弗罗斯特  短诗七首

 

                            李晖  译 

 

 

    现在，关了窗吧

 

    现在，关上窗户，让田野安静；

    如果必须，让那些树轻轻晃动；

    现在没有鸟儿在唱歌，要是有，

    那是我没听到。

 

泥泞重来之前还有一阵子，

第一声鸟叫之前还有一阵子；

那么，关了窗吧，不要去听风，

看风搅动一切。

 

蓝蝴蝶的春日

 

这是蓝蝴蝶纷飞的春日，

它们一阵阵翻飞，时而落下

看到它们翅膀上纯粹的蓝色，胜于

白天花朵的艳丽，可是它们太忙了。

 

这些会飞的花儿，几乎就要唱歌了：

而现在，它们安然享受完情欲

静静地在风中叠合，附着，

在那里，车轮刚切过四月的泥泞。

 

虔诚

 

想不出还有什么信仰

胜于岸对海的虔诚——

执守一种弯曲的姿势，

默数永无止息的涛声。

 

忽视

 

我们被扔在路上只好自己走，

他们认定我们俩是错的。

有时，我们在路边阴凉处坐下来，

一脸的顽皮，无辜，吊儿郎当——

看我们会不会觉得被遗弃！

 

抗议

 

雨对风说，

“你要再推我我就泼你；”

他们在花坛上打成一团，

于是花下跪了，以示抗议

——尽管还没死。

我能体会花的感受。

 

花园里的萤火虫

 

天上的星星出来了，布满顶上的夜空，

地上的星星出来了，化身快乐的飞虫，

尽管，它们从不像星星那么大，

（且从来没有人真当它们是星星）

却时常带给人星光般的开始。

只不过，当然，它们不能够长久地持续。

 

 

汉尼拔

 

是否有不为人知的理由，

或者早已被遗忘的原因，

或因为岁月蹉跎的悔恨，

那年轻的泪水和慷慨的歌声？

 

［注］：

汉尼拔：汉尼拔·巴卡（Hannibal Barca）(公元前247年~前183年或前182年)，北非古国迦太基著名军事家。公元前204年，罗马人入侵迦太基领土，202年汉尼拔被罗马人击败，战后在罗马人的施压下流亡到东方，公元前183年受逼迫服毒自尽。

 

李晖  译 

 

Now close the windows

Now close the windows and hush all the fields;
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.

It will be long ere the marshes resume,
It will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.

 

Blue-Butterfly Day

 

It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.

But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.

 

Devotion

The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean--
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.

 

In Neglect

 

They leave us so to the way we took,
As two in whom them were proved mistaken,
That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,
With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look,
And try if we cannot feel forsaken.

 

Lodged

 

The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

 

Fireflies in The Garden

 

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

 

 

Hannibal①

 

Was there even a cause too lost,
Ever a cause that was lost too long,
Or that showed with the lapse of time to vain
For the generous tears of youth and song?

 

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