克里斯蒂娜.罗塞蒂的“生日“(转载)

楼主:锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:07:00 点击:767 回复:17
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  今天是克里斯蒂娜.罗塞蒂(1830-1894)的生日,抄网上一首她作的<生日>, 不亦宜乎.
  (http://www.zhuangzi.com/en/quiz/ysjp/1114_001.asp)
  ===========================================
  A birthday
  
  My heart is like a singing bird
  Whose nest is in a watered shoot:
  My heart is like an apple-tree
  Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
  My heart is like a rainbow shell
  That Paddles in a halcyon sea;
  My heart is gladder than all these
  Because my love is come to me.
  
  Raise me dais of silk and down;
  Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
  Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
  And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
  Work it in gold and silver grapes,
  In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
  Because the birthday of my life
  Is come, my love is come to me.
  ========================================
  
  生日
  
  我的心像一只欢唱的鸟,
  它的巢在溪涧流过的斜坡上面;
  我的心像一棵苹果树
  它的枝被密密麻麻的果实压弯;
  我的心像一只虹彩的贝,
  它拍水前行在平静的海洋;
  我的心比所有这些都快乐,
  因为我的爱来到了我身旁。
  
  为我建一座丝绸绒毛的高台吧,
  挂上栗鼠皮和紫色的饰物;
  镂刻上众多的鸽子和石榴。
  把百只眼睛的孔雀也雕出;
  再插进金黄和银白的葡萄,
  把叶子、还有银茑尾也添上;
  因为我生命开始的日子,
  来到时了,我的爱来了我身旁
  
  =================================
  注释:
  
  此诗最初发表于《麦克米伦杂志》(1861),后来收入《妖怪市场与其他诗》。
  
  (1)a watered shoot:有溪流的险陡斜坡,shoot即chute,陡峭斜坡。
  
  (2)halcyon平静的。halcyon是传说中的太平鸟,巢居海上,冬至产卵时能使海波平静;此处用作形容词。
  
  (3)is come:has come,第16行同。
  
  (4)dais: a platform hung with cloth and ornately decorated挂着各色各样的织物、装饰华丽的平台
  
  (5)down:绒毛,如鸭绒等。
  
  (6)vair:(中世纪高级阶层作服饰用的)灰鼠毛皮
  
  (7)fleurs-de-lys:单数形式为fleur-de-lys,茑尾花。
  
  
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楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:16:22
  再来一首, 甘之若饴阿. 译文是方平的.
  
  Remember
  
  Remember me when I am gone away,
   Gone far away into the silent land;
   When you can no more hold me by the hand,
  Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
  
  Remember me when no more day by day
   You tell me of our future that you planned:
   Only remember me; you understand
  It will be late to counsel then or pray.
  
  Yet if you should forget me for a while
   And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
   For if the darkness and corruption leave
   A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
  
  Better by far you should forget and smile
   Than that you should remember and be sad.
  
  =====================================
  
  想念
   
  
  请想念我吧,当我已经不在--
   不在这里,在远方,寂静的田园;
   当你已不能握住了我的手腕,
  握住了我的手,我欲去又徘徊。
   
  
  请想念我吧,当你已不能天天
   为我描述我俩的未来的圆梦,
   光是想念我吧;再相随相从,
  在一起祷告,谈心,已经太晚。
   
  
  但要是你把我忘怀了片刻,
   又重新想起;请也不必叹息,
   如果原先属于我的思忆,
  被黑暗和腐蚀留下一丝痕迹--
   
  
  那么,宁愿你忘怀了而欢笑,
  不要,不要你记住了而哀悼。
  
  方平 译
  
   
  
  
  
楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:26:27
  如果有人觉得译文很差,至少好处是逼得你去读原文.下面的译文译者不详.
  转载自http://english.chinaschool.net/novel/wheniamdead.html
  ============================================
  
  克里斯蒂娜.罗塞蒂(1830-1894),但丁.罗塞蒂的妹妹,1847年出版第一部作品《诗选》(Verses),1862年发表长诗《精灵市场》(Goblin Market)。其他作品有《王子历程等诗集》(The Prince‘s Progress and Other Poems )、诗集(Poems)、《新诗集》(New Peoms)等。
  
    《当我离开人间,最亲爱的》一诗表现诗人对死亡的探索以及对友情的依恋。
  
  ============================================
  
  
  Song
  
  When I am dead, my dearst,
   Sing no sad songs for me;
  Plant thou no roses at my head,
   Nor shady cypress tree:
  Be the green grass above me
   With showers and dwedrops wet:
  And if thou wilt, remember,
   And if thou wilt, forget.
  
  
  I shall not see the shadows,
   I shall not feel the rain;
  I shall not hear the nightingale
   Sing on as if in pain:
  And deraming through the twilight
   That doth not rise nor set,
  Haply I may remember,
   And haply may forget.
  ====================================
  当我离开人间,最亲爱的,
   别为我哀歌悲切;
  我的墓前不要栽玫瑰,
   也不要柏树茂密;
  愿绿茵覆盖我的身躯,
   沾着湿润的灵珠雨水;
  假如你愿意,就把我怀念,
   假如你愿意,就把我忘却。
  
  我不会重见那荫影,
   不会感觉雨天来临;
  我不会听见夜莺
   一声声仿佛哀鸣;
  我置身梦境,在朦胧的黎明,
   它从不升起,也永不沉沦;
  也许我会怀念,
   也许我会忘却。
  
  
  
楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:29:20
  下面转载自
  http://www.quancheng.org/tabwork/main.asp?classid=71&mainid=244
  
  喜欢看认认真真探讨翻译的帖子.
  ============================================
  
  
  一首小诗的翻译
  [2001-9-12]
  
  作者:Simon Xu
  来源:未知
  点击数:402
  
    英国十九世纪女诗人Christina Rossetti写过一首诗,题为"Who has seen the wind",全诗如下:
  
    Who has seen the wind?
      Neither I nor you;
    But when the leaves hang trembling,
      The wind is passing through.
  
    Who has seen the wind?
      Neither you nor I;
    But when the trees bow down their heads,
      The wind is passing by.
  
    李赋宁先生的《英语学习经验谈》一书中曾引过这首诗,同时所引的译文是这样的:
  
    谁看见过风?
      我没有,你也没有;
    但当树叶摇动时,
      风便畅通无阻。
  
    谁看见过风?
      你没有,我也没有;
    但当树儿低头时,
      风儿经过嗖嗖。
  
    此译文不论从音韵,还是节奏上讲,都较原诗逊色许多。比如Neither you nor I 一句,在英文中,语气本是相当贯通,但是译成"我没有,你也没有",文气就有了被截断的感觉。而最后一句,为了压"有"字的韵,使用了拟声词"嗖嗖",未免牵强。
  
    此诗后来又被收进上海外教社出版的《大学英语》课本。在课本中,该诗的译文与上面所引的又有所不同。克里斯蒂娜·罗塞蒂的诗歌颇有朴实、哀婉、清新的气息,同时音韵节奏非常优美。这些特点在这首小诗中均有体现。为了体现这些特点,这个译文在遣词造句上下了一些功夫,并未受原文用词浅显这一特点的束缚:
  
