里尔克《杜伊诺哀歌》第一首第一节的18种英文翻译 DIE ERSTE ELEGIE
WER, wenn ich schriee, hörte mich denn aus der Engel
Ordnungen? und gesetzt selbst, es nähme
einer mich plötzlich ans Herz: ich verginge von seinem
stärkeren Dasein. Denn das Schöne ist nichts
als des Schrecklichen Anfang, den wir noch grade ertragen,
und wir bewundern es so, weil es gelassen verschmäht,
uns zu zerstören. Ein jeder Engel ist schrecklich.
如果我哭喊，各级天使中间有谁
听得见我？即使其中一位突然把我
拥向心头；我也会由于他的
更强健的存在而丧忘。因为美无非是
我们恰巧能够忍受的恐怖之开端，
我们之所以惊羡它，则因为它宁静得不屑于
摧毁我们。每一个天使都是可怕的。（绿原 译）
Leishman/Spenser (1939):
Who, if I cried, would hear me among the angelic orders?
And even if one of them suddenly pressed me against his heart, I should fade in the strength of stronger existence.
For Beauty’s nothing but beginning of Terror we’re still just able to bear, and why we adore it so is because it serenely distains to destroy us.
Each single angel is terrible.
Behn (1957):
Who, if I cried out, would heed me amid the host of the Angels?
Still, should an Angel exalt and fold me into his heart I should vanish, lost in his greater being.
For beauty is only a seed of dread to be endured yet adored since it distains to destroy us.
An Angel alone, is misted in dread…
MacIntyre (1961):
Who, if I shouted, among the hierarchy of angles would hear me?
And supposing one of them took me suddenly to his heart, I would perish before his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror we can just barely endure, and we admire it so because it calmly distains to destroy us.
Every angle is terrible.
Garmey/Wilson (1972):
Who, if I cried, would hear me from the order of Angels?
And even if one suddenly held me to his heart: I would dissolve there from his stronger presence.
For Beauty is only the beginning of a terror we can just barely endure, and what we so admire is its calm distaining to destroy us.
Every Angel brings terror.
Boney (1975):
Who of the angelic hosts would hear me, even if I cried out?
Yet granted, one of them suddenly embraced me, I would only perish from his stronger being.
For Beauty is nothing but the beginning of awesomeness which we can barely endure and we marvel at it so because it calmly distains to destroy us.
Each and every angel is awesome.
Paulin (1977):
And if I cried, who’d listen to me in those angelic orders?
Even if one of them suddenly held me to his heart, I’d vanish in his overwhelming presence.
Because beauty’s nothing but the start of terror we can hardly bear, and we adore it because of the serene scorn it could kill us with.
Every angel’s terrifying.
Young (1978):
If I cried out
who would hear me up there
among the angelic orders?
And suppose one suddenly
took me to his heart
I would shrivel
I couldn’t survive
next to his
greater existence.
Beauty is only the first touch of terror we can still bear and it awes us so much because it so coolly distains to destroy us.
Every single angle is terrible!
Miranda (1981):
What angel, if I cried out, would hear me?
And even if one of them impulsively embraced me, I’d be crushed by its strength.
For Beauty is just the beginning of a terror we can barely stand: we admire it because it calmly refuses to crush us.
Every angel terrifies.
Mitchell (1982):
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels’ hierarchies?
And even if one of them pressed me suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed in that overwhelming existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely distains to annihilate us.
Every angel is terrifying.
Flemming (1985):
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels’ hierarchies?
And even if one of them suddenly pressed me against his heart, I would perish in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror which we are barely able to endure and are awed because it serenely distains to annihilate us.
Each single angle is terrifying.
Hunter (1987):
Who, though I cry aloud, would hear me in the angel order?
And should my plea ascend, were I gathered to the glory of some incandescent heart, my own faint flame of being would fail for the glare.
For beauty is only the infant of scarcely endurable Terror, and we are amazed when it casually spares us.
Every Angel is terrible.
Cohn (1989):
Who, if I cried out, might hear me ---- among the ranked Angels?
Even if One suddenly clasped me to his heart
I would die of the force of his being.
Beauty is as close to terror as we can well endure. Angles would not condescend to damn our meager souls. That is why they awe and why they terrify us so.
Every angle is terrible!
Hammer/Jaeger (1991):
If I did cry out, who would hear me through the Angel Orders?
And suppose one of them suddenly pulled me to his heart: I’d dissolve beside his stronger existence.
But beauty’s nothing but the start of that terror we can just manage to bear, and we’re fascinated by it because it serenely scorns to destroy us.
Every angel is terrifying.
Oswald (1992):
Who. If I cried out, would hear me then, out of the orders of angles?
And even supposing one suddenly took me close to the heart, I would perish from that stronger existence.
For what strikes us as beauty is nothing but all we can bear of terror’s beginning, and we admire it so, because it calmly disdains to destroy us.
Every angle strikes terror.
Gass (1998):
Who, if I cried, would hear me among the Dominions of Angels?
And even if one of them suddenly held me against his heart, I would fade in the grip of that completer existence.
For Beauty is nothing but the approach of a Terror we’re only just able to bear, and we worship it so because it serenely distains to destroy us.
Every Angel is awesome.
Harris:
Who, if I cried, heard me from the angels Orders?
and set, it would take one me suddenly to the heart: I would pass from its stronger existence.
Because the beautiful is not anything as terrible start, which we still degrees bear, and we admire it in such a way, because it defames calmly, to destroy us.
Each angel is terrible.
Paulin/Hutchinson (1996):
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the ranks of the angels?
And even if one of them suddenly clasped me to his heart, I should die of his stronger being.
Fro beauty is nothing but the very beginning of terror we’re only just able to bear, and its wonder for us is that it casually spares us instead of destroying us.
Each one of the angels is terrible.
Kline (2001):
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the Angelic Orders?
And even if one were to suddenly take me to its heart, I would vanish into its stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, that we are still able to bear, and we revere it so, because it calmly disdains to destroy us.
Every Angel is terror. |