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李清照·《声声慢》英译

2009-12-28 23:50| 发布者: sisu04| 查看: 12338| 评论: 0|来自: 英文巴士

摘要: 共22种译法

Sheng sheng man

Li Ch’ing Chao

 

Searching, searching, again and again

Cold and still, cold and still

Bitter bitter, cruel cruel sorrow—

Fever, chills—

No stay, no rest

Two, three cups of thin wine

Can not hold off the evening or delay the wind

The geese have passed

And left me sick at heart

Though once, we were old friends

 

The ground is full of yellow flowers piling up

Dry, brittle, wounded

Who can pick them now?

I keep my vigil by the window

Alone, how can I stand its getting dark?

And the wu-t’ung, and thin rain?

Dusk, day fades, bit by bit, drop by drop

One thing after another

How can one small word grief tell it all?  

 

Julie Landau 译)

 

Forlorn

Li Chingchao

 

So dim, so dark,

So dense, so dull,

So damp, so dank,

So dead!

 

The weather, now warm, now cold,

Makes it harder

Than ever to forget!

How can a few cups of thin wine

Bring warmth against

The chilly winds of sunset?

I recognize the geese flying overhead:

My old friends,

Bring not the old memories back!

Let fallen flowers lie where they fall.

To what purpose

And for whom should I decorate?

By the window shut,

Guarding it alone,

To see the sky has turned so black!

And the drizzle on the kola nut

Keeps on droning:

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat!

Is this the kind of mood and moment

To be expressed

By one word “sad”?

 

(林语堂 译)

 

To “Note After Note” (Sheng-Sheng Man)

 

Searching and searching, seeking and seeking,

so chill, so clear,

dreary,

and dismal,

and forlorn.

That time of year

When it’s suddenly warm,

then cold again,

now it’s hardest of all to take care,

Two or three cups of weak wine—

how can they resist the biting wind

that comes with evening?

The wild geese pass by—

That’s what hurts the most—

and yet they’re old acquaintances

 

In piles chrysanthemums fill the ground,

looking all wasted, damaged—

who cloud pick them, as they are now?

I stay by the window,

how can I wait alone until blackness comes?

The beech tree,

on top of that

the fine rain,

on until dusk,

the dripping drop after drop.

In a situation like this

how can that one word “sorrow” grasp it?

 

Stephen Owen 译)


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