读诗之四十一  弗罗斯特 

牧 场 

我去清理牧场那边的水泉， 
我停下来只为扒去那枯叶， 
我或许会等着泉水又变清： 
我不会去的太久——你也来吧。 

我这就去把那牛犊牵来， 
它站在妈妈身边小得很， 
它走路还不稳，妈妈舔着它： 
我不会去太久——你也来吧。 

The Pasture 

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; 
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away 
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may): 
I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too. 

I'm going out to fetch the little calf 
That's standing by the mother. It's so young, 
It totters when she licks it with her tongue. 
I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too. 
花 丛 

有一次，在清晨的露珠中 
我去翻晒一个人刚割下的草。 
当我看到平整的草茬时， 
那使镰刀锋利的露珠已消散。 
我曾绕到小树林后去找他； 
听见了微风中磨刀的沙沙声。 
但他已经离开，草割完了， 
而我自然和他一样——孤单。 
“反正都一样，”我心想， 
“不管一起干还是分开。” 
正在这时，一只迷惘的蝴蝶 
扇着无声的翅膀迅疾地掠过， 
像怀着隔夜的朦胧记忆寻找那 
使它昨日栖息的欢乐之花。 
起初，我见它总在一处打转， 
原来草地间有几片枯萎的花。 
然后它飞到我目力所及的远处， 
忽又颤颤悠悠飞了回来。 
我想着一些毫无根底的问题， 
正打算俯身去翻地上的草； 
但它先绕到我面前，并把我的目光 
引向小溪边一丛高高的花。 
那是镰刀唯一放过的，在 
被割得干净的芦苇丛生的小溪边。 
晨露中割草的人这么爱它， 
让它继续繁茂，却似乎既不为谁， 
也不是想让谁去注意他， 
而是这清晨小溪边纯粹的欢娱。 
我和那只蝴蝶在晨光中逗留， 
而来自清晨的某种启示， 
让我听到周围有醒来的鸟儿啼叫， 
和他的镰刀对大地的低语， 
更感觉到某种精神上的同一； 
我想我今后干活再也不会孤单； 
和他在一起，仿佛他是我的帮手， 
中午困乏时，就和他在树下休息； 
就像在梦中，兄弟般交谈 
而我原本并不想和他知根知底。 
“反正是一起干，”我心想， 
“不管真在一起还是分开。” 

The Tuft of Flowers 

I went to turn the grass once after one 
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun. 
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen 
Before I came to view the leveled scene. 
I looked for him behind an isle of trees; 
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze. 
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, 
And I must be, as he had been -- alone, 
“As all must be,” I said within my heart, 
“Whether they work together or apart.” 
But as I said it, swift there passed me by 
On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly, 
Seeking with memories grown dim o'er night 
Some resting flower of yesterday's delight. 
And once I marked his flight go round and round, 
As where some flower lay withering on the ground. 
And then he flew as far as eye could see, 
And then on tremulous wing came back to me. 
I thought of questions that have no reply, 
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry; 
But he turned first, and led my eye to look 
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, 
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared 
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared. 
The mower in the dew had loved them thus, 
By leaving them to flourish, not for us, 
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him. 
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim. 
The butterfly and I had lit upon, 
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn, 
That made me hear the wakening birds around, 
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, 
And feel a spirit kindred to my own; 
So that henceforth I worked no more alone; 
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid, 
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade; 
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech 
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach. 
“Men work together,”I told him from the heart, 
“Whether they work together or apart.” 

