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CQ TIMESs丨第1期（摘选） #

英文诗两首 Two English Poems

Ⅰ佛晓时分

【阿】博尔赫斯 - Jorge Luis Borges

The useless dawn finds me in a deserted street-corner; I have outlived the night.

拂晓时分,我伫立在阒无一人的街角,我熬过了夜晚。

Nights are proud waves; darkblue topheavy waves laden with all the hues of deep spoil, laden with things unlikely and desirable.

夜晚是骄傲的波浪;深蓝色的、头重脚轻的波浪带着深翻,泥土的种种颜色,带着不太可能、但称心如意的事物。

Nights have a habit of mysterious gifts and refusals,of things half given away, half withheld,of joys with a dark hemisphere. Nights act that way, I tell you.

夜晚有一种赠与和拒绝、半舍半留的神秘习惯,有黑暗半球的欢乐。夜晚就是那样,我对你说。

The surge, that night, left me the customary shreds and odd ends: some hated friends to chat with, music for dreams, and the smoking of bitter ashes. The things my hungry heart has no use for.

那夜的波涛留给了我惯常的零星琐碎:几个讨厌的聊天朋友、梦中的音乐、辛辣的灰烬的烟雾。我饥渴的心用不着的东西。

The big wave brought you.

巨浪带来了你。

Words, any words, your laughter; and you so lazily and incessantly beautiful. We talked and you have forgotten the words.

言语,任何言语,你的笑声;还有懒洋洋而美得耐看的你。我们谈着话,而你已忘掉了言语。

The shattering dawn finds me in a deserted street of my city. Your profile turned away, the sounds that go to make your name, the lilt of your laughter:

旭日初升的时候,我在我的城市里一条阒无一人的街上。你转过身的侧影,组成你名字的发音,你有韵律的笑声:

these are the illustrious toys you have left me.I turn them over in the dawn, I lose them, I find them; I tell them to the few stray dogs and to the few stray stars of the dawn.

这些情景都让我久久回味。我在黎明时细细琢磨,我失去了它们,我又找到了;我向几条野狗诉说,也向黎明寥寥的晨星诉说。

Your dark rich life ...

你隐秘而丰富的生活……

I must get at you, somehow; I put away those illustrious toys you have left me, I want your hidden look, your real smile -- that lonely, mocking smile your cool mirror knows.

我必须设法了解你:我撇开你留给我的回味,我要你那隐藏的容颜,你真正的微笑——你冷冷的镜子反映的寂寞而嘲弄的微笑。

Ⅱ 我用什么才能留住你？

What can I hold you with?

我用什么才能留住你?

I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs.

我给你贫穷的街道、绝望的日落、破败郊区的月亮。

I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.

我给你一个久久地望着孤月的人的悲哀。

I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in bronze:

我给你我已死去的先辈,人们用大理石纪念他们的幽灵:

my father's father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs,bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow;

在布宜诺斯艾利斯边境阵亡的我父亲的父亲,两颗子弹射穿了他的胸膛,蓄着胡子的他死去了,士兵们用牛皮裹起他的尸体;

my mother's grandfather--just twentyfour-- heading a charge of three hundred men in Peru, now ghosts on vanished horses.

我母亲的祖父——时年二十四岁——在秘鲁率领三百名士兵冲锋,如今都成了消失的马背上的幽灵。

I offer you whatever insight my books may hold, whatever manliness or humour my life.

我给你我写的书中所能包含的一切悟力、我生活中所能有的男子气概或幽默。

I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.

我给你一个从未有过信仰的人的忠诚。

I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved, somehow --the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams, and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.

我给你我设法保全的我自己的核心——不营字造句,不和梦想交易,不被时间、欢乐和逆境触动的核心。

I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.

我给你,早在你出生前多年的一个傍晚看到的一朵黄玫瑰的记忆。

I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.

我给你你对自己的解释,关于你自己的理论,你自己的真实而惊人的消息。

I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.

我给你我的寂寞、我的黑暗、我心的饥渴;我试图用困惑、危险、失败来打动你。