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鸟鸣溪谷柳鸣春,万类和融释醉痕。骚客登楼临曲水,金威雅集胜兰亭。

 
 
 

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汽车谣  

2015-01-17 19:41:15|  分类: 英诗汉译 |  标签: |举报 |字号 订阅

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汽车谣

(仿华都街边区民谣)

 

【英】鲁迪亚德·吉卜林 著

威廉·熊良銋 译

 

“这全是横口蛮缠付出的代价,”

那医生跪在地上感慨地说。

然后他吩咐他们把那人抬起,

因为他明白那人已经死去。

 

他们抬起他,又把他放下,

(啊,他仍然一动也不动),

他们把他送到最近的小镇,

要等候法医的判断。

 

他们用尸布遮住他的脸,

他们把车门全都关上,

那停在市场空地上的汽车,

很快就引起了议论纷纷。

 

开朗的戴姆勒首先开了腔,

他扛着板条做的油箱:——

“是我们要使乡村清爽,

可是谁也不把我们夸奖。

 

“因为他们在圣堂祈祷时,

灵魂应当从罪恶获救,

我们大摇大摆地去上班,

把就醉汉统统收藏。——

 

“如果我们现在饶过他们,——

或者他们的同伙来解救,——

他们在我们无声的枷锁下,

比在他们母亲膝下知道的更多。”

 

然后鲁莽的阿壮站起发言,

他的名字叫西德利:——

“我到场时看见他赤条条冷冰冰,

躺在格兰瑟姆身边。

 

“小溪旁有一个急拐弯,

一道护栏和一股流泉:

但是那个酒醉汉还要超车,

他却没有受到伤害!

 

“我踩过湿滑的路走到干处——

却原来是一条破旧的小巷;

为什么无辜的人却一命呜呼,

我真的百思不得其解。”

 

接着宝宝奥斯丁起身发言——

勉强容得下两个人——

“是时候为世人赎免罪行,

而不是他们的所作所为。

 

“因为带着亲人开车者,

我看见车子从这里经过,

胳膊挽得紧嘴唇贴得近,

把一双男女惨死车祸。

 

“黄昏时分在汽车里,

偷偷来一个侧面的吻——

天知道那一对怎样死去,

可我很留意那个验尸人。

 

“我走过黑沥青路和荒野——

那里是一片鹅卵石;

为什么年纪轻轻要去送死,

我也是莫名其妙。”

 

随后奥克森福德的莫里斯发了话,

(是考利·弗莱尔的亲戚)——

“我们怎会推测上帝的方法,

那只是钢铁与烈火?

 

“在地底下油坑

和天空电火花之间,

我们只能冒险走去,

按照我们的主人所策划。

 

“如果他喝得太多,

没有亲缘能使我们,

把他从酣睡中拉回来,

或者分享他等待的爱。

 

英格兰永远没有一条车道,

一个成熟的男子汉能走过,

他必须关注两旁,

还要瞻前顾后。

 

“但是他必须随时准备好,

按响喇叭为了越过,

要么藏在旁边的沟里,

或是在陡峭的危岩。

 

“无论他诗酒醉上路,

或是在沉思蜜爱之约,

我们没有记忆和选择的智力,

但是需求必定要杀戮或伤害。”
                                     " " "

……他们揭去脸上的裹尸布,

验尸官就在上面察看;

那停在市场空地上的汽车,

很快就各自离去四散。

 

(注)华都街,即华都街边区民谣,这里是仿古调,指英格兰和苏格兰交界处的古老街市,歌谣多以超自然和争斗打劫为中心主题。

                 无声的枷锁,汽车底盘用以固定车前弹簧。

                 电火花,即闪电。

                 准备他,准备好。

 

The Ballad of the Cars

(Wardour Street Border Ballad)

Written by Rudyard Kipling

Translated by William Xiong

 

        ‘Now this is the price of a stirrup-cup,’
          The kneeling doctor said.
                   And syne he bade them take him up,
          For he saw that the man was dead.

                   They took him up, and they laid him down
          (And, oh, he did not stir ),
                   And they had him into the nearest town
         To wait the Coroner.

                  They drew the dead-cloth over the face,
         They closed the doors upon,
                  And the cars that were parked in the market-place
         Made talk of it anon.

                  Then up and spake a Daimler wide,
         That carries the slatted tank:  —
               ‘’Tis we must purge the countryside
          And no man will us thank.

’For while they pray at Holy Kirk
The souls should turn from sin,
We cock our bonnets to the work,
And gather the drunken in. —

’And if we spare them for the nonce, —
Or their comrades jack them free, —
They learn more under our dumb-irons
Than they learned at their mother’s knee.’

Then up and spake an Armstrong bold,
And Siddeley was his name: —
’I saw a man lie stark and cold
By Grantham as I came.

’There was a blind turn by a brook,
A guard-rail and a fall:
But the drunken loon that overtook
He got no hurt at all!

’I ha’ trodden the wet road and the dry—

But and the shady lane;
And why the guiltless soul should die,
Good reason find I nane.’

Then up and spake the Babe Austin—
Had barely room for two—
’’Tis time and place that make the sin,
And not the deed they do.

’For when a man drives with his dear,
I ha’ seen it come to pass
That an arm too close or a lip too near
Has killed both lad and lass.

’There was a car at eventide
And a sidelings kiss to steal—
The God knows how the couple died,
But I mind the inquest weel.

’I have trodden the black tar and the heath—
But and the cobble-stone;
And why the young go to their death,
Good reason find I none.’

Then spake a Morris from Oxenford,
(Was kin to a Cowley Friar ): —
’How shall we judge the ways of the Lord
That are but steel and fire?

’Between the oil-pits under earth
And the levin-spark from the skies,
We but adventure and go forth
As our man shall devise:

’And if he have drunken a hoop too deep,
No kinship can us move
To draw him home in his market-sleep
Or spare his waiting love.

’There is never a lane in all England
Where a mellow man can go,
But he must look on either hand
And back and front also.

’But he must busk him every tide,
At prick of horn, to leap
Either to hide in ditch beside
Or in the banes steep.

’And whether he walk in drink or muse,
Or for his love be bound,
We have no wit to mark and chuse,
But needs must slay or wound.’

             " " "

       . . . . They drew the dead-cloth from its face.
         The Crowner looked thereon;
       And the cars that were parked in the market-place
         Went all their ways anon.

 

Notes: Wardour Street, imitation antique. "Wardour Street Border Ballad" ,indicating the English-Scottish border. The supernatural is a common theme, as are tales of raids and battles.

dumb-irons, parts of the chassisof a car to which the front springs are fixed.

levin-spark, flash of lightning.

buck him, be prepared.

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