    有谁见过风?
      不是我也不是你;
    一旦树摇叶婆娑,
      顿觉飘然风乍起。
  
    有谁见过风?
      不是你也不是我;
    但当树木低头时,
      便是一阵风吹过。
  
    在这个译文中,一些词语,如"树摇叶婆娑","飘然风乍起",已很有诗意。不过这些好不容易得来的诗意被一些煞风景的词给破坏了,如"一旦"、"顿觉"、"便是"等。同时被破坏掉的还有诗句的节奏感。基于这种考虑,我把这首诗的译文做了一些调整,成了这副样子:
  
    谁人曾识风?
    非我亦非你;
    树摇叶婆娑,
    飘然风乍起。
  
    谁人曾识风?
    非你亦非我;
    秀木俱低眉,
    清风拂面过。
  
    如果说如此齐整的诗句、遣词造句上如此的苦心经营有违女诗人朴素、清新的本性,那我会守着最后一道防线据理力争:至少,它比前两种译文更能传达诗歌所要承载的一种"美"吧。
  
  
  
  
  
楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:39:52
  下面是周 瓒的文章和译作.转载自
  
  http://www.poemlife.com/wings/index01.htm
  =============================
  
  
  克里斯蒂娜·罗塞蒂(Christina Rossetti)
  - 发表于:2002.04.02 21:21
  
  
  
   克里斯蒂娜 ·吉奥尔吉娜· 罗塞蒂(Christina Georgina Rossetti, 1830-1894)是加布雷勒·罗塞蒂(Gabriele Rossetti)和弗朗西斯·普利道瑞(Frances Polidori)最小的女儿。加布雷勒·罗塞蒂是伦敦肯斯学院(King’s College)的意大利语教授,而弗朗西斯·普利道瑞一度担任拜伦的医生和秘书,还是哥特式小说《瓦姆普瑞》(Vampyre,1819)的作者。意大利语和英语是家中共同交流的语言,罗塞蒂其后也用两种语言写诗。创造的努力显然在罗塞蒂一家受到鼓励。从早年起,她就喜欢和她的哥哥——威廉姆(William)与加百列(Gabriel),还有她的姐姐玛丽亚(Maria),四个孩子中最大的一位——制作和韵诗。他们在日后的生活中都在与艺术相关的领域里获得了盛名。玛丽亚在但丁研究方面,威廉姆在文学和艺术批评上,而加百列则在诗歌和绘画中。在母亲的辅导下,罗塞蒂早在少女时代就开始写诗,她的外祖父加艾塔诺·普里道瑞(Gaetano Polidori)于1847年为她私人出版了一卷作品。尽管1850年她在拉斐尔前派(Per-Raphyaelite)杂志上曾用笔名爱伦·阿勒耶尼(Ellen Alleyne)发表了她的诗《萌芽》(The Germ),而直到1862年麦克米伦(Macmillan)才出版了她的诗集《魔市及其它诗》(Goblin Market and Other Poems),牢固地奠定了她的诗名。这本诗集中包括了她在1840年左右所创作的大量作品。许多其它书继之问世。《王子的游历及其它诗》(The Prince’s Progress and Other Poems)出版于1875年,像前一本诗集一样,它包括她哥哥加百列设计的插画。1879年,她出版了一本题为《歌咏》(Sing-Song)的童谣集,它在1893年出了增订版。1875年她的成功激励了麦克米伦出版她的诗选集,包括自从早在1860年左右发表在期刊——其中包括在《英国女性杂志》——上的诗。她最后的、拥有主要不朽的诗篇的集子是《一次露天表演及其它诗》(A Pageant and Other Poems)(1881年)。这本诗集收有她令人难忘的商籁体组诗《无名的莫娜》(Monna Innominata),它改写了但丁和彼德拉克著名的爱情诗。《诗篇》(Verses,1893年)是一本宗教诗专集,收入了她为基督学促进会而写的大量祈祷文。
   献身于高派教会,像她的宗教作品所暗示的那样,罗塞蒂在她的宗教见解上并非严格的教派成员,而她的圣经解说也未必保守。《安娜斯·多米尼》(Annus Domini,1879年),《寻求与发现:万物颂浅略研究中的双重序列》(Seek and Find:A Double Series of Short Studies of the Benedicte,1879年),《称之为圣者》(Called to Be Saints,1881年),《书信与精神》(Letter and Spirit,1883年),《时光飞逝:阅读日记》(Time Flies:A Reading Diary,1885年),以及《大海的面孔》(The Face of The Deep,1893年)等构成了她祈祷文中真正的主体。与诗人多拉·格林威(Dora Greenwell)的相识有可能鼓舞了罗塞蒂在作品的这部份集中了大量的精力,多拉·格林威在写作中广泛地涉及了基督的心灵。(罗塞蒂的商籁体诗《秋日的紫罗兰》是为格林威所写的。)此外,罗塞蒂还为成人和儿童写作了为数不多的散文体小说。她的题为《口头禅》(Commonplace,1870年)的短篇小说集的主题有一种值得注意的、联系于在她最早期的诗歌中被发现的先见,尤其是把有关特别的宗教和家庭准则归因于姐妹情谊的观念。《逼真的肖像》(Speaking Likeness,1874年)读起来好像是对查尔斯·路特维吉·道格森(Charles Lutwidge Dodgson)的“阿丽丝”(Alice)故事(《刘易斯·卡若》〔Lewis Carroll〕)的讽刺,后者逼真地描绘了她的家庭成员,而且它还包括一些由亚瑟·休斯(Arthur hughus)所绘的惊人的插图。罗塞蒂对于诗人但丁有着强烈而广博的兴趣,她有关他作品的两篇已发表的随笔中的头一篇,刊出在1867年的《牧师的先令杂志》上,比玛丽亚·罗塞蒂颇有影响的《但丁的一个幻影》(A Shadow of Dante)早了五年。《但丁:诗歌范例中的诗人》(Dante:The Poet Illustrated out of the Poem)投稿于1884年的《世纪》。她去世之后的一段时间,她最早期的短篇小说中的一篇被重印了一个特殊版本。《莫德》(Maude),像在《口头禅》中的这个标题故事一样,审察了宗教职责与家庭忠诚之间存在的冲突,而且它也被当作了半自传来引导阅读这篇剖白式的作品。
   多年来,罗塞蒂的传记作者们受制于她的哥哥威廉姆提供给《1904年诗集》无心的贬损记述。“在作为一位女性诗人的声望上”,他评论道,“她从不放肆,也不会自愿提及她的任何成就:在满屋子的平庸者中她的应答似乎最平庸,就像所有人中那最不突出的。”这幅通过她的少言寡语而将注意力吸引于自身的女性肖像,其力量深深铭刻在其后的许多作家心中,包括弗吉尼娅·沃尔芙的随笔,“我是克里斯蒂娜·罗塞蒂”(1932年)。其后寻察她外表上平淡无奇的一生,有时候会被她克制和虔诚的生活方式弄混。事实是孩子时期的罗塞蒂有着无法管束的脾气,而这即是表明难于确凿地理解在少女时代为什么她表现出了如此缄默的态度。这常常使人联想到她曾经受到过两次不成功的恋爱的深深影响,首先是与画家詹姆斯·科林森(James
  Collinson),1850年他对天主教的皈依使他成为不再合适于她的伴侣。相似的困难也发生在与诗人、翻译家查尔斯·巴格特·卡莱(Charles Bagot Cayley)之间,他所表现的、已证明为无法接受的原由是他的缺乏信仰。然而,卡莱在他以后的一生中继续保持了和罗塞蒂的接触,在他的遗嘱中把他“最好的书桌”遗赠给她。至今两者最可靠的传记中对于有关罗塞蒂的行为提出了些未必真实的假说。尽管缺乏有说服力的证据,劳娜·莫斯克·帕克尔(Lona Mosk Packer)在1963年坚持认为罗塞蒂的诗记录了一场发生她在与画家、诗人威廉姆·贝尔·斯科特(William Bell Scott)之间的被放弃的爱情。最近,简·玛尔什(Jan Marsh)推测,诗人父亲的性虐待可能引起罗塞蒂在性情上决定性的变化。显然,伦敦基督学院牛津运动者威廉姆·道德斯华兹(William Dodsworth)的布道形成了罗塞蒂的国教悔罪意识,并深深地影响了她。有好几年,她在海格特反省院感化堕落的女性。她也广泛地游历,1864年和她的母亲及威廉姆到过意大利。但自从1871年患上了格雷夫斯症,疾病不幸改变了她的外貌,她就差不多完全退出任何社交活动了。
   无论如何,罗塞蒂并非完全孤立于她的同时代。据说她是艺术家代表作选辑会(the Portfolio Society)的通信成员,它的成员们互相之间传阅着诗稿。在这个群体里她的知交中有两个卓越人物,吉恩·英格娄(Jean Ingelow)和阿德莱德·安妮·普鲁克特(Adelaide Anne Procter)。她的通信还包括她写给诗人奥古斯塔·韦伯斯特(Augusta Webester)的信件。通过她的哥哥加百列,她开始结识——要只是略为了解就好了——诗人和画家伊莉莎白·茜德(Elizabeth Siddal),罗塞蒂似乎并不欣赏她。在晚年时期,罗塞蒂定期接受丽萨·维尔森(Lisa Wilson)的来访,后者自己的诗取自罗塞蒂的风格。
  许多维多利亚时代的评论家,如果欣赏罗塞蒂的作品,常常赞扬她抱着优越感的措词才能,尤其注意她的机敏的触觉和抒情的甜美。这一趋势很好地持续到二十世纪。可是,自1970年以来,罗塞蒂的诗歌吸引了广泛的批评的注意,特别来自是女性主义批评家的批评。这些新近的探讨引发了对于这位诗人非凡的创造力和才智出众的一生的全面重评。
  
