结果可能都一样,——当你离开那粗粝的小路

由猪栏后面转向阴暗的正面和一旁的

墓碑。此时,你心中原有的目的

只是真实意义之外的一层壳,或一只荚,

真正的目的,只有实现之时才会破壳而出。

也许你并没有目的,

或者你无法描绘自己的目的,

它在实现时发生改变。另有一些地方,

也是世界的尽头,有的在大海的入口,

或者一个黑暗的湖泊上空,一片沙漠或城市中。

但这里是最近的,不论时间还是空间,

现在,在英格兰。

 

如果你前来这里,

走任何线路,从任何地方出发,

在任何时间,或任何季节,

结果永远都将一样:你必须抛开

自我的感受和主张。你来此不是为了

证明什么,教导自己,或满足好奇

或传送报告。你到这里——祷告总会应验的地方

——跪下。而且祷告不只是

一连串的话语,或祷词对大脑的占据,

也不只是诵念祷词的声音。

逝者生前无法告诉你的

现在,作为死者,可以告诉你:死后的世界,

通过火焰的语言沟通——超越生者的语言。

这里,所有无始无终的时刻在此交汇,

在英格兰而非他处。从不、永远。

Ⅱ.

Ash on an old man's sleeve

Is all the ash the burnt roses leave.

Dust in the air suspended

Marks the place where a story ended.

Dust inbreathed was a house-

The walls, the wainscot and the mouse,

The death of hope and despair,

This is the death of air.

 

There are flood and drouth

Over the eyes and in the mouth,

Dead water and dead sand

Contending for the upper hand.

The parched eviscerate soil

Gapes at the vanity of toil,

Laughs without mirth.

This is the death of earth.

 

Water and fire succeed

The town, the pasture and the weed.

Water and fire deride

The sacrifice that we denied.

Water and fire shall rot

The marred foundations we forgot,

Of sanctuary and choir.

This is the death of water and fire.

 

In the uncertain hour before the morning

Near the ending of interminable night

At the recurrent end of the unending

After the dark dove with the flickering tongue

Had passed below the horizon of his homing

While the dead leaves still rattled on like tin

Over the asphalt where no other sound was

Between three districts whence the smoke arose

I met one walking, loitering and hurried

As if blown towards me like the metal leaves

Before the urban dawn wind unresisting.

And as I fixed upon the down-turned face

That pointed scrutiny with which we challenge

The first-met stranger in the waning dusk

I caught the sudden look of some dead master

Whom I had known, forgotten, half recalled

Both one and many; in the brown baked features

The eyes of a familiar compound ghost

Both intimate and unidentifiable.

So I assumed a double part, and cried

And heard another's voice cry: "What! are you here?"

Although we were not. I was still the same,

Knowing myself yet being someone other.

And he a face still forming; yet the words sufficed

To compel the recognition they preceded.

And so, compliant to the common wind,

Too strange to each other for misunderstanding,

In concord at this intersection time

Of meeting nowhere, no before and after,

We trod the pavement in a dead patrol.

I said: "The wonder that I feel is easy,

Yet ease is cause of wonder. Therefore speak:

I may not comprehend, may not remember."

And he: "I am not eager to rehearse

My thoughts and theory which you have forgotten.

These things have served their purpose: let them be.

So with your own, and pray they be forgiven

By others, as I pray you to forgive

Both bad and good. Last season's fruit is eaten

And the fullfed beast shall kick the empty pail.


For last year's words belong to last year's language

And next year's words await another voice.

But, as the passage now presents no hindrance

To the spirit unappeased and peregrine

Between two worlds become much like each other,

So I find words I never thought to speak

In streets I never thought I should revisit

When I left my body on a distant shore.

Since our concern was speech, and speech impelled us

To purify the dialect of the tribe

And urge the mind to aftersight and foresight,

Let me disclose the gifts reserved for age

To set a crown upon your lifetime's effort.

First, the cold fricton of expiring sense

Without enchantment, offering no promise

But bitter tastelessness of shadow fruit

As body and soul begin to fall asunder.

