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梁宗岱诗集《晚祷》 英译3 / 程家惠 韦祥刚 程晟 译
作者:程家惠  发布日期:2022-01-30 19:28:51  浏览次数:442
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12、暮

像老尼一般,黃昏
又从苍古的修道院
黯淡地迟迟地行近了。

Dusk

Like a nun quite old,
Dusk, wan and slow,
From the old convent chilly cold,
Is again coming close…

13、白莲

一个仲夏的月夜——
我默默无言的
倚栏独对着
那滟潋柔翠的池上
放着悠澹之香的白莲……

见伊惨淡灰白地
在月光的香水一般的情泪中
不言不语的悄悄地碎了。

The White Lotus

In a midsummer moonlit night—
In silence
I leaned on the railings facing alone
The rippling pond with soft green water
With white lotus emitting delicate aroma…

Dismal and pale,
In sentimental tears like the moonlight perfume.
She was breaking into pieces, silently and quietly.

14、星空

深沉幽邃的星空下,
无限的音波
正齐奏他们的无声的音乐。
听呵!默默无言的听呵!

远远万千光明的使者
(人间的婴儿伟大的灵魂罢)
颂赞的歌声
从纷蓝荧荧的天河里
隐隐的起了。——

是夜色深深,
造物的慈爱深深,
心灵的感觉深深。

Starry Sky

In the deep and serene starry sky,
Countless sound waves
Are playing their soundless music
Listen! Oh, listen in silence!

The songs of praise

(The great souls of the babies of this world)
Of myriad of messengers of light
From the dark blue twinkling Milky Way
Are indistinctly heard at night.—

The night is so deep,
The love of the Creator is so deep,
And the feeling of the soul is so deep.

15、夜露

当夜神严静无声的降临,
把甘美的睡眠

赐给一切众生的时候,
天,披着件光灿银烁的云衣,
把那珍珠一般的仙露
悄悄地向大地遍洒了。

于是静慧的地母
在昭苏的朝旭里
开出许多娇丽芬芳的花儿
朵朵的向着天空致谢。

The Night Dew

When the solemn Night God befell quietly,
And bestowed sound sleeps
On all beings,
Heaven, in a silver cloud dress shining bright,
 Quietly sprinkled to the whole world
The amrita pearl-like.

Thus, on the Mother Earth virtuous and quiet,
In the bright sun of morning,
Lots of comely and fragrant flowers were blooming,
All gratefully saluting the sky high.

16、苦水

我曾一再的堕入尘网,
于是人间的苦水
便流泉般灌进我的心里了。
朋友!这水诚然是酸苦的。

但当他流到你的口边
并且将滴进你的心里的时候,
别要愀然的避开呵。
因为那是灵明的水——
像紫艳的菩提露一般意味深湛的。

那么,喝罢,亲爱的朋友,
虽然这是酸苦的。
让他潺潺汩汩的
流进你的心坎的深处罢。

秋空一般的清明,
彩虹一般的妙慧的花
便将由这滴滴的苦水培植出来了。

Bitter Water

I once again fall into the worldly net,
And the bitter water
Fills my heart like a stream.
Dear Friend! The water is indeed sour and bitter,

But when it is coming to your mouth
And dripping into your heart,
Keep not away from it far,
Because it’s spiritual water—as enlightening
As the purple and beautiful Bodhi dew shining, 

Then, drink it, my bro,
Though it’s sour and bitter,
Let it run in gurgle and murmur
Into the bottom of your heart.

The clearness and brightness like the autumn sky,
And the wonderfully clever rainbow flower
 Will be nourished by every drop of the bitter water.

17、光流

祖母呵!
是你从那寂寞的泉路
寄给你眷爱的孙儿
慈蔼的探望么? ;

昨夜凄怃的残梦里——
你手植的白薇花的殇魂
披着迷蒙的暗月
在窗外憔悴的紫荆树上
隐约而呜咽地哀哭呢!

Light Stream
Grandma!
Was it you who made the kindly visit
 To your grandson whom you love so
From the lonesome Death Road?