  ========================================
  
  魔市
  - 发表于:2002.04.02 21:24
  
  
  
  在清晨和黄昏
  少女听到妖魔们叫卖:
  “来买我们果园的果子呀,
  来买吧,来买吧:
  苹果和温梨呀,
  柠檬与香橙啊,
  饱满的没被啄过的樱桃哇,
  甜瓜和木莓呀,
  红润而毛茸茸面腮的桃子呀,
  黑黝黝的脑袋样的桑椹啊,
  野生的大蔓酸果呀,
  山楂呀,悬钩子呀,
  菠萝啊,黑莓呀,
  杏子啊,草莓呀;——
  全都一块儿长熟啦
  在夏季里,——
  黎明匆匆而过,
  美丽黄昏飞逝;
  来买吧,来买吧:
  我们的葡萄新鲜是刚从藤上摘下,
  石榴饱满而又嫩香,
  海枣与酸李呀,
  珍贵的梨子和青梅子呀,
  蜜李与越桔啊,
  尝一尝试一试:
  茶鹿子和鹅莓子呀,
  火一般明亮的伏牛子呀,
  无花果会填满你的嘴,
  香橼产自南方,
  使舌头蜜甜而眼睛明亮;
  来买吧,来买吧。”
  
   从黄昏到黄昏
  在溪流边的灯心草丛间,
  劳拉低垂着她的头倾听,
  莉齐蒙住她羞红的脸庞:
  蜷缩着相互靠近
  在寒凉的天气里,
  伴着那紧抱的臂膀和告诫着的嘴唇,
  还有那火辣辣刺痛的面颊和指尖。
  “躲着点”,劳拉说,
  昂起她金色的头:
  “我们决不能看到妖魔,
  我们决不能买他们的鲜果:
  谁知道他们靠什么土壤滋养了
  他们饥渴的根茎?”
  “来买吧”,妖魔们招呼着
  步履蹒跚走下峡谷。
  “噢”,莉齐叫着,“劳拉,劳拉,
  你不应该窥看那些妖魔。”
  莉齐蒙住她的双眼,
  遮挡严密以免他们能看见;
  劳拉抬起她有光泽的头,
  低语着像绵绵流淌的小溪:
  “看啊,莉齐,看啊,莉齐,
  小人们踩着峡谷下来了。
  一个拖曳着一只篮子,
  一个背负着一只盘子,
  一个使劲拉着一只
  有好多磅重的碟子。
  葡萄树一定长得多棒
  不然谁的葡萄有这么鲜甜;
  风儿一定吹得多温暖
  吹过那些果树林。”
  “不”,莉齐说,“不,不,不;
  他们提供的不会使我们喜爱,
  他们邪恶的礼物会把我们伤害”。
  她插入一根柔嫩的手指
  到每一只耳朵,闭上眼飞奔:
  好奇的劳拉选择了逗留
  惊异于每一位行商的人。
  一个有一张猫的脸,
  一个拂摆着一根尾巴,
  一个迈着老鼠的步伐,
  一个爬动着像只蜗牛,
  一个像头袋熊毛乎乎而呆钝地逡巡,
  一个像只蜜獾急匆匆慌慌张张地打着滚。
  她听到一种声音像鸽子叫
  咕咕地一齐响起:
  他们听上去和蔼而又充满着爱意
  在这舒适的天气里。
  
   劳拉伸长她闪着幽光的脖颈
  像一只向前猛冲的天鹅,
  像急流中的一朵百合,
  像月下的一根白杨树枝,
  像发射中的一艘飞船
  当它最后的束缚被解除。
  
   朝向生满苔藓的峡谷上方
  妖魔们回转身来相互聚拢,
  伴着他们刺耳的叫卖,
  “来买呀,来买呀”。
  当他们来到劳拉所在的地方
  他们树桩般站立在苔藓上,
  互相睨视着,
  把可疑的同伙视为兄弟;
  互相示意着,
  把狡猾的同伙视为兄弟。
  一个放下他的篮子,
  一个露出他的盘子;
  一个开始编织一顶花冠
  用卷须、树叶和粗糙的褐色坚果
  (任何集镇上人们都不会这样售卖);
  一个举起金色的重担
  把碟子和水果呈献给她:
  “来买吧,来买吧”,还是他们的叫卖。
  劳拉眼睛瞪大但没有动摇,
  无限渴望却没有钱买:
  拂动着尾巴的商人邀她品尝
  语调悦耳似蜜糖,
  那有猫脸的喉咙咕噜咕噜响,
  那迈着鼠步的说了个
  欢迎的词,而那蜗牛般爬着的仿佛听见了似的;
  一个鹦鹉般的声音快活地
  叫着“可爱的精灵”或是“漂亮的坡利1”;——
  一个打着唿哨像只鸟。
  