补墙 

有一点什么，它大概是不喜欢墙， 
它使得墙脚下的冻地涨得隆起， 
大白天的把墙头石块弄得纷纷落： 
使得墙裂了缝，二人并肩都走得过。 
士绅们行猎时又是另一番糟蹋： 
他们要掀开每块石头上的石头， 
我总是跟在他们后面去修补， 
但是他们要把兔子从隐处赶出来， 
讨好那群汪汪叫的狗。我说的墙缝 
是怎么生的，谁也没看见，谁也没听见 
但是到了春季补墙时，就看见在那里。 
我通知了住在山那边的邻居； 
有一天我们约会好，巡视地界一番， 
在我们两家之间再把墙重新砌起。  
我们走的时候，中间隔着一垛培。 
落在各边的石头，由各自去料理。 
有些是长块的，有些几乎圆得像球． 
需要一点魔术才能把它们放稳当： 
“老实呆在那里，等我们转过身再落下！” 
我们搬弄石头．把手指都磨粗了。 
啊！这不过又是一种户外游戏， 
一个人站在一边。此外没有多少用处： 
在墙那地方，我们根本不需要墙： 
他那边全是松树，我这边是苹果园。 
我的苹果树永远也不会踱过去 
吃掉他松树下的松球，我对他说。 
他只是说：“好篱笆造出好邻家。” 
春天在我心里作祟，我在悬想 
能不能把一个念头注入他的脑里： 
“为什么好篱笆造出好邻家？是否指着 
有牛的人家？可是我们此地又没有牛。 
我在造墙之前．先要弄个清楚， 
圈进来的是什么，圈出去的是什么， 
并且我可能开罪的是些什么人家， 
有一点什么，它不喜欢墙， 
它要推倒它。”我可以对他说这是“鬼”。 
但严格说也不是鬼．我想这事还是 
由他自己决定吧。我看见他在那里 
搬一块石头，两手紧抓着石头的上端， 
像一个旧石器时代的武装的野蛮人。 
我觉得他是在黑暗中摸索， 
这黑暗不仅是来自深林与树荫。 
他不肯探究他父亲传给他的格言 
他想到这句格言，便如此的喜欢， 
于是再说一遍，“好篱笆造出好邻家”。 
（梁实秋译）

 

Mending Wall 

Something there is that doesn't love a wall, 
That sends the frozen ground-swell under it, 
And spills the upper bowlders in the sun; 
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. 
The work of hunters is another thing: 
I have come after them and made repair 
Where they have left not one stone on a stone, 
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, 
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, 
No one has seen them made or heard them made, 
But at spring mending-time we find them there. 
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; 
And on a day we meet to walk the line 
And set the wall between us once again. 
We keep the wall between us as we go. 
To each the bowlders that have fallen to each. 
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls 
We have to use spell to make them balance: 
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!” 
We wear our fingers rough with handling them. 
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game, 
One on a side. It comes to little more: 
There where it is we do not need the wall: 
He is all pine and I am apple-orchard. 
My apple trees will never get across 
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. 
He only say, “Good fences make good neighbors.” 
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder 
If I could put a motion in his head: 
“Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it 
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. 
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know 
What I was walling in or walling out, 
And to whom I was like to give offense. 
Something there is that doesn't love a wall, 
That wants it down!” I could say “elves” to him, 
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather 
He said it for himself. I see him there, 
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top 
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. 
He moves in darkness, as it seems to me, 
Not of woods only and the shade of trees. 
He will not go behind his father's saying. 
And he likes having thought of it so well 
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.” 

不深也不远 

人们走上沙滩 
转身朝着一个方向。 
他们背对着陆地 
整日凝望海洋。 

当一只船从远处过来 
船身便不断升高； 
潮湿的沙滩像明镜 
映出一只静立的鸟。 

也许陆地变化更多； 
但无论真相在哪边—— 
海水涌上岸来， 
人们凝望着海洋。 

他们望不太深。 
他们望不太远。 
但有什么能够遮挡 
他们凝望的目光？ 

Neither Out Far Nor In Deep 

The people along the sand 
All turn and look one way. 
They turn their back on the land. 
They look at the sea all day. 

As long as it takes to pass 
A ship keeps raising its hull; 
The wetter ground like glass 
Reflects a standing gull 

The land may vary more; 
But wherever the truth may be-- 
The water comes ashore, 
And the people look at the sea. 

They cannot look out far. 
They cannot look in deep. 
But when was that ever a bar 
To any watch they keep? 

雪夜林边停歇 

这是谁家的林子我清楚。 
他就住在那边的村里头； 
他不会知道我停在这儿 
望着他的树林积满白雪。 

我的小马准抱着个疑团： 
干吗停在树林和冰库间？ 
附近既看不到一户人家 
又是一年中最黑的夜晚。 

他摇了摇脖子上的铃铛 
好像在问出了什么差错。 
除此之外，只听见微风 
吹拂着毛绒绒的雪花响。 

树林真好看，又黑又幽深， 
但我说话要算数， 
睡觉前还有多少路要赶， 
睡觉前还要赶多少路。 

Stopping by Woods on a snowy Evening 

Whose woods these are I think I know. 
His house is in the village, though; 
He will not see me stopping here 
To watch his woods fill up with snow. 

My little horse must think it queer 
To stop without a farmhouse near 
Between the woods and frozen lake 
The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake 
To ask if there is some mistake. 
The only other sound's the sweep 
Of easy wind and downy flake. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, 
But I have promise to keep, 
And miles to go before I sleep, 
And miles to go before I sleep. 

