为美而死——艾米莉·迪金森名诗精选
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第五部分:时间与永恒我的茧衣变紧,颜色古怪,我摸索着想呼吸空气;一种要生翅膀的朦胧力量弄坏了我身上的衣裳。蝴蝶的力量一定在于飞翔的习性,壮丽的草原会为之让步它会轻松地掠过天空。所以我会对这暗示感到困惑努力去破译其中的奥秘,跌跌撞撞,直到最后领悟那神圣的线索。MY cocoon tightens, colors tease,I ’m feeling for the air;A dim capacity for wingsDegrades the dress I wear.A power of butterfly must beThe aptitude to fly,Meadows of majesty concedesAnd easy sweeps of sky.So I must baffle at the hintAnd cipher at the sign,And make much blunder, if at lastI take the clew divine.我为美而死,但是几乎还没有适应坟墓,一个为真理而死的人,就躺在了隔壁的房间。他轻声地问我为什么失败?“为了美。”我回答。“而我为了真理,它们本是一体;我们,是兄弟。”于是,像亲人,在黑夜里相遇,我们隔着房间交谈,直到苔藓蔓上我们的唇际,掩盖了我们的名字。I DIED for beauty, but was scarceAdjusted in the tomb,When one who died for truth was lainIn an adjoining room.He questioned softly why I failed?“For beauty,” I replied.“And I for truth,—the two are one;We brethren are,” he said.And so, as kinsmen met a night,We talked between the rooms,Until the moss had reached our lips,And covered up our names.我喜欢痛苦的表情,因为我知道它真实;人们无法佯作阵痛,也不能假装痉挛。目光一旦迟钝,那就是死亡。不可能伪装出剧痛穿起的额头的汗珠。I LIKE a look of agony,Because I know it ’s true;Men do not sham convulsion,Nor simulate a throe.The eyes glaze once, and that is death.Impossible to feignThe beads upon the foreheadBy homely anguish strung.我见过一只垂死的眼睛在房间里四处扫视好像在寻找什么东西,然后渐渐模糊;然后,蒙上灰雾,然后,焊接到一起,终于没有透露有幸见到了什么。I ’VE seen a dying eyeRun round and round a roomIn search of something, as it seemed,Then cloudier become;And then, obscure with fog,And then be soldered down,Without disclosing what it be,’T were blessed to have seen.我从未见过沼泽,我从未见过大海;却知道荒野是什么,知道波浪的模样。我从未和上帝交谈过,也没有访问过天堂;但我能确定那位置仿佛有地图在手上。I NEVER saw a moor,I never saw the sea;Yet know I how the heather looks,And what a wave must be.I never spoke with God,Nor visited in heaven;Yet certain am I of the spotAs if the chart were given.上帝允许勤劳的天使在下午玩耍。我遇见了一个——马上忘记了同伴,完全,是为了他。太阳刚刚落山上帝就把天使召回了家;我想念我的天使。弹子多么沉闷,在玩过皇冠之后!GOD permits industrious angelsAfternoons to play.I met one,—forgot my school-mates,All, for him, straightway.God calls home the angels promptlyAt the setting sun;I missed mine. How dreary marbles,After playing Crown!死亡之后的早晨房子里的喧闹是最庄严的事情是尘世制定的律法——把心清扫干净,把爱放到一边我们不想再用在永恒降临之前。THE BUSTLE in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth,—The sweeping up the heart,And putting love awayWe shall not want to use againUntil eternity.害怕?我害怕谁?不是死亡;他是谁?我父亲的门房竟会让我窘迫。害怕生命?奇怪,我会害怕遵照神的旨意以一两次存在包容我的东西。害怕复活?东方会害怕信任黎明和她过分挑剔的前额?我竟会怀疑我的冠冕!AFRAID? Of whom am I afraid?Not death; for who is he?The porter of my father’s lodgeAs much abasheth me.Of life? ‘T were odd I fear a thingThat comprehendeth meIn one or more existencesAt Deity’s decree.Of resurrection? Is the eastAfraid to trust the mornWith her fastidious forehead?As soon impeach my crown!太阳在不断下落,下落;还不见午后的色彩从村舍到村舍,我知道依然是正午光景。暮色在不断滴落,滴落;草上还没有露水,它只在我的额头逗留,在我的脸上流淌。我的脚在不断困倦,困倦,可我的手指醒着;为什么从我的内部好像发不出什么声音?我以前多么熟悉光亮!现在却看它不见。它在死去,我也一样;但是我并不害怕知道。