艾略特《荒原》

荒原 “是的，我自己亲眼看见古米的西比尔吊在一个笼子里。孩子们在问她：西比尔，你要什么的时候，她回 答说，我要死。” （献给埃兹拉·庞德 最卓越的匠人） 一、死者葬礼 四月是最残忍的一个月，荒地上 长着丁香，把回忆和欲望 参合在一起，又让春雨 催促那些迟钝的根芽。 冬天使我们温暖，大地 给助人遗忘的雪覆盖着，又叫 枯干的球根提供少许生命。 夏天来得出人意外，在下阵雨的时候 来到了斯丹卜基西；我们在柱廊下躲避， 等太阳出来又进了霍夫加登， 喝咖啡，闲谈了一个小时。 我不是俄国人，我是立陶宛来的，是地道的德国人。 而且我们小时候住在大公那里 我兄家，他带着我出去滑雪橇， 我很害怕。他说，玛丽， 玛丽，牢牢揪住。我们就往下冲。 在山上，那里你觉得自由。 大半个晚上我看书，冬天我到南方。 什么树根在抓紧，什么树根在从 这堆乱石块里长出？人子啊， 你说不出，也猜不到，因为你只知道 一堆破烂的偶像，承受着太阳的鞭打 枯死的树没有遮荫。蟋蟀的声音也不使人放心， 焦石间没有流水的声音。只有 这块红石下有影子， （请走进这块红石下的影子） 我要指点你一件事，它既不像 你早起的影子，在你后面迈步； 也不像傍晚的，站起身来迎着你； 我要给你看恐惧在一把尘土里。 风吹得很轻快， 吹送我回家去， 爱尔兰的小孩， 你在哪里逗留？ “一年前你先给我的是风信子； 他们叫我做风信子的女郎”， ——可是等我们回来，晚了，从风信子的园里来， 你的臂膊抱满，你的头发湿漉，我说不出 话，眼睛看不见，我既不是 活的，也未曾死，我什么都不知道， 望着光亮的中心看时，是一片寂静。 荒凉而空虚是那大海。 马丹梭梭屈里士，著名的女相士， 患了重感冒，可仍然是 欧罗巴知名的最有智慧的女人， 带着一副恶毒的纸牌，这里，她说， 是你的一张，那淹死了的腓尼基水手， （这些珍珠就是他的眼睛，看！） 这是贝洛多纳，岩石的女主人 一个善于应变的女人。 这人带着三根杖，这是“转轮”， 这是那独眼商人，这张牌上面 一无所有，是他背在背上的一种东西。 是不准我看见的。我没有找到 “那被绞死的人”。怕水里的死亡。 我看见成群的人，在绕着圈子走。 谢谢你。你看见亲爱的爱奎尔太太的时候 就说我自己把天宫图给她带去， 这年头人得小心啊。 并无实体的城， 在冬日破晓的黄雾下， 一群人鱼贯地流过伦敦桥，人数是那么多， 我没想到死亡毁坏了这许多人。 叹息，短促而稀少，吐了出来， 人人的眼睛都盯住在自己的脚前。 流上山，流下威廉王大街， 直到圣马利吴尔诺斯教堂，那里报时的钟声 敲着最后的第九下，阴沉的一声。 在那里我看见一个熟人，拦住他叫道：“斯代真！” 你从前在迈里的船上是和我在一起的！ 去年你种在你花园里的尸首， 它发芽了吗？今年会开花吗？ 还是忽来严霜捣坏了它的花床？ 叫这狗熊星走远吧，它是人们的朋友， 不然它会用它的爪子再把它挖掘出来！ 你！虚伪的读者！——我的同类——我的兄弟！ 二、对弈 她所坐的椅子，像发亮的宝座 在大理石上放光，有一面镜子， 座上满刻着结足了果子的藤， 还有个黄金的小爱神探出头来 （另外一个把眼睛藏在翅膀背后） 使七枝光烛台的火焰加高一倍， 桌子上还有反射的光彩 缎盒里倾注出的炫目辉煌， 是她珠宝的闪光也升起来迎着； 在开着口的象牙和彩色玻璃制的 小瓶里，暗藏着她那些奇异的合成香料——膏状，粉状或液体的——使感觉 局促不安，迷惘，被淹没在香味里；受到 窗外新鲜空气的微微吹动，这些香气 在上升时，使点燃了很久的烛焰变得肥满， 又把烟缕掷上镶板的房顶， 使天花板的图案也模糊不清。 大片海水浸过的木料洒上铜粉 青青黄黄地亮着，四周镶着的五彩石上， 又雕刻着的海豚在愁惨的光中游泳。 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:34 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2 荒原 那古旧的壁炉架上展现着一幅 犹如开窗所见的田野景物， 那是翡绿眉拉变了形，遭到了野蛮国王的 强暴：但是在那里那头夜莺 她那不容玷辱的声音充满了整个沙漠， 她还在叫唤着，世界也还在追逐着， “唧唧”唱给脏耳朵听。 其它那些时间的枯树根 在墙上留下了记认；凝视的人像 探出身来，斜倚着，使紧闭的房间一片静寂。 楼梯上有人在拖着脚步走。 在火光下，刷子下，她的头发 散成了火星似的小点子 亮成词句，然后又转而为野蛮的沉寂。 “今晚上我精神很坏。是的，坏。陪着我。 跟我说话。为什么总不说话。说啊。 你在想什么？想什么？什么？ 我从来不知道你在想什么。想。” 我想我们是在老鼠窝里， 在那里死人连自己的尸骨都丢得精光。 “这是什么声音？” 风在门下面。 “这又是什么声音？风在干什么？” 没有，没有什么。 “你 “你什么都不知道？什么都没看见？什么都 不记得？” 我记得 那些珍珠是他的眼睛。 “你是活的还是死的？你的脑子里竟没有什么？” 可是 噢噢噢噢这莎士比希亚式的爵士音乐—— 它是这样文静 这样聪明 “我现在该做些什么？我该做些什么？ 我就照现在这样跑出去，走在街上 披散着头发，就这样。我们明天该作些什么？ 我们究竟该作些什么？” 十点钟供开水。 如果下雨，四点钟来挂不进雨的汽车。 我们也要下一盘棋， 按住不知安息的眼睛，等着那一下敲门的声音。 丽儿的丈夫退伍的时候，我说—— 我毫不含糊，我自己就对她说， 请快些，时间到了 埃尔伯特不久就要回来，你就打扮打扮吧。 他也要知道给你镶牙的钱 是怎么花的。他给的时候我也在。 把牙都拔了吧，丽儿，配一副好的， 他说，实在的，你那样子我真看不得。 我也看不得，我说，替可怜的埃尔伯特想一想， 他在军队里耽了四年，他想痛快痛快， 你不让他痛快，有的是别人，我说。 啊，是吗，她说。就是这么回事。我说。 那我就知道该感谢谁了，她说，向我瞪了一眼。 请快些，时间到了 你不愿意，那就听便吧，我说。 你没有可挑的，人家还能挑挑拣拣呢。 要是埃尔伯特跑掉了，可别怪我没说。 你真不害臊，我说，看上去这么老相。 （她还只三十一。） 没办法，她说，把脸拉得长长的， 是我吃的那药片，为打胎，她说。 （她已经有了五个。小乔治差点送了她的命。） 药店老板说不要紧，可我再也不比从前了。 你真是个傻瓜，我说。 得了，埃尔伯特总是缠着你，结果就是如此，我说， 不要孩子你干吗结婚？ 请快些，时间到了 说起来了，那天星期天埃尔伯特在家，他们吃滚烫的烧火腿， 他们叫我去吃饭，叫我乘热吃—— 请快些，时间到了 请快些，时间到了 明儿见，毕尔。明儿见，璐。明儿见，梅。明儿见。 再见。明儿见，明儿见。 明天见，太太们，明天见，可爱的太太们，明天见，明天见。 三、火诫 河上树木搭成的蓬帐已破坏：树叶留下的最后手指 想抓住什么，又沉落到潮湿的岸边去了。那风 吹过棕黄色的大地，没人听见。仙女们已经走了。 可爱的泰晤士，轻轻地流，等我唱完了歌。 河上不再有空瓶子，加肉面包的薄纸， 绸手帕，硬的纸皮匣子，香烟头 或其他夏夜的证据。仙女们已经走了。 还有她们的朋友，最后几个城里老板们的后代； 走了，也没有留下地址。 在莱芒湖畔我坐下来饮泣…… 可爱的泰晤士，轻轻地流，等我唱完了歌。 可爱的泰晤士，轻轻地流，我说话的声音不会大，也不会多。 可是在我身后的冷风里我听见 白骨碰白骨的声音，慝笑从耳旁传开去。 一头老鼠轻轻穿过草地 在岸上拖着它那粘湿的肚皮 而我却在某个冬夜，在一家煤气厂背后 在死水里垂钓 想到国王我那兄弟的沉舟 又想到在他之前的国王，我父亲的死亡。 白身躯赤裸裸地在低湿的地上， 白骨被抛在一个矮小而干燥的阁楼上， 只有老鼠脚在那里踢来踢去，年复一年。 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:34 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 3 荒原 但是在我背后我时常听见 喇叭和汽车的声音，将在 春天里，把薛维尼送到博尔特太太那里。 