好詩(shī)獻(xiàn)給你 第72期:暗處的鶇鳥(niǎo) The Darkling Thrush

The Darkling Thrush

暗處的鶇鳥(niǎo)

Thomas Hardy

托馬斯哈代

I leant upon a coppice gate

我倚在以樹(shù)叢做籬的門(mén)邊，

When Frost was spectre-gray,

寒霜像幽靈般發(fā)灰，

And Winter's dregs made desolate

冬的沉渣使那白日之眼

The weakening eye of day.

在蒼白中更添憔悴。

The tangled bine-stems scored the sky

糾纏的藤蔓在天上劃線，

Like strings of broken lyres,

宛如斷了的琴弦，

And all mankind that haunted nigh

而出沒(méi)附近的一切人類(lèi)

Had sought their household fires.

都已退到家中火邊。

The land's sharp features seemed to be

陸地輪廓分明，望去恰似

The Century's corpse outleant,

斜臥著世紀(jì)的尸體，

His crypt the cloudy canopy,

陰沉的天穹是他的墓室，

The wind his death-lament.

風(fēng)在為他哀悼哭泣。

The ancient pulse of germ and birth

自古以來(lái)萌芽生長(zhǎng)的沖動(dòng)

Was shrunken hard and dry,

已收縮得又干又硬，

And every spirit upon earth

大地上每個(gè)靈魂與我一同

Seemed fervourless as I.

似乎都已喪失熱情。

At once a voice arose among

突然間，頭頂上有個(gè)聲音

The bleak twigs overhead

在細(xì)枝蕭瑟間升起，

In a full-hearted evensong

一曲黃昏之歌滿(mǎn)腔熱情

Of joy illimited;

唱出了無(wú)限欣喜，——

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,

這是一只鶇鳥(niǎo)，瘦弱、老衰，

In blast-beruffled plume,

羽毛被陣風(fēng)吹亂，

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

卻決心把它的心靈敞開(kāi)，

Upon the growing gloom.

傾瀉向濃濃的黑暗。

So little cause for carolings

遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)近近，任你四處尋找，

Of such ecstatic sound

在地面的萬(wàn)物上

Was written on terrestrial things

值得歡唱的原因是那么少，

Afar or nigh around,

是什么使它欣喜若狂?

That I could think there trembled through

這使我覺(jué)得：它顫音的歌詞，

His happy good-night air

它歡樂(lè)曲晚安曲調(diào)

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

含有某種幸福希望——為它所知

And I was unaware.

而不為我所曉。