>



翻譯公司
   
  關(guān)于我們
  翻譯實(shí)力

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

首頁 > 關(guān)于成都博雅翻譯 > 翻譯資料
翻譯公司
翻譯公司

致 云 雀
2010年11月19日  作者:  成都譯網(wǎng)-成都翻譯網(wǎng)-成都翻譯公司  瀏覽選項(xiàng):    本文已被瀏覽 1702 次
致 云 雀

 珀西•比希•雪萊

為你歡呼,快樂的精靈!
鳥雀只是你外在的形象,
你來自世外,你來自天堂,
你盡情傾訴,
行云流水,婉轉(zhuǎn)悠揚(yáng)。

越飛越高,
青云直上,
如火云一團(tuán),
在深邃的藍(lán)天展開翅膀,
翱翔,歌唱,歌唱,翱翔。

沐浴金色晚霞,
伴著夕陽,
云彩一片明亮,
你漂浮,你翻飛,
你的追尋無比漫長。

淡淡的紫色浸潤,
一路圍繞身旁,
像白晝里的一顆星星,
升起在高高的天上,
雖然難以看見,我卻能聽到你的興奮、激昂:

猶如離弦之箭,
穿透銀色的天幕射向遠(yuǎn)方,
那盞明燈收攏,
融入黎明的清朗,
盡管從眼中消失,可我們能感覺到它的去向。

大地、蒼穹,
你的聲音處處回蕩,
恰似明凈的夜晚,
孤云難把月色遮擋,
鋪天蓋地一片輝光。

不知世間還有何物與你相比,
你是何物我們無法想象。
只知你的旋律如甘霖飄灑,
勝過云霓斑斕輝煌,
超出長虹溢彩流光。

就像隱身的詩人,
給人類留下冥想,
由衷地吟誦贊美,
直到世界改變模樣,
去同情它不曾留意的憂患、希望。

就像名門閨秀,
在深宮大院雪藏,
每逢孤獨(dú)的時(shí)刻,
要排解愛的憂傷,
讓情曲在房中奏響。

像一只金色的螢火蟲,
在露珠滴落的溪澗游蕩,
出沒花叢草叢,
沿著平坡陡崗,
播撒空靈的熒光。

又像一朵玫瑰,
躲在綠葉中沉入夢(mèng)鄉(xiāng),
直到熱風(fēng)吹落,
依舊散發(fā)馨香,
太多甜蜜使笨拙的飛賊頭暈?zāi)X脹。

滴落的春雨聲聲脆響,
承接的青草熠熠閃亮,
被雨滴喚醒的花朵,
還有明澈、清新、歡快的萬物萬象,
都不及你的音樂令人心醉神往。

無論你是精靈還是鳥類,
請(qǐng)教我懂得你那甜蜜的遐想,
我還從來未曾領(lǐng)略,
對(duì)愛情與美酒的這種贊揚(yáng),
欣喜的狂潮如此神圣,淋漓酣暢。

婚慶贊歌歡快,
凱旋樂曲豪放,
可與你的嗓音相比,
全是空洞的夸張,
只會(huì)隱隱約約令人感到失望。

你歡樂的曲調(diào)來自何方?
為何像噴泉不斷流淌?
是怎樣的天空、平原?
是何種高山、田野、波浪?
是怎樣一種獨(dú)有的愛戀?為何痛苦永遠(yuǎn)退讓?

你只有明快的歡樂,
把倦怠徹底埋葬,
煩惱郁悶的陰影,
無法靠近身旁;
你的愛永無終止,沒有限量。

無論沉睡還是蘇醒,
你都能看透死亡,
更加真切、深邃,
超脫凡俗的想象,
否則,你的曲調(diào)怎會(huì)如此清澈、流暢?

我們四處尋找,
把那虛無追求渴望,
即使最坦誠的笑聲,
也帶著幾分凄涼,
最甜蜜的歌曲傾訴最悲切的惆悵。

縱然我們有一種能力,
蔑視仇恨、傲慢和驚慌,
縱然我們有與生具來的意志,
不讓淚水涌進(jìn)眼眶,
如何貼近你的歡樂我卻一片迷茫。

你是世上最美妙的音樂,
你是人間最歡快的聲響,
一切書本的精華,
都敵不過你的寶藏,
你傲視大地,你的詩才萬眾景仰!

你所熟知的歡愉,
哪怕一星半點(diǎn),請(qǐng)你教我欣賞,
那我就會(huì)笑口常開,
和諧就會(huì)讓我歡喜欲狂,
世界就會(huì)傾聽,正如我現(xiàn)在這樣!


To a Skylark

-- by Percy Bysshe Shelley



Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!

