第二部分   自然

 

 

听见金黄鹂唱歌

也许事属平常，

也许恰恰是件圣事。

 

它不是老唱一首歌的鸟，

仿佛唱给众人听，

却没人听到。

 

耳朵的方式

把它听到的

装饰成单调或美丽。

 

所以无论它是神秘的诗，

还是什么都不是，

都包含在内；

 

“乐声在树上，”

怀疑论者指给我；

“不，先生！在你心里！”

 

TO hear an oriole sing 

May be a common thing, 

Or only a divine.  

  

It is not of the bird 

Who sings the same, unheard,        

As unto crowd. 

  

The fashion of the ear 

Attireth that it hear 

In dun or fair. 

  

So whether it be rune,    

Or whether it be none, 

Is of within; 

  

The “tune is in the tree,” 

The sceptic showeth me; 

“No, sir! In thee!”        

 

 

天空无法保守住它们的秘密！

它们告诉了山峦——

山峦又告诉了果园——

它们是水仙花！

 

一只鸟，偶然经过那里

悄悄听到了一切。

如果我向这小鸟行贿，

谁知道她会不会告诉我？

 

不过，我认为我不会如此，

还是不知道更好；

如果夏天是一条定理，

什么魔法能下雪？

 

保守住你的秘密吧，父亲！

如果我能，我不愿意，

知道蓝宝石接着会做什么，

在你新创造的世界！

 

THE SKIES can’t keep their secret! 

They tell it to the hills— 

The hills just tell the orchards— 

And they the daffodils! 

  

A bird, by chance, that goes that way         

Soft overheard the whole. 

If I should bribe the little bird, 

Who knows but she would tell? 

  

I think I won’t, however, 

It’s finer not to know;          

If summer were an axiom, 

What sorcery had snow? 

  

So keep your secret, Father! 

I would not, if I could, 

Know what the sapphire fellows do,        

In your new-fashioned world! 

 

谁抢劫了树林，

充满信任的树林？

毫不怀疑的树木

交出刺果和苔藓

为了愉悦他的幻想。

他好奇地浏览它们的小玩意儿，

他抓住它们，带走。

那庄严的铁杉会说什么，

那枞树会说什么？

 

 

WHO robbed the woods, 

The trusting woods? 

The unsuspecting trees 

Brought out their burrs and mosses 

His fantasy to please.         

He scanned their trinkets, curious, 

He grasped, he bore away. 

What will the solemn hemlock, 

What will the fir-tree say? 

 

 

两只蝴蝶中午出门

在一条小溪上跳华尔兹，

然后径直穿过天穹

歇息在一艘船的横梁上；

 

然后一同顺风行驶

在一片闪光的大海上，

可是在任何港口，

它们的到来都没人提起。

 

如果有远方的鸟儿说起

如果有军舰或商船

在茫茫海上遇见了它们，

请不要向我报告。

 

TWO butterflies went out at noon 

And waltzed above a stream, 

Then stepped straight through the firmament 

And rested on a beam; 

  

And then together bore away         

Upon a shining sea,— 

Though never yet, in any port, 

Their coming mentioned be. 

  

If spoken by the distant bird, 

If met in ether sea        

By frigate or by merchantman, 

Report was not to me. 

 

讨厌的暴风雨搅动了空气，

云彩憔悴而稀薄；

一阵黑色，如同幽灵的斗篷，

把天空和大地掩去。

 

有生灵在屋顶上咯咯而笑

在风中呼啸，

摇晃着拳头，磨着牙齿，

甩动着它们发狂的乱发。

 

黎明照亮，鸟儿苏醒；

怪物褪色的眼睛

缓缓转向故乡的海岸，

而和平就是乐园！

 

 

AN AWFUL tempest mashed the air, 

The clouds were gaunt and few; 

A black, as of a spectre’s cloak, 

Hid heaven and earth from view. 

  

The creatures chuckled on the roofs         

And whistled in the air, 

And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth, 

And swung their frenzied hair. 

  

The morning lit, the birds arose; 

The monster’s faded eyes         

Turned slowly to his native coast, 

And peace was Paradise! 