   而爱吃甜食的劳拉急促地说:
  “好人们啊,我一个硬币也没有;
  要是拿取就等于是偷:
  我的钱包里没有一块铜板,
  也没有一枚银钱,
  而我所有的金子都在那荆豆上
  摇晃在微风的天气里
  在腐烂的石南上面。”
  “你有许多金子在你的头上,”
  他们齐声回答:
  “用一缕金发向我们购买吧”。
  她剪下一绺珍贵的金发,
  她滴落了一点比珍珠还稀有的泪水,
  然后吮吸起他们又嫩又红的果球:
  比那硬干酪中的蜜更鲜甜,
  比那喜宴上的葡萄酒更浓烈,
  那涌流的汁液比涌流的水更清澈;
  她以前从未尝过,
  又怎会有享用的限度?
  她吸呀吮呀吃呀吞下那更多的
  从未知的果园中结出的水果;
  她一直吮吸到她的嘴唇疼痛;
  然后抛下空空的果壳
  却将一枚果核收藏,
  而她已分不清夜晚还是白昼
  当她独自回转家中。
  
   莉齐在大门口遇到了她
  充满了明智的责备:
  “亲爱的,你不该耽搁这么久,
  薄暮微光无益于处女;
  不该在峡谷闲逛
  那是妖魔出没的地方。
  难道你不记得珍妮了?
  她怎样地在月光下碰见他们,
  拿取他们可供选择的很多礼物,
  吃了他们的果子戴上他们的花
  那是从荫蔽处采来
  在那里夏天不论何时都是丰熟的。
  可要是在正午时分
  她就衰弱又憔悴;
  日日夜夜地把他们寻觅,
  却不再能找到而她也消瘦又衰老;
  接着第一场大雪来临,
  这种日子没有什么青草能生长
  就在那儿她倒下死去:
  一年前我在那儿种上了雏菊
  但却从未开花。
  你不该这样游荡耽搁”。
  “嘘,别响”,劳拉说;
  “嘘,别响,我的姐姐:
  我吃啊吃了个满饱,
  而我的嘴巴却还在渴望;
  明天晚上我要
  买更多更多”:于是她吻了她:
  “真是非常遗憾;
  明天我会带些李子给你
  是新鲜的刚从原枝上摘下,
  樱桃也值得品尝;
  你想象不出什么样的无花果
  而我的牙齿碰见了它们,
  冰凉的甜瓜
  堆满一只金色的碟子
  巨大得让我无法托举,
  还有那长满茸毛的桃子,
  透明的葡萄一粒籽也没有:
  实在是香啊恰同蜂蜜酒一样
  不管它们在哪里生长,它们啜饮纯净的波浪
  与岸滨的百合一起,
  而它们的汁液如同蜜糖。”
  
   金色的头依着金色的头,
  像两只鸽子偎在同一个窝
  收拢了各自的翅膀,
  她们躺在她们帘幕遮挡的床上:
  像两朵花开在一个梗上,
  像两片新落下的雪花,
  像两棵象牙般的嫩枝
  顶端金黄如威风凛凛的君王。
  月亮和星星凝视着她们,
  风儿为她们唱起摇篮曲,
  笨拙的猫头鹰克制了飞翔,
  没有一只蝙蝠拍打着飞前飞后
  围绕她们的休憩:
  脸颊对着脸颊胸脯对着胸脯
  相拥在同一个窝巢。
  
   清晨一大早
  当第一只公鸡啼叫了他的预告,
  如蜜蜂般灵巧,愉快而繁忙,
  劳拉与莉齐起了床:
  取来了蜂蜜,挤了牛奶,
  给房子通风并整理了房间,
  用最洁白的麦粉捏做了烤饼,
  烤饼为讲究口味的人所食,
  接下去拌制了黄油,搅打出奶油,
  喂过她们的家禽后,坐下缝补;
  像淑静的少女应该的那样谈着话:
  莉齐有着坦率的胸怀,
  劳拉沉浸在恍惚的梦中,
  一个满心欢喜,一个精神不振;
  一个单单因为天空晴朗的愉悦而小鸟般欢唱,
  一个却把黑夜盼望。
  
   好容易迟缓的傍晚来临:
  她们带着水罐去了芦苇丛生的溪边;
  莉齐看上去非常宁静,
  劳拉却像支跳荡的火焰。
  她们从溪流的深处汲取了汩汩的流水;
  莉齐采摘了紫红色和亮金色的鸢尾花,
  然后回转身向着家的方向说道:“晚霞淹没了
  那些最远最高的岩崖;
  来吧,劳拉,再没有一个少女逗留,
  也没有任性的松鼠摇摆着走,
  走兽和飞鸟会很快地睡熟。”
  可是劳拉仍旧在灯心草丛间闲逛
  而且说这个斜坡太陡了。
  
   她又说这时候还早着,
  露水没有洒下,风儿也不寒冷:
  她始终倾听着,却没听到
  往常的叫卖声,
  “来买吧,来买吧”,
  那带着重复韵律的
  蜜糖诱饵般的词语:
  无论她怎样观望
  一次也看不出哪怕一个妖魔
  在奔着,跑着,翻滚着,跛行着;
  更不用说成批的妖魔
  往常曾经慢吞吞地走在峡谷中,
  一群群或单个的,
  生机勃勃的水果商们。
  
   直到莉齐催促,“噢劳拉,来吧;
  我听见叫卖声但我不敢瞧:
  你不该在这个溪边逗留过久;
  来跟我回家吧。
  星星升起了,月儿弯起她的弓,
  每只萤火虫都闪着她的火花,
  让我们赶在夜色全黑之前回家吧:
  因为乌云可能会聚集
  即便这是夏季,
  也会扑灭光亮而把我们淋湿;
  而如果我们迷了路可怎么办?”
  
   劳拉转回身冰冷得像石头
  发现她的姐姐能独自听到叫喊声,
  那妖魔的叫卖,
  “来买我们的水果啊,来买吧。”
  难道她不再能买到如此美味的水果了吗?
  难道她不再能发现如此丰饶的牧场,
  而变得聋啦还是瞎啦?
  她生命的树自根部枯萎:
  她内心的剧痛使她说不出一个字;
  只是凝望着昏暗,却丝毫也看不清,
  疲惫着回到家,她罐中的水洒漏了一路;
  就这样爬上床,躺下,
  沉默着直到莉齐睡熟;
  尔后她在急切的渴望中坐起,
  又为她受挫的愿望而咬牙切齿,垂泪悲叹
  仿佛她的心儿就要破碎一般。
  
   一天接一天,一夜接一夜,
  劳拉徒然地守望
  在极度痛苦的愁闷沉默中。
  她再没听到那妖魔的叫卖声:
  “来买吧,来买吧”;——
  她再没探察到妖魔们
  沿着峡谷兜售水果的身影:
  但当正午渐渐明亮
  她的头发变得稀疏而灰暗;
  她消瘦了,仿佛那皎洁的满月迅速地
  凋枯并燃尽了
  她的光辉。
  
   一天她记起了她的果核
  她把它种在了一堵朝南的墙边;
  以泪水洒湿它,希望它生根,
  盼望一株渐长的嫩苗,
  但是什么也没长出;
  它从未见过阳光,
  它也从未感到过泪滴流淌:
  虽然双眼凹陷而嘴巴也褪了色
  她仍梦想着甜瓜,就像一个旅行者看到
  干燥的沙漠里的虚假波浪
  有着枝叶茂密的树冠的浓荫,
  于是在风沙中灼烧着饥渴者的喉咙。
  
