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芦笛文学论坛团队翻译:[古罗马] 维吉尔《牧歌》(已完成)

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发表于 2009-12-28 17:36 | 显示全部楼层
额。。。好厉害
伏地膜拜一下.....翻译的水品可以集合出书了!
用读的效果也很好
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发表于 2010-6-2 20:33 | 显示全部楼层
重译维吉尔《牧歌·第九》


吕吉达
要往哪儿去,莫埃里?要走这条路进城吗?

莫埃里
噢,吕吉达,我们活到这会儿,竟遇上这等事,
一个外乡人跑来占了我们的土地,还说:
“这全是我们的;一帮老田农,快滚!”
我们败了,悲伤不已,一切都被命运女神颠翻,
还得为他(但愿霉运也跟着他!)赶去这些羊。

吕吉达
我确信我听闻的是,从开始低降的山岗
和稍低处并不太陡的山坡,
直至水边以及树顶已开叉的老山毛榉,
你们的梅那伽用他的诗歌保住了所有土地。

莫埃里
你听到的,都是谣言。我们的诗歌,吕吉达,
在刀光剑影之间,一点也不比
巨鹰扑至时卡昂尼的鸽子有用。
倘若没有空冬青树干里乌鸦的告诫,
让我尽力避免那幼稚的争辩,
无论莫埃里还是梅那伽都活不到今天。

吕吉达
天哪!谁能做出如此邪恶之事?
你与你能给我们的安慰,梅那伽,近乎被剥夺一空!
谁还能为仙女歌唱?谁还能让繁英
遍布山野,把泉水涌绿荫覆盖?
又有谁会唱起在去找我们心爱的阿玛瑞丽丝的
路上,我从你那儿听来的歌谣:
“提提鲁,我离开时(不会太久),请喂好羊羔;
喂饱了再带去饮水,提提鲁呀;
牵羊羔时,小心地绕开那只公羊;
它会用它的角把人弄伤。”

莫埃里
还不如另一首,那未完成的献给瓦鲁斯之作:
“瓦鲁斯,你的名字——倘若我们的曼图亚还在:
曼图亚,就在不幸的克雷蒙纳边上——
就当被歌唱着的天鹅捧至群星之间。”

吕吉达
让你的蜜蜂离开科西嘉岛上的紫杉,
让你的奶牛吃够了金雀草,乳房沉沉,
有什么就唱什么吧。女神也把我
当作一个诗人,我也写过诗,甚至连
牧人们也说我是歌手;但我不信他们说的。
因为,我想,我发出的声音和瓦里奥或琴纳的相比
一无是处,不过是歌唱的天鹅间一只咯咯叫的蠢鹅,

莫埃里
我也正想唱,吕吉达,我保持安静是因为我
正试图想起一首歌;这歌也不坏:
“来吧,伽拉忒娅,呆在水里有什么意思呢?
春光灿烂,岸上百花齐放,
银白的白杨枝斜倚在洞穴上,
下垂的青藤织出一片阴翳。
来吧,让那些疯狂的浪花自己去拍打河岸吧。”

吕吉达
有次我听见你在清夜里独自歌唱的那首怎么样?
我还记得调子,也都记得歌词:
“达芙妮,为何你要凝视那些古老星辰的升降?
凯撒——狄俄涅之子——之星升起,
它照耀之下的大地当充满谷物的欢欣,
向阳山坡上的葡萄当集满色泽。
接上你的梨树吧,达芙妮;子子孙孙当品此佳果。”

莫埃里
时间会带走一切,包括我们的智慧:
我还时常想起年轻时是怎样整日整日地歌唱:
现在已记不得许多歌了:莫埃里也已经
丢了嗓子——狼先看到了莫埃里;
但梅那伽还会时常唱起把它们唱个够。

吕吉达
你的推辞让我更想继续:看,
所有的湖泽都已归于平静,而所有的风,
你瞧,都停止了絮絮耳语。
我们的路才走到一半,正刚看得到
比安诺的墓:就在这儿,农夫们采摘叶子,
就在这儿,莫埃里,让我们放歌;
就在这儿我们让羊群歇歇;进城总来得及。
如果我们怕天黑前会下起雨来,
我们可以一路边走边唱;这样
路会变得短了:让我们继续唱吧,
这样我就会减轻你的负担。

莫埃里
先停下来吧,孩子,做我们手上的活儿;
等他来了再唱,会更有意思些。
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发表于 2010-6-2 20:34 | 显示全部楼层
用的是一个比较古老的英语译本做底本:

ECLOGUE IX.--MOERIS
LYCIDAS--MOERIS

L.--Whither footest thou, Moeris? leads thy way townward?