Second, the conscious impotence of rage

At human folly, and the laceration

Of laughter at what ceases to amuse.

And last, the rending pain of re-enactment

Of all that you have done, and been; the shame

Of things ill done and done to others' harm

Which once you took for exercise of virtue.

Then fools' approval stings, and honour stains.

From wrong to wrong the exasperated spirit

Proceeds, unless restored by that refining fire

Where you must move in measure, like a dancer."

The day was breaking. In the disfigured street

He left me, with a kind of valediction,

And faded on the blowing of the horn.

二.

一个老人衣袖上的灰烬

是玫瑰燃烧后留下的所有灰烬。

尘土,在空气中悬浮,

标示出故事结束的地方。

进入呼吸的尘土曾是,一栋房屋——

墙,护壁板和老鼠,

希望和绝望的消亡,

这是空气的死亡。

 

有洪水和干旱,

在眼前,在口中,

死水和死沙

挣着要占据上风。

龟裂、贫瘠的土壤

茫然地注视着人们徒然的辛劳,

笑声里没有欢乐,

这是土地的死亡。

 

水与火接管了

城市,牧场和野草。

水与火嘲弄

我们拒绝供奉的牺牲。

水与火也将腐化为

那我们已经忘记的毁坏的

圣殿和唱诗班。

这是水与火的死亡。

 

在黎明前某个不可确知的时辰,

漫漫长夜行将结束,

在它反复出现的永不终结的终点,

一只归途中的黑鸽子,携着明灭的叫声,

掠过地平线,

此时枯死的树叶像风中的锡片一样嘎嘎作响,

除此之外,沥青路上再无其它声音,

在冒烟的三个街区之间,

我遇上一个行色匆匆的游荡者,

似一片张大的金属叶子迎面而来,

迎着一阵无力的都市晨风。

我定睛观察他垂转下来的面孔,

就像在暗淡的暮色中审视

一个初次邂逅的陌生人,

我突然发现一张大师的脸,

我曾熟识,后又忘记,现在又恍惚忆起,

既是一个,又是多个;在那张烟熏火烤般的褐色的脸上,

是一双熟悉的复合灵魂的眼睛,

既亲切,又模糊难辨。

于是,我似乎变成了两个部分,喊道

——同时听到另一个声音喊道:“怎么!您在这里!”

虽然我知道这是幻觉。我仍然是一个,

但已经变成了另外一个人。

他的脸还在变化中;但我的话已足够

让他们现出以前的身份。

于是,顺从于同一阵风的吹拂,

我们相会在这个和谐的时间交叉点上

相遇,不在任何地方,无前也无后,

并由于太过陌生而不会彼此误解,

我们踩在路面上,开始一次死亡巡视。

我说道:“我心中的疑惑并不难解,

是松懈产生了这些疑惑。所以说:

我可能未曾领会,也不曾记住。”

他说:“我并不准备去复述

我那些已被你忘记的思想和理论。

他们已经完成了自己的任务:就让他们去吧。

你自己的也是如此,祈求它们被他人宽免吧,

就像我祈求你宽免一样,

不论好的坏的。当季的果实被吃光后,

喂饱的牲畜就会把空桶踢开。

去年说的话属于去年的语言,

明年的话在等待另一种语音。

但是,就像现在路上没有障碍一样,

对于一个来自异域的未得安息的灵魂,

——它已在两个世界间变得非常相像,

当我把肉体留在远方的海岸上,

在我从未想过要再次造访的街道上,

我找到了我从未想说的话。

既然我们关心的是言说,言说又驱策我们

净化族人的语言,

并促使我们瞻前也顾后,

就让我打开岁月的礼物

来为你一生的努力加冕。

首先,当人的感受力丧失生命的魔力,行将熄灭,

它自身的任何冷漠的冲突,都不会提供任何承诺,

而只是苦涩无味的幻影一般的果实,

就像身体和灵魂开始分离成碎片。

其次,狂怒暴露了无能——人类的

愚蠢,而放浪的笑声,

则再难以取悦他人。

最后,对自己所是和所做之物的重新评价

和定位,会让人感受到撕裂之痛;