啊月亮照在博尔特太太 和她女儿身上是亮的 她们在苏打水里洗脚 啊这些孩子们的声音，在教堂里歌唱！ 吱吱吱 唧唧唧唧唧唧 受到这样的强暴。 铁卢 并无实体的城 在冬日正午的黄雾下 尤吉尼地先生，哪个士麦那商人 还没光脸，袋里装满了葡萄干 到岸价格，伦敦：见票即付， 用粗俗的法语请我 在凯能街饭店吃午饭 然后在大都会度周末。 在那暮色苍茫的时刻，眼与背脊 从桌边向上抬时，这血肉制成的引擎在等侯 像一辆出租汽车颤抖而等候时， 我，帖瑞西士，虽然瞎了眼，在两次生命中颤动， 年老的男子却有布满皱纹的女性乳房，能在 暮色苍茫的时刻看见晚上一到都朝着 家的方向走去，水手从海上回到家， 打字员到喝茶的时候也回了家，打扫早点的残余，点燃了她的炉子，拿出罐头食品。 窗外危险地晾着 她快要晒干的内衣，给太阳的残光抚摸着， 沙发上堆着（晚上是她的床） 袜子，拖鞋，小背心和用以束紧身的内衣。 我，帖瑞西士，年老的男子长着皱褶的乳房 看到了这段情节，预言了后来的一切—— 我也在等待那盼望着的客人。 他，那长疙瘩的青年到了， 一个小公司的职员，一双色胆包天的眼， 一个下流家伙，蛮有把握， 正像一顶绸帽扣在一个布雷德福的百万富翁头上。 时机现在倒是合式，他猜对了， 饭已经吃完，她厌倦又疲乏， 试着抚摸抚摸她 虽说不受欢迎，也没受到责骂。 脸也红了，决心也下了，他立即进攻； 探险的双手没遇到阻碍； 他的虚荣心并不需要报答， 还欢迎这种漠然的神情。 （我，帖瑞西士，都早就忍受过了， 就在这张沙发或床上扮演过的； 我，那曾在底比斯的墙下坐过的 又曾在最卑微的死人中走过的。） 最后又送上形同施舍似的一吻， 他摸着去路，发现楼梯上没有灯…… 她回头在镜子里照了一下， 没大意识到她那已经走了的情人； 她的头脑让一个半成形的思想经过： “总算玩了事：完了就好。” 美丽的女人堕落的时候，又 在她的房里来回走，独自 她机械地用手抚平了头发，又随手 在留声机上放上一张片子。 “这音乐在水上悄悄从我身旁经过” 经过斯特兰德，直到女王维多利亚街。 啊，城啊城，我有时能听见 在泰晤士下街的一家酒店旁 那悦耳的曼陀铃的哀鸣 还有里面的碗盏声，人语声 是渔贩子到了中午在休息：那里 殉道堂的墙上还有 难以言传的伊沃宁的荣华，白的与金黄色的。 长河流汗 流油与焦油 船只漂泊 顺着来浪 红帆 大张 顺风而下，在沉重的桅杆上摇摆。 船只冲洗 漂流的巨木 流到格林威治河区 经过群犬岛。 Weialala leia Wallala leialala 伊丽莎白和莱斯特 打着桨 船尾形成 一枚镶金的贝壳 红而金亮 活泼的波涛 使两岸起了细浪 西南风 带到下游 连续的钟声 白色的危塔 Weialala leia Wallala leialala “电车和堆满灰尘的树。 海勃里生了我。里其蒙和邱 毁了我。在里其蒙我举起双膝 仰卧在独木舟的船底。 “我的脚在摩尔该，我的心 在我的脚下。那件事后 他哭了。他答应‘重新做人’。 我不作声。我该怨恨什么呢？” “在马该沙滩 我能够把 乌有和乌有联结在一起 脏手上的破碎指甲。 我们是伙下等人，从不指望 什么。” 啊呀看哪 于是我到迦太基来了 烧啊烧啊烧啊烧啊 主啊你把我救拔出来 主啊你救拔 烧啊 四、水里的死亡 腓尼基人弗莱巴斯，死了已两星期， 忘记了水鸥的鸣叫，深海的浪涛 利润与亏损。 海下一潮流 在悄声剔净他的骨。在他浮上又沉下时 他经历了他老年和青年的阶段 进入漩涡。 外邦人还是犹太人 啊你转着舵轮朝着风的方向看的， 回顾一下弗莱巴斯，他曾经是和你一样漂亮、高大的。 五、雷霆的话 火把把流汗的面庞照得通红以后 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:34 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 4 荒原 花园里是那寒霜般的沉寂以后 经过了岩石地带的悲痛以后 又是叫喊又是呼号 监狱宫殿和春雷的 回响在远山那边震荡 他当时是活着的现在是死了 我们曾经是活着的现在也快要死了 稍带一点耐心 这里没有水只有岩石 岩石而没有水而有一条沙路 那路在上面山里绕行 是岩石堆成的山而没有水 若还有水我们就会停下来喝了 在岩石中间人不能停止或思想 汗是干的脚埋在沙土里 只要岩石中间有水 死了的山满口都是龋齿吐不出一滴水 这里的人既不能站也不能躺也不能坐 山上甚至连静默也不存在 只有枯干的雷没有雨 山上甚至连寂寞也不存在 只有绛红阴沉的脸在冷笑咆哮 在泥干缝猎的房屋的门里出现 只要有水 而没有岩石 若是有岩石 也有水 有水 有泉 岩石间有小水潭 若是只有水的响声 不是知了 和枯草同唱 而是水的声音在岩石上 那里有蜂雀类的画眉在松树间歌唱 点滴点滴滴滴滴 可是没有水 谁是那个总是走在你身旁的第三人？ 我数的时候，只有你和我在一起 但是我朝前望那白颜色的路的时候 总有另外一个在你身旁走 悄悄地行进，裹着棕黄色的大衣，罩着头 我不知道他是男人还是女人 ——但是在你另一边的那一个是谁？ 这是什么声音在高高的天上 是慈母悲伤的呢喃声 这些带头罩的人群是谁 在无边的平原上蜂拥而前，在裂开的土地上蹒跚而行 只给那扁平的水平线包围着 山的那边是哪一座城市 在紫色暮色中开裂、重建又爆炸 倾塌着的城楼 耶路撒冷雅典亚力山大 维也纳伦敦 并无实体的 一个女人紧紧拉直着她黑长的头发 在这些弦上弹拨出低声的音乐 长着孩子脸的蝙蝠在紫色的光里 嗖嗖地飞扑着翅膀 又把头朝下爬下一垛乌黑的墙 倒挂在空气里的那些城楼 敲着引起回忆的钟，时刻 还有声音在空的水池、干的井里歌唱。 在山间那个坏损的洞里 在幽黯的月光下，草儿在倒塌的 坟墓上唱歌，至于教堂 则是有一个空的教堂，仅仅是风的家。 它没有窗子，门是摆动着的， 枯骨伤害不了人。 只有一只公鸡站在屋脊上 咯咯喔喔咯咯喔喔 刷的来了一炷闪电。然后是一阵湿风 带来了雨 恒河水位下降了，那些疲软的叶子 在等着雨来，而乌黑的浓云 在远处集合在喜马望山上。 丛林在静默中拱着背蹲伏着。 然后雷霆说了话 DA Datta：我们给了些什么？ 我的朋友，热血震动着我的心 这片刻之间献身的非凡勇气 是一个谨慎的时代永远不能收回的 就凭这一点，也只有这一点，我们是存在了 这是我们的讣告里找不到的 不会在慈祥的蛛网披盖着的回忆里 也不会在瘦瘦的律师拆开的密封下 在我们空空的屋子里 DA Dayadhvam：我听见那钥匙 在门里转动了一次，只转动了一次 我们想到这把钥匙，各人在自己的监狱里 想着这把钥匙，各人守着一座监狱 只在黄昏的时候，世外传来的声音 才使一个已经粉碎了的柯里欧莱纳思一度重生 DA Damyata：那条船欢快地 作出反应，顺着那使帆用桨老练的手 海是平静的，你的心也会欢快地 作出反应，在受到邀请时，会随着 引导着的双手而跳动 我坐在岸上 垂钓，背后是那片干旱的平原 我应否至少把我的田地收拾好？ 伦敦桥塌下来了塌下来了塌下来了 然后，他就隐身在炼他们的火里， 我什么时候才能象燕子——啊，燕子，燕子， 阿基坦的王子在塔楼里受到废黜 这些片断我用来支撑我的断垣残壁 那么我就照办吧。希罗尼母又发疯了。 舍己为人。同情。克制。 平安。平安 平安。 