M.--O Lycidas, we live to have come to this, what we never feared, that an intruder in our little fields should say, These are mine; hence with you, old freeholders! Now crushed and sorrowing, since all goes with Fortune's wheel, these kids (small joy may he have thereof!) we are sending to him.

L.--Surely I had heard that, where the hills begin to retire and lower their ridge in a soft slope, even to the waterside and the old beeches that now moulder atop, your Menalcas had saved all the land by his songs.

M.--You had; and so rumour ran. But songs of ours, Lycidas, have no more power among warring arms than Chaonian doves, as they say, when the eagle comes. Had not a raven from the hollow ilex on my left forewarned me to cut short my young suit as best I could, neither thy Moeris nor Menalcas himself were alive and here.

L.--Alas! can such wickedness come over any one? alas for thee and our comfort in thee, Menalcas, so nearly lost to us! Who would sing the nymphs? who strew the ground with blossoming plants, or train green shade over the springs? or those songs I caught of late from thee on thy way to our darling Amaryllis: Tityrus, while I return, (short is the way,) feed the she-goats; and drive them full-fed to drink, Tityrus; and amid the work, take heed of crossing the he-goat; he strikes with his horn.

M.--Nay these rather, which yet unfinished he sang to Varus: Varus, thy name, if but our Mantua survive, Mantua, ah too near a neighbour to unhappy Cremona, singing swans shall bear aloft to the stars.

L.--So may thy swarms shun yews of Corsica, so may

cytisus pasture swell the udders of thy kine, begin with what thou hast. Me also the maidens of Pieria have made a poet. I also have songs: even me the shepherds call a singer; but I believe them not. For, I think, I utter as yet nothing worthy of Varius or of Cinna, a cackling goose among these swans of song.

M.--So I do, Lycidas, and am thinking over silently with myself if I may avail to remember; and it is no mean song:

Come hither, O Galatea: what sport is among the waves? Here spring glows, here round the streams the ground breaks into many a flower; here the silver-white poplar leans over the cavern and trailing vines weave a covert of shade. Come hither; leave the mad billows to beat on the shore.

L.--How of what I once heard thee singing alone under the clear night? I remember the notes, had I the words sure:

Daphnis, why gaze upward on the ancient risings of the signs? lo the star of Caesar, Dione's child, has advanced, the star whereunder fields should rejoice in corn and the grape gather colour on sunny hills. Engraft thy pear-trees, Daphnis; thy children's children shall pluck their fruit.

M.--Time wastes all things, the mind too: often I remember how in boyhood I outwore long sunlit days in singing: now I have forgotten so many a song: Moeris is losing his voice too; wolves have caught first sight of Moeris; but yet Menalcas will repeat them to thee oft enough.

L.--Thy talking prolongs our desire: and now, see, all the mere is smooth and still, and all the windy murmur of the breeze, look, is sunk away. just from this point is half our road, for Bianor's tomb begins to show: here, where rustics strip the thick-leaved sprays, here, Moeris, let us sing; here set down thy kids; for all that, we shall reach the town. Or if we fear lest night ere then gather to rain, we may go singing all the way; so the road wearies the less: that we may go singing, I will lighten thee of this bundle.

M.--Cease thou further, O boy, and let us do our present business: when he is come himself, we will sing his songs better then.
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发表于 2011-9-30 14:36 | 显示全部楼层
舞者 发表于 2006-8-8 17:09
请教一下,“工作与时日”是什么?谁作的/译的?

《工作与时日》是古希腊流传下来的第一首以现实生活为题材的诗作,作者是赫西俄德(公元前8-7世纪)。
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