   她不再打扫屋子,
  不再给鸡鸭或母牛喂食,
  不再收取蜂蜜,制作小麦烤饼,
  也不再从那条小溪中汲水:
  只是懒洋洋地坐在烟囱后的角落
  而且什么也不想吃。
  
   温柔的莉齐不忍心
  看着她妹妹陷入溃疡似的忧烦
  而不去分担。
  她从夜晚到早上
  都听见了妖魔的叫卖:
  “来买我们果园的水果啊,
  来买吧,来买吧”:——
  在小溪边,在峡谷旁,
  她听到妖魔们的脚步声,
  那说话和吵闹声,
  可怜的劳拉却听不到;
  她多想买来水果安慰她,
  却害怕付出的代价太大。
  她想起坟墓里的珍妮,
  本应成为新娘;
  但那为着新娘们所希望的幸福的人
  却虚弱死亡
  在她快乐的青春时期,
  在冬季最初的日子里,
  蒙盖上第一场白霜,
  承受了清冷冬日里的第一场降雪。
  
   直到劳拉日渐衰弱
  似乎就将叩击死亡的大门:
  莉齐才不再估量结果
  是好还是糟;
  只把一便士的银币装进钱包,
  吻过劳拉,穿过荆豆丛生的石南荒野
  在薄暮时分,立定在溪流边:
  于是第一次在她的人生中
  开始了倾听和观看。
  
   每一个妖魔都笑了
  当他们窥探到她的出现:
  朝着她蹒跚地走来,
  飞舞着、奔跑着、跳跃着,
  气喘吁吁,
  咕咕地啼着,啪啪地拍掌,得意欢呼,
  咯咯嘎嘎地叫着,
  做着怪相,扮着鬼脸,
  充满装腔作势的作派,
  拉长着歪斜的面孔,
  故作正经地愁眉苦脸,
  像猫的和像老鼠的,
  蜜獾和袋熊样的,
  慢得像蜗牛的都急急忙忙,
  鹦鹉般发声的和吹哨的,
  手忙脚乱,慌慌张张,
  喋喋不休像喜鹊,
  拍翅振翼如飞鸽,
  滑来滑去似游鱼,——
  拥抱着她并亲吻着她,
  紧搂着她还安抚着她,
  展开他们的碟子,
  驮篮,和盘子:
  “瞧一瞧我们的苹果吧
  有黄褐色和赤褐色的,
  敲一敲我们的樱桃吧,
  咬一咬我们的桃子吧,
  香橼与海枣呀,
  葡萄呀都是免费的,
  梨子红红沐恩于
  温暖的阳光,
  李子挂在它们的枝桠;
  采摘它们并吃掉它们吧,
  石榴石榴,无花果。”
  
   “好人们啊”,莉齐说道,
  心中念想着珍妮:
  “给我越多越好”:——
  展开她的围裙,
  扔给他们她的银币。
  “好啊,和我们坐在一块儿吧,
  赏光和我们一起吃吧,”
  他们龇牙咧嘴地回答:
  “我们的筵席才刚刚开始。
  夜还早着,
  温暖的露珠儿闪亮,
  不眠的星光灿烂。
  像这样的水果
  无人能够领受;
  他们的花朵有一半会飞掉,
  他们的露珠有一半会干枯,
  他们的滋味有一半会溜走。
  坐下来和我们一起享用吧,
  成为我们欢迎的佳客吧,
  为你喝彩并同我们一道歇息吧。”——
  “谢谢你们,”莉齐说:“可是有人
  在家孤单地等着我:
  所以不必进一步地深谈,
  要是你们不想卖给我一些
  你们的水果虽然你们有着许许多多,
  就请归还我的银币便士
  我曾扔给你们作为报酬。”——
  他们开始抓挠着他们的脑袋,
  不再摇尾、咕噜咕噜叫,
  但显然表示异议,
  咕哝着又咆哮着。
  一个说她傲慢,
  脾气坏,粗野;
  他们的声调渐渐地增大,
  他们的模样变得邪恶。
  摇动着他们的尾巴
  他们踩踏着并推搡着她,
  拉挤着又冲撞着她,
  用他们的爪子抓扯着,
  嗷嗷吠着,喵喵叫着,嘶嘘着,嘲弄着,
  撕破她的外衣弄脏她的长袜,
  连根拉断她的头发,
  踩跺着她纤嫩的双足,
  捉住她的手并塞挤他们的水果
  到她的嘴里硬想让她吃。
  
   苍白而高贵的莉齐站立着,
  像急流中的一朵百合,——
  像一块蓝色纹理的礁岩
  被那潮浪喧嚣地冲击,
  像一盏灯标被孤独遗弃
  在一片灰白色轰响的大海,
  升举着一支金色的火焰,——
  像一棵以果实为冕的橘树
  带着蜜甜的花朵却显得苍白,
  因黄蜂和蜜蜂的纠缠而疼痛,——
  像一座庄重处女般的城镇
  以镀金的穹隆和塔尖装饰屋顶
  却被一支舰队紧密围攻
  疯狂地要把她的旗帜拉下。
  
   一个人可以将一匹马拉下河,
  二十个人却不能叫它饮水。
  尽管妖魔们捉住她又殴打她,
  哄骗又争夺她,
  威吓又哀求她,
  抓涂她,挤捏她使她黑得像墨汁,
  踢打她并敲击她,
  虐待她而嘲弄她,
  莉齐也没吐出一个字;
  也决不会将嘴唇开启,
  以免他们将水果满口塞进:
  但心中暗喜她觉得点点滴滴的
  果液糖浆般涂满了她整个脸,
  并留存在她下巴的浅窝中,
  还在她脖子上流成了纹路抖颤着像凝乳一般。
  最终那些邪恶的家伙
  因她的抵制而疲惫不堪
  扔回她的银币,踢翻他们的果子
  沿着他们走过的随便哪一条路,
  没有弃下根茎或果核或嫩枝;
  一些翻腾着钻入地下,
  一些潜入了溪流
  带着波纹和涟漪,
  一些从大风中掠过而没有一丝声息,
  一些在远处消逝不见。
  
   在伤心,疼痛,震颤中,
  莉齐踏上她的路途;
  不知道是黑夜还是白天;
  在斜坡上跳跃,飞快地穿过荆豆丛,
  挤过灌木林和树木茂密的幽谷,
  一边听见她的银币轻轻晃动
  弹跳在她的钱包,
  它的弹跳对她的耳朵就是音乐。
  她跑啊跑啊
  仿佛她害怕一些个妖魔
  尾随她带着嘲笑或咒骂
  或其它更糟:
  但没有一个妖魔紧随在后,
  她也没有被恐惧刺伤;
  这种心情使她脚下生风
  那催促她回家的匆忙简直使她上气不接下气
  而她内心欢笑。
  
   她喊叫着“劳拉,”跑进花园,
  “你想念我吗?
  快过来吻我吧。
  别在意我的伤痕,
  拥抱我,亲吻我,吮吸我
  为你从妖魔的水果中挤出的汁液,
  妖魔的果肉和果露吧。
  吃进我,喝下我,爱我吧;
  劳拉,多多了解我吧:
  为了你我已勇敢地到过峡谷
  而且同妖魔商人们打过了交道。”
  
