再班门弄斧一下，试译一下博尔赫斯两首英文诗的第一首 Fanreninus2022-03-18 15:42:47
那毫无意义的黎明到来时
我还在那被遗弃的街角，
我又活过了一夜。
夜似咆哮的海浪：
那深蓝色的浪尖上
尽是大浪冲物的种种色调，
和似不可能却令人向往的样样东西。
夜有顽习
它时而送来神秘的礼物，
不是搞莫名其妙的馈赠与拒绝，
就是送些半给半留的东西，
或带来那半球上夜色笼罩下的欢乐。
我告诉你，夜就是如此。
那浪，那夜，
带给我的依旧是些边材角料：
烦人的聊友
催梦的夜曲，
熏鼻的烟灰。
一些对我这颗贪婪之心的无用之物。
大浪带来了你。
话语，各种话语，
你的笑声；
和你那懒洋洋却又美得醉人的小样。
我们聊上了，可你把我们聊的都已忘得精光。
破晓之时，
我还在我们那城市里的一条被遗弃的街道上。
你那消失的侧影，出名的声音和轻快的笑声
已成了你留给我的珍玩。
清晨，我把它们翻出来，先丢了，又找到；
我只将它们告诉了几条流浪的狗，
和几颗天亮时还不愿回家的星星。
你过着黑暗又殷实的生活……
我不会放过你：我放好了你留下的珍玩，
我想要你那不为人知的小样,
那真正的微笑
——只有镜子才知道的那孤独却又玩世不恭的微笑。
Two English Poems
I
The useless dawn finds me in a deserted street-
corner; I have outlived the night.
Nights are proud waves; darkblue topheavy waves
laden with all the hues of deep spoil, laden with
things unlikely and desirable.
Nights have a habit of mysterious gifts and refusals,
of things half given away, half withheld,
of joys with a dark hemisphere. Nights act
that way, I tell you.
The surge, that night, left me the customary shreds
and odd ends: some hated friends to chat
with, music for dreams, and the smoking of
bitter ashes. The things my hungry heart
has no use for.
The big wave brought you.
Words, any words, your laughter; and you so lazily
and incessantly beautiful. We talked and you
have forgotten the words.
The shattering dawn finds me in a deserted street
of my city.
Your profile turned away, the sounds that go to
make your name, the lilt of your laughter:
these are the illustrious toys you have left me.
I turn them over in the dawn, I lose them, I find
them; I tell them to the few stray dogs and
to the few stray stars of the dawn.
Your dark rich life ...
I must get at you, somehow; I put away those
illustrious toys you have left me, I want your
hidden look, your real smile -- that lonely,
mocking smile your cool mirror knows.
