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沃尔特•惠特曼#我自己的歌#章节二十

(2013-03-25 15:52:31)
标签:

杂谈

分类: 美国文学

Whitman--collar, ribbon, watch chain, melancholy gaze-- photographed by F. Pearsall between 1868 and 1872.


章节二十

谁在那里走动?如饥如渴,粗野,神秘,赤身裸体;
为什么我会从我吃的牛肉中摄取力量?

人究竟是什么东西?我是什么?你是什么?

一切我标明是我自己的,你就该用你自己的把它抵消,
不然听信了我就是浪费时间。

我不会像有些人那样到处抽鼻子,
认为岁月空虚,地上只有污泥和粪垢。

啜泣与献媚和药粉包在一起是给病人吃的,恪守陈规适用于极远的远亲,
我戴不戴着帽子出进,全凭我自己情愿。

我为什么要祈祷?我为什么要虔诚又恭敬?

探索了各个层次,分析到最后一根毛发,向医生们请教,计算得分毫不差,
我发现只有贴在我自己筋骨上的脂肪才最为香甜。

在一切人身上我看到自己,不多也不差分毫,
我所讲到的我自己的好坏,也是指他们说的。

我知道我结实而健康,
宇宙间从四处汇集拢来的事物,在不断朝着我流过来,
一切都是写给我看的,我必须理解其含义。

我知道我是不死的,
我知道我所遵循的轨道不是木匠的圆规所能包含的,
我知道我不会像一个孩子在夜间点燃的一支火棍所画出花体字那样转瞬消失。

我知道我是庄严的,
我不去耗费精神为自己申辩,或求得人们的理解,
我懂得基规律是不需要申辩的,
(我估计我的行为实在不比盖我那所房子时所用的水平仪更加高傲。)

我就照我自己这样存在已足矣,
如果世界上没有别人意识到此,我没有异议,
如果人人都意识到了,我也没有异议。

有一个世界是意识到了的,而且对我说来也最博大,那就是我自己,
不论我是否今天就能得到应得的报酬,还是要再等万年或千万年,
我现在就可以愉快地接受一切,也可以同样愉快地继续等候。

我的立足点是和花岗石接榫的,
我嗤笑你所谓的消亡,
我懂得时间有多宽广。


 

Section 20

Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude;
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?
What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
Else it were time lost listening to me.
I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.
Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, con- formity goes to the fourth-remov'd,
I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.
Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious?
Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.
I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
I know I am august,
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.)
I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.
One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is my- self,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.
My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.

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