赵萝蕤 译 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:34 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 5 回复：荒原 The Waste Land T.S.Eliot I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering 5 Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10 And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, 15 Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20 You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, 25 (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 30 Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu. Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du? 'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; 35 'They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40 Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer. Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, 45 With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations. 50 Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water. 55 I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring. Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days. Unreal City, 60 Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. 65 Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine. There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson! 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:35 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 6 回复：荒原 'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70 'That corpse you planted last year in your garden, 'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? 'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed? 'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men, 'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again! 75 'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!' II. A GAME OF CHESS THE Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne, Glowed on the marble, where the glass Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80 (Another hid his eyes behind his wing) Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra Reflecting light upon the table as The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it, From satin cases poured in rich profusion; 85 In vials of ivory and coloured glass Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes, Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air That freshened from the window, these ascended 90 In fattening the prolonged candle-flames, Flung their smoke into the laquearia, Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling. Huge sea-wood fed with copper Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, 95 In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam. Above the antique mantel was displayed As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100 Filled all the desert with inviolable voice And still she cried, and still the world pursues, 'Jug Jug' to dirty ears. And other withered stumps of time Were told upon the walls; staring forms 105 Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. Footsteps shuffled on the stair. Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair Spread out in fiery points Glowed into words, then would be savagely still. 110 'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.' I think we are in rats' alley 115 Where the dead men lost their bones. 'What is that noise?' The wind under the door. 'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?' Nothing again nothing. 