你曾试图从中践习美德的,是你

做错和伤害他人的事物带来的耻辱,

傻瓜们的拥护给人刺痛;他们的赞美给人玷污。

激愤的灵魂从错误到错误中前行,

——就像一个舞者一样前行,直到

在炼狱之火的洗礼中重塑自己。”

天色破晓,在这条遭损毁的街道上,

他离开了我,念着一种告别词,

隐身在一阵号角的长鸣中。

Ⅲ.

There are three conditions which often look alike

Yet differ completely, flourish in the same hedgerow:

Attachment to self and to things and to persons, detachment

From self and from things and from persons; and, growing between them, indifference

Which resembles the others as death resembles life,

Being between two lives - unflowering, between

The live and the dead nettle. This is the use of memory:

For liberation - not less of love but expanding

Of love beyond desire, and so liberation

From the future as well as the past. Thus, love of a country

Begins as an attachment to our own field of action

And comes to find that action of little importance

Though never indifferent. History may be servitude,

History may be freedom. See, now they vanish,

The faces and places, with the self which, as it could, loved them,

To become renewed, transfigured, in another pattern.

 

Sin is Behovely, but

All shall be well, and

All manner of thing shall be well.

If I think, again, of this place,

And of people, not wholly commendable,

Of not immediate kin or kindness,

But of some peculiar genius,

All touched by a common genius,

United in the strife which divided them;

If I think of a king at nightfall,

Of three men, and more, on the scaffold

And a few who died forgotten

In other places, here and abroad,

And of one who died blind and quiet,

Why should we celebrate

These dead men more than the dying?

It is not to ring the bell backward

Nor is it an incantation

To summon the spectre of a Rose.

We cannot revive old factions

We cannot restore old policies

Or follow an antique drum.

These men, and those who opposed them

And those whom they opposed

Accept the constitution of silence

And are folded in a single party.

Whatever we inherit from the fortunate

We have taken from the defeated

What they had to leave us - a symbol:

A symbol perfected in death.

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

By the purification of the motive

In the ground of our beseeching.

三.

有三种情况经常看起来相似,

实则完全不同,它们就像盛开在同一片树篱之中:

对自身,对事物和对他人的迷恋,

对人与事物的冷漠和疏远;以及生长于两者之间的,对人与事物的淡然处之,

后者之于前两者,就像死亡之于生命,

处于两种生命状态之间——无花无果,处于

生之烦恼和死之烦恼之间。这是记忆的价值:

解脱——不是减少爱,而是超越了

欲望的爱在增长,因此也将从未来和

过去中获得解脱。所以,对国家之爱

始于对我们自己行动之地的迷恋,

然后发现行动本身并非爱的关键,

虽然这行动从来就不是无关紧要的。历史可能是束缚,

历史也可能是自由。看,现在它们消失了,

那一张张面孔和一个个地点,同自我一起——如它可以的那样爱着它们,

而后,又在另一种方式中更新,变化。

 

罪是一种必要,但

一切终将变好,并且

一切事务都将各安其位。

如果我,再次想起这个地方

和这个地方的人们——他们并非全然值得称赞,

我想到的不是那些直系家族,或某些慈行善举,

而是某些特别的天才,

受到同一种天意的感召,

在那让他们分裂的斗争中归于一体;

如果我想起夜幕中的国王,

想到三个人,或更多,在断头台上,

以及那些死在别处——此地或异域——

已被人遗忘的人,

或是想起一个在失明与宁静中逝去的人,

为什么要纪念他们

胜于纪念那如今正在死去的人们?

