拉金：《悲伤的脚步》《晨歌》《高处的窗》《树》
Sad Steps （Philip Larkin ） Groping back to bed after a piss I part the thick curtains, and am startled by The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness. Four o'clock: wedge-shaped gardens lie Under a cavernous, a wind-pierced sky. There's something laughable about this, The way the moon dashes through the clouds that blow Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart (Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below) High and preposterous and separate-- Lozenge of love! Medallion of art! O wolves of memory! Immensements! No, One shivers slightly, looking up there. The hardness and the brightness and the plain far-reaching singleness of that wide stare Is a reminder of the strength and pain Of being young; that it can't come again, But is for others undiminished somewhere. 《悲伤的脚步》 （Super_BomB 于2009年3月25日-３月２８日整理完成） 小便之后摸索着回到床上 分开厚厚的窗帘，我惊奇于 飞掠的云朵，皎洁的月光。 凌晨四点钟：楔形的花园呈现 在被风吹透的天空的穹顶下。 这有些滑稽， 象大炮的硝烟，飘荡的云袅袅散开 月亮扑面而来。 （石色的光勾勒出下面的屋顶） 高尚，荒谬，孤绝—— 爱的糖块！艺术的大勋章！ 哦，记忆的狼！浩瀚！不， 一个人仰望着那里，轻微战栗。 坚硬，明亮，以及眺望中 抵达远方的朴素的专注 是青春的痕迹，源于力量 和痛苦；它永不再来， 但在某处完好地为别人存在。 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aubade （Philip Larkin ） I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light. Till then I see what's really always there: Unresting death, a whole day nearer now, Making all thought impossible but how And where and when I shall myself die. Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify. The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse - The good not done, the love not given, time Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because An only life can take so long to climb Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never; But at the total emptiness for ever, The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always. Not to be here, Not to be anywhere, And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true. This is a special way of being afraid No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound, No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with, Nothing to love or link with, The anasthetic from which none come round. And so it stays just on the edge of vision, A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill That slows each impulse down to indecision. Most things may never happen: this one will, And realisation of it rages out In furnace-fear when we are caught without People or drink. Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood. Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape. It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know, Have always known, know that we can't escape, Yet can't accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house. 《晨歌》 （Super_BomB 于2009年2月20日-３月２２日整理完成） 我一天到晚工作，夜里喝成半醉。 凌晨四点醒来，我凝视着无声的黑暗。 窗帘的边缘将准时泛起光亮。 直到那时，我才明白究竟是什么一直在那里： 不安的死亡，现在又逼近了一天， 这让思维全部瘫痪，除了何时 何地，我自己将以何种方式死去。 枯燥的询问：然而 死亡以及垂死的恐怖， 再次闪现，抓住我，恫吓我。 闪念中大脑一片空白。不是懊悔 ——善事未行，爱也未曾给予， 时光虚掷——也不是沮丧， 唯一的生命竟要如此漫长的攀爬， 只为洗清它错误的开端，或许永远不能； 而是因为永恒的绝对虚空， 注定的幻灭，我们奔赴它并永远地迷失于其中。 它不在这里，也不在任何地方， 转瞬即来；没什么比这更可怕，没什么比这更真实。 这是一种特殊的恐惧， 没有伎俩能消除。宗教曾经尝试过， 那幅巨大的虫蛀锦缎回荡着乐音 制造了一个假象——我们永不死亡。 还有似是而非的废话，“理智的人 不会害怕一件不可感知的事物”，却不知道 这正是我们所畏惧的——无形，无声， 无味，无嗅，无法触摸，思想无法与之共鸣， 无法去爱或发生联系， 无人能从中醒转的麻醉剂。 所以它只停留在视野的边缘， 一小块散乱的污点，一种挥之不去的寒意， 它把每一次冲动放慢为犹疑不定。 大多数事情或许永远不会发生：这一件却会， 当我们被捕获的时候（既不是被人， 也不是被酒），它在火炉般的恐惧中 肆虐着变成现实。胆量毫无用处： 它的本意不只是吓唬别人。即便勇敢 也不能使任何人幸免于坟墓。 与其抗争，还不如哀叹，因为死亡并无不同。 光慢慢加强，房间显出形状。 它清晰地立着，象个衣柜，我们知道的， 一直知道 ，知道我们无法逃脱， 但也不能接受。不得不做出一个选择。 此刻电话机蜷伏着，准备鸣响， 在紧锁的办公室里，而整个冷漠的 纷乱的租赁世界开始苏醒。 天空象粘土一样苍白，没有太阳。 工作不得不做。 邮递员象医生，在建筑物之间穿行。 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- High Windows （Philip Larkin ） When I see a couple of kids And guess he's fucking her and she's Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives-- Bonds and gestures pushed to one side Like an outdated combine harvester, And everyone young going down the long slide To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if Anyone looked at me, forty years back, And thought, That'll be the life; No God any more, or sweating in the dark About hell and that, or having to hide What you think of the priest. He And his lot will all go down the long slide Like free bloody birds. And immediately Rather than words comes the thought of high windows: The sun-comprehending glass, And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless. 《高处的窗》（Super_BomB 于2009年2月3日-１８日整理完成） 当我看见一对年轻人 并想着他正在操她，她 在吃避孕药或戴子宫帽， 我知道，这是极乐 每个老年人都曾梦想过他们的生活—— 束缚和姿态被推至一旁 象一台旧式的联合收割机， 每一个年轻人，沿着长长的斜坡向下滑行 收获快乐，无穷无尽。我想知道 四十年前，是否也有人注视过我， 并认为，那将是生活； 不再有上帝，也不在黑暗中 为困苦而焦虑，也不必隐藏 你对神甫的看法。他 和他的一切都将沿着长长的斜坡下滑 象自由的流血的鸟。而刹那之间 高窗的思想来临，但不是语言： 蓄满了阳光的玻璃， 在它之外，深蓝的大气，显示着 无物，是乌有之乡，没有尽头。 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Trees （菲利浦·拉金） The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief. Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too, Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain. Yet still the unresting castles thresh In fullgrown thickness every May. Last year is dead, they seem to say, Begin afresh, afresh, afresh. 树 ( Super_BomB 于2009年1月11日整理完成） 树正在长出叶子 仿佛一些事物就要被说出； 新芽轻松地舒展开， 它们的绿让人感到悲伤。 是否它们获得了重生 而我们在老去？不，它们也会死。 它们看起来一年一次的常新 是个骗局，记录在年轮里 但每一个五月，不安的树丛仍在 丰硕成熟里狂舞 去年已逝，它们似乎在说 重新再来，再来，再来