|
|
查尔斯.史密克诗选
查尔斯•史密克 (Charles Simic, 1938- )，二十世纪美国著名诗人，生于南斯拉夫，1949年移居美国，曾经在纽约大学学习，1959年开始发表诗作，六十年代末以来先后出版了诗集《草说什么》 (1967)、《一块石头在我们中间的某处做笔记》(1969)、《白》(1970)、《给沉默揭幕》(1971)、《回到被一杯牛奶照亮的地方》 (1974)、《古典舞厅舞曲》(1980)、《给乌托邦和近处的天气预报》(1983)、《不尽的布鲁斯》(1986)、《世界并不结束：散文诗》 (1990)、《失眠旅馆》(1992)、《地狱中的婚礼》(1994)、《溜黑猫》(1996)、《抽杆游戏》(1999)、《早期诗选》（1999）、《凌晨3点的嗓音：近期新诗》（2003）等多卷；另外翻译大量南斯拉夫、法国、俄国等国诗人的作品多卷；论文集有《孤儿工厂》 (1998)；编过《1992年美国最佳诗选》，与马克•斯特兰合编过《另一个共和国：17位欧洲及南美作家》(1976)。他曾先后获得过包括普利策诗歌奖和华尔特•惠特曼诗歌奖在内的多种美国重要诗歌奖，并于2000年被选为美国诗人学院顾问。他现为美国新罕布什尔大学教授。史密克通过万物有灵论及神灵论来观察现实，以加大其诗作的超现实主义效果，这使他的诗常常从客观到主观、又从主观返回到客观世界，语势平稳、从容，平静的表面下深藏着可感知的、然而又闪忽不定的意义，因此有不少评论家把他的诗作认为是“深度意象诗”中较为成功的典范。
英文诗歌来源：http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/27
初始
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
圣十字若望，戴着浓黑的墨镜
一如从前，他在街上走过我一般
阿维拉的圣女大德兰，背对着我
她是那么美丽，庄严
“老友，”他们嘘道。“该是时候了”
在那规定了的大街角落
我。不过一个盲儿
一个翻转玩具儿
一个死亡里的杂洒红球
那个角落，有人在兜售行李箱的玩儿
这个城市就如同一个大影院
灯影迷暗
节目已经上场
许多模糊的脸孔，闪现于复杂的情节
最大的隐秘却一直困扰着我，我到底是谁……..
救世主和维尔京啊
眼睛在空旷的教堂无尽地空阔
那里刺杀者跑来藏身
新的一场雪飘落在人行道上，残映了足迹
那大概是一些光脚丫弄成的
许多未知的忏悔者。指引着我
可事实上，我并不知。自己将走向那儿
我的脚僵了
肚子呱呱地叫
四个年轻的伙计。封锁了我的道路
一个发狂，三个沉默
他们抢走了我黑色的雨衣
一直以来，我不停的思考着神圣的爱
这深深的折磨了我
人们误我是他人啊
我听到了有人在喊着我所不知道名字
“我正寻找别人来买我的灵魂”
酒鬼跟着我，悄声地说
并且从头到脚地打量着我
我已然到了别人给我的地址
建筑楼的窗子上布了个大大的X型
我敲门但没人开门
不久。一个黑人女孩也加入了我的行列
她猛击着门。直到手伤了为止
她的名字叫阿拉木图。那时一个吉祥的征兆
她以一种古老的闪族女王的口吻告知我
她知道有一些人揭开了生活之迷
我们谈了好长时间
寒冷倾袭，我们使劲跺着冷湿了的双脚
我解释说，我们有必要保持冷静
尽管是在大地惊颤之时
而且要继续注视自我
如同我们是个全然陌生的人
就像。过去在芝加哥，
我曾凝视过一个男人在剃须镜里的情景
他抓着我赤裸的双肩和脸
但他的眼却在恐吓着我
两眼硬盯着，啊！无所不知的眼睛！
我们别后。夜晚，寒冷，以及无尽的夜
带来的是一种忘我
我跑啊，就像被追赶着。尽力的使自己保持温暖
有一条东方的河。那是哈得孙河
水光波动如同圣殿里圣灯的油
至上的事物呈现了
却无一丝半语
天空上到处是奔流的云，高的城宇
到处在无声地旋转。旋转——
在整个城市，你可以听到一个引脚在下落
相信我
我想我是听到了引脚的下落。我要去寻找它
by Charles Simic
St. John of the Cross wore dark glasses
As he passed me on the street.