 

 

每一处银色的地方，

都用沙子的绳索

防止它抹去

叫做陆地的轨迹。

 

AN EVERYWHERE of silver, 

With ropes of sand 

To keep it from effacing 

The track called land. 

 

 

一只小鸟沿小径走来：

它不知道我看见了它；

它把一条蚯蚓啄成两段

接着把这家伙活活吃掉。

 

然后它喝了一滴露水

从一片就近的草叶上，

又侧身跳到路边的墙下

让一只甲虫通过。

 

它用滴溜溜乱转的眼睛

迅速地环视了左右，

它们就像受惊吓的珠子，

它抖了抖紫红色的头

 

像遇险者一样小心翼翼，

我给了它一点面包屑，

它却展开翅膀

划了回去，轻快

 

胜过分开海洋的船桨，

比缝隙更显银白，

胜过蝴蝶从午时的岸边跃起

游泳，却没有激起一丝浪花。

 

A BIRD came down the walk: 

He did not know I saw; 

He bit an angle-worm in halves 

And ate the fellow, raw. 

  

And then he drank a dew         

From a convenient grass, 

And then hopped sidewise to the wall 

To let a beetle pass. 

 

He glanced with rapid eyes 

That hurried all abroad,—        

They looked like frightened beads, I thought 

He stirred his velvet head 

  

Like one in danger; cautious, 

I offered him a crumb, 

And he unrolled his feathers        

And rowed him softer home 

  

Than oars divide the ocean, 

Too silver for a seam, 

Or butterflies, off banks of noon, 

Leap, plashless, as they swim.        

 

 

草丛中一个细长的家伙

偶尔滑过去；

你也许遇见过——难道没有？

它的通报往往很突然。

 

草丛像被梳子分开，

一根带斑点的箭杆出现；

等草丛在你的脚边合拢

更远处的草丛又分开。

 

它喜欢沼泽地，

那里冷得不生谷物。

当我还是个孩子，光着脚，

不止一次，在拂晓

 

与之相遇，我以为是鞭梢

散开在阳光下，

我正要弯腰拾起，

它却皱起身子，离开。

 

我熟悉几种自然的居民

它们和我也十分要好；

我常常因为它们

感受到友好热情；

 

但每逢遇见这个家伙，

无论是有伴，还是独自一人，

我总是立刻呼吸发紧，

骨头冷到零度。

 

A NARROW fellow in the grass 

Occasionally rides; 

You may have met him,—did you not? 

His notice sudden is. 

  

The grass divides as with a comb,     

A spotted shaft is seen; 

And then it closes at your feet 

And opens further on. 

  

He likes a boggy acre, 

A floor too cool for corn.         

Yet when a child, and barefoot, 

I more than once, at morn, 

 

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash 

Unbraiding in the sun,— 

When, stooping to secure it,         

It wrinkled, and was gone. 

  

Several of nature’s people 

I know, and they know me; 

I feel for them a transport 

Of cordiality;         

  

But never met this fellow, 

Attended or alone, 

Without a tighter breathing, 

And zero at the bone. 

 

风像一个疲倦的人在拍门，

像一个主人，“进来，”

我勇敢地回答；随后

一个无脚的客人

 

敏捷地来到我的居所，

给它端一把椅子

如同把沙发

递给空气一样不可能。

 

没有骨头把它捆扎起来，

它的话就像大群的蜂鸟

同时拥拥挤挤

 

它的容貌是一阵巨浪，

它的手指，如果经过，

会释放出一曲音乐，那曲调

仿佛从玻璃中颤抖地吹出。

 

它拜访过了，然后飞走；

然后，像一个胆怯的人，

又去——慌乱地拍门

而我变得孤独了。

 

 

THE WIND tapped like a tired man, 

And like a host, “Come in,” 

I boldly answered; entered then 

My residence within 

  

A rapid, footless guest,    

To offer whom a chair 

Were as impossible as hand 

A sofa to the air. 

