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| 梅丹理译的伊沙诗歌（一） 长安伊沙 发表于：2007.03.19 23:56 |
美国诗人、汉学家、翻译家梅丹理（Denis D Mair)翻译的伊沙诗歌（一） Yi Sha Selections I 《野种之歌》 我是私生子 在这中世纪之国 我是一对男女的 火和祸 男的远走高飞 走为上策 我与他并无仇恨 毫无干戈 女的含辛茹苦 养我成人 我把她称作母亲 十三岁 我抬着花轿 把母亲远嫁 娘！我把这十三岁的 寡淡还你吧 那一年 是夜晚还是白天 你们干得何等潇洒 儿比那些家里养的 着实健壮、高大 心思也花 在这辉煌的人世间 我少了什么 什么也没少 伟大的诗人YISHA 如此写道 “我是我自个儿的爹” （1992） 伊沙 Song of a Love Child I am a child born out of wedlock Commonly known as a “love child.” At mid-century, in this country A man and a woman put a pan on a stove And cooked me up. Flight was the man’s number one plan, So he took off for parts unknown. There is no bad blood between us: We never so much as crossed blades. With her belly full of bitterness, The woman brought me up. I call her mother. At thirteen I did the honors And married her off. Mom! Here’s for thirteen years You spent unloved for my sake! But that first year, No matter day or night, You lovebirds held nothing back. As for me, I grew up stronger, taller Than the offspring of families, And my thoughts come in greater variety. Here among the dazzlements of this world, What do I lack? I lack for nothing. The great poet Yisha Writes these words: “I am my own Daddy!” Yi Sha 《英雄复活》 雷锋叔叔回来啦 二十二岁的青年 站立在我们中间 面露羞涩 局促不安 身着皮夹克 那是早年 雷锋叔叔善待自己的 唯一见证 从未公开 口袋里塞满鼓囊囊的钞票 《雷锋日记》的版税 重新补发 逾以万计 这是多么奇特的造化 在穷则光荣的年代 他是可爱的穷鬼 如今摇身一变 成为小小的富翁 佳佳说：雷锋叔叔 请您跳个舞 于是他迈开正步 莉莉说：雷锋叔叔 还是个童男子吧 于是他被拥到暗处 （1990） A HERO RESURRECTED Uncle Lei Feng* has come back! A young man of 22 Stands in our midst, awkward with strangers Wears a shy smile, Has on a leather jacket, the only sign Of the Lei Feng who always cared well for himself In years gone by. He has never publicized The bulging wad in his pocket: Royalties for the DIARY OF LEI FENG Paid retroactively---we’re talking tens of thousands! What a twist of fate: In years when being poor was glorious, He was loveable for his empty pockets. Now he makes himself over Into a man of minor means! Jia-jia says, “Uncle Lei Feng Come and dance with me.” So he does the ‘step-step-slide’. Li-li says, “Uncle Lei Feng, You’ve never had a girl.” And he gets taken for a ride. ------------------------------------------ * Lei Feng, a paragon of Communist virtues, was played up in media campaigns during the Sixties and Seventies. 《我所经历的战争》 其实我所经历的战争 是在胡同里 为二妞开战 救受苦受难的哥们儿于水火 黑压压的脑袋压过来 白晃晃的刀子晃过来 丫挺的！这是阶级仇民族恨 我强压怒火四处搜寻家伙 一般场合还算从容不迫 嘴里叼着半根烟 手里拎着半块砖 咿呀呀呀呀呀呀呀呀呀—— 看！脑瓜咧嘴血像鼻涕般喷出 血中分不出你我 血光照耀着孬种与好汉 我在二妞目光的远程 是一颗优质子弹 目标在监狱或医院 等待女王的加冕等待那枚 柔软的勋章授予脸 其实我所经历的 是一场古典战役 其实你说我跟拿破仑有什么不同 与巴顿有什么两样 来！你摸摸我的血也并不比 堵枪眼的英雄黄继光 凉！ THE WAR I LIVED THROUGH Really, the war I lived through Was in the alleyways. I fought it for Gloria And to save my buddies from fire and flood. Those black-haired heads were getting closer, The glint of knives was coming closer. Can you get it up? This is class war, it’s national hatred. Most times I’m an easy-going fellow But I bottle up my temper and go looking for a piece With half a cigarette in my mouth And half a brick in my hand. This is it, man. Umph, oof, pow! Look! A smile got opened on that guy’s scalp, and it’s drooling blood. In all this blood you can’t us from them. Blood is just as bright from creeps as good companions. Here I am, on this end of Gloria’s gaze Looking like a high-yield cartridge Aimed at hospital or prison. I am waiting to be crowned by that regal lady, To get that soft badge of honor That will give me the face I need. I can tell you, what I lived through Was an ancient battle. Who says I’m less a man than Napoleon or any different than General Patton? Come here! Feel this blood. Your cannon-fodder heroes are not this fucking warm! 《每天的菜市场》 我悠然 出现在 菜市场的人丛中 这是每天的情景 生活的基本 内容 我已掌握 讨价还价的技俩 和小摊贩周旋 那是和劳动人民 打成一片 君子动口不动手 我脸红脖子粗的 与人吵架 有时当看客 渐渐地 便熟悉了市场 我发现卖菜的 最怕收税的 而收税的在与 卖菜的和卖肉的 打交道时 态度不尽相同 这是为甚么？ 