丁登修道院

威廉·华兹华斯（1798）    安东旧译（1977）

 

阔别了五年；五个夏季，还有

五个冬季！如今我重新倾听

这儿的流水，逶迤的山泉

带着内地柔和的潺潺声。——一旦重新

看见这些悬崖和高丛的峭壁，

那些隐退在荒野中的景象打动

我那更深地隐退的思想；那些景色

还会使人和沉静的天空一起产生联想。

当我又重新在这儿休息，那样的日子就来临，

在这浓荫的无花果树下，眺望

这些庭园农舍，这些果树簇丛，

正值目下这一季节，它们不成熟的果子

披戴着单一的绿彩，它们自己迷失

在树丛当中。我重新看见

这些成行的树篱，穿过旷野

几近排成一行细线：这些田园式的庄园，

绿荫一直伸到门庭；而烟雾缭绕成的花环

在静寂中，从树林深处送向上空！

某些不甚确切的标识，使人想到像是

无家可归的人们在树林中流浪

或者是在隐士的洞穴里，就就凭他的火种

就在此地单独栖身。

              这些可钦羡的生涯

对我来说已很陌生，因为我已经和此地阔别多年，

就像是盲人的眼睛看不见美丽风景：

但是，常常，在寂寞的场合，或是在

城镇的喧哗声当中，我要感谢他们，

是他们使我在厌倦的时分，感受到亲切，

他们是我心灵安慰之所在，

还加入到我纯静的精神当中，

带着平静的恢复的力量：——

感受到一种不可名状的快慰：这样，

决不是一些平凡的不足道的感受，

却如同是美好的人生中最好的那一部分，

纤巧，难以名状和记忆，

就像是善行和爱情。我还确实相信，

我更应当感激他们对我的另一种赐予，

一种更崇高的境界；那受福的心境，

所有这个不可理解的世界具有的

暧昧神秘变得明晰清澈，

令人窒息的沉沉重负

也在此变轻；那沉静和受福的心境，

在那里有一种柔和地控制住我们的感情，——

它使得我们形体的呼吸似乎暂时停顿，

身体内血液的流动也几乎止歇，

我们的肉体像是入睡一样；

同时产生了活泼泼的灵魂：

在深不可测的宁静当中，

凭着快慰与和谐的无边力量，

我们看到了物的生命。

                  倘若这是

徒劳的信念，那么，啊，将会是——

在黑夜中和在各种各样的

没有快乐的白日；当那热病的世界

种种烦躁无益的搅扰

敲打在我的心房上——

我总是，在灵魂深处，把心转向你，

啊，绿叶葱笼的怀河！你总在树林中徘徊，

我的心灵是何等地总向着你！

而如今，随着那熄灭的思想的闪光，

随着很多蒙胧的模糊的呼唤，

带着一点儿悲哀的紊乱和感伤，

那种精神的景象复苏：

当我站在此间时，不但带着那现存的

快乐的感觉，而且还还着快乐的思想！

目下这一时刻是未来年月中有

生命和食粮。就为此我敢干希望，

虽然我无疑已经改变，早不是
我初来这山上的模样；那时像一头小鹿，

我在山地跃起疾行，在那深深的

河流岸边，随着那凄寂的水流，

无论何处都由自然引向前：那疾行啊，

与其说是像寻找心中之所爱，不如说

更像是逃避有几分害怕的东西。自然啊，

（我孩提时代的粗陋欢欣

和那些动物般的行径逝去之后）

是我心中所最钟爱。——我无法描绘

我曾有的样子。那响亮的大瀑布

像情人一样常在我心中萦绕；那高大的岩石，

那山地，和那深密幽暗的树林,

他们的颜色和他们的模样，在我心中

激起一种欲望，一股情感，一阵爱情，

那在遥远地方的魅力啊，

眼睛看见的其他影像不可摹拟，

只能靠思想来补偿。——过去了，那些日子，

所有它的半带痛苦的欢乐，

连同所有那些昏晕眩的狂喜。但我不为此

而感到颓丧，也不幽怨哀伤，诉怨，别的赋予

会跟随而来；为了这样的损失，我相信将有

丰盛的补偿。因为我学会了

怎样观察大自然，不再像在那

无知的少年时代；而且常能听见

人生的平静而低柔忧郁音乐，

它既不粗厉也不刺耳，虽然有着强大的

沉静和驯服服的力量，而我感到

一种骚动的存在，带着一阵崇高的思想

引起的喜悦和不安；一种超脱之感，

像是深度的互相融合。

像是在落日余晖的远处，

或是大海的周围，清新的空气，

蓝色的天[空和人的心灵中；

一种动力，一种精神，推动

全数有思想的人物，一切思想的所有对象，

并贯通一切事物。在那里我仍然是

那些草原，那些森林和那些山地的

不渝的情人；我爱在这绿色的土地上

注视到的一切；我爱那凭眼耳能感觉到的

全部巨大的世界，——不仅由它们感知，

也由想象创造的；我高兴地发现：

在大自然和对它的感受的语言中，

有那纯洁的思想的支撑，看护，

向导、心灵的守卫者，以及全部

我的道德人格的灵魂。

                  亦非偶然，

如果我没有得到这种训练，我将更会

为我灵魂的衰变而蒙受痛苦：

在这儿，你在清澈小河的堤岸上显现的魅力

使我得到慰藉；你是我最亲爱的友人，

我亲爱的，亲爱的朋友；在你的声音里

我感受到从前的心灵语言，还在你那