In the miserable and melancholy broken dream last night—
The death souls of the white roses that you had planted,
Wrapped in the misty dim moonlight,
 In the gaunt redbud tree outside the window,
Were sobbing faintly and mournfully!

18、 --梦痕--

他辗转的想了一回往事,热泪从他的枕上滴着。

窗外潺潺的飘了一场急雨。雨止了,远远雨洗过的黝蓝的天边,三五玄秘的星光荧荧的闪耀着。幽邃的清辉,反映着他的灵台,把他的记忆的灯儿更光亮的燃起来。他重复辗转的想了一回往事,热泪从他的枕上滚滚的滴着。

室中是黑漆漆的。一切都只剩了模糊的影子,只有路边荒凉的电灯,照着壁上的耶穌圣像,显出一片淡黄的暗光。像已隐在镜光后面,看不清楚了。横窗的睡态惺忪的树影,不时的随着阵阵的微风,从像面渺无痕迹的轻轻地拂过。

记忆的灯儿,把他照到他长眠的亲人去了。热泪从他的枕上滚滚的滴着。

他无意识的望望壁上的圣像。镜上的光,和他眼里晶莹的泪光,贯成了一道光流,——不知是从镜上流到眼里,还是从眼里流到镜上。

    他定睛沿着光流望去。光流尽处,便是淡黄的黯辉一片。——电光一闪,他忽忽地,不自知的,微茫而历历如春夜的梦境一般,在一处冷森森的墓园蹀躞着了。黯淡的墓影,阴沉沉的罩住了一切。野茉莉,百合花,在积着冷露的白杨的败叶丛中,杂着些媚红的山花缤纷地开着,闪着寂寂的幽馨,徐温着泉下长眠的归人。

无数累累的败黄的土坯中,他看见了他永别的亲人长眠的地方了。……慈母的墓,哥哥的墓,弟弟的墓,和新立的祖母的墓。……他们都在墓中安眠着,幽静而且和平灰白的面庞,现出枯寂的辗然的微笑,恍惚知道他的行近一样,低微到不可闻的问他说,“你来了么?”

    悲哀像墓影般罩住了他稚弱的心灵了,热泪从他枕上滚滚的滴着。

窗外的雨滴又潺潺了,把他从浮漾的梦尘一般的幻景滴醒来。一切——墓园,慈母,哥哥,弟弟,祖母……都如烟的消散了。他呜呜咽咽的哭起来……母亲……祖母……

   光流愈益宽广了。晶莹的光,射在壁间的圣像上;温柔,慈怜,圣爱的脸,遂如澄潭的月影般浮现出来,慈悲地反映出一道灵幻的圣光,暖云一般的慰藉了他稚弱的心灵。他如哭后的婴儿般止了。余泪还从他的枕上徐徐的滴着。

--Broken Dream--

He tossed about in bed thinking of all the past, tears dripping down onto his pillow.

A hasty rain was drizzling outside the window. It stopped. Over the distant dark blue sky having been washed by the rain, two or five mystic stars were twinkling. The deep and quiet moonlight reflected his soul, making his lamp of memory burning brighter. Again he tossed about, thinking of his past, tears rolling down onto his pillow.

The room was pitch-dark. There was nothing but fuzzy shadows. Only a bleak electric light by the roadside shining on Jesus icon on the wall gave out the slightly yellow dim light. Hidden behind the light of the mirror, the icon was fuzzy. The tree shadow hanging drowsily across the window gently brushed over the surface of the icon in the breezes, leaving no trace.

The lamp of memory lighted the way for him to go to his loved ones who were sleeping eternally. His tears rolled down onto his pillow. Unconsciously, he looked at the icon. The light of the mirror and the tears in his eyes joined together and made a flash of light stream --did it stream from the mirror to the eyes or from the eyes to the mirror?

He fixed his eyes on the light stream. The slightly yellow dim light was at the end of the stream. —At a flash of lightening, unconsciously, in confusion, in a hazy but distinct dream like a spring night, he was wandering in a chilly graveyard. The dark shadows of the graves gloomily covered the whole yard. Wild jasmines and lilies mingled with some charmingly red mountain flowers were blooming in all kinds of colours in the midst of fallen leaves of white poplars with cold dews, which emitted lonely fragrance gently warming up those returnees who slept in the netherworld.

