Tuesday, August 30, 2005

(意) 厄科《美史》History of Beauty

读英文版《美史》,意大利作家厄科的大作,是他多年有关研究的成果。厄科认为编写此书与世人见面是极为迫切的,因为我们生活在一个对美极度崇尚的时代,“美的容让在狂欢,各种学说完全混杂,多神文化绝对不可能阻挡。”

厄科不愧为国际闻名的小说大师,从古埃及至如今现代世界,一部美学历史娓娓道来,图文并茂,如同电影一般,历数西方历代各国的美学哲学思想,深入浅出,完全不觉得是在读枯燥的历史,而像是在读小说。

本书有四大特点:如行云流水般的叙述,每页配有的众多插图,夹带各个时期的名人引语占近所有文字的一半,另加各类比较表格。涉及的范围包括绘画、雕塑、诗歌、摄影及建筑,唯一美中不足的是对音乐的论述太少。

此书是美的历程所必备之地图,爱好美学之人若无缘观赏,将会是终身遗憾。


(History of Beauty, edited by Umberto Eco, translated by Alastair McEwen, published by Rizzoli International Publications, Inc., New York, 2004.)

Monday, August 29, 2005

Cai Qijiao: Billows in the Night

Tied up with strands of stars, the long
dark hairs of night dispersed into deep water.
The mind full of heaviness,
the blues came along on it’s own.

Listening to the turbulences of the silence,
the inexpressible mind rather to have
a silent dialogue with stars.

Eyes reflecting the sea of night,
like the sorrow far out of reach,
life is navigating in the silent world.

Only the sound of billows,
on and off, one by one,
deeper and more furious,
is knocking at the strings of heart.

Maybe the untold the most real.
To have the same dreams needs no sound.

The night, beautiful yet in a hurry,
opened the door of long-shut heart,
and cleaned away all the hypocrisy.
with the sound of billows as it’s messenger,
true feelings are expressed.

Head caressed in the shinning starlight,
the abandoned heart consoled by the night tides,
glistering the sympathetic tears.

The night came to it’s dimmer time,
the space of moon sky sunk deeper into silence,
soul is flying to the murkiness of longevity.
The dream eased the pain of the present.

(Translated by Laoha, 2005-08-29)

蔡其矫《夜涛》

夜用星束扎起浓黑长发
散落到深沉水里
心头溢满幽暗
忧思不请自来
  
谛听寂静汹涌
心事难以表达
不如以沉默和星说话
  
眼睛印着夜海
有如遥远不可及的悲哀
生命航行在无声世界
  
惟有时发时止的涛声
一次比一次深沉
一次比一次凶猛
敲打心的琴弦
  
也许未说出的东西最真实
不需发音便做同一梦幻
  
美丽慌乱的夜
心扉久闭后敞开
一切虚饰扫净
诉出柔情
以涛声作信使
  
灼灼星芒抚头顶
晚潮安慰被遗弃的心
闪烁一颗颗同情泪
  
夜已到朦胧时刻
空茫的月天更加沉静
灵魂向永生的昏暗飞去
借幻想淡化了痛苦的现时

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Zhao Ran 赵然


Zhao Xiaobo 赵小波, pen name Zhao Ran, born in Nanan, Fujian, PRC. He has written since 1980s and worked as a journalist after graduation. Most of his works were published on newspapers and journals. He is the vice-president of News Department of Huaqiao University, editor-in-chief of Huaqiao University Newspaper and column host of "Poetry Exhibition of Chinese Universities."

Wheat Fields 《麦田》

Who was it,
filled up the cup with liquid
of smooth gleam of night,
like the face of cherry wood table.
A drop of water came,
then gone,
left no trace.

Beyond the autumn, the wheat fields
during the harvest season,
sickle in the snow fields,
the floating clouds, as of songs,
are recording the mutations of the grains.

Through the wheat fields,
there are cooking smoke by the ancient path.
After the period,
there are more periods,
as ordinary
as the normal days, back and forth
like a circle.

At midnight,
stars shine like lights.
After one season is over,
in the wheat fields,
beyond the faraway mountains,
who is still there doing the hard work,
and who is there
trying to block the moonlight
with one single hand?