120 'Do 'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember 'Nothing?' I remember Those are pearls that were his eyes. 125 'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?' But O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag— It's so elegant So intelligent 130 'What shall I do now? What shall I do?' 'I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street 'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow? 'What shall we ever do?' The hot water at ten. 135 And if it rains, a closed car at four. And we shall play a game of chess, Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said— I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140 HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart. 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:35 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 7 回复：荒原 He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there. You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, 145 He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you. And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert, He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time, And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said. Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said. 150 Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look. HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said. Others can pick and choose if you can't. But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling. 155 You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique. (And her only thirty-one.) I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face, It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said. (She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) 160 The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same. You are a proper fool, I said. Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said, What you get married for if you don't want children? HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME 165 Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon, And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot— HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. 170 Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight. Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night. III. THE FIRE SERMON THE river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. 175 Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; 180 Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept... Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear 185 The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. A rat crept softly through the vegetation Dragging its slimy belly on the bank While I was fishing in the dull canal On a winter evening round behind the gashouse 190 Musing upon the king my brother's wreck And on the king my father's death before him. White bodies naked on the low damp ground And bones cast in a little low dry garret, Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year. 195 But at my back from time to time I hear The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter 200 They wash their feet in soda water Et, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole! Twit twit twit Jug jug jug jug jug jug So rudely forc'd. 205 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:35 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 