St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful and grave,
Turned her back on me.
"Soulmate," they hissed. "It's high time."
I was a blind child, a wind-up toy . . .
I was one of death's juggling red balls
On a certain street corner
Where they peddle things out of suitcases.
The city like a huge cinema
With lights dimmed
The performance already started.
So many blurred faces in a complicated plot.
The great secret which kept eluding me: knowing who I am . . .
The Redeemer and the Virgin,
Their eyes wide open in the empty church
Where the killer came to hide himself . . .
The new snow on the sidewalk bore footprints
That could have been made by bare feet.
Some unknown penitent guiding me.
In truth, I didn't know where I was going.
My feet were frozen,
My stomach growled.
Four young hoods blocking my way.
Three deadpan, one smiling crazily.
I let them have my black raincoat.
Thinking constantly of the Divine Love
and the Absolute had disfigured me.
People mistook me for someone else.
I heard voices after me calling out unknown names.
"I'm searching for someone to sell my soul to,"
The drunk who followed me whispered,
While appraising me from head to foot.
At the address I had been given.
The building had large X's over its windows.
I knocked but no one came to open.
By and by a black girl joined me on the steps.
She banged at the door till her fist hurt.
Her name was Alma, a propitious sign.
She knew someone who solved life's riddles
In a voice of an ancient Sumerian queen.
We had a long talk about that
While shivering and stamping our wet feet.
It was necessary to stay calm, I explained,
Even with the earth trembling,
And to continue to watch oneself
As if one were a complete stranger.
Once in Chicago, for instance,
I caught sight of a man in a shaving mirror
Who had my naked shoulders and face,
But whose eyes terrified me!
Two hard staring, all-knowing eyes!
After we parted, the night, the cold, and the endless walking
Brought on a kind of ecstasy.
I went as if pursued, trying to warm myself.
There was the East River; there was the Hudson.
Their waters shone like oil in sanctuary lamps.
Something supreme was occurring
For which there will never be any words.
The sky was full of racing clouds and tall buildings,
Whirling and whirling silently.
In that whole city you could hear a pin drop.
Believe me.
I thought I heard a pin drop and I went looking for it.
一些事
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
这儿，闯入了我夜晚的思绪
他们拄着拐杖
在学习归来的天空。他们所思索的
一模一样
都在滞留于那浩淼和不可理解
我的父母心有灵犀地对笑着
猫睡着了。狗
也在梦里犬吠
炉子很冷，因而我躺到床上
现在，仅有这些拐杖
去争论
当我艰难地举起一个拐杖
摇转于前廊
它们就在前面奔跑，发笑
并指点着灰暗远处的
一些什么
你什么也没看，恩？
我也一样，送奶先生
你最好让我用这旧的拐杖
敲你头部一两下
这样你就不必去嘀咕
我看到了一些事！
The Something
by Charles Simic
Here come my night thoughts
On crutches,
Returning from studying the heavens.
What they thought about
Stayed the same,
Stayed immense and incomprehensible.
My mother and father smile at each other
Knowingly above the mantel.
The cat sleeps on, the dog
Growls in his sleep.
The stove is cold and so is the bed.
Now there are only these crutches
To contend with.
Go ahead and laugh, while I raise one
With difficulty,
Swaying on the front porch,
While pointing at something
In the gray distance.