(Translated by Laoha, 2005-7-22 )

A Noon in February 《二月的某个正午》

I was squatting at the corner
of my old clay house wall,
bathed in the sunlight, watching
how a river flowing by in front of me.
(I have been very allergic to frogs,
the animal that belonged to the last century)
The river water was no longer clear,
kind of slurry, in it there might be
not a single living things, like fishes or shrimps.
Though the clay house wall had been collapsed
for some time now, I still squatted there.
Next to me, there was a lonely tree
struggling to burgeon.

(Translated by Laoha, 2005-7-22 )

Languages《语言》

On the street in the deep night,
all the languages started to grow.
One metaphor transfigured from the left hand,
and the symbol of bed held in the right.
At this time,
with sorrow the flower withered quietly.

The plan of the moon night
extended to the street.
Like a tangerine colored liquid,
the air constantly floated around.
The languages discomposed into two different types,
one had nothing to do with truth,
and the other had to be waited for some time.

Trees should be planted, or
some channels with source be dug.
Make it a rule that all languages
be used in writing resume, and
the words must have footnote.
In a dawn surely full of sentiment,
a voice was singing, chimed with another.
Since then, as a carrier,
the language lost its meaning.

(Translated by Laoha, 2005-7-22 )

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Forrest Gander 佛勒斯特-甘德诗选二首



佛勒斯特-甘德是当代墨西哥诗人双语诗集《口头相传》的编辑,多部书的作者,其中包括诗集《对视》(新方向2005年出版)和散文集《信仰的存在:阅读、记忆、超群》(鞋匠与储藏2005年出版)。他最近的译作有《无处栖息:寇洛姆诗选》和与约翰逊合译的《内在的访客:萨恩兹诗选》(入选美国笔会翻译奖决赛)。作为斯泰恩创新写作奖、全美教育同盟诗歌奖、豪沃德基金奖得主,甘德还为许多期刊杂志写评论文章,其中包括《国家》、《波士顿评论》、《普罗维登斯报》。他在罗德岛州的普罗维登斯市郊外拥有一座果园。甘德是布朗大学文艺和比较文学教授。


《绑扎之二》

恐怕你误解了我的意图,我不和她说话。我们之间再也不会有任何的交谈。

小狗叫着“就像它想要什么”。但小鸟的歌唱却不像是想要什么。

早早升起的月亮,一个发光的胎儿。

孩子生病时,那深层的亲密气息,我想说的是,高烧的熔融,皮肤,头发,还有脖子上的汗。但是我的翻译太慢,他们一接过孩子和气味,就开始插话:他出痘时卡罗敏止痒霜的气味,婴儿刚喂过奶后呼吸的气息。

得干喝坦基拉酒。回望的脸憔悴又满是皱纹。

人类的耳朵对恸哭的声音最为敏感。如此,似乎小鸟叫出的是树的悲声。

房顶上有只狗,乳头又黑又长,在审视那些走在我们前面和街对面的男孩子们。

她弯着手指,示意要他作出反应,到她那儿去。

当我们从曲卷在墙边的乞丐身旁走过,看到放在膝盖上张开的双手,天空的天或是天的天空是否依然?

