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沃尔特·惠特曼#我自己的歌#章节十三

(2013-02-04 14:35:32)
标签:

体育

分类: 美国文学

Whitman between 1866 and 1869 (photo W. Kurtz): "the sombrero picture--the nice adjustment between light and shade..."

章节十三

黑人紧紧握住了四匹马的缰索,拴在链上的木块在下面摇晃,
赶着石厂里那辆大车的黑人,又稳又高大,一腿牢牢地踏在横木板上,
他的蓝衬衫露着他那粗壮的脖子和胸脯,又在腰际松开,
他的目光宁静而威严,一手推开了低垂在前额的帽子,
阳光落在他卷曲的头发和胡子上,落在他光滑健美的四肢的黑色皮肤上。

我看见了这个煞是好看的巨人,爱上了他,而且不只如此,
我还和车马同路而行。

不管在哪里行动,是后退还是向前转身,我热爱着生活,
对偏僻的角落和小青年我都愿低头,不错过一人一物,
我让自己吸收着一切,也为了写这首诗。

摆动得轭和链嘎嘎响,或在树荫下停步的牛群,你们眼睛里表达的是什么呢?
似乎比我平生所读的书还要丰富。

在我去远处的整天的漫步中,我的脚步惊动了一群野鸭,
它们同时起飞,缓慢地在空中盘旋。

我相信这些有明确目标的翅膀,
承认在我胸中游戏着的红色、黄色、白色,
认为绿色、紫色和羽毛冠都各有深意,
也不会因为龟只是龟而说它毫无价值,
林中的松鸦从来没有学过音律,但是我认为它的鸣啭声还是相当好听,
那栗色母马投来的一瞥羞得我从愚昧中惊觉过来。

 

 

The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain,
The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and tall he stands pois'd on one leg on the string-piece,
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over his hip-band,
His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead,
The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the black of his polish'd and perfect limbs.
I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there,
I go with the team also.
In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing,
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,
Absorbing all to myself and for this song.
Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble,
They rise together, they slowly circle around.
I believe in those wing'd purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional,
And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else,
And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me,
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

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