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(美)玛雅·安吉罗诗选译(二)

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发表于 2007-7-23 23:25 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
今天岩石向我们大声呼喊
--为比尔·克林顿总统就职典礼而作
(又名《早晨的脉动》)

  (美)玛雅·安吉罗
   
一块岩石,一条河,一棵树
久以灭绝的物种的主人,
标注了乳齿象。
恐龙,曾在我们
这颗行星上逗留,
并留下铁的证据。
任何有关他们急促死亡的清晰警报
早已湮灭于时光和尘埃的阴霾之中。

但是今天,岩石向我们呼喊,清晰,有力
来吧,你可以站在我的
背上,来面对你远去的宿命,
尽管在我的影子下找不到避难所。

在这里我也无法给你藏身地。

你呵,造物主创造了你,仅比天使
稍稍低等,却在伤痕累累的黑暗里
匍匐太久,
在无知中面朝地
躺得太久。

你的嘴流出的话语
都是为屠杀而武装。

今天岩石向我们呼喊,你可以站在我的身上,
但决不要掩藏你的面庞。

跨过世界的围墙,
一条河流唱着美丽的歌,
来吧,就躺在这里,我的身旁。

你,邻国的每一个人
--精巧灵敏,并奇特地创造自豪
然而却长年不断地在围攻下冲击。

你为了利润而进行的武装斗争
已经把废物留在我的
海滨;让残骸的涌流压在我的胸上。

然而,今天我要呼唤你来到我的河边,
如果你不再研究战争。来吧,
穿上和平之衣,我要高唱
造物主赋予我的歌,当我和树木
以及石头合为一体。
在玩世不恭在你的整个眉毛上
留下血淋淋烧痕之前,当你知道你依然
一无所知时。

河流在歌唱,在歌唱。
有一个真实的向往来响应
歌唱的河流与英明的岩石。

因此你看亚洲人,西班牙人,犹太人,
非洲人,美国本土人,苏族人,
天主教徒,穆斯林,法国人,希腊人,
爱尔兰人,拉比,牧师,酋长,
同性恋,异性恋,传教士,
有特权的人,无家可归的人以及教师。
他们在倾听,他们都在倾听
一棵树的演说。

今天,每一种树的第一棵和最后一棵
都在向人类述说。到我这儿来吧,就在河边。

扎根在我的身边,就在这儿的河边。

你们中的每个人,已逝旅行者的后裔,
你们已经付出了代价。

你,给了我姓氏的人,你
波尼人,阿帕契人以及塞内卡人,
你,切罗基族,曾经和我一起躺倒,然后
被迫站起尽管双脚血淋淋,
留下我受雇于别的淘金者--
拼命攫取财富,渴望着黄金。
你,土耳其人,瑞典人,德国人,苏格兰人...
你,阿善提人,约鲁巴人和克鲁人 ,被买来,
被卖走,被偷去,好象来到噩梦之乡
祈求梦想。

在这儿,就在我的身旁把你们的根扎下。

我就是植根在河边的树,
决不会挪动。
我,就是岩石,我,就是河流,我就是树
我是你们的--你们的通途已经付过帐了。
抬起你们的脸,你们锥心刻骨的需要
因为这个明亮的早晨正为你们而破晓。
历史,尽管有着伤心的痛楚,
不可能忘却;然而如果勇敢
面对,就不会再发生。

抬起你们的眼睛看吧,
黎明为你们而诞生。
让梦想
重新降生。
女人,儿童,男人,
把它握在你们的掌心。

把它塑造成你们最
个性需要的形状。把它雕刻成
你们最公众的自我形象。
树立起你们的信心
每一个崭新的时刻都拥有着新的机遇
为每一个新的开始。
永远不要耽于
恐惧,要始终和野性
连在一起。
地平线向前延伸,
为你提供变革的无限空间。
这儿,伴随美好一天的脉搏,
你可以鼓起勇气
放眼望去,并且看着我,看着岩石,
看着河流,看着树木,看着你的国家。

给乞丐多少,给迈达斯也多少,
给乳齿象多少,现在给你也多少。

在这儿,伴随这新的一天的脉搏,
你可以信心满怀放眼四界,
凝视你的姐妹的双眸,注视
你兄弟的脸庞,环顾你的国家
非常简单,
满怀希望,
仅仅说一声,
早安!

注:1. 乳齿象:美洲乳齿象属。已灭绝的高大、长鼻的哺乳动物,与大象外形相似,但臼齿结构不同。
2. 拉比:在犹太法律、仪式及传统方面受过训练的人,并被任命主持犹太教集会,尤指在犹太教堂中作为主要神职的人员。
3. 迈达斯:希腊神话里的弗利治亚Phrygia 国王, 相传贪财, 求神赐给点物成金的法术。酒神狄俄尼索斯赐给他一种力量使他能够把他用手触摸的任何东西变成金子。





附原作:

*The Rock Cries Out to Us Today
----Inaugural Poem to President Bill Clinton
20 January 1993



by  Maya Angelou

  

  A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.


* 我仍将奋起

你可以把我写进历史

用你那恶毒歪曲的文字,

你可以把我踩进泥土,

但如同尘埃,我仍将奋起。


我的活泼莽撞令你不安?

你为何如此阴郁煩忧?

因为我行走,如有几口油井

在我的客厅正泵出石油。



恰如月亮落下太阳升起,

伴随潮汐涨落的规律,

恰如希望高高跃起,

我仍将奋起。



你曾想看到我颓丧崩潰?

你曾想看到我垂首低眉?

双肩塌下一如落泪,

因动情哭泣而虚脱倒下。



我的高傲冒犯了你?

难道你不觉得接受特难,

因为我大笑如同我拥有金矿

正在采掘,就在我家后院。



你可以刺痛我,用你的目光

你可以攻击我,用你的言辞,

你可以用憎恨将我杀死,

但依然,如同空气,我将奋起。



我的性感让你心烦意乱?

我的翩翩舞姿令你惊惧?

我舞蹈犹如我拥有钻石

就在我的大腿交合处。



从耻辱历史的茅舍走出,

我奋起!

从植根痛苦的往昔爬起,



我奋起!

我是黑色的海洋,水阔浪涌,

我在潮汐中汹涌奔腾。



将恐怖畏惧的黑夜抛在身后。

我奋起!

进入光明灿烂的黎明。

我奋起!

带着我的祖先赐予的力量,

我是奴隶的梦想和希望。

我奋起!

我奋起!

我奋起!





     *Still I Rise
   

  by  Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

[ 本帖最后由 默林赫特 于 2007-7-23 11:33 PM 编辑 ]

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发表于 2010-6-7 02:27 | 显示全部楼层
我觉得这诗歌的紧张度,跟标题不相称,这[今天岩石向我们大声呼喊],似乎自称能赶走你我她他耳朵中世界上其他一切声音,但我们耳朵中的声音却说, 外部让你进耳朵,你要进来,你就是拼命挤进来吧,结果,有很少的这诗的声音,挤进了我们充满着声音的耳朵的大厅,

但总的说来,这诗歌比西尔薇亚·普拉斯的好
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