  

No bone had he to bind him, 

His speech was like the push         

Of numerous humming-birds at once 

 

His countenance a billow, 

His fingers, if he pass, 

Let go a music, as of tunes 

Blown tremulous in glass.        

  

He visited, still flitting; 

Then, like a timid man, 

Again he tapped—’t was flurriedly— 

And I became alone. 

 

小石头多么幸福

它在路边独自漫步，

不在乎沉浮荣辱，

不担心危机迫近；

它朴素的褐色外套

是过路的宇宙为它披上；

像太阳一样独立，

成群或单独地闪耀，

以随意的单纯

履行着绝对的法令。

 

 

HOW happy is the little stone 

That rambles in the road alone, 

And doesn’t care about careers, 

And exigencies never fears; 

Whose coat of elemental brown          

A passing universe put on; 

And independent as the sun, 

Associates or glows alone, 

Fulfilling absolute decree 

In casual simplicity.        

 

 

听起来就像街道在奔跑，

随后又静静站住。

我们从窗中只看见了日食，

而敬畏是我们全部的感受。

 

不久，最勇敢的人从藏身处悄悄出来，

看时间是否还存在。

自然穿着她浅蓝的围裙，

正在搅拌更清新的空气。

 

IT sounded as if the streets were running, 

And then the streets stood still. 

Eclipse was all we could see at the window, 

And awe was all we could feel. 

  

By and by the boldest stole out of his covert,        

To see if time was there. 

Nature was in her beryl apron, 

Mixing fresher air. 

 

像悲哀一样难以察觉

夏季已经消逝，

太难察觉，最后，

显得不像是背叛。

 

一种宁静蒸馏出来，

当黄昏早早开始，

或者是自然自己，

消磨了隔绝的下午。

 

黑夜提前降临，

黎明有陌生的闪光，

好像一位即将离去的客人，

殷勤优雅，令人断肠。

 

于是，没有翅膀，

也不用舟楫，

我们的夏季轻盈地逃逸

进入了美的光景。

 

 

AS imperceptibly as grief 

The summer lapsed away,— 

Too imperceptible, at last, 

To seem like perfidy. 

  

A quietness distilled,         

As twilight long begun, 

Or Nature, spending with herself 

Sequestered afternoon. 

 

The dusk drew earlier in, 

The morning foreign shone,—        

A courteous, yet harrowing grace, 

As guest who would be gone. 

  

And thus, without a wing, 

Or service of a keel, 

Our summer made her light escape        

Into the beautiful.

 

 

诗人歌咏的秋天之外，

还有几个散文体的日子

略微在白雪的这一侧

在薄雾的那边。

 

几个锋利的早晨，

几个苦行的黄昏，

别了，布莱恩特先生的“黄花”，

别了，汤姆逊先生的“麦捆”。

 

静下来的是溪流的奔忙，

密封的是辛辣的阀门；

催眠的手指轻轻地触摸

众多小精灵的眼睛。

 

也许会有一只松鼠留下，

留下，分享我的悲伤。

哦上帝，给我一颗明朗的心，

去承受你狂风般的意志！

 

BESIDES the autumn poets sing, 

A few prosaic days 

A little this side of the snow 

And that side of the haze. 

  

A few incisive mornings,         

A few ascetic eves,— 

Gone Mr. Bryant’s golden-rod, 

And Mr. Thomson’s sheaves. 

  

Still is the bustle in the brook, 

Sealed are the spicy valves;         

Mesmeric fingers softly touch 

The eyes of many elves. 

  

Perhaps a squirrel may remain, 

My sentiments to share. 

Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind,         

Thy windy will to bear! 

 

新的脚在我的花园里行走，

新的手指拨弄着草皮；

榆树上的一位行吟诗人

歌声中泄露了孤独。

 

新的儿童在绿茵上游戏，

新的疲倦者在地下沉睡；

沉思的春天依旧归来，

准时的白雪依旧落下！

 

NEW feet within my garden go, 

New fingers stir the sod; 

A troubadour upon the elm 

Betrays the solitude. 