You see nothing, eh?
Neither do I, Mr. Milkman.
I better hit you once or twice over the head
With this fine old prop,
So you don't go off muttering
I saw something!
秘史
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
在我屋里
光影摇曳
早晨阴沉了
夏天迷醉了
蜘蛛网满墙
灯亮得很晚
鞋子搁在床边
我是你谦卑的文书
沾尘的球，无暇的心
搁在一角
她遗失的耳环
尚待拾回
飘雪的沉默
夜晚消逝，一切无痕
只有回来
我是你谦卑的文书
Secret History
by Charles Simic
Of the light in my room:
Its mood swings,
Dark-morning glooms,
Summer ecstasies.
Spider on the wall,
Lamp burning late,
Shoes left by the bed,
I'm your humble scribe.
Dust balls, simple souls
Conferring in the corner
The pearl earring she lost,
Still to be found.
Silence of falling snow,
Night vanishing without trace,
Only to return.
I'm your humble scribe.
品读你的命运
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
一个世界。消亡
小巷很细
你也很窄
一切。笼罩了太多的阴影
你。仅有一只狗
一个单一小孩
你。隐藏了
自己最大的镜子
以及赤裸的爱人
空闯的卡车上
一些人
运走她们
如旧。他们赤裸地
卧于沙发
车行于暗黑的平原
堪萨斯城，内布拉斯加
许多未知的暴风雨
正在酝酿。那儿
一个女人
撑开了一把红伞
卡车后面跑着
一个男孩
和狗
如同一只公鸡后面
紧随的
自己那
剁碎了的头颅
Read Your Fate
by Charles Simic
A world's disappearing.
Little street,
You were too narrow,
Too much in the shade already.
You had only one dog,
One lone child.
You hid your biggest mirror,
Your undressed lovers
Someone carted them off
In an open truck.
They were still naked, travelling
On their sofa
Over a darkening plain,
Some unknown Kansas or Nebraska
With a storm brewing.
The woman opening a red umbrella
In the truck. The boy
And the dog running after them,
As if after a rooster
With its head chopped off
黎明的鸽子
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
非凡的努力。让我们
隐藏起自己的一些东西
朋友。一些人
为了寻觅灵魂
熬夜到凌晨。另一些人
却在灰暗的屋子
脱着彼此的衣服
吱吱响的电梯
带着我们
下降到地下室
一把拖耙，一个水桶
展现于我们眼帘
电梯。在屈尊重上之前
发着恼怒的叹息
巨大的，黎明前的
天底下。城市
无声。躺在我们面前
一切在搁置：
那些屋顶
那些水塔
以及白雾里的云雪瑕疵
我们对自己说
一定要忍耐
假如是现在，那些鸽子轻声低语
假如有一只飞到她的窗前
她会喂给它们蛋糕
几乎一切看不见
除了她那纤细的手
Pigeons at Dawn
By Charles Simic
Extraordinary efforts are being made
To hide things from us, my friend
Some stay up into the wee hours
To search their souls
Others undress each other in darkened rooms.
The creaky old elevator
Took us down to the icy cellar first
To show us a mop and a bucket
Before it deigned to ascend again
With a sigh of exasperation
Under the vast, early-dawn sky
The city lay silent before us.
Everything on hold:
Rooftops and water towers,
Clouds and wisps of white smoke
We must be patient, we told ourselves,
See if the pigeons will coo now
For the one who comes to her window
To feed them angel cake,
All but invisible, but for her slender arm
我的鞋子
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
鞋子，我生活中隐秘的脸：
两瓣裂开着无齿的嘴
两片不曾烂透的动物皮
正散发着鼠窝味儿
我的姐弟一出生就夭折了
而在你那，他们的存在仍在延续
并指引着我的生活
使我走向他们还未历经的纯真
我读书到底有什么用啊
我什么时候才在你那，可能读到
我生活中的福音书
它呵，仍在远处！它呵，将会到来吗？
我已为你设计了完美的谦卑
我要宣告信仰
宣告我正在铸造的
以你为圣坛的教堂
苦修着的姐弟。你在忍受：
亲人像牲畜，圣徒以及罪人一般存活
你以自己无声的忍耐
形成我唯一而逼真的象影
My Shoes
by Charles Simic
Shoes, secret face of my inner life:：
Two gaping toothless mouths,
Two partly decomposed animal skins
Smelling of mice-nests.