   劳拉从她的椅子上惊跳而起,
  她在空中挥动的手臂,
  攫住了她的头发:
  “莉齐,莉齐,你已经尝过
  因我的缘故而遭禁的果子了吗?
  难道你的光芒会像我一样被掩藏,
  你年轻的生命会像我一样遭浪费,
  在我破坏之后被破坏
  并在我毁灭之后遭毁灭,
  而变得饥渴、烦恼、受妖魔困扰吗?”——
  她抱住她的姐姐,
  亲着吻着吮啜着她:
  泪水再一次
  滋润了她皱缩的眼睛,
  滴落而下像长久
  酷热干旱后的雨水;
  颤抖着带着发冷的恐惧,和痛苦,
  用她那饥饿的嘴吻了又吻。
  
   她的双唇开始灼痛,
  那汁液对她的舌头就是苦艾,
  她厌恶这欢宴:
  翻腾着好像有人控制着使她跳跃并歌唱,
  扯碎了她所有的衣裙,并绞着
  她的双手沉浸在哀伤的慌乱中,
  一面捶打着她的胸膛。
  她的头发飘散着像火炬
  被一个全速奔跑的赛跑者举着,
  或像战斗中的马儿的鬃毛,
  或像一位天使逆着光芒
  径直飞向太阳,
  或像一个牢笼里的生命重获自由,
  或像行进中的军队里一面飞舞的旗帜。
  
   迅疾的火焰曼延过她的血管,叩击她的心灵,
  遇到在那里郁积闷燃的火星
  于是压服了它较小的火焰;
  她吞咽下叫不出名字的苦味:
  呀!蠢啊,挑选如此
  消磨灵魂的烦忧!
  感官迷失于这致命的挣扎:
  如同一个了望塔在
  一场地震毁掉的市镇里,
  如同一根为雷电击伤的桅杆,
  如同一棵被风连根拔起的树
  乱旋着,
  如同顶端起泡的巨浪
  倒栽葱般地跌入大海,
  她最后倒下;
  快乐过去而烦恼也过去,
  是死去了还是活着?
  
   从死亡里活过来。
  那个长夜莉齐在她身旁看护她,
  计数着她的脉搏衰弱的跳动,
  探摸着她的呼吸,
  为她的双唇捧上水,并清凉她的脸
  用眼泪和扇形的叶片:
  但当第一批鸟儿啁啾于它们的房檐,
  而赶早的收割者沉重地走向
  金色庄稼所在的地方,
  而被露水打湿的草
  弯腰鞠躬当那晨风如此轻快地穿越而过,
  而崭新的幼芽有着全新的日子
  在小河中开放着杯子般的百合花,
  劳拉醒来仿佛自一个梦中,
  以她旧有的天真无邪的方式大笑,
  拥抱了莉齐但并没有两次三番;
  她的闪着微光的头发没有一丝灰白,
  她的呼吸甜蜜如五月
  而光芒跳荡在她的双眼。
  
   一天天,一周周,一月月,一年年
  后来,当她们都成了妻子
  有了她们自己的孩子;
  她们作母亲的心灵被恐惧包围,
  她们的生命专著于温柔的生活;
  劳拉会叫来小孩子们
  并告诉他们她早年的青春,
  那些快乐日子逝去已久
  而不再复返的时期:
  她会谈到那闹鬼的峡谷,
  邪恶的,离奇的水果商人们,
  他们的果子对于喉咙像蜂蜜
  可对于血液却是毒药;
  (任何集镇上的人们都不会这样售卖:)
  她会告诉他们她的姐姐怎样坚持着
  为了她的利益冒着死亡的危险,
  而赢得火焰的解毒剂:
  然后她把手掌伸给小小的手掌
  她会嘱咐他们要互相信赖,
  “因为没有一个朋友能像一位姐姐
  在平静的或狂暴的气候里;
  为一个人在沉闷单调的道路上鼓劲,
  劝服一个人当她误入歧途,
  鼓舞一个人当她蹒跚欲坠,
  激励一个人当她忍耐坚持。”
  
  (1862.)
  __________________________
  注:1,Polly,故事中的称呼名,即“鹦鹉”。
  
  (1998.5.18.译完初稿,5.31.改定。在翻译过程中,得到了我的朋友宇凌
  和来自澳大利亚的Jackie Godwin女士的帮助,特此致谢。——译者)
  
  
楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:52:05
  周瓒译得音乐全没了...., 还是读原文吧
  -----------------------------------------------------------------------
  Goblin Market
  
  MORNING and evening
  Maids heard the goblins cry:
  "Come buy our orchard fruits,
  Come buy, come buy:
  Apples and quinces,
  Lemons and oranges,
  Plump unpecked cherries-
  Melons and raspberries,
  Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
  Swart-headed mulberries,
  Wild free-born cranberries,
  Crab-apples, dewberries,
  Pine-apples, blackberries,
  Apricots, strawberries--
  All ripe together
  In summer weather--
  Morns that pass by,
  Fair eves that fly;
  Come buy, come buy;
  Our grapes fresh from the vine,
  Pomegranates full and fine,
  Dates and sharp bullaces,
  Rare pears and greengages,
  Damsons and bilberries,
  Taste them and try:
  Currants and gooseberries,
  Bright-fire-like barberries,
  Figs to fill your mouth,
  Citrons from the South,
  Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
  Come buy, come buy."
  
  Evening by evening
  Among the brookside rushes,
  Laura bowed her head to hear,
  Lizzie veiled her blushes:
  Crouching close together
  In the cooling weather,
  With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
  With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
  "Lie close," Laura said,
  Pricking up her golden head:
  We must not look at goblin men,
  We must not buy their fruits:
  Who knows upon what soil they fed
  Their hungry thirsty roots?"
  "Come buy," call the goblins
  Hobbling down the glen.
  "O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
  You should not peep at goblin men."
  Lizzie covered up her eyes
  Covered close lest they should look;
  Laura reared her glossy head,
  And whispered like the restless brook:
  "Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
  Down the glen tramp little men.
  One hauls a basket,
  One bears a plate,
  One lugs a golden dish
  Of many pounds‘ weight.
  How fair the vine must grow
  Whose grapes are so luscious;
  How warm the wind must blow
  Through those fruit bushes."
  "No," said Lizzie, "no, no, no;
  Their offers should not charm us,
  Their evil gifts would harm us."
  She thrust a dimpled finger
  In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
  Curious Laura chose to linger
  Wondering at each merchant man.
  One had a cat‘s face,
  One whisked a tail,
  One tramped at a rat‘s pace,
  One crawled like a snail,
  One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
  One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.
  Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves
  Cooing all together:
  They sounded kind and full of loves
  In the pleasant weather.
  
  Laura stretched her gleaming neck
  Like a rush-imbedded swan,
  Like a lily from the beck,
  Like a moonlit poplar branch,
  Like a vessel at the launch
  When its last restraint is gone.
  