  

New children play upon the green,   

New weary sleep below; 

And still the pensive spring returns, 

And still the punctual snow! 

 

 

也许你愿意买一枝花？

但我永远无法出售。

如果你愿意借走我的花

直到水仙

 

解开她黄色的软帽

在乡村的门下，

直到蜜蜂，从红花草丛中

收回它们的债务和雪利酒，

 

为什么，到那时我才能出借

但不会超过一小时！

 

PERHAPS you’d like to buy a flower? 

But I could never sell. 

If you would like to borrow 

Until the daffodil 

  

Unties her yellow bonnet         

Beneath the village door, 

Until the bees, from clover rows 

Their hock and sherry draw, 

  

Why, I will lend until just then, 

But not an hour more!          

 

 

蜜蜂不关心

蜜的血统；

任何时候，一枝红花草，

对于它，都是贵族。

 

THE PEDIGREE of honey 

Does not concern the bee; 

A clover, any time, to him 

Is aristocracy. 

 

 

蜜蜂对我毫不畏惧，

我熟悉蝴蝶；

这些美丽的林中居民

亲切地把我接纳。

 

我来时，溪流笑得更响，

微风的嬉戏更加疯狂。

为什么，你的白银使我目炫？

为什么，哦，夏日的阳光？

 

THE BEE is not afraid of me, 

I know the butterfly; 

The pretty people in the woods 

Receive me cordially. 

  

The brooks laugh louder when I come,         

The breezes madder play. 

Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? 

Wherefore, O summer’s day? 

 

一条非人工的小路，

让我的眼睛

能够看见蜜蜂的车辕，

或是蝴蝶的马车。

 

是否那边有一座小镇，

我无法说清；

只能叹息——没有车马

载我走上那条路径。

 

A LITTLE road not made of man, 

Enabled of the eye, 

Accessible to thill of bee, 

Or cart of butterfly. 

  

If town it have, beyond itself,         

’T is that I cannot say; 

I only sigh,—no vehicle 

Bears me along that way. 

 

 

预感是草地上长长的阴影

表明太阳们正在落下；

通知吃惊的小草

黑暗就要经过。

 

PRESENTIMENT is that long shadow on the lawn 

Indicative that suns go down; 

The notice to the startled grass 

That darkness is about to pass. 

 

像孩子对客人说晚安，

然后不情愿地转身离开，

我的花儿努起美丽的嘴唇，

然后穿上自己的睡衣。

 

像孩子一觉醒来，

为黎明欢呼雀跃，

我的花儿从成百的围栏

向外偷看，然后欣然摇曳。

 

AS children bid the guest good-night, 

And then reluctant turn, 

My flowers raise their pretty lips, 

Then put their nightgowns on. 

  

As children caper when they wake,         

Merry that it is morn, 

My flowers from a hundred cribs 

Will peep, and prance again. 

 

在清晨的露水中

也许能看见天使，

弯身，采摘，微笑，飞翔：

难道花蕾属于他们？

 

在阳光最热时的沙滩

也许能看见天使，

弯身，采摘，叹息，飞翔：

他们携带的鲜花已经枯干。

 

ANGELS in the early morning 

May be seen the dews among, 

Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying: 

Do the buds to them belong? 

  

Angels when the sun is hottest         

May be seen the sands among, 

Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying; 

Parched the flowers they bear along. 

 

任何幸福的花儿

显然不感到吃惊，

严霜以意外的力量

在游戏中把它打蔫。

 

白皮肤的凶手继续，

太阳无动于衷地前进

量出又一个日子

为一个赞许的上帝。

 

APPARENTLY with no surprise 

To any happy flower, 

The frost beheads it at its play 

In accidental power. 

  

The blond assassin passes on,         

The sun proceeds unmoved 

To measure off another day 

For an approving God. 

