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洛夫
Lo Fu

洛夫,1928年生,淡江大学英文系毕业,1973年曾任教东吳大学外文系。1954年与张默、痖弦共同创办《创世纪》诗刊,并任总编辑多年。洛夫写诗、译诗、教诗、编诗历四十年,出版诗集《时间之伤》等三十八部,散文集《一朵午荷》等七部,评论集《诗人之镜》等五部,译著《雨果传》等八部。他的名作《石室之死亡》广受诗坛重视。其诗多次获奖。洛夫早年为超现实主义诗人,表现手法近乎魔幻,被诗坛誉为“诗魔”。

Born 1928, Lo Fu graduated from the English department of Tamkang University, and had been professor of English at Soochow University (Also called Tungwu University) in Taiwan. Together with Chang Mo, and Ya-Xian, he founded the Epoch Poetry Quarterly, and served aschief editor in 1954. The publication has created lasting impact on the development of modern poetry in Taiwan. He writes, edits, translates, and teaches poetry for over forty years, and has been a very productive writer. His thirty eight poetry publication includes Wounds of Time, etc., and he has published seven prose collations, and five essay collections, and eight translated works, including Biography of Hugo. Lou Fu has won many literary awards. He was a surrealistic poet in his early years, and his presentation has an aura of magic, thus earning him the nickname of “magic poet”.



译者
Translator


李作昌
T. C. Lee

李作昌,1936 年生于江西南昌市。1957年毕业于台大电机系,1964年于斯坦佛大学电机系获博士学位。之后在美国高科技工业界从事研发工作长达三十八年。退休以后,重拾年轻时对诗的喜爱,开始写作发表。

T. C. Lee was born in Nanchang, Kiangsi, China 1936. He graduated with B. S. degree from National Taiwan University and from Stanford University with Ph. D in 1964, both in Electrical Engineering. Then he worked in R&D with the high tech industry in US for thirty eight years. After retirement he devoted his long hobby and love in poetry and starting writing poems for several magazines.

暮色

Twilight

黄昏将尽,院子里的脚步更轻了 灯下,一只空了的酒瓶迎风而歌 我便怱怱从这里走过 走向一盆将熄的炉火 窗子外面是山,是烟雨,是四月 更远处是无人 一株青松奋力举着天空 我便听到年轮急转的声音 这是禁园,雾在冉冉升起 当脸色融入暮色 你就开始哭泣吧 落叶正为果实举行葬礼

 

With dusk almost gone, lighter are the steps in the yard. The hollow wine carafe under the lamp Is singing a duet with the wind. I hastily walk towards the basin burner, its flame fading. Beyond the window are mountains, misty rain, And April. Further out is No one. One pine strives to hold up the sky, While reverberating in my ears The sound of the reeling tree rings. Here is a forbidden garden, mist rising gently. As your cheek color merges with the twilight. Begin to weep The falling leaves, holding services for fruit.

烟之外

Beyond the Smoke

在涛声中唤你的名字而你的名字 已在千帆之外 潮来潮去 左边的鞋印才下午 右边的鞋印已黄昏了 六月原是一本很感伤的书 结局如此之凄美 ——落日西沉 我依然凝视 你眼中展示的一片纯白 我跪向你向昨日向那朵美了整个下午的云 海哟,为何在众灯之中 独点亮那一盏茫然 还能抓住什么呢? 你那曾被称为雪的眸子 现有人叫作 烟

 

Calling you across the thundering waves, but your name Is beyond the farthest sails The tide comes and goes The left shoe imprints the afternoon Before the right shoe marks the dusk June is a sad book The ending woeful yet beautiful —the sun setting in the west I am still gazing at The pure white displayed in your eyes I kneel toward you Toward yesterday Toward that cloud so beautiful all afternoon Dear sea, why do you illuminate, Among all lamps, that soulfully misty one What can it obtain? Your pupils once called snow Some now call Smoke

窗下

Beneath the Window

当暮色装饰着雨后的窗子 我便从这裡探测出远山的深度。 在窗玻璃上呵一口气 再用手指画一条长长的小路 以及小路尽头的 一个背影 有人从雨中而去

 

When twilight adorns a window after-the-rain I probe herewith the depths of the distant mountains. I breathe a cloud against the window pane, and draw with my finger a long, long, slender road and at its end a shadow. Someone has left with the rain.

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