8 回复：荒原 Tereu Unreal City Under the brown fog of a winter noon Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants 210 C.i.f. London: documents at sight, Asked me in demotic French To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel Followed by a weekend at the Metropole. At the violet hour, when the eyes and back 215 Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220 Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays, 225 On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest— I too awaited the expected guest. 230 He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire. The time is now propitious, as he guesses, 235 The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; 240 His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall 245 And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows on final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit... She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; 250 Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: 'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.' When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, 255 And puts a record on the gramophone. 'This music crept by me upon the waters' And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street. O City city, I can sometimes hear Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260 The pleasant whining of a mandoline And a clatter and a chatter from within Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls Of Magnus Martyr hold Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold. 265 The river sweats Oil and tar The barges drift With the turning tide Red sails 270 Wide To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. The barges wash Drifting logs Down Greenwich reach 275 Past the Isle of Dogs. Weialala leia Wallala leialala Elizabeth and Leicester Beating oars 280 The stern was formed A gilded shell Red and gold The brisk swell Rippled both shores 285 Southwest wind Carried down stream The peal of bells White towers Weialala leia 290 作者： 麦田沙 2005-7-14 11:35 　 回复此发言 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 9 回复：荒原 Wallala leialala 'Trams and dusty trees. Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.' 295 'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart Under my feet. After the event He wept. He promised "a new start". I made no comment. What should I resent?' 'On Margate Sands. 300 I can connect Nothing with nothing. The broken fingernails of dirty hands. My people humble people who expect Nothing.' 305 la la To Carthage then I came Burning burning burning burning O Lord Thou pluckest me out O Lord Thou pluckest 310 burning IV. DEATH BY WATER PHLEBAS the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell And the profit and loss. A current under sea 315 Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell He passed the stages of his age and youth Entering the whirlpool. Gentile or Jew O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320 Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you. V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID AFTER the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places The shouting and the crying 325 Prison and place and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying W