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Robert Frost
佛洛斯特

Robert Frost (1874-1963) was born in San Francisco. He was one of America's leading 20th-century poets and a four-time winner of the Pulitzer Prize. An essentially pastoral poet often associated with rural New England, Frost wrote poems with philosophical dimensions transcend any region.

佛洛斯特(1874-1963) 生于旧金山,是美国最受爱戴广被阅读的诗人之一。基本上他是个田园诗人,多写同新英格兰州乡间有关的事物,但他诗中的哲思却不受地域的限制。



译者
Translator


夏菁
Hsia Ching

夏菁,是盛志澄的笔名,1925年生于浙江嘉兴.美国科罗拉多州立大学硕士,曾任联合国专家及科罗拉多教授等职。夏菁是台湾 “蓝星诗社” 创始人之一。自1954年 出版第一本诗集起,已有九种,包括近年出版的《雪岭》(2003)和《夏菁短诗选》(2004)等。

Hsia Ching, the pen name of Ted (Tse) C. Sheng, was born in Zhejiang, China in 1925. He received his M.S. degree from the Colorado State University (1966) and has worked with the United Nations and taught at the Colorado State University. Hsia Ching was one of the founders of the Blue Stars Poetry Society in Taiwan in early Fifties. Since his first collection of poems published in 1954, he has produced a total of nine volumes of poems including the recent two: A Snow-capped Peak (2003) and Selected Poems of Hsia Ching (2004).

Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter

冬夕望鸟归

The west was getting out of gold, The breath of air had died of cold, When shoeing home across the white, I thought I saw a bird alright. In summer when I passed the place I had to stop and lift my face; A bird with an angelic gift Was singing in it sweet and swift. No bird was singing in it now. A single leaf was on a bough, And that was all there was to see In going twice around the tree. From my advantage on a hill I judged that such a crystal chill Was only adding frost to snow As gilt to gold that wouldn’t show. A brush had left a crooked stroke Of what was either cloud or smoke From north to south across the blue; A piercing little star was through.

 

西天的金色已渐渐暗隐, 大气也在严寒中僵凝, 当我踏上归途、横跨雪地, 我想我见到一只小鸟栖息。 夏季每当我徒步过此 我习于止步、仰首凝视; 一只小鸟具有天使的声音 正在枝头作甜脆的啭鸣。 现在没有小鸟在树端歌唱。 仅有枯叶一枚残留枝上, 所能目睹的也只此一点 当我绕树两匝别无所见。 我借着小山俯览之际 审度这般透明的寒气 不过像雪上加了层霜 了无痕迹、好比镀金于金上。 一抹画笔现剩下弯曲一线 像是晚霞又好似暮烟 从北而南横展在蓝天之上; 一颗刺透的寒星已熠熠发光。

In Hardwood Grovese

阔叶林中

The same leaves over and over again! They fall from giving shade above, To make one texture of faded brown And fit the earth like a leather glove. Before the leaves can mount again To fill the trees with another shade, They must go down past things coming up. They must go down into the dark decayed. They must be pierced by flowers and put Beneath the feet of dancing flowers. However it is in some other world I know that this is the way in ours.

 

同样的枯叶愈积愈多! 都落自项上的绿阴, 给地面涂上一层枯黄 像皮手套那样配称。 在新叶能够繁生以前 为树木长成另一个华盖 这些枯叶必定要遭到轮回。 必定落入了黑沉沉的朽败。 它们一定会被花芽顶穿 并置身于她欢乐的足畔。 虽然这是在另一个世界 我知道我们的也是一般。

A Peck of Gold

黄金的灰尘

Dust always blowing about the town, Except when sea-fog laid it down, And I was one of the children told Some of the blowing dust was gold. All the dust the wind blew high Appeared like gold in the sunset sky, But I was one of the children told Some of the dust was really gold. Such was life in the Golden Gate: Gold dusted all we drank and ate, And I was one of the children told, 'We all must eat our peck of gold.'

 

尘埃常在城市的四周飞扬, 除非有海雾将它压降, 我是孩童中听说过的一人 有些飞扬的尘埃原是黄金。 所有的尘土被风儿高高吹起 一望如金、在落日的天际, 但我是孩童中听说过的一人 有些尘土是实实在在的黄金。 像我们曾置身黄金的国门:* 吃喝全离不了黄金的灰尘, 我曾是孩童中听说过的一人, '一生必定要饱尝黄金的灰尘。' * Golden Gate 原是指金门桥及其海弯一带,诗人曾住过旧金山多年。 这是一个双关语;因旧金山曾是淘金之地,又是美國西岸的入口。

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