这不是去敲昔日的钟,

也不是去召唤

一枝玫瑰的幽灵的咒语。

我们不能重组昔日的派系,

也不能恢复往昔的律条,

或跟上那些旧日的鼓点。

这些人和那些反对他们的人们,

以及那些他们反对的人们,

接受了那沉默的法则,

并最终归于一体。

不论我们从幸运者那里继承什么

或从失败者那里得到什么,

他们终将留给我们的是——一种象征:

一种在死亡中归于圆满的象征。

一切都将变好,

一切事物都将各安其位,

凭着对内心的救赎,

在我们热切恳求的土地上。

IV

The dove descending breaks the air

With flame of incandescent terror

Of which the tongues declare

The one dischage from sin and error.

The only hope, or else despair

Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre-

To be redeemed from fire by fire.

 

Who then devised the torment? Love.

Love is the unfamiliar Name

Behind the hands that wove

The intolerable shirt of flame

Which human power cannot remove.

We only live, only suspire

Consumed by either fire or fire.

四.

携着炽热的恐怖火焰,

鸽子俯冲而下,划破夜空,

它以烈焰的火舌宣告

赦免人们的罪愆和过错。

唯一的希望,或者绝望

存在于从柴堆到柴堆的选择——

从火焰到火焰中获得救赎。

 

是谁安排了这磨难?爱。

爱是个不为人熟知的名字,

它躲在那双编织火焰之衫的手的后面,

这火衫给人以无法承受的煎熬

却不能为人力所去除。

我们只有生活着,叹息着,

被吞灭在火焰与火焰之中。

V.

What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

The end is where we start from. And every phrase

And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,

Taking its place to support the others,

The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,

An easy commerce of the old and the new,

The common word exact without vulgarity,

The formal word precise but not pedantic,

The complete consort dancing together)

Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,

Every poem an epitaph. And any action

Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat

Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.

We die with the dying:

See, they depart, and we go with them.

We are born with the dead:

See, they return, and bring us with them.

The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree

Are of equal duration. A people without history

Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern

Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails

On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel

History is now and England.

 

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

Through the unknown, unremembered gate

When the last of earth left to discover

Is that which was the beginning;

At the source of the longest river

The voice of the hidden waterfall

And the children in the apple-tree

Not known, because not looked for

But heard, half-heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

Quick now, here, now, always.

A condition of complete simplicity

(Costing not less than everything)

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flames are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire

And the fire and the rose are one.

五.

我们称之为开始的往往是结束,

所以来到终点,也就是来到起点。

终点是我们开始的地方。而每个准确的

词汇和语句(字在其中各得其所,

各安其位并互相照应,

文字既不自卑也不卖弄,

它是古老与现代的轻松交流,

朴实的文字准确而不粗俗,

规范的文字精确而不迂腐,

犹如天造地设的一对翩翩起舞)

每个词汇每个句子都是一次结束也是一个开始,

每首诗都是一篇墓志铭。任何一次行动

都是朝向泥土的一步,朝向火焰,朝向大海的喉咙,

或者朝向一块字迹难辨的墓碑:这同样是我们开始的地方。

我们与垂死者一起死去:

看,他们离去,我们与之同行。

我们伴着死者出生:

看,他们转世,携我们一起返回。

玫瑰的时刻,紫杉的时刻

同样持久。一个没有历史的民族

不会从时间中获得救赎,因为历史

是每个永恒瞬间的存在形式。因此,在一个光线渐淡的

冬日下午,在一间僻静的小礼拜堂内,

历史就是现在,就是英格兰。

 

由于这爱的图像和这召唤的声音,

我们不应停止探寻,

在探寻的终点,

我们将抵达我们的出发地,

并第一次真正了解这个地方。

通过那未知的,未进入记忆的大门,

只剩下最后一片土地尚待发现,

当时,那就是曾经的起点;

在最长的河流的源头,

隐藏的瀑布的声响,

和苹果树上的孩子们,

不为人知,因为无人找寻,

只是被听见,隐约听见,在寂静中

在大海的两排波浪之间。

就是此刻,这里,此刻,永远。

一种完全单纯的状态,

(但要付出的不比任何事物少)

一切都将安好,

一切事物都将各安其位,

当火焰之舌折卷着

进入一尊火之皇冠,

火与玫瑰合而为一。

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