OdeToANightingale.doc

Ode To A NightingaleJohn Keats夜莺颂济慈My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,Or emptied some dull opiate to the drainsOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk我的心痛，困顿和麻木毒害了感官，犹如饮过毒鸩，又似刚把鸦片吞服，一分钟的时间，字句在忘川中沉没Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,But being too happy in thine happiness,-That thou, light-winged Dryad of the treesIn some melodious plotOf beechen green, and shadows numberless,Singest of summer in full-throated ease.并不是我嫉妒你的好运，而是你的快乐使我太欢欣，在林间嘹亮的天地里你呵，林间轻翅的精灵，躲进山毛榉的葱绿和阴荫影放开了歌喉，歌唱着夏季。O, for a draught of vintage! that hath beenCoold a long age in the deep-delved earth,Tasting of Flora and the country green,Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!O for a beaker full of the warm South,Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,And purple-stained mouthThat I might drink, and leave the world unseen,And with thee fade away into the forest dim哎，要是有一口酒！那冷藏在地下多年的甘醇，味如花神、绿土、舞蹈、恋歌和灼热的欢乐！哎，满满一杯南方的温暖，充满了鲜红的灵感之泉，杯沿明灭着珍珠的泡沫，给红唇染上紫斑我要一饮而尽悄然离开尘寰和你同去幽暗的林中隐没Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forgetWhat thou among the leaves hast never known,The weariness, the fever, and the fretHere, where men sit and hear each other groan;Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;Where but to think is to be full of sorrowAnd leaden-eyed despairs,Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.远远地，远远的隐没，让我忘掉你在树林间从不知道的一切，忘记这疲惫、热病和急躁使人对坐而悲叹的世界在这里，少许麻痹，悲伤就会蔓延至后几丝白发；在这里，青春苍白，伴随着灵魂的游离和肉体的死亡；在这里，稍一思索，就充满了忧伤和灰色的绝望；在这里，美人守不住善睐明眸。在这里，爱的思恋不会保鲜到明天！Away! away! for I will fly to thee,Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,But on the viewless wings of Poesy,Though the dull brain perplexes and retardsAlready with thee! tender is the night,And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,Clusterd around by all her starry Fays;But here there is no light,Save what from heaven is with the breezes blownThrough verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.去吧！去吧！我要飞向你，不用酒神的车辗和他的随从，乘着诗歌无形的翅膀，尽管这头脑已经困顿、疲惫，去了！呵，我已经和你同往！夜色温柔，而月后正登上她的宝座，周围是她所有的星星仙子，但这处却不甚明亮，只有一线光，被微风带过闪亮了葱绿的幽暗，和苔藓的曲径。I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweetWherewith the seasonable month endowsThe grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;Fast fading violets coverd up in leaves;And mid-Mays eldest child,The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.我不能看清是哪些花在我脚旁，何种软香悬于高枝，在这温馨的幽暗里，我猜测每一种甜蜜以其时令的赠与青草地、灌木丛、野果树白山楂和田园玫瑰；叶堆中易谢的紫罗兰；还有五月中旬的娇宠，这啜满了露酒的麝香蔷薇，她成了夏夜蚊蚋嗡萦的港湾。Darkling I listen; and, for many a timeI have been half in love with easeful Death,Calld him soft names in many a mused rhyme,To take into the air my quiet breath;Now more than ever seems it rich to die,To cease upon the midnight with no pain,While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroadIn such an ecstasy!Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain-To thy high requiem become a sod.我在黑暗里倾听，多少次我几乎爱上了静谧的死亡，在如此多的沉思之韵中呼唤她轻柔的名，编织成歌，求他把我的气息散入空茫；而现在，死更是多么富丽，在午夜不带悲伤，溘然魂离人间，当你正向外倾泻灵魂这般的迷狂！你仍在歌唱，而我已不再听见你那高昂的安魂曲只是对着一搓泥土。Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!No hungry generations tread thee down;The voice I hear this passing night was heardIn ancient days by emperor and clown:Perhaps the self-same song that found a pathThrough the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,She stood in tears amid the alien corn;The same that oft-times hathCharmd magic casements, opening on the foamOf perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.Forlorn! the very word is like a bellTo toll me back from thee to my sole self!Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so wellAs she is famd to do, deceiving elf.Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fadesPast the near meadows, over the still stream,Up the hill-side; and now tis buried deepIn the next valley-glades:Was it a vision, or a waking dream?Fled is that music:-Do I wake or sleep?永生的鸟啊！你本不为了死亡而出生！饥饿的时代无法把你蹂躏；这逝去的夜晚里我所听见的在那远古的日子也曾为帝王和小丑听见；可能相同的歌在露丝那颗忧愁的心中找到了一条路径，当她思念故乡，站在异邦的谷田中落泪；这声音常常在遗失的仙域里引动窗扉望向大海如泡沫般的浪花遗失！这个字如同一声钟响把我从你处带回，剩下单独的自我！别了！幻想，这骗人的妖童。当她不再能够耍弄她魅惑的伎俩。别了！别了！你哀伤的圣歌隐入草地，流过溪水，涌上山坡；而此时，它正深深埋在下一个山谷的阴影中：噫，是幻觉，还是梦寐？那歌声去了：我是睡？是醒？认识John Keats（济慈）仅仅是源于他的一首抒情诗歌Ode to a Nightingale（夜莺颂）。他的“能够停留在不肯定、神秘感、怀疑之中，而不是令人生厌地追求事实和真理”的这种“消极感受力”，深浸于万物而了解万物，成为了他的诗歌美学理念的基石。正如他的Ode to a Nightingale中优美的诗句一样，让人深思、欢快、愉悦而欣欣然。他在Ode to a Nightingale的第一节中写道：“My heart aches,and a drowsy numbness pains /My sense,as though of hemlock I had drunk, /Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains /One minute past,and Lethe-wards had sunk: /Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, /But being too happy in thine happiness,- /That thou,light-winged Dryad of the trees, /In some melodious plot /Of beechen green,and shadows numberless, /Singest of summer in fill-throated ease.” 这种飘飘然欲仙的感觉，在夜莺歌声的刺激下，迸发出诸多混合而矛盾的感受力。这或许与他悲惨的身世有不少联系。因为接受痛苦多的人，其表现往往只有两种。一种是更加敏感更加有感受，另一种是麻木。John Keats属于前者，典型的前者。这位8岁丧父、14岁丧母的痛苦人，在23岁丧弟的同一年患上了肺结核（当时治不了），并且绝望地爱上了一个名叫Fanny Brawne的姑娘。他的贫穷，他的一钱不值，再加上他对诗歌的狂热，使他永远处在一种心灵折磨的旋涡中。 然而，夜莺美妙动人的歌声就像一盅清醇的葡萄酒，他“Tasting of Flora and the country green,/Dance,and Provencal song,and sunburnt mirth”，然后便飘入仙境，“That I might drink,and leave the world unseen,/And with thee fade away into the forest dim:”到了一个极其美妙的理想世界。在那里，没有生老病死的折磨，没有无奈、绝望和忧伤，没有苍白、消瘦和死亡的青春，没有稍纵即逝的爱情。“ The weariness,the fever,and the fret /Here,where men sit and hear each other groan;/ Where palsy shakes a few,sad,last gray hairs./ Where youth grown pale,and spectre-thin,and dies;/ Where but to think is to be full fo sorrow /And leaden-eyed despairs,/ Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,/Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.” 既然夜莺的世界这么好，这么有吸引力，身心憔悴的John Keats决定on the viewless wings of Poesy，借助诗歌和想象力的翅膀，向夜莺飞去。途中，他欣赏到了the Queen-Moon，美丽的月光。当他到达夜莺所歌唱的embalmed darkness,guess each sweet的仙境时，“Wherewith the seasonable month endows /The grass,the thicket,and the fruit-tree wild; /White hawthorn,and the pastoral eglantine, /Fast fading violets coverd up in leaves; /And mid-Mays eldest child, /The coming musk-rose,full of dewy wine, /The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.”在这里，诗人不再惧怕死亡，而是更希望通过死亡来达到精神上的解脱。 John Keats认为，夜莺的歌声是美妙绝伦的，是不朽的，是永恒的，将世世代代的唱下去。“Thou wast not born for death,immortal Bird!/Through the sad heart of Ruth,when sick for home,/She stood in tears amid the alien corn;/The same that oft-times hath /Charmed magic casements,opening on the foam”生动而奇异的幻想的世界，在John Keats的诗歌里得到了超凡的体现。然而一切都仅仅是个梦幻，仅仅是个梦幻而已，他却乐此不疲地享受着这里的种种在现实世界中享受不到的美好。或许这正合了他的另一个美学理念，即“美即是真”。 但是，诗人并没有沉浸其中而不知返回。在诗歌的最后一节里，John Keats这样写道：“Forlorn!The very word is like a bell /To toll me back from thee to my sole self! /Adi