试译雪莱长诗《勃朗峰》

 

 

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雪莱：《勃朗峰》

 

 

一

 

宇宙万物之永恒，

流过我的脑海，犹如惊涛骇浪，

时暗时明，不断闪烁发光，

显现出灿烂，却来自于同一神秘源泉。

人类思想之源，本是如水至善。

随着声响，回归其原。

犹如传奇小河之长流，

婉转于林中，又独穿在山峰之间。

似瀑布飞流不停，

如风围林地，大河冲石，

           磅礴不止，奔腾翻滚向前。     

 

 

二

 

然而，阿沃尔深谷啊，你黑暗又深邃，

但你多姿多彩，却又喧闹万分。

 

在那松林和巉崖上面，穿梭于洞穴之间，

虽有日照云影，瞬间却成险境。

大力神像阿沃尔河的力量，

来自冰封围绕的神秘冠冕，

沸腾在幽深的大山上，势如火焰，

亦如雷电交加的暴风雨。

 

你宽大的河身，可让松柏躺卧缠绵。

恒古老人的孩子们啊，在他们祈祷时，

骤风也从未间断，

他们闻其气息，痛饮这巨大的风力，

然后聆听那古老而又肃穆的颂诗和声。

 

你如一轮彩虹跨越在地面上，

让这唯美的瀑布，

用薄纱裹起未经雕塑的形象。

当荒漠变得无声，你奇妙的沉睡，

把一切都带进了深深的永恒。

 

你的洞穴因为阿沃尔河的奔腾而回响。

时而孤寂，时而响亮，但没有任何声音可以使之驯服。

你存在于这周而复始的运动中，

你就是这永不消失的声音频道。

 

令人晕眩的深谷啊，当我举首仰望你，

我恍惚，却又如升华到一处陌生的高地，

冥思在我自己的幻想里，

自我啊，自我的思想，此刻，

正神速地接纳和对应

来自四周毫无休止的回响。

 

当宇宙间的万物依然存在，

一对邪思恶念的游移翅膀，

漂流在你的黑暗之上，然后歇息，

在你那里，从未有过不速之客。

沉静的山洞，只有诗歌之神才会路过，

寻觅魔鬼的魅影，

那万物之魔，竟然映有你的影子。

有些隐晦，有些眩目，

是你用心胸将逃离的他们如数召回，你却巍然屹立在此。

 

 

三

 

有人说，一束微光是远世对沉睡灵魂的走访，

死亡即坠入睡眠，

于是，思想的形体得以活跃，

远超乎活生生的清醒之躯。

我向高处仰望，祈问是否有一位万能上苍，

撩开了生与死的面纱？

我是否躺卧于梦幻，

让大地将睡梦延伸，轮回成无垠之圆？

因为有一黯然神伤，

驱使漂泊的云朵沉浸后又再沉浸，

直至消逝在那无形无影的大风里。

 

在悠远的高处，刺向无际的穹苍，

勃朗峰显现于雪装素裹里，休止于静谧之中。

她让神秘的群山环抱，但只筑冰与石的堆砌。

宽河间的溪谷，在不可探试的深度里冰封，

蓝色成了天堂悬空的倒影，

由风铺开，积累于沉睡之间。

 

风暴使人迹灭绝，只有山鹰捡回猎者的尸骨。

豺狼在此出没，多么可怕，

所有的倾泻，粗犷，赤裸，和高不可攀，

还有恐怖，惊慌，以及撕裂，正是这里的景色。

 

哪里是地震老魔教诲年轻废墟之鬼的地方？

难道这一切都只是他们的掌中玩物？

大海是否已用烈火缄默了这静寂的白雪，

让世人永远无法解答这份秘密？

 

旷野仿佛自有神秘巨舌，

教人多疑寡信，却是装扮得如此温和，

如此庄严，如此静谧，也许人也本来就该如此，

只为了信念能与自然合为一体。

 

巍峨的大山啊，你要发出声音，

你的大声，能粉碎欺骗和悲痛的法典，

惜天下人并非都能懂得，惟有伟大的智者仁人，

才能深悟，也深深扎入心底。

 

  

四

 

田野，湖泊，森林，还有溪水，

海洋，以及世上所有

变化无常的有生之物，

雷电，风雨，地震和洪水飓风，

麻木了年代。当微弱的梦幻来袭，

隐藏的萌芽，或者没有梦幻的睡眠，

才衬托着未来的鲜花和绿叶，

在令人厌烦的恍惚中跳跃。

 

人生经历的产物，生生死死，

一切的他和他的一切，

凡有生息的就有劳苦，

就有生死，更替，和胀缩。

 

力量与静谧分居，

既遥远，又恬美，却无一出处

大地赤裸的愁容啊，正是我的所见，

那些原始的山峦，

训育着专注的思想。冰山像蛇一样爬行，

从远方之泉窥视着它的猎物。

绵延缓行，时而又降下，

让冰冻和太阳诅咒这生死之权。

 

层层叠叠的，是拱顶，金字塔和尖峰，

一座死亡之城，在群塔中鹤立，

城墙筑自闪亮的冰川，

但，这不是一座城市，这是一座被淹没的废墟。

 

在天边，奔流着不停的溪水，

是否有松树散落于它的流经之路？

然而，在那翻乱的土地上，

又盘根错节地长出？

 

如果乱石来自最远的荒原，

把生死的界限打破，

昆虫，鸟类和野兽住过的地方，

就成了它们自己的葬身之地，

它们的食物，歇息处也趋消失，

生命和欢乐随之而去。

 