THE SUN kept setting, setting still;No hue of afternoonUpon the village I perceived,—From house to house ’t was noon.The dusk kept dropping, dropping still;No dew upon the grass,But only on my forehead stopped,And wandered in my face.My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still,My fingers were awake;Yet why so little sound myselfUnto my seeming make?How well I knew the light before!I could not see it now.’T is dying, I am doing; butI ’m not afraid to know.因为我不能停下来等待死亡,他亲切地停下等我;马车中只有我们俩还有“不朽”同行。我们慢慢行驶,他知道无需匆忙,而我已经放下我的劳作,和我的懒散,为他的殷勤有礼。我们经过学校,正是课间休息孩子们正在游戏,喧闹;我们经过注目凝视的谷物的田野,经过西沉的落日。我们在一座房舍前停下似乎是隆起的地面;几乎看不见屋顶,屋檐只是个土堆。从那时已有几个世纪;但每一个感觉都比那一天还短那是我第一次猜出马头朝向永恒。BECAUSE I could not stop for Death,He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no haste,And I had put awayMy labor, and my leisure too,For his civility.We passed the school where children playedAt wrestling in a ring;We passed the fields of gazing grain,We passed the setting sun.We paused before a house that seemedA swelling of the ground;The roof was scarcely visible,The cornice but a mound.Since then ’t is centuries; but eachFeels shorter than the dayI first surmised the horses’ headsWere toward eternity.死亡是一场对话在灵魂和尘土之间。“分解吧。”死亡说。灵魂回答,“先生,我有另外的信念。”死亡对此怀疑,争辩从头开始。灵魂转身离开,为了证明,只留下一件黏土的外衣。DEATH is a dialogue betweenThe spirit and the dust.“Dissolve,” says Death. The Spirit, “Sir,I have another trust.”Death doubts it, argues from the ground.The Spirit turns away,Just laying off, for evidence,An overcoat of clay.雏菊悄悄地追随着太阳,当太阳走完金色的旅程,雏菊就羞怯地坐在他的脚边。太阳醒来,发现身旁的雏菊。“为什么你在这里?”“先生,因为爱情的甜蜜!”我们是花朵,你是太阳!原谅我们,假如夜幕降临,我们偷偷地向你靠近——贪恋着即将分离的西天,和平,飞行,紫水晶,和夜晚的种种可能!THE DAISY follows soft the sun,And when his golden walk is done,Sits shyly at his feet.He, waking, finds the flower near.“Wherefore, art thou here?”“Because, sir, love is sweet!”We are the flower, Thou the sun!Forgive us, if as days decline,We nearer steal to Thee,—Enamoured of the parting west,The peace, the flight, the amethyst,Night’s possibility!有一天我失去了一个世界。有人看见了吗?凭它前额上环绕的一排星星你就能认出它。富人不会注意到它;但对我节俭的眼睛它比金币更加珍贵。哦,先生,请为我,找到它!I LOST a world the other day.Has anybody found?You ’ll know it by the row of starsAround its forehead bound.A rich man might not notice it;Yet to my frugal eyeOf more esteem than ducats.Oh, find it, sir, for me!当知更鸟来找我如果我没有活着,请给系红领结的那位一点怀念的面包屑。如果我无法感谢你,因为在沉沉酣睡,你会知道我在努力用我花岗岩的嘴唇!IF I shouldn’t be aliveWhen the robins come,Give the one in red cravatA memorial crumb.If I couldn’t thank you,Being just asleep,You will know I ’m tryingWith my granite lip!至少会有祈祷留下,留在哦耶稣!留在空中我不知道哪是你的房间——我正在到处敲门。你在南方引发地震,在海里搅起旋涡;说吧,拿撒勒的耶稣基督,你就没有一只手来引导我?AT least to pray is left, is left.O Jesus! in the airI know not which thy chamber is,—I ’m knocking everywhere.Thou stirrest earthquake in the South,And maelstrom in the sea;Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth,Hast thou no arm for me?在这样的早晨,我们离别;在这样的正午,她升起,先是鼓翼——然后坚定地飞向她美好的栖息地。她从来不提那个地方,它不是为我准备的;她因狂喜而沉默,而我,是因为苦恼!直到黄昏降临,有人拉上了百叶窗——快些!一阵更尖锐的瑟瑟声!