□ 未选择的路 

金黄的树林里分出两条路， 
可惜我不能都去走。 
我这个过客，久久的站在那儿， 
向着一条极目望去 
不知道它在丛林中伸向何处； 

而我选择了另一条，或许这样才公平， 
说不定还有更好的理由： 
因为它长满青草，召唤我去踩踏； 
尽管就这一点来说，两条路 
好像没什么不同。而且， 

那天清晨，两条路都铺满了 
落叶，未经脚印污染。 
哦，就把第一条留待来日吧！ 
但一想到条条道路相连接， 
恐怕我难以再回来。 

也许多年以后在某个地方 
我会轻声叹息着说起这件事： 
树林中分出两条路，而我—— 
而我选择了人迹少的那一条， 
这，就造成了天大的不同。 

The Road Not Taken 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 
And sorry I could not travel both 
And be one traveler,long I stood 
And looked down one as far as I could 
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other,as just as fair, 
And having perhaps the better claim, 
Because it was grassy and wanted wear 
Though as for that the passing there 
Had worn them really about the same, 

And both that morning equally lay 
In leaves no step had trodden black. 
Oh,Ikept the first for another day! 
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, 
Idoubted if I should ever come back. 

Ishall be telling this with a sgih 
Somewhere ages and ages hence: 
Two roads diverged in a wood,and I-- 
Itook the one less traveled by, 
And that has made all the difference. 

白桦树 

挺直、黑黑的树排列成行，只见 
白桦树却弯下身子，向左，也向右， 
我总以为有个孩子把白样“荡”弯了 
可是“荡”一下不会叫它们一躬到底 
再也起不来。这可是冰干的事。 
下过一场冬雨，第二天，太阳出来， 
你准会看到白桦上结满了冰。 
一阵风吹起，树枝就咯喇喇响， 
闪射出五彩缤纷，原来这一颤动， 
冰块坼裂成瓷瓶上的无数细纹。 
阳光的温暖接着使那水晶的硬壳 
从树枝上崩落，一齐倾泻在雪地上—— 
这么一大堆碎玻璃尽够你打扫， 
你还以为是天顶的华盖塌了下来。 
压不起那么些重量的树枝，硬是给 
按下去，直到贴近那贴地的枯草， 
但并没折断；虽然压得这么低、这么久 
那枝条再也抬不起头来。几年后 
你会在森林里看到那些白桦树 
弯曲着树身，树叶在地面上拖扫， 
好像趴在地上的女孩子把一头长发 
兜过头去．好让太阳把头发晒干。 
方才我说到了哪里？是那雨后的冰柱 
岔开了我的话头——我原是想说： 
我宁可以为是个放牛的农家孩子 
来回走过的时候把白话弄弯了。 
这孩子．离城太远，没人教棒球， 
他只能自个儿想出玩意儿来玩， 
自个儿跟自个儿玩，不管夏天冬天， 
他一株一株地征服他父亲的树， 
一次又一次地把它们骑在胯下， 
直到把树的倔强劲儿完全制服： 
一株又一株都垂头丧气地低下来—— 
直到他再没有用武之地。他学会了 
所有的花招：不立刻腾身跳出去， 
免得一下子把树干扳到了地面。 
他始终稳住身子，不摇不晃地， 
直到那高高的顶枝上一一小心翼翼地 
往上爬，那全神贯注的样儿．就像 
把一杯水倒满，满到了杯口， 
甚至满过了边缘。然后．纵身一跳， 
他两脚先伸出去，在空中乱踢乱舞， 
于是飕的一声，降落到地面。 
当年，我自己也是“荡桦树”的能手， 
现在还梦想着再去荡一回桦树， 
那是每逢我厌倦于操心世事， 
而人生太像一片没有小径的森林， 
在里面摸索，一头撞在蛛网上， 
只感到验上又热辣、又痒痒； 
忽然，一根嫩枝迎面打来， 
那一只给打中了的眼睛疼得直掉泪。 
我真想暂时离开人世一会儿， 
然后再回来，重新干它一番。可是， 
别来个命运之神，故意曲解我， 
只成全我愿望的一半，把我卷了走， 
一去不返。你要爱，就扔不开人世。 
我想不出还有哪儿是更好的去处。 
我真想去爬白桦树，沿着雪白的树干 
爬上乌黑的树枝，爬向那天心， 
直到树身再支撑不住，树梢碰着地， 
把我放下来。去去又回来，那该有多好 
比“荡桦树”更没有意思的事．可有的是。 
（方平译）