  Backwards up the mossy glen
  Turned and trooped the goblin men,
  With their shrill repeated cry,
  "Come buy, come buy."
  When they reached where Laura was
  They stood stock still upon the moss,
  Leering at each other,
  Brother with queer brother;
  Signalling each other,
  Brother with sly brother.
  One set his basket down,
  One reared his plate;
  One began to weave a crown
  Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
  (Men sell not such in any town);
  One heaved the golden weight
  Of dish and fruit to offer her:
  "Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.
  Laura stared but did not stir,
  Longed but had no money:
  The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
  In tones as smooth as honey,
  The cat-faced purr‘d,
  The rat-paced spoke a word
  Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
  One parrot-voiced and jolly
  Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly";
  One whistled like a bird.
  
  But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
  "Good folk, I have no coin;
  To take were to purloin:
  I have no copper in my purse,
  I have no silver either,
  And all my gold is on the furze
  That shakes in windy weather
  Above the rusty heather."
  "You have much gold upon your head,"
  They answered altogether:
  "Buy from us with a golden curl."
  She clipped a precious golden lock,
  She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
  Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:
  Sweeter than honey from the rock,
  Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
  Clearer than water flowed that juice;
  She never tasted such before,
  How should it cloy with length of use?
  She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
  Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,
  She sucked until her lips were sore;
  Then flung the emptied rinds away,
  But gathered up one kernel stone,
  And knew not was it night or day
  As she turned home alone.
  
  Lizzie met her at the gate
  Full of wise upbraidings:
  "Dear, you should not stay so late,
  Twilight is not good for maidens;
  Should not loiter in the glen
  In the haunts of goblin men.
  Do you not remember Jeanie,
  How she met them in the moonlight,
  Took their gifts both choice and many,
  Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
  Plucked from bowers
  Where summer ripens at all hours?
  But ever in the moonlight
  She pined and pined away;
  Sought them by night and day,
  Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray;
  Then fell with the first snow,
  While to this day no grass will grow
  Where she lies low:
  I planted daisies there a year ago
  That never blow.
  You should not loiter so."
  "Nay hush," said Laura.
  "Nay hush, my sister:
  I ate and ate my fill,
  Yet my mouth waters still;
  To-morrow night I will
  Buy more," and kissed her.
  "Have done with sorrow;
  I‘ll bring you plums to-morrow
  Fresh on their mother twigs,
  Cherries worth getting;
  You cannot think what figs
  My teeth have met in,
  What melons, icy-cold
  Piled on a dish of gold
  Too huge for me to hold,
  What peaches with a velvet nap,
  Pellucid grapes without one seed:
  Odorous indeed must be the mead
  Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink,
  With lilies at the brink,
  And sugar-sweet their sap."
  
  Golden head by golden head,
  Like two pigeons in one nest
  Folded in each other‘s wings,
  They lay down, in their curtained bed:
  Like two blossoms on one stem,
  Like two flakes of new-fallen snow,
  Like two wands of ivory
  Tipped with gold for awful kings.
  Moon and stars beamed in at them,
  Wind sang to them lullaby,
  Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
  Not a bat flapped to and fro
  Round their rest:
  Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
  Locked together in one nest.
  
  Early in the morning
  When the first cock crowed his warning,
  Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
  Laura rose with Lizzie:
  Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
  Aired and set to rights the house,
  Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
  Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
  Next churned butter, whipped up cream,
  Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
  Talked as modest maidens should
  Lizzie with an open heart,
  Laura in an absent dream,
  One content, one sick in part;
  One warbling for the mere bright day‘s delight,
  One longing for the night.
  
  At length slow evening came--
  They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
  Lizzie most placid in her look,
  Laura most like a leaping flame.
  They drew the gurgling water from its deep
  Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,
  Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes
  Those furthest loftiest crags;
  Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,
  No wilful squirrel wags,
  The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
  But Laura loitered still among the rushes
  And said the bank was steep.
  
  And said the hour was early still,
  The dew not fallen, the wind not chill:
  Listening ever, but not catching
  The customary cry,
  "Come buy, come buy,"
  With its iterated jingle
  Of sugar-baited words:
  Not for all her watching
  Once discerning even one goblin
  Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
  Let alone the herds
  That used to tramp along the glen,
  In groups or single,
  Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
  
  Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come,
  I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look:
  You should not loiter longer at this brook:
  Come with me home.
  The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
  Each glow-worm winks her spark,
  Let us get home before the night grows dark;
  For clouds may gather even
  Though this is summer weather,
  Put out the lights and drench us through;
  Then if we lost our way what should we do?"
  
  Laura turned cold as stone
  To find her sister heard that cry alone,
  That goblin cry,
  "Come buy our fruits, come buy."
  Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
  Must she no more such succous pasture find,
  Gone deaf and blind?
  Her tree of life drooped from the root:
  She said not one word in her heart‘s sore ache;
  But peering thro‘ the dimness, naught discerning,
  Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
  So crept to bed, and lay
  Silent ‘til Lizzie slept;
  Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
  And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept
  As if her heart would break.
  
  Day after day, night after night,
  Laura kept watch in vain,
  In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
  She never caught again the goblin cry:
  "Come buy, come buy,"
  She never spied the goblin men
  Hawking their fruits along the glen:
  But when the noon waxed bright
  Her hair grew thin and gray;
  She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
  To swift decay, and burn
  Her fire away.
  
  One day remembering her kernel-stone
  She set it by a wall that faced the south;
  Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
  Watched for a waxing shoot,
  But there came none;
  It never saw the sun,
  It never felt the trickling moisture run:
  While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
  She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
  False waves in desert drouth
  With shade of leaf-crowned trees,
  And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
  
  She no more swept the house,
  Tended the fowls or cows,
  Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
  Brought water from the brook:
  But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
  And would not eat.
  
  Tender Lizzie could not bear
  To watch her sister‘s cankerous care,
  Yet not to share.
  She night and morning
  Caught the goblins‘ cry:
  "Come buy our orchard fruits,
  Come buy, come buy."
  Beside the brook, along the glen
  She heard the tramp of goblin men,
  The voice and stir
  Poor Laura could not hear;
  Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,
  But feared to pay too dear,
  
  She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
  Who should have been a bride;
  But who for joys brides hope to have
  Fell sick and died
  In her gay prime,
  In earliest winter-time,
  With the first glazing rime,
  With the first snow-fall of crisp winter-time.
  
  Till Laura, dwindling,
  Seemed knocking at Death‘s door:
  Then Lizzie weighed no more
  Better and worse,
  But put a silver penny in her purse,
  Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze
  At twilight, halted by the brook,
  And for the first time in her life
  Began to listen and look.
  
  Laughed every goblin
  When they spied her peeping:
  Came towards her hobbling,
  Flying, running, leaping,
  Puffing and blowing,
  Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
  Clucking and gobbling,
  Mopping and mowing,
  Full of airs and graces,
  Pulling wry faces,
  Demure grimaces,
  Cat-like and rat-like,
  Ratel and wombat-like,
  Snail-paced in a hurry,
  Parrot-voiced and whistler,
  Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry,
  Chattering like magpies,
  Fluttering like pigeons,
  Gliding like fishes, --
  Hugged her and kissed her;
  Squeezed and caressed her;
  Stretched up their dishes,
  Panniers and plates:
  "Look at our apples
  Russet and dun,
  Bob at our cherries
  Bite at our peaches,
  Citrons and dates,
  Grapes for the asking,
  Pears red with basking
  Out in the sun,
  Plums on their twigs;
  Pluck them and suck them,
  Pomegranates, figs."
  
