分类目录归档:Translation

EmilyDickinson’s Poetry 翻译

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

 

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

 

希望是一只长着羽毛的东西

它栖息在灵魂里,

它唱着没有歌词的曲子,

一刻也停歇不了,

 

狂风中听见最美;

风暴肯定很难过

因为它惊扰了那只

带来无尽温暖的小鸟。

 

我曾在最寒冷的土地上听见过,

也在最陌生的海域上听见过;

但是,尽管它再饥饿,却从不张口,

向我索要一片面包屑。

Emily Dickinson’s Poetry 翻译

I found the phrase to every thought

I ever had, but one;

And that defies me, —as a hand

Did try to chalk the sun

 

To races nurtured in the dark; —

How would your own begin?

Can blaze be done in cochineal,

Or noon in mazarin?

 

我为我产生的每个思想

找到了描述的词汇,但是它只有一个;

可它却不能把我所有的意思传达,——就像手

想要把太阳描画

 

给黑暗中长大的人一样;——

你会怎么做?

可以从胭脂中烧出烈焰么,

或者从深蓝中画出晌午?

Emily Dickinson’s Poetry 翻译

We play at paste,

Till qualified for pearl,

Then drop the paste,

ANd deem ourselves a fool.

The shapes, though, were similar,

And our new hands

Learned gem-tactics

Practising sands.

 

我们在玩泥巴,

把它捏成一颗珍珠,

然后丢掉它,

我们唤自己做傻瓜。

它们的形状,尽管,相似,

而我们的小手却

从泥沙中

学到了制作珠宝的技艺。

艾米丽·狄金森的诗歌: 三

The nearest Dream recedes, unrealized.

The Heaven we chase

Like the June bee

Before the School-boy

Invites the race;

Stoops to an easy clover —

Dips—evades—teases—deploys;

Then to the royal clouds

Lifts his light pinnace

Heedless of the Boy

Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.

 

Homesick for steadfast honey,

Ah! the Bee flies not

That brews that rare variety.

 

译文:

不曾发现,最近的梦变成遥远。

我们追逐的天空

就像六月的蜜蜂

在学校的孩童

开始比赛之前

它屈身俯向一朵安然的三叶草—

滴着露—躲开了—嬉戏着—变幻队列;

然后朝着高高在上的云朵

举起他轻巧的舰船

丝毫没发现那男孩

目瞪口呆地,盯着顽皮的天。

 

想念凝固的蜜糖,

啊!蜜蜂停歇安然

他们酿出珍贵的多姿多彩。

 

 

艾米丽·狄金森的诗歌: 二

I bring an unaccustomed wine

To lips long parching, next to mine,

ANd summon them to drink.

 

Crackling with fever, they essay;

I turn my brimming eyes away,

And come next hour to look.

 

The hands still hug the tardy glass;

The lips I would have cooled, alas!

Are so superfluous cold,

 

I would as soon attempt to warm

The bosoms where the frost has lain

Ages beneath the mould.

 

Some other thirsty there may be

To whom this would have pointed me

Had it remained to speak.

 

And so I always beat the cup

If, haply, mine may be the drop

Some pilgrim thirst to slake, —

 

If, haply, any say to me,

“Unto the little, unto me,”

WHen I at last awake.

 

译文:

我斟一杯稀世的酒

给身边,干裂的红唇,

轻唤它们快来畅饮。

 

嘴唇努力翕动,灼热仿佛迸出噼啪的火星;

我移开盈满清泪的眼睛,

等下一个时辰再来临。

 

他们的双手仍然紧搂着迟来的玻璃杯;

那双唇,我早应该让它们的灼热退却的啊!

它们是如此彻骨的冰冷,

 

有种冲动想要即刻去温暖

那被凝冻千年,

在形骸下业已结霜的胸膛。

 

可这世上还有其他的人会焦渴

他们的焦渴还会吸引着我

如果它一如往昔地善于教唆。

 

因为这样,我总随身携着这盏杯

如果,万一,我的杯中刚好有

可以解朝圣者干渴的那一滴水,—

 

如果,万一,有人对我说,

“给弱小的人喝吧,给我吧,”

当我刚好终于清醒。