荒野的眸子发出的光波中辨认出我从前

快乐和希望之所在。啊！请允许我

再单独地瞧你一眼那么一点儿时间，

我亲爱的，亲爱的姊妹！我敢于祈求，

因为我知道大自然决不会辜负那颗

热爱她的心；她有特殊的力量

能够把我们一生的岁月，引导着

从欢欣走向欢欣：因为她能够如此

感动在我们心中的思想，如此深深地感动

用寂静状态和美所培养的

崇高的思想。那儿没有邪恶的语言，

轻率的见解，也没有自私者的鄙夷，

也没有不怀好意的问候，也没有全部

日常生活中的那种枯燥的交际，

使我们不被压倒，或者是受扰乱。

相信我们愉快的信念，幸运的所见。让月亮

在你孤独的步态中照耀你；

并让那蒙胧的山岚任意地

对你迎面吹拂：并且，在此后岁月中，

这些猛烈的狂喜会成熟

成为稳重的欢欣；那时你的精神

将会是所有可爱事物的共同归宿，

对所有悦耳的声音以及和声来说

你的回忆是取之不歇的泉源，啊！然后，

纵使寂寞、忧虑、烦愁、悲伤

成为你的命运，你又将带着怎样亲切的喜悦
想起我，想起我今天这番嘱咐——

即使我远走他方，不能再听到

你的声音，也不能从你荒野的眸子中

捕捉过去日子的的闪光——那末，你也不会忘记
在那可爱的溪流两岸，那可爱的地方

我们曾并肩站伫立；而我却是如此长久地

敬慕大自然，到这儿来已经成为

不倦的宗教仪式：或者宁可说

带着热烈的爱情——啊！带着对神圣的爱，

深沉的热情。你将不会忘记，

在长期的流浪之后，阔别了多少年头，

这儿的峻峭的森林和高耸的峭壁，

以及这绿色的牧歌风景，这些对我是

倍觉可爱，既为它们自身，也为了你！

 

    题解：

本诗是华兹华斯（1770——1850）的代表作之一，同他的里程碑式的《序曲》一样，备受批评家的关注，但是对它的解读却是莫衷一是。

本诗是是默想沉思抒情诗（Meditative Lyric），散韵。

 

 

    原文：

Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth

 

FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur. -- Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.

            These beauteous forms,

Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration: -- feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened: -- that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on, --
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

            If this

Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft --
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart --
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all. -- I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, nor any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. -- That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur, other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear, -- both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

            Nor perchance,

If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance --
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence -- wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love -- oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!