Bird thou never wert,

That from heaven, or near it,

Pourest thy full heart

In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.



Higher still and higher

From the earth thou springest

Like a cloud of fire;

The blue deep thou wingest,

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.



In the golden lightning

Of the sunken sun,

O'er which clouds are brightening,

Thou dost float and run,

Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.



The pale purple even

Melts around thy flight;

Like a star of heaven

In the broad daylight

Thou art unseen, but yet Ihear thy thrill delight:



Keen as are the arrows

Of that silver sphere,

Whose intense lamp nerrows

In the white dawn clear

Until we hardly seem, we feel that it is there.



All the earth and air

With thy voice is bare,

From one lonely cloud

The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow'd.



What thou are we know not;

What is most like thee?

From rainbow clouds there flow not

Drops so bright to see

As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.



Like a poet hidden

In the light of thought,

Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world is wrought

To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not;



Like a high-born maiden

In a palace tower,

Soothing her love-laden

Soul in secret hour

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower;



Like a glow-worm golden

In a dell of dew,

Scattering unbeholden

Its aerial hue

Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view;



Like a rose embower'd

In its own green leaves,

By warm winds deflower'd,

Till the scent it gives

Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.



Sound of venral showers

On the twinkling grass,

Rain-awaken'd flowers,

All that ever was

Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.



Teach us, sprite or bird,

What sweet thoughts are thine:

I have never heard

Praise of love or wine

That panted forth a flood of rapture so devine.



Close hymneal,

Or triumphal chant,

Match'd with thine would be all

But an empty vaunt --

A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.



What objects are the foutains

Of thy happy trains?

What fields, or waves, or mountains?

What shapes of sky or plain?

What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?



With thy clear keen joyance

Langour cannot be:

Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee:

Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.



Waking or asleep

Thou of death must deem

Things more true and deep

Than we mortals dream,

Or how would thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?



We look before and after

And pine for what is not:

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.



Yet if we could scorn

Hate, and pride, and fear;

If we were things born

Not to shed a tear,

I know not thy joy we ever should come near.



Better than all measures

Of delightful sound,

Better than all treasures

That in books are found,

Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!



Teach me half the gladness

That thy brain must know,

Such harmonious madness

From my lips would flow

The world should listen then, as I am listening now!

To a Skylark

-- by Percy Bysshe Shelley



Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!

Bird thou never wert,

That from heaven, or near it,

Pourest thy full heart

In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.



Higher still and higher

From the earth thou springest

Like a cloud of fire;

The blue deep thou wingest,

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.



In the golden lightning

Of the sunken sun,

O'er which clouds are brightening,

Thou dost float and run,

Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.



The pale purple even

Melts around thy flight;

Like a star of heaven

In the broad daylight

Thou art unseen, but yet Ihear thy thrill delight:



Keen as are the arrows

Of that silver sphere,

Whose intense lamp nerrows

In the white dawn clear

Until we hardly seem, we feel that it is there.



All the earth and air

With thy voice is bare,

From one lonely cloud

The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow'd.



What thou are we know not;

What is most like thee?

From rainbow clouds there flow not

Drops so bright to see

As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.



Like a poet hidden

In the light of thought,

Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world is wrought

To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not;



Like a high-born maiden

In a palace tower,

Soothing her love-laden

Soul in secret hour

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower;



Like a glow-worm golden

In a dell of dew,

Scattering unbeholden

Its aerial hue

Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view;



Like a rose embower'd

In its own green leaves,

By warm winds deflower'd,

Till the scent it gives

Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.



Sound of venral showers

On the twinkling grass,

Rain-awaken'd flowers,

All that ever was

Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.



Teach us, sprite or bird,

What sweet thoughts are thine:

I have never heard

Praise of love or wine

That panted forth a flood of rapture so devine.



Close hymneal,

Or triumphal chant,

Match'd with thine would be all

But an empty vaunt --

A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.



What objects are the foutains

Of thy happy trains?

What fields, or waves, or mountains?

What shapes of sky or plain?

What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?



With thy clear keen joyance

Langour cannot be:

Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee:

Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.



Waking or asleep

Thou of death must deem

Things more true and deep

Than we mortals dream,

Or how would thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?



We look before and after

And pine for what is not:

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.



Yet if we could scorn

Hate, and pride, and fear;

If we were things born

Not to shed a tear,

I know not thy joy we ever should come near.



Better than all measures

Of delightful sound,

Better than all treasures

That in books are found,

Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!



Teach me half the gladness

That thy brain must know,

Such harmonious madness

From my lips would flow

The world should listen then, as I am listening now!
 
 
上篇文章:十四行詩十四
下篇文章:張培基散文翻譯精選
 文章搜索
 
搜索選項(xiàng):