My brother and sister who died at birth
Continuing their existence in you,
Guiding my life
Toward their incomprehensible innocence.
What use are books to me
When in you it is possible to read
The Gospel of my life on earth
And still beyond, of things to come?
I want to proclaim the religion
I have devised for your perfect humility
And the strange church I am building
With you as the altar.
Ascetic and maternal, you endure:
Kin to oxen, to Saints, to condemned men,
With your mute patience, forming
The only true likeness of myself.
晚秋
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
邮政卡车，携着一个伙计
消沉于海岸
在长长的波堤尽头
可恶的海鸥，间儿提脚
间而又忘了放下
天空中，有一个威胁
在悲剧里凝结
昨夜，你认为你在房子里
听到邻壁的电视
你确信，节目在报道一些
新的悲惨
所以你出了门，去寻找
光着脚，穿得很少
那只不过是
一些人，即将奔忙于一些地方
却又无法到达的
疲倦的海涛声
这个早晨，似乎是周日
天空将自己的一些彩云
沿着空明的木板路。或者
荒芜的小屋。投下
顺着她们，一个小小的教堂
一些灰色的墓碑，紧在一起
有如她们也拥有一片碎月
Late September
by Charles Simic
The mail truck goes down the coast
Carrying a single letter.
At the end of a long pier
The bored seagull lifts a leg now and then
And forgets to put it down.
There is a menace in the air
Of tragedies in the making.
Last night you thought you heard television
In the house next door.
You were sure it was some new
Horror they were reporting,
So you went out to find out.
Barefoot, wearing just shorts.
It was only the sea sounding weary
After so many lifetimes
Of pretending to be rushing off somewhere
And never getting anywhere.
This morning, it felt like Sunday.
The heavens did their part
By casting no shadow along the boardwalk
Or the row of vacant cottages,
Among them a small church
With a dozen gray tombstones huddled close
As if they, too, had the shive
在图书馆
给奥克塔维欧
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
有一本书
名叫《天使词典》
五十年来，未曾翻过
我明白。因为我翻时
书壳吱吱作响
书页也已破裂
过去，天使作为飞翔物种
多如星斗
过去，他们
布满了整个昏暗的天幕
过去，你必须挥舞双臂
仅仅只是为了躯赶他们
现在，阳光灿烂
照进那些高的窗
这儿是个宁静之地
挤满了神和天使
昏暗而紧闭的扉页
最大的秘密深藏
其中的一些书架
琼斯小姐每天整理时
总会经过其中
她是高个儿，所以
就得一直弯着头。像是要聆听
书儿总在悄声诉说
我什么也听不着。可她听见
In the Library
by Charles Simic
for Octavio
There's a book called
"A Dictionary of Angels."
No one has opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered
The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.
Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds
She's very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.
针扎了眼
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
很多死亡的事儿，
没人能想象在如此漫长的
一天里。他都做了一些什么
小媳妇
总是孤独地
熨烫着死亡的衣物
美丽的女儿
凝定于死亡的晚桌
邻里们都在院子里
打牌,或者
只是坐在上梯上
喝着啤酒。同时
死亡,在小镇
一个奇异的角落里
物事某个咳嗽的人
然而,却不知何故,地址总是错误
甚至死亡也不能指出
所有锁了门的地址……..
