求英语好的进!!!帮忙看看这首诗!!
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个人的赫利孔
——给迈克·朗利
小时候,人们无法阻止我去看水井。
还有带有吊桶和辘轳的老水泵。
我爱那幽深的坠落、被困的天空,
水藻、菌菇和湿苔藓的气味。
一口井在砖厂,盖着朽烂的木板。
我体会当桶拴在绳子的一端
骤然落下时激起的丰沛的响声
那么深,你看不到井中倒影。
一口浅井在干涸的石渠下
丰产得好像一个养鱼塘。
当你把长长的根拽出柔软的泥层,
一张苍白的脸在井底漂荡。
还有的井有回声,用纯净新鲜的乐音
回应你的叫喊。还有口井令人害怕
从那儿的蕨类和高高的毛地黄间
窜出一只老鼠扑踏过我的倒影。
而今,去窥探根须,用手指搅弄泥土,
像大眼睛的纳西瑟斯,凝视某个泉源
有损成年人的体面。我便写诗
为了照见自己,为了使黑暗发出回声。
注:赫利孔是希腊神话中缪斯女神居住的地方,那里有一口灵感之井,是灵感之源泉。灵感是诗人们最深的迷信。迈克·朗利是希尼的朋友,也是个爱尔兰的诗人。纳西瑟斯是希腊神话中因自恋凝视自己倒影而化作水仙的美少年,是诗人们极其常用的形象,在心理学中也常被提及。潘光旦先生译霭理士《性心理学》将其名译作“奈煞西施”。
Personal Helicon
For Michael Longley
As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed fungus and dank moss.
One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.
A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch,
A white face hovered over the bottom.
Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.
Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
——给迈克·朗利
小时候,人们无法阻止我去看水井。
还有带有吊桶和辘轳的老水泵。
我爱那幽深的坠落、被困的天空,
水藻、菌菇和湿苔藓的气味。
一口井在砖厂,盖着朽烂的木板。
我体会当桶拴在绳子的一端
骤然落下时激起的丰沛的响声
那么深,你看不到井中倒影。
一口浅井在干涸的石渠下
丰产得好像一个养鱼塘。
当你把长长的根拽出柔软的泥层,
一张苍白的脸在井底漂荡。
还有的井有回声,用纯净新鲜的乐音
回应你的叫喊。还有口井令人害怕
从那儿的蕨类和高高的毛地黄间
窜出一只老鼠扑踏过我的倒影。
而今,去窥探根须,用手指搅弄泥土,
像大眼睛的纳西瑟斯,凝视某个泉源
有损成年人的体面。我便写诗
为了照见自己,为了使黑暗发出回声。
注:赫利孔是希腊神话中缪斯女神居住的地方,那里有一口灵感之井,是灵感之源泉。灵感是诗人们最深的迷信。迈克·朗利是希尼的朋友,也是个爱尔兰的诗人。纳西瑟斯是希腊神话中因自恋凝视自己倒影而化作水仙的美少年,是诗人们极其常用的形象,在心理学中也常被提及。潘光旦先生译霭理士《性心理学》将其名译作“奈煞西施”。
Personal Helicon
For Michael Longley
As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed fungus and dank moss.
One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.
A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch,
A white face hovered over the bottom.
Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.
Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
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