是这红雀飞走无踪!MORNS like these we parted;Noons like these she rose,Fluttering first, then firmer,To her fair repose.Never did she lisp it,And ’t was not for me;She was mute from transport,I, from agony!Till the evening, nearing,One the shutters drew—Quick! a sharper rustling!And this linnet flew!死亡让一件东西重要起来眼睛会将其匆匆略过,除非一个被毁灭的生灵温柔地恳求我们沉思一下彩笔画或绒线中包含的技艺,“这是她手中最后的作品,”勤劳忙碌的手指,直到顶针变得过于沉重,缝线自行停顿,然后被放在尘埃之中在壁橱的架子上。我有一本,朋友送的书,他的铅笔,这里,那里,在他喜欢的地方留下了痕迹——他的手指已经安歇。现在,我拿起书,却不能读,因为模糊视线的眼泪会使珍贵的笔迹消除,无法修复。DEATH sets a thing significantThe eye had hurried by,Except a perished creatureEntreat us tenderlyTo ponder little workmanshipsIn crayon or in wool,With “This was last her fingers did,”Industrious untilThe thimble weighed too heavy,The stitches stopped themselves,And then ’t was put among the dustUpon the closet shelves.A book I have, a friend gave,Whose pencil, here and there,Had notched the place that pleased him,—At rest his fingers are.Now, when I read, I read not,For interrupting tearsObliterate the etchingsToo costly for repairs.我注意到人们消失了,当我还是小孩子的时候——我猜他们是去远方访问了,或者是定居在了荒凉的地区现在我知道他们访问并定居在了荒凉的地区,可难道因为他们死了——这个事实就能阻止这个小孩子的想像吗!I NOTICED people disappeared,When but a little child,—Supposed they visited remote,Or settled regions wild.Now know I they both visitedAnd settled regions wild,But did because they died,—a factWithheld the little child!我们的旅程取得了进展;我们的双脚几乎抵达了存在之路的奇怪的岔路口,一点一点靠近永恒。我们的步态突然变得敬畏,我们的双脚勉强向前。城市就在前面,但是隔着,死者的森林。撤退已无希望——后面,一条封闭的路,前面,是永恒的白旗,每一扇门前都有上帝。OUR journey had advanced;Our feet were almost comeTo that odd fork in Being’s road,Eternity by term.Our pace took sudden awe,Our feet reluctant led.Before were cities, but between,The forest of the dead.Retreat was out of hope,—Behind, a sealed route,Eternity’s white flag before,And God at every gate.我以恐惧为生;刺激就在危险之中,对于懂得这点的人其他的推动力麻木而无活力。因为它是对灵魂的鞭策,恐惧会催促灵魂前进无需幽灵的帮助去挑战绝望。I LIVED on dread; to those who knowThe stimulus there isIn danger, other impetusIs numb and vital-less.As ’t were a spur upon the soul,A fear will urge it whereTo go without the spectre’s aidWere challenging despair.我不敢离开我的朋友,因为——因为如果他死掉在我离开期间,而我——太晚了——本应该抵达那需要我的心;如果我会使那双眼睛失望那双一直在寻找,寻找,在“看到”我之前,看到我之前,不甘心合拢的眼睛;如果我会刺伤那耐心的信任他这么确信我会来——我一定会来,他倾听着,倾听着,入睡时还呼唤着我的名字——我的心宁愿在这之前破碎,因为于那时破碎,于那时破碎,就像第二天早晨的太阳一样徒劳,既然午夜的寒霜已经降临!I SHOULD not dare to leave my friend,Because—because if he should dieWhile I was gone, and I—too late—Should reach the heart that wanted me;If I should disappoint the eyesThat hunted, hunted so, to see,And could not bear to shut untilThey “noticed” me—they noticed me;If I should stab the patient faithSo sure I ’d come—so sure I ’d come,It listening, listening, went to sleepTelling my tardy name,—My heart would wish it broke before,Since breaking then, since breaking then,Were useless as next morning’s sun,Where midnight frosts had lain!他们说“时间能够平息”——时间从不曾平息——真正的痛苦不断增强,像精力,随着年纪。时间考验烦恼,而不是一种治疗。如果证明能治,也就证明本来没病。THEY say that “time assuages”,—Time never did assuage;An actual suffering strengthens,As sinews do, with age.Time is a test of trouble,But not a remedy.If such it prove, it prove tooThere was no malady.