去观察,在那女人的眼里,她绝望的载重线在下沉。

大酒店里,那晒黑了皮肤、提不起精神的男孩,在游泳池里前滚翻转身来回游上个把钟头。

我记得昨晚梦到他爱我。


《绑扎之四》

鱿鱼下侧显递出生物荧光,使得在身下的掠食者无法看出。同样,男孩子愤怒时的面红耳赤,也许会将他自己保护。

遛狗,踩到一块修补的路面。我记得他头上的那块软骨。

你像是一只聋狗。不,你就是。

我能够感受到吗?潮汐正拉曳着转动的地球,使得每一天变得更漫长。

我的一根鼻毛已经变白。

在绝对的深夜里,我在床上听见他对着便桶的中心瞄准。声响深沉,嗓音找到了它的注册簿。

科学家们称之为困惑体系。

圣诞节难熬,他的脸紧贴在他祖母热情洋溢的胸前,那所房子是如此的纯洁无瑕,天花板缝间却有可恶的蜘蛛站立。

就像是在星系外围的一颗星,被黑暗物质的引力抛旋。就目前而止,我们去哪儿他就去哪儿,但是他不属于我们。

我的刑期开始,开始依赖于他,我深深地吸了一口气。他的瞳孔收缩一下,在交谈中让步。

对我们两个人之一来说是刻不容缓的悸动,而对另一个人来说却是世俗的紧迫。

当凝固汽油弹击中我的大脑,他静如蝾螈眨眼。

她找到他七岁时的一张相片。他表情清冷的脸,在米开朗琪罗的早期绘画中,有一幅作品叫作《玛莎琪约失去的祭祀》与此相似。

在有关他的记忆里,我们寻找他性格里的某种和谐统一,能够与他现在交给我们的错综复杂相符。

它紧紧地抱住麻袋钢丝替身。这时,实验室技术员对它再次电击。它一点都不放,反而抱的更紧。

摔跤训练后,猛然跳入后座,垫子烧着他的前额和脸。

他的无言好比月亮升起时声音。


(老哈译于2005-07-28)

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Cai Qijiao: Perhaps

On the rough road of life,
we are like two stars in space
traveling along our own trajectories.
However, we met a few times
and we waved goodbye a few times.
Nobody knows what kind of fate lies in ahead of us.
Nobody knows if we will ever discover each other.
No way, the piled snow of time can freeze to death
the tender burgeons of new life.
The green dreams, in every chilled places,
are awakening up youth.
Perhaps, under our feet, the ever flowing spring hidden.
Perhaps, inside our hearts, the everlasting light shining.
Trees have no sense of it,
and birds have no knowledge of it.
In life, you and I forever separate.
In soul, I am, from time to time, calling your name.

(Translated by Laoha, 2005-08-23)

蔡其矫《也许》

在生活的艰险道路上
我们有如太空中两颗星
沿着各自的轨道运行
却也迎面相逢几回,无言握别几回
没有人知道我们今后的命运如何
没有人知道我们是否会相互发现
时间的积雪,并不能冻坏
新生命的嫩芽,
绿色的梦,在每一个生冷的地方
都唤起青春。
在我们脚下,也许藏着长流的泉水
在我们心中,也许点亮不朽的灯
众树都未曾感到
众鸟也茫无所知
在生活中,我永远和你隔离
在灵魂里,我时时喊着你的名字

1974

Cai QiJiao: Rose In the Wind

Up and down, to and fro.
The dancing flames,
The bouncing sunrays.
Waves upon waves,
Rainbow over rainbow.
Flashing amid the outpouring orgy.
The undistinguishable silhouettes,
The unintelligible eyewinks.
Elusive laughter emitted from within.
Rise and fall, high and low.

(Translated by Laoha, 2005-08-23)

蔡其矫《风中玫瑰》

一上,一下。一来,一往。
飞舞的焰火
跃动的霞光。
一道道的浪痕
一条条的虹影。
在狂欢的流泻中闪射。
看不真切的轮廓
无法辨认的眼波。
从中散发捉摸不到的笑声。
一高,一低。一起,一落。

1978

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Midsummer Night

Midsummer night. Backyard, lights out.
Bathed in the mountain breeze, lying
on the patio chair. T-shirt, shorts, slippers.
Below the rugged line of the Peavine ridge
slowly sunk the Big Dipper.

In this utter tranquility, came
the clear loudness of Ulysses,
through the headphone to my ear,
the manifesto, from a portable CD player,
of the artist as an young man.

(2005-08-13)

Saturday, August 06, 2005

刘悌摩《海岸四十哩外东北风》NOR'EASTER FORTY MILES OFFSHORE

水床上方,一只海螺丰满匀称
彩釉隐隐桃红。---“因为洞穴
在身上就都成了神秘的洞穴。” ---
古希腊淫乱的酒宴上,阵阵对酒神的
狂热赞美,两千多年后已被慢慢抹去,
变得模糊不清无法怀念。--- 这晚的
多普勒雷达,有一团张牙舞爪的云,
风车旋转似地游过屏幕,唤起我们的色情
恐惧。--- 上个季节的风暴残余被捕捉
在浮世绘画面上,鬼魂般的流线条
勾画出相互依偎在峭壁边的身形。---

(译于2005-08-06)