 

我有一只春鸟

它为我一个人歌唱——

并把春天引来。

当夏天靠近——

当玫瑰出现，

这知更鸟就消失无踪。

 

但我并不抱怨

知道我的鸟

虽然飞走——

却会在海的那边

为我学习新的曲调

并带着它回来。

 

那里的手更安全

那里的土地更真实

它们是我的——

虽然它们现在起程，

告诉我存怀疑的心

它们属于你。

 

在更平静的欢乐中，

在更辉煌的金光中

我看见

每一份小小的疑惧，

每一声小小的嘈杂

都已消散。

 

那时我将不会抱怨

知道我的鸟

尽管飞走

却会从一棵遥远的树上

为我带回

欢快的曲调。

 

I have a Bird in spring

Which for myself doth sing --

The spring decoys.

And as the summer nears --

And as the Rose appears,

Robin is gone.

  

Yet do I not repine

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown --

Learneth beyond the sea

Melody new for me

And will return.

  

Fast is a safer hand

Held in a truer Land

Are mine --

And though they now depart,

Tell I my doubting heart

They're thine.

  

In a serener Bright,

In a more golden light

I see

Each little doubt and fear,

Each little discord here

Removed.

  

Then will I not repine,

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown

Shall in a distant tree

Bright melody for me

Return.

 

 

 

 

夏天刚刚离去

蟋蟀就出现，

可那柔和的钟表

只是催我们回家。

 

蟋蟀刚刚离去

冬天就出现，

可那哀婉的钟摆

遵守着奥秘的时间。

 

’T WAS later when the summer went 

Than when the cricket came, 

And yet we knew that gentle clock 

Meant nought but going home. 

  

’T was sooner when the cricket went        

Than when the winter came, 

Yet that pathetic pendulum 

Keeps esoteric time. 

 

 

这是鸟儿回归的日子，

非常稀少，一只，两只，

向后依依回望。

 

这是天空恢复的日子

那古老的，古老的六月的诡辩，

一个蔚蓝和金黄的错误。

 

哦，无法欺骗蜜蜂的骗局，

你的巧言令色

几乎引诱了我的信念，

 

直到成排的种子前来作证，

轻轻穿过异样的空气

催促一片被定时了的叶子！

 

哦，夏天的圣事，

哦，雾中最后的圣餐，

请允许一个孩子加入，

 

分享你那神圣的象征，

撕开你那供奉的面包，

品尝你永生的美酒！

 

THESE are the days when birds come back, 

A very few, a bird or two, 

To take a backward look. 

  

These are the days when skies put on 

The old, old sophistries of June,—         

A blue and gold mistake. 

  

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee, 

Almost thy plausibility 

Induces my belief, 

  

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,         

And softly through the altered air 

Hurries a timed leaf! 

  

Oh, sacrament of summer days, 

Oh, last communion in the haze, 

Permit a child to join,         

  

Thy sacred emblems to partake, 

Thy consecrated bread to break, 

Taste thine immortal wine! 

 

早晨比过去还要温顺，

坚果在变成褐色；

浆果的脸颊更加丰满，

玫瑰离开了小镇。

 

枫树披上更华美的头巾，

田野披上猩红的长袍。

惟恐显得老派，

我将戴上小饰物一件。

 

THE MORNS are meeker than they were, 

The nuts are getting brown; 

The berry’s cheek is plumper, 

The rose is out of town. 

  

The maple wears a gayer scarf,         5

The field a scarlet gown. 

Lest I should be old-fashioned, 

I ’ll put a trinket on.

 

天空低矮，云层暗淡，

一片飘舞的雪花

内心正在争辩

是越过谷仓还是飘过车辙。

 

狭隘的风整天在抱怨

有人如何将它对待；

自然，和我们一样，有时也会被人看见

她不带王冠的模样。

 

THE SKY is low, the clouds are mean, 

A travelling flake of snow 

Across a barn or through a rut 

Debates if it will go. 

  

A narrow wind complains all day        

How some one treated him; 

Nature, like us, is sometimes caught 

Without her diadem. 

 

冬日的下午，

有一种倾斜的光，

压抑，像教堂音乐

一样沉重。

 

它造成神圣的创伤；

我们却找不到伤疤，

但是内心的变化

便是意义所在。

 

无人能够讲解它，

它是绝望的封印，

一种帝王的折磨

从天而降。

 

它来时，风景在倾听，

阴影屏住呼吸；

它走时，就像遥望死亡

不可企及的距离。

 

THERE’S a certain slant of light, 

On winter afternoons, 

That oppresses, like the weight 

Of cathedral tunes. 