每一次的丧失都带走我们的一部分;在浑浊的夜晚,弦月依然在忍受,和满月一样顺从潮汐的召唤。EACH that we lose takes part of us;A crescent still abides,Which like the moon, some turbid night,Is summoned by the tides.我的小屋是坟茔,为你保留着房间,我把客厅收拾干净,摆下大理石的茶点,对于两个分离的人,可能是暂时的循环,直到永恒的生命结成牢固的团体。THE GRAVE my little cottage is,Where, keeping house for thee,I make my parlor orderly,And lay the marble tea,For two divided, briefly,A cycle, it may be,Till everlasting life uniteIn strong society.我在我的头脑里感受一次葬礼,送葬的人,来来回回,不断地践踏,践踏,直到感觉就像是在突围。当他们全部落座,一种仪式,像一面鼓不断地敲击,敲击,直到我觉得神志就要麻木。然后我听到他们抬起一个盒子,吱吱嘎嘎穿过我的灵魂还是那同样的铅靴。然后空中响起了钟声仿佛天堂是一口钟,而生命只是一只耳朵,而我和寂静,是某类异族,在这里,落难,孤独。I FELT a funeral in my brain,And mourners, to and fro,Kept treading, treading, till it seemedThat sense was breaking through.And when they all were seated,A service like a drumKept beating, beating, till I thoughtMy mind was going numb.And then I heard them lift a box,And creak across my soulWith those same boots of lead, again.Then space began to tollAs all the heavens were a bell,And Being but an ear,And I and silence some strange race,Wrecked, solitary, here.我唱着歌等待,系好帽子,关上门;再无别的要做,直到,他最动人的脚步抵达,我们向白昼进发,告诉对方,我们如何歌唱把黑暗抵挡。I SING to use the waiting,My bonnet but to tie,And shut the door unto my house;No more to do have I,Till, his best step approaching,We journey to the day,And tell each other how we sangTo keep the dark away.她愿意这么骄傲地死去让所有人感到羞愧我们所珍视的,与她的心愿似乎如此地隔膜。她乐意马上前往我们都不愿意去的地方,那弯下身的剧痛几乎像是嫉妒。SO proud she was to dieIt made us all ashamedThat what we cherished, so unknownTo her desire seemed.So satisfied to goWhere none of us should be,Immediately, that anguish stoopedAlmost to jealousy.有比睡眠更宁静的东西在这内心的房间!它胸脯上戴着一根嫩枝,不会说出它的名字。有人摸它,有人吻它,有人摩擦它懒散的手;它那单纯的引力我无法理解!当心地善良的邻居聊起“早逝者”,我们,会含蓄地说,鸟儿已经飞走了!THERE ’S something quieter than sleepWithin this inner room!It wears a sprig upon its breast,And will not tell its name.Some touch it and some kiss it,Some chafe its idle hand;It has a simple gravityI do not understand!While simple-hearted neighborsChat of the “early dead”,We, prone to periphrasis,Remark that birds have fled!我死时听见一只苍蝇嗡嗡;房间里一片寂静仿佛暴风雨之间空气中的气氛。周围的眼睛,泪已哭干,人们正在屏住呼吸等待最后的一击,见证那国王的力量。我遗赠我的纪念品,签字送走我能够转让的东西——就在那时一只苍蝇插了进来,发蓝,飘忽,跌跌撞撞地嗡鸣,在光与我之间;然后窗户消失——然后我想看也看不见。I HEARD a fly buzz when I died;The stillness round my formWas like the stillness in the airBetween the heaves of storm.The eyes beside had wrung them dry,And breaths were gathering sureFor that last onset, when the kingBe witnessed in his power.I willed my keepsakes, signed awayWhat portion of me ICould make assignable,—and thenThere interposed a fly,With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,Between the light and me;And then the windows failed, and thenI could not see to see.飘摇着!一只小船在飘摇!而黑夜即将降临!有谁会把小船引到最近的小镇?水手们说,昨天,正当暮色沉沉,一只小船放弃了挣扎,随波飘泊沉浮。