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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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2015-11-01 15:38:06|  分类: 英诗汉译 |  标签: |举报 |字号 订阅

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忘 却

 

【英】阿·阿·米尔恩 著

熊良銋 译

 

幼儿园的头头们,

排成队,在等候;

五位骑在高墙上,

四位靠着矮墙头。

大王和小王,

棕熊和黑熊;

大家都在等呀等,

要等到约翰回园。

 

有人认为男孩约翰,

迷失在森林中;

有的说他不会迷失,

有的说他有可能。

有人认为男孩约翰,

躲藏在小山里;

有的说他不会,

有人说他可能回。

 

约翰离园出走时,

太阳已经高升起;

他们在这儿等待,

已经等了一整天;

大熊和小熊,

白王和黑王;

他们都在等呀等,

要等到约翰回园。

 

幼儿园的头头们,

俯望着小山岗;

有人看到了羊群,

有人看到了磨坊。

还有人看到了,

小镇屋顶灰茫茫;

当太阳滑下坡,

树影人影都拉长。

 

月影透出金黄色,

在白杨树间;

望月又慢慢升起

星汉银光闪。

残月悄悄地走了;

一个接一个,

灰色田野睡着了。

 

幼儿园的头头们

依然在守候;

他们听到羊圈里,

羊群发出沙沙响。

雏鸟把头埋,

叽叽喳喳叫不停;

突然刮起一阵风,

马上又停息。

 

慢慢地,慢慢地,

新的一天又破晓;

男孩约翰怎么啦?

谁也说不准。

有人认为男孩约翰,

迷失在小山上;

有人说他不会,

有人说他可能回。

 

男孩约翰怎么啦?

他压根儿没啥。

他玩过跳绳,

他打过皮球。

他追赶过蝴蝶,

兰蝴蝶,红蝴蝶;

他干了乐事一件件---

然后就去睡大觉了。

 

              Forgotten

 

Written by A. A. Milne

Translated by L. R. Xiong

 

 

             Lords of the nursery

                         Wait in a row,

                         Five on the high wall,

                        And four on the low,

                        Big Kings and Little Kings,

                        Brown Bear and Black,

                        All of them wanting

                        Till John comes back.

 

                        Some think that John boy

                        Is lost in wood,

                        Some say he couldn’t be,

                        Some say he could.

                        Some think that John boy

                        Hides on the hill,

                        Some say he won’t come back,

                        Some say he will. 

 

                        High was the sun, when

                        John went away…

                        Here they’ve been waiting

                        All through the day;

                        Big Bears and Little Bears,

                        White Kings and Black,

                        All of then waiting

                        Till John comes back.

 

                        Lords of the nursery

                        Looked down the hill,

                        Some saw the sheep-fold

                        Some saw the mill;

                        Some saw the roofs

                        Of the little grey town…

                        And their shadows grew long

                        As the sun slip down.

 

                        Gold between the poplars

                        An old moon shows;

                        Silver up the star-way

                        The full moon rose;

                        The old moon crept…

                        And one by another,

                        The grey fields slept.

 

                        Lords of the nursery

                        Their still waych keep…

                        They hear from the sheep-flod

                        The rustle Of sheep.

                        A young bird twitters

                        And hides its head;

                        A little wing suddenly

                        Breathes, and is dead.

 

                        Slowly and slowly

                        Dawns the new day…

                        What’s become of John boy?

                        No one can say.

                        Some think that John boy

                        Is lost on the hill,

                        Some say he won’t come back,

                        Some say he will.

 

                        What’s become of John boy?

                        Nothing at all,

                        He plated with shipping rope,

                        He played his ball.

                        He run after baerfliess,

                        Blue and red;

                        He did a hundred happy things—

                        And then went to bed

 

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