  

Heavenly hurt it gives us;         

We can find no scar, 

But internal difference 

Where the meanings are. 

  

None may teach it anything, 

’T is the seal, despair,—         

An imperial affliction 

Sent us of the air. 

  

When it comes, the landscape listens, 

Shadows hold their breath; 

When it goes, ’t is like the distance        

On the look of death. 

 

对于我敏锐的耳朵，树叶在密谈；

灌木，就像是大钟；

我无法找到一个隐蔽处

躲开自然的哨兵。

 

如果我藏身在洞穴，

墙壁又开始说话；

创造似乎是一道巨大的裂缝

为了让我成形。

 

TO my quick ear the leaves conferred; 

  The bushes they were bells; 

I could not find a privacy 

  From Nature’s sentinels. 

  

In cave if I presumed to hide,          

  The walls began to tell; 

Creation seemed a mighty crack 

  To make me visible. 

 

 

它没有让我吃惊——

我这样说——这样想——

她将搅动她的羽翼

把这巢儿遗忘，

 

越过更宽阔的树林——

在快乐的枝头筑巢，

在更时髦的耳朵里

吹进上帝过时的祈祷——

 

这只是一只雏鸟——

那又怎样，如果

它是我心中的那个

已经离开了我？

 

这只是一个故事——

那又怎样，如果

在我的心中

确实有这样的一副棺材？

 

It did not surprise me --

So I said -- or thought --

She will stir her pinions

And the nest forgot,

Traverse broader forests --

Build in gayer boughs,

Breathe in Ear more modern

God's old fashioned vows --

This was but a Birdling --

What and if it be

One within my bosom

Had departed me?

This was but a story --

What and if indeed

There were just such coffin

In the heart instead?

 

 

当我指望这些种子

这些播在地下的种子，

将来会繁花怒放——

 

当我指望着人们

地位如此低贱的人们，

能被认做高贵——

 

当我相信花园

不会被凡人看见的花园——

凭信念采撷它的鲜花

躲开它的蜜蜂，我就能

放过这个夏季，毫不勉强。

 

When I count the seeds

That are sown beneath,

To bloom so, bye and bye --

When I con the people

Lain so low,

To be received as high --

When I believe the garden

Mortal shall not see --

Pick by faith its blossom

And avoid its Bee,

I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.

 

萼片，花瓣，和荆棘

一个普通的夏日清晨，

一阵露水的闪光，一两只蜜蜂，

一股微风

林中的一只马槟榔——

而我，是一朵玫瑰！

 

A SEPAL, petal, and a thorn 

  Upon a common summer’s morn, 

A flash of dew, a bee or two, 

A breeze 

A caper in the trees,—        

  And I ’m a rose!

 

创造一片草原需要一棵红花草和一只蜜蜂——

一棵红花草，和一只蜜蜂，

还有白日梦。

如果没有蜜蜂

白日梦自己也够。

 

TO make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,— 

One clover, and a bee, 

And revery. 

The revery alone will do 

If bees are few.        

 

蟋蟀在歌唱，

太阳在沉落，

工人们一个个，

把日子缝合。

 

浅草载满了露水，

微光如陌生人一般伫立

手里拿着帽子，优雅，新奇，

仿佛要留下，或是离开。

 

一片茫茫，如同一个邻居，到来——

一个没有脸孔没有名字的智者，

一种和平，如同家中的半球——

就这样变成夜晚。

 

THE CRICKET sang, 

  And set the sun, 

And workmen finished, one by one, 

  Their seam the day upon. 

  

The low grass loaded with the dew,         

The twilight stood as strangers do 

With hat in hand, polite and new, 

  To stay as if, or go. 

  

A vastness, as a neighbor, came,— 

A wisdom without face or name,         

A peace, as hemispheres at home,— 

  And so the night became.