人类啊，逃之夭夭，他们的事业和居所，

消逝殆尽，就像是在暴风雨中的烟雾，

永远也不为人知。但在山洞里，

闪出一道不停息的光亮，

从那神秘的泉底而来，

与小溪相遇，直奔荣美的大河。

大地的气息和血脉这才有了生命，

一直奔流到喧嚣的海潮里，

蒸发在回旋的空气中。

 

五

 

勃朗峰在高处闪亮，力量亦然，

沉静和肃穆的全能大力啊，

喧闹万分，却充满生死。

 

那些静寂的黑暗和无月之夜，

那些孤光闪亮的白昼，但当冰雪降临，

自山上而下，却无人敢见，

无论是当雪花在残阳里燃烧，

还是当星光斑斓。

 

风取悦于那里的寂静，层叠的冰雪，

以此得着坚固。静静地，

它们是无声之雷的静谧居所。

天真无邪，宛如雾气笼罩白雪，

神秘万事之力，

统领着思想，直到进入永恒的殿堂，

天道宏大，容你荫庇。

 

然而，这就是你，大地，星座和海洋，

如果这只是人类的想像，

难道静谧和孤寂已经虚空？

 

 明明译于纽约2013年12月31日完稿

附录 

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY (1792-1822)

MONT BLANC: LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI

I

The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters--with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.

II

Thus thou, Ravine of Arve--dark, deep Ravine--
Thou many-colour'd, many-voiced vale,
Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail
Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene,
Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down
From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne,
Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame
Of lightning through the tempest;--thou dost lie,
Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging,
Children of elder time, in whose devotion
The chainless winds still come and ever came
To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging
To hear--an old and solemn harmony;
Thine earthly rainbows stretch'd across the sweep
Of the aethereal waterfall, whose veil
Robes some unsculptur'd image; the strange sleep
Which when the voices of the desert fail
Wraps all in its own deep eternity;
Thy caverns echoing to the Arve's commotion,
A loud, lone sound no other sound can tame;
Thou art pervaded with that ceaseless motion,
Thou art the path of that unresting sound--
Dizzy Ravine! and when I gaze on thee
I seem as in a trance sublime and strange
To muse on my own separate fantasy,
My own, my human mind, which passively
Now renders and receives fast influencings,
Holding an unremitting interchange
With the clear universe of things around;
One legion of wild thoughts, whose wandering wings
Now float above thy darkness, and now rest
Where that or thou art no unbidden guest,
In the still cave of the witch Poesy,
Seeking among the shadows that pass by
Ghosts of all things that are, some shade of thee,
Some phantom, some faint image; till the breast
From which they fled recalls them, thou art there!

III

Some say that gleams of a remoter world
Visit the soul in sleep, that death is slumber,
And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber
Of those who wake and live.--I look on high;
Has some unknown omnipotence unfurl'd
The veil of life and death? or do I lie
In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep
Spread far around and inaccessibly
Its circles? For the very spirit fails,
Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep
That vanishes among the viewless gales!
    Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky,
Mont Blanc appears--still, snowy, and serene;
Its subject mountains their unearthly forms
Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between
Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps,
Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread
And wind among the accumulated steeps;
A desert peopled by the storms alone,
Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone,
And the wolf tracks her there--how hideously
Its shapes are heap'd around! rude, bare, and high,
Ghastly, and scarr'd, and riven.--Is this the scene
Where the old Earthquake-daemon taught her young
Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea
Of fire envelop once this silent snow?
None can reply--all seems eternal now.
The wilderness has a mysterious tongue
Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild,
So solemn, so serene, that man may be,
But for such faith, with Nature reconcil'd;
Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal
Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood
By all, but which the wise, and great, and good
Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.


IV

The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams,
Ocean, and all the living things that dwell
Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain,
Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane,
The torpor of the year when feeble dreams
Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep
Holds every future leaf and flower; the bound
With which from that detested trance they leap;
The works and ways of man, their death and birth,
And that of him and all that his may be;
All things that move and breathe with toil and sound
Are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell.
Power dwells apart in its tranquillity,
Remote, serene, and inaccessible:
And this , the naked countenance of earth,
On which I gaze, even these primeval mountains
Teach the adverting mind. The glaciers creep
Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains,
Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice
Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power
Have pil'd: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle,
A city of death, distinct with many a tower
And wall impregnable of beaming ice.
Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin
Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky
Rolls its perpetual stream; vast pines are strewing
Its destin'd path, or in the mangled soil
Branchless and shatter'd stand; the rocks, drawn down
From yon remotest waste, have overthrown
The limits of the dead and living world,
Never to be reclaim'd. The dwelling-place
Of insects, beasts, and birds, becomes its spoil;
Their food and their retreat for ever gone,
So much of life and joy is lost. The race
Of man flies far in dread; his work and dwelling
Vanish, like smoke before the tempest's stream,
And their place is not known. Below, vast caves
Shine in the rushing torrents' restless gleam,
Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling
Meet in the vale, and one majestic River,
The breath and blood of distant lands, for ever
Rolls its loud waters to the ocean-waves,
Breathes its swift vapours to the circling air.



V

Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:--the power is there,
The still and solemn power of many sights,
And many sounds, and much of life and death.
In the calm darkness of the moonless nights,
In the lone glare of day, the snows descend
Upon that Mountain; none beholds them there,
Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun,
Or the star-beams dart through them. Winds contend
Silently there, and heap the snow with breath
Rapid and strong, but silently! Its home
The voiceless lightning in these solitudes
Keeps innocently, and like vapour broods
Over the snow. The secret Strength of things
Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome
Of Heaven is as a law, inhabits thee!
And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,
If to the human mind's imaginings
Silence and solitude were vacancy?(1817)