雨开始下
长的风夜来临
死亡,甚至没有和一张报纸一样
去覆盖他的头.甚至没有
一毛硬币,叫走那贫血病
他, 缓慢地,昏昏地脱起衣儿
并把裸体
伸到死亡的床缘
Eyes Fastened With Pins
by Charles Simic
How much death works,
No one knows what a long
Day he puts in. The little
Wife always alone
Ironing death's laundry.
The beautiful daughters
Setting death's supper table
The neighbors playing
Pinochle in the backyard
Or just sitting on the steps
Drinking beer. Death,
Meanwhile, in a strange,
Part of town looking for
Someone with a bad cough,
But the address somehow wrong
Even death can't figure it out
Among all the locked doors...
And the rain beginning to fall.
Long windy night ahead.
Death with not even a newspaper
To cover his head, not even
A dime to call the one pining away,
Undressing slowly, sleepily,
And stretching naked
On death's side of the bed.
乡下的市集
查尔斯.史密克 陈青山译
如果，你没见过一条六只脚的狗
没关系
我们见过，它多半躺在那个角落
关于它那两只多出来的脚
谁都会迅速习惯它们
并会联想起其他事儿
如同它在一个冰冷，暗淡的夜晚
跑出了乡下的市集
尔后主人丢出一根小木棍
那条狗就过去追逐
用它的四只腿，而另两条腿却摇摆于后
这使得一个姑娘兴奋地尖叫
她醉了酒。那个男人也一样
他一直吮着她的脖子
那条狗刁着木棒，回视着我们
哎呀，你瞧！这出秀
Country Fair
by Charles Simic
If you didn't see the six-legged dog,
It doesn't matter.
We did, and he mostly lay in the corner.
As for the extra legs,
One got used to them quickly
And thought of other things.
Like, what a cold, dark night
To be out at the fair.
Then the keeper threw a stick
And the dog went after it
On four legs, the other two flapping behind,
Which made one girl shriek with laughter.
She was drunk and so was the man
Who kept kissing her neck.
The dog got the stick and looked back at us
And that was the whole show.
附2009年第一季度汉诗榜上榜作品发布
诗歌作品部分
巫昂《搬家》外一首（8票）
东岳：《十字绣》（7票）
李勋阳《恐怖片》外二首（7票）
魔头贝贝《在平常里》外三首（7票）
宋晓贤:《……骗子》（6首）
唐果《我们去》（6票）
鬼鬼《债主2》外一首（6首）
西毒何殇《写给老友张彦文》外二首（6票）
姚风《历史课》（5首）
得儿喝《火葬场边的小杨树》（5票）
艾蒿《风很大》外一首（5票）
梅花驿《孤独的火车》外二首（5票）
文论部分
1.任意好 《“流氓先锋”的“胜利大逃亡” ——“中国二十一世纪诗歌新高峰”之“沈浩波传说”》（7票）
2.侯马&唐欣《<北京组诗>：口语诗新传——唐欣访谈录》（5票）
3.巫昂《诗为我的存在带来锋芒》（3票）
译作部分
1《被遗忘的巴黎旅馆》 作者：吉尔伯特 译者：柳向阳 （6票）
2《阅读习惯的研究》作者：菲利浦•拉金 译者：巫昂（5票）
3《查尔斯.史密克诗选》作者：查尔斯.史密克 译者：陈青山 （3票）
附本期推荐人名单——
伊沙 李霞 徐江 沈浩波 君儿 朱剑 吴元成 张玉明 东窗 大头*?野牛
（君儿因病没有参加投票工作，沈浩波暂退本期投票工作）
本期值班人：朱剑 |
|
/1 
|Archiver|手机版|小黑屋|诗歌报
( 沪ICP备05009012号-2 ) 
沪公网安备31011702001156号
IP卡
狗仔卡
发表于 2009-6-15 19:50
提升卡
置顶卡
沉默卡
喧嚣卡
变色卡
显身卡
发表于 2009-6-16 15:58
楼主