  "Good folk," said Lizzie,
  Mindful of Jeanie,
  "Give me much and many"; --
  Held out her apron,
  Tossed them her penny.
  "Nay, take a seat with us,
  Honor and eat with us,"
  They answered grinning;
  "Our feast is but beginning.
  Night yet is early,
  Warm and dew-pearly,
  Wakeful and starry:
  Such fruits as these
  No man can carry;
  Half their bloom would fly,
  Half their dew would dry,
  Half their flavor would pass by.
  Sit down and feast with us,
  Be welcome guest with us,
  Cheer you and rest with us."
  "Thank you," said Lizzie; "but one waits
  At home alone for me:
  So, without further parleying,
  If you will not sell me any
  Of your fruits though much and many,
  Give me back my silver penny
  I tossed you for a fee."
  They began to scratch their pates,
  No longer wagging, purring,
  But visibly demurring,
  Grunting and snarling.
  One called her proud,
  Cross-grained, uncivil;
  Their tones waxed loud,
  Their looks were evil.
  Lashing their tails
  They trod and hustled her,
  Elbowed and jostled her,
  Clawed with their nails,
  Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
  Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
  Twitched her hair out by the roots,
  Stamped upon her tender feet,
  Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
  Against her mouth to make her eat.
  
  White and golden Lizzie stood,
  Like a lily in a flood,
  Like a rock of blue-veined stone
  Lashed by tides obstreperously, --
  Like a beacon left alone
  In a hoary roaring sea,
  Sending up a golden fire, --
  Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
  White with blossoms honey-sweet
  Sore beset by wasp and bee, --
  Like a royal virgin town
  Topped with gilded dome and spire
  Close beleaguered by a fleet
  Mad to tear her standard down.
  
  One may lead a horse to water,
  Twenty cannot make him drink.
  Though the goblins cuffed and caught her,
  Coaxed and fought her,
  Bullied and besought her,
  Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
  Kicked and knocked her,
  Mauled and mocked her,
  Lizzie uttered not a word;
  Would not open lip from lip
  Lest they should cram a mouthful in;
  But laughed in heart to feel the drip
  Of juice that syruped all her face,
  And lodged in dimples of her chin,
  And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
  At last the evil people,
  Worn out by her resistance,
  Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
  Along whichever road they took,
  Not leaving root or stone or shoot.
  Some writhed into the ground,
  Some dived into the brook
  With ring and ripple.
  Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
  Some vanished in the distance.
  
  In a smart, ache, tingle,
  Lizzie went her way;
  Knew not was it night or day;
  Sprang up the bank, tore through the furze,
  Threaded copse and dingle,
  And heard her penny jingle
  Bouncing in her purse, --
  Its bounce was music to her ear.
  She ran and ran
  As if she feared some goblin man
  Dogged her with gibe or curse
  Or something worse:
  But not one goblin skurried after,
  Nor was she pricked by fear;
  The kind heart made her windy-paced
  That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
  And inward laughter.
  
  She cried "Laura," up the garden,
  "Did you miss me ?
  Come and kiss me.
  Never mind my bruises,
  Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
  Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
  Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
  Eat me, drink me, love me;
  Laura, make much of me:
  For your sake I have braved the glen
  And had to do with goblin merchant men."
  
  Laura started from her chair,
  Flung her arms up in the air,
  Clutched her hair:
  "Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
  For my sake the fruit forbidden?
  Must your light like mine be hidden,
  Your young life like mine be wasted,
  Undone in mine undoing,
  And ruined in my ruin;
  Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?"
  She clung about her sister,
  Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
  Tears once again
  Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
  Dropping like rain
  After long sultry drouth;
  Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
  She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.
  
  Her lips began to scorch,
  That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
  She loathed the feast:
  Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
  Rent all her robe, and wrung
  Her hands in lamentable haste,
  And beat her breast.
  Her locks streamed like the torch
  Borne by a racer at full speed,
  Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
  Or like an eagle when she stems the light
  Straight toward the sun,
  Or like a caged thing freed,
  Or like a flying flag when armies run.
  
  Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
  Met the fire smouldering there
  And overbore its lesser flame,
  She gorged on bitterness without a name:
  Ah! fool, to choose such part
  Of soul-consuming care!
  Sense failed in the mortal strife:
  Like the watch-tower of a town
  Which an earthquake shatters down,
  Like a lightning-stricken mast,
  Like a wind-uprooted tree
  Spun about,
  Like a foam-topped water-spout
  Cast down headlong in the sea,
  She fell at last;
  Pleasure past and anguish past,
  Is it death or is it life ?
  
  Life out of death.
  That night long Lizzie watched by her,
  Counted her pulse‘s flagging stir,
  Felt for her breath,
  Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
  With tears and fanning leaves:
  But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
  And early reapers plodded to the place
  Of golden sheaves,
  And dew-wet grass
  Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
  And new buds with new day
  Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
  Laura awoke as from a dream,
  Laughed in the innocent old way,
  Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
  Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray,
  Her breath was sweet as May,
  And light danced in her eyes.
  
  Days, weeks, months,years
  Afterwards, when both were wives
  With children of their own;
  Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
  Their lives bound up in tender lives;
  Laura would call the little ones
  And tell them of her early prime,
  Those pleasant days long gone
  Of not-returning time:
  Would talk about the haunted glen,
  The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
  Their fruits like honey to the throat,
  But poison in the blood;
  (Men sell not such in any town;)
  Would tell them how her sister stood
  In deadly peril to do her good,
  And win the fiery antidote:
  Then joining hands to little hands
  Would bid them cling together,
  "For there is no friend like a sister,
  In calm or stormy weather,
  To cheer one on the tedious way,
  To fetch one if one goes astray,
  To lift one if one totters down,
  To strengthen whilst one stands."
  
  
楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:56:47
  她哥哥给<魔市>作的插图

楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 02:58:37
  再来一张

楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 03:01:38
  克里斯蒂娜.罗塞蒂

楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 03:04:05
  克里斯蒂娜.罗塞蒂和母亲

楼主锡兵 时间:2002-12-06 03:27:26
  甩盆砸锅的克里斯蒂娜.罗塞蒂

作者:青鸟12345 时间:2002-12-06 04:39:49
  哥哥为妹妹画的像。

作者:青鸟12345 时间:2002-12-06 04:41:09
  再贴!

作者:小银鱼 时间:2002-12-06 09:12:52
  《当我离开人间,最亲爱的》,亦作<<歌>>,罗大佑曾为其谱成歌曲,曲调哀婉动人。但歌词是另一种译法,首段为:
  
  当我死去的时候,亲爱的,
  别为我唱悲伤的歌;
  墓门前不必安插蔷薇,
  也无需浓荫的柏树;
  让盖着我的青青的草,
  淋着雨,也蘸着露珠;
  假如你有时,还记着我,
  要是你甘心,忘了我。
  
  
作者:宁波宁波 时间:2002-12-06 09:21:53
  图上的好!小时候看的格林童话疑为但丁.罗塞蒂的插图,也是那么精美
作者:毕小A 时间:2002-12-07 22:02:36
  收藏。
作者:落叶树 时间:2002-12-08 13:29:07
  喜欢。
作者:森林水车 时间:2002-12-08 13:42:32
  我会记住这位女诗人的,不是因为诗,是因为阿加莎.克里斯蒂那
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