可天使们却说,昨天,正当黎明泛红,一只饱受风暴折磨的小船修好了桅杆,重新扯起风帆欢欣地,加速航行!ADRIFT! A little boat adrift!And night is coming down!Will no one guide a little boatUnto the nearest town?So sailors say, on yesterday,Just as the dusk was brown,One little boat gave up its strife,And gurgled down and down.But angels say, on yesterday,Just as the dawn was red,One little boat o’erspent with galesRetrimmed its masts, redecked its sailsExultant, onward sped!我们从来不知道我们走了——当我们走时,我们说笑着关上门;命运跟在我们后面,把门闩上,而我们不再向人搭话。WE never know we go,—when we are goingWe jest and shut the door;Fate following behind us bolts it,And we accost no more.水,被干渴教育;陆地,被消失的海洋;狂喜,被痛苦;和平,被它所讲述的战斗;爱情,被记忆的霉;鸟儿,被白雪。WATER is taught by thirst;Land, by the oceans passed;Transport, by throe;Peace, by its battles told;Love, by memorial mould;Birds, by the snow.我还没有告诉我的花园——以免我不能控制自己我还没有足够的力量把它告诉给蜜蜂——我不会把它在街上宣扬因为店铺会盯着我——这么一个羞怯无知的人竟有脸面对死亡。也不会让山坡知道——我在那里漫游——也不能让可爱的树林知道我走的日子——在桌边也不能吐露——以免一不留神暗示今天有人将闯入那个“谜团”——I haven't told my garden yet --Lest that should conquer me.I haven't quite the strength nowTo break it to the Bee --I will not name it in the streetFor shops would stare at me --That one so shy -- so ignorantShould have the face to die.The hillsides must not know it --Where I have rambled so --Nor tell the loving forestsThe day that I shall go --Nor lisp it at the table --Nor heedless by the wayHint that within the RiddleOne will walk today --如果我不再带来玫瑰在喜庆的节日,那是因为我已经被召走远离了玫瑰——如果我不再提起我钟爱的蓓蕾的名字——那是因为死亡的手指按住了我低语的嘴唇!If I should cease to bring a RoseUpon a festal day,'Twill be because beyond the RoseI have been called away --If I should cease to take the namesMy buds commemorate --'Twill be because Death's fingerClaps my murmuring lip!在这奇异的海上悄悄地航行,嚯!领航员,嚯!你果真知道没有碎浪吼叫风暴已经平息的海岸?在宁静的西方许多帆船在休息,牢牢地碇泊;我引你去那里——登陆吧!永恒!嚯,终于靠岸!ON this wondrous sea,Sailing silently,Knowest thou the shoreHo! pilot, ho!Where no breakers roar,Where the storm is over?In the silent westMany sails at rest,Their anchors fast;Thither I pilot thee,—Land, ho! Eternity!Ashore at last!
附录:艾米莉·迪金森年表
1830年12月10日 艾米莉·迪金森出生。1833年2月28日 艾米莉的妹妹拉维尼娅出生。1835年9月 艾米莉开始上小学。1840年9月 艾米莉参与艾默斯特学院课程。1847年9月 艾米莉进入霍利奥克山女子学院学习。1850年间 艾米莉开始写诗。1852年3月24日 律师本雅明·富兰克林·牛顿去世。他是艾米莉的文学导师和挚友。1855年2月、3月 艾米莉与拉维尼娅访问费城、华盛顿特区。1855年11月 迪金森家族重购田产,搬回美因街的家宅。1860年春天 查尔斯·沃兹沃思到艾默斯特拜访艾米莉。1860年早期 艾米莉精神激变,原因不详。1862年4月15日 艾米莉首次写信给托马斯·希金森。1864年2月至4月 艾米莉几首诗刊登在《斯普林菲尔德共和国报》。1864年4月至11月 艾米莉去波士顿看眼疾。1870年8月16日 希金森到艾默斯特拜访艾米莉。1873年12月3日 希金森再度拜访艾米莉。1874年6月16日 艾米莉之父爱德华·迪金森死于波士顿。1878年11月20日 迪金森的诗作《成功的滋味最甜》发表。1870年晚期 艾米莉与洛德法官发生恋情。1880年夏天 沃兹沃思再度拜访艾米莉。1882年4月1日 查尔斯·沃兹沃思去世。1882年11月14日 艾米莉之母因中风去世。1884年3月13日 洛德法官去世。1886年5月15日 艾米莉·迪金森死于肾脏疾病。1886年5月19日 艾米莉·迪金森的葬礼举行。1890年11月12日 《艾米莉·迪金森诗集》(卷1)出版。1891年11月9日 《艾米莉·迪金森诗集》(卷2)出版。1894年11月21日 艾米莉·迪金森书信集出版。1896年9月1日 《艾米莉·迪金森诗集》(卷3)出版。1924年 艾米莉·迪金森诗选》在伦敦出版,由康拉德·艾肯编选。1955年 《艾米莉·迪金森诗集》三卷本,由托马斯·约翰逊编辑出版,收诗1775首。该版本附有与各种已知手稿作批评对照的异文,是第一个有学术水平的文本。1958年 《艾米莉·迪金森书信集》三卷本,由托马斯·约翰逊和西奥多拉·沃德编辑出版,收书简1049件。1971年8月28日 美国邮政局发行一妹艾米莉·迪金森邮票,是“美国著名作家”系列邮票中的第二张。1981年 由R.W.富兰克林编辑的《艾米莉·迪金森手稿集》出版发行。1984年5月 美国文学界仿效英国,于“美国文学之父”华盛顿·欧文诞辰二百周年之际,在纽约圣约翰教堂开辟“诗人角”。首批进入“诗人角”的两位诗人是艾米莉·迪金森和瓦尔特·惠特曼。献给迪金森的铭文是:“啊,杰出的艾米莉·迪金森!”
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