Among the countless heaps of broken yellow adobe, he spotted the places where his loved ones were forever sleeping: …the tomb of his fond mother, the tomb of his elder brother, the tomb of his younger brother, and the newly erected tomb of his grandmother…they were all sleeping in their tombs. Dull and lonely smiles which appeared repeatedly on their peaceful and pale faces looked as if they in trances knew his coming and asked him in very low voices which could hardly be heard, “Have you come?” 

Sadness covered his child heart like the shadows of the tombs. Tears were rolling down onto his pillow.

Raindrops were dripping outside the window, which woke him up from drops of mirage like floating dream dust. All—the graveyard, his fond Mother, elder brother, younger brother, Grandmother…vanished in smoke. He broke into whimpering…Mother…Grandmother…

The light stream was getting wider. The crystal light was shed on the icon on the wall, the face of which looked gentle, merciful and lovingly sacred and gradually emerged as the moon shadow like a clear pond. With benevolence, it reflected a spiritual holy light like a warm cloud consoling his child heart. He became quiet like a baby who had just stopped crying, remaining tears still dripping slowly onto his pillow.

19、 晚情

晚风起----

树梢儿在纤月昏黄下
微微的摆动了。
我的心呵!
不要尽这样悄悄地颤着。
让伊蹁跹的绿影
在你沉默的歌途里
扫下淡淡的轻痕。

Late Love

The night breeze is rippling—
Tree branches are slightly swaying
 Under the slender crescent moon in dusk.
Oh, my heart!

Thrill not so quietly.
Let her green shadow whirling gracefully
Cast a slight trace
In your silent singing journey.

20、陌生的游客

什么,陌生的游客,像婴儿
在梦中注视着天杪的晨星,
你只是站在这最远的路边
凝望着这朵半开的红花,
——我不是为采花而来。

什么,陌生的游客, 清晨过去了,
进香的行客都一一的走尽了,
你还是站在这最远的路边
凝望着这朵半开的红花?
——我不是为采花而来。

什么,陌生的游客,时候过了
夜已无声息地覆上他烟绡的梦衾,
有情者都在享受那温恬的心脉,
你还是站在这最远的路边?
——我不是为采花而来。 ;

什么,陌生的游客,你的面庞
这样绯红,呼吸又这样微细,
可是严冽的秋霜已紧压你的心苗,
虽然青春还荡漾在你的脸上?
——我不是为采花而来

——>A Strange Tourist

What? My strange tourist, baby-like,

Stares at the morning stars at the farthest end of the sky.
By the most distant road you are just standing
And at this half-open red flower you’re gazing?
Not for picking flowers I am coming.

What? My strange tourist, the morning has passed,
All travelers who have offered incense have one by one left.

By the most distant road you are still standing
And at this half-open red flower you’re gazing?
-- Not for picking flowers I am coming.

What? My strange tourist, it’s late:
 Night has quietly covered itself in a smoke-gauzed dream quilt,
When lovers are all enjoying the gentle heart beats
 By the most distant road are you still standing?
 -- Not for picking flowers I am coming.

What? My strange tourist, your face
Is so rosy with slight breaths,
But the piercingly cold autumn frost on your heart is weighing.
Though on your face, youth is still rippling?
-- Not for picking flowers I am coming.

21、森严的夜

连绵不绝的急雨,
请你滴着低低的音调,
把你的指尖敲着我窗上的玻璃吧。
如此森严的夜
教我的心弦好不颤栗哟!

通宵不住的狂风,
请你唱着柔柔的歌声,
把你的掌心轻轻地拍着我的屋背吧。
如此森严的夜,
教我的魂儿怎样安眠哟! ;

A Dreadful Night

Constant hasty rain,
Please drizzle in the lowest tone you may,
And tap your finger tip at the glass of my window.
So dreadful a night falling,
Makes my heart strings thrilling! ;

Fierce wind nightlong,
Please sing the softest song
And pat your palm slightly on the back of my house.
 On so dreadful a night,
How can my soul sleep quiet!


下一篇:月芽中的娃娃


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