 

Birches 

When I see birches bend to left and right 
Across the lines of straighter darker trees, 
I like to think some boy's been swinging them. 
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. 
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them 
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning 
After a rain. They click upon themselves 
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured 
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. 
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells 
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust 
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away 
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. 
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, 
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed 
So low for long, they never right themselves: 
You may see their trunks arching in the woods 
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground, 
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair 
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. 
But I was going to say when Truth broke in 
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm, 
I should prefer to have some boy bend them 
As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- 
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, 
Whose only play was what he found himself, 
Summer or winter, and could play alone. 
One by one he subdued his father's trees 
By riding them down over and over again 
Until he took the stiffness out of them, 
And not one but hung limp, not one was left 
For him to conquer. He learned all there was 
To learn about not launching out too soon 
And so not carrying the tree away 
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise 
To the top branches, climbing carefully 
With the same pains you use to fill a cup 
Up to the brim, and even above the brim. 
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, 
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. 
So was I once myself a swinger of birches. 
And so I dream of going back to be. 
It's when I'm weary of considerations, 
And life is too much like a pathless wood 
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs 
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping 
From a twig's having lashed across it open. 
I'd like to get away from earth awhile 
And then come back to it and begin over. 
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me 
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away 
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: 
I don't know where it's likely to go better. 
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~ 
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk 
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, 
But dipped its top and set me down again. 
That would be good both going and coming back. 
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. 

火与冰 

有人说世界将毁于火， 
有人说毁于冰。 
依据我个人的体验 
我赞同火和倾向火的人。 
但若注定要毁两次， 
那么我有更深的体会 
要说破坏 
冰的威力同样大 
说毁于冰的说了算。 
火与冰 

有人说世界将毁灭于火， 
有人说毁灭于冰。 
根据我对于欲望的体验， 
我同意毁灭于火的观点。 
但如果它必须毁灭两次． 
则我想我对于恨有足够的认识 
可以说在破坏一方面，冰 
也同样伟大， 
且能够胜任。 
（余光中译） 
Fire and Ice 

Some say the world will end in fire, 
Some say in ice. 
From what I've tasted of desire 
I hold with those who favour fire. 
But if it had to perish twice, 
I think I know enough of hate 
To say that for destruction ice 
Is also great 
And would suffice. 

雨蛙溪 

我们的溪水在六月没有歌声与速度。 
那个时候之后如果你大量寻找，就会发现 
它要么在地下摸索着流动 
（在一个月前呼喊着的 
全部雨蛙品种与溪水在一起， 
如同雪橇铃灵魂在积雪灵魂之中）—— 
要么活跃地出现于凤仙花中， 
那妖弱的植物弯下了腰 
向着逆着水流的路线。 
溪流的河床仿佛一张褪色的纸 
由因高温而粘在一起的枯叶构成—— 
一条溪水只为长久记住它的人。 
这溪水看上去要比其他被 
带到别处的歌声的溪水更为遥远。 
我们爱着那东西是因为其本身。 

读诗

弗罗斯特是个大课题，放这里慢慢欣赏。放个一般性的评价。原文为弗罗斯特诗选的序言，这里是节录的部分内容：

弗罗斯特（Robert Frost）（1874－1963）以朴素、深邃著称。弗罗斯特一直通过具体的实物、情景写诗，斯蒂文斯说，你爱写实物，弗罗斯特反唇相讥，你爱写古董。作为以自然方式关注现实的大诗人，他对世界的态度既不像华兹华斯那样充满柔情，也不像斯蒂文斯那样粗壮、强硬，而是显得矛盾、折中，和他的精神导师爱默生一样带有超验主义。他向维吉尔学写田园牧歌，向哈代、叶芝等人学习平淡而富有暗示的语言，但用意更精深，作品常常通过时空反差的形式，也就是具体情境中的变化、对比，从而形成一个个坚固封闭却又极其开放的诗歌文本，简洁地表达出存在的真相，化腐朽为神奇。他徘徊在自然和人类、自我和事物、现实和理想之间，像被上帝驱逐的天使一样平静而又苦恼地审视着尘世生活。弗罗斯特幼年丧父，中年丧妻，老年丧子，他的坎坷人生常使他在作品中流露阴暗和悲观，但他更多是想用诗歌这种崇高的艺术形式排遣存在的焦虑和慌乱。他明智而不极端，曾在一首诗中将世界比作自己的情人，于是喋喋不休的吵闹就成为他摇曳的情思和毕生的哲学追求。