这是人性的 太人性的 卖肉的手里握刀 EVERY DAY AT THE MARKET I appear at the market Strolling among the crowds Each day the scene here Shows life as it is really lived I master the tricks of bargaining Get along with the vendors I become part of the laboring masses A gentleman uses his mouth, not his hands I argue until the cords on my neck stand out At other times I watch from the side. Gradually I learn my way around the market I notice how the vendors fear the tax collectors. But the tax collectors behave differently Toward meat sellers than toward vegetable sellers Why would that be? It has to do with human nature. It’s all too human. The meat sellers have cleavers in their hands. 《回答母亲》 和母亲坐在一起 看电视 这种景象 已经很少见了 电视里在演一位 英雄 在一场火灾中 脸被烧得不成样子 母亲告诫我 ‘遇到这样的事 你千万不要管…’ 久久望着母亲 说不出话 这种景象 也已经很少见了 母亲早已忘了 曾经 她是怎么教育我的 怎么把我教育成人的 ‘妈妈放心吧 甭说火灾啦 自个儿着了我也懒得去救’ 这样的回答让她 感到满意 看完这个节目 她就忙着给我炖排骨汤去了 ANSWER TO MY MOTHER Sitting together with my mother Watching TV---a scene like this Is rare for me these days. The show is about a hero Who went to the scene of a fire His face was burned beyond recognition. Mother advised me In a situation like that, no matter what, Don’t get involved. For a long time I looked at Mother, Couldn’t think of what to say. This sort of scene Is also rare for me these days. Mother had forgotten How she educated me, what expectations she put Into raising me. “Take it easy Mom Forget about a burning building; even if my own body caught on fire I wouldn’t bother to put it out.” She was satisfied with my answer After the show she got busy Stewing spareribs for my supper. 《聊天》 坐在我对面 正跟我聊天的人 突然走神了 他一定看见了 更有意思的东西 或仅是一闪念 坐在我对面 正跟我聊天的人 突然走神了 为我侃侃而谈的 一夕话制造出空白 像诗中的空行 坐在我对面 正跟我聊天的人 突然走神了 促成我的飞跃 刚才我是在蒙古草原 现在已脚踩火星的表面 A CONVERSATION The person sitting across the table Having a conversation with me Suddenly goes blank He must have perceived Something more intriguing Or a thought crossed his mind For my torrent of words He introduces blankness Like an empty line between verses The person sitting across the table Having a conversation with me Suddenly goes blank. My leap of thought is amplified Before I was on the Mongolian grassland Now I step onto the surface of Mars. 《去年冬天在曲府》 採氣的人 懷抱一棵樹 熊一樣抱住 那棵老樹 那是孔子 親手所栽之樹 採氣的人 滿面紅光 採到了氣 收了手 與先前大不一樣了 可偏偏有人 要將真相點破 點破的人 是操山東腔的女導遊 她說：錯了 不是這一棵是那一棵 而那一棵 幾乎不存在 不料是樹墩 圍在鐵欄中 被千年的雷 劈成了這副鳥樣 採氣的人在一瞬間 臉兒變得煞白 這很沒意思 更沒意思的是 那個哈哈大笑 幸災樂禍的我 Last Winter in Qufu The deep-breathing practitioner hugged a tree Absorbing subtle energy Like a bear he embraced That ancient tree Said to have been personally planted By none other than Confucius The breathworker’s face grew pink He was tapping into some powerful qi He drew back his arms Looking different than before But there was someone All too willing to prick his bubble The one who brought him down Was a tour guide with a Shandong accent You’re wrong, she said It’s not this tree, it’s that one Where she pointed there was nothing left But a stump inside an iron railing Carved into this pathetic shape By lightning of the ages The breathwork practitioner’s face Quickly changed to a pale color This was not very amusing Another thing that wasn’t amusing Was the guffaw I let out At the sight of him crestfallen 《为司机点烟》 为司机点烟 是一种仪式 在我嘴上点燃 深吸一口 递在他口中 这一过程 车拐了一个弯儿 这一过程 又吃掉了一截路 如果突然刹车 我会失去自控 一头撞碎 车窗的玻璃 但是没有 注视前方的司机 知道我在点烟 他动了动嘴唇 如果我是女的 也别无深意 我是个男人 便深化了仪式 路险且远 师傅 我的小命 在你手中 （1990） GIVE THE DRIVER A LIGHT Giving the driver a light Is a ritual I light up between my lips And take a drag, Then hold it up to his mouth. While this happens He rounds a curve; While this happens We get farther down the road. If he slammed on the brakes I would lose my grip, My head would smash the glass, But he doesn’t. The driver looking straight ahead Knows I have lit a cigarette, His lips make a movement. If I were a woman I’d know he meant nothing by it; I am a man, So the ritual deepens. The road is long and winding. Driver, my life Is in your hands. 《假肢工厂》 儿时的朋友陈向东 如今在假肢厂干活 意外接到他的电话 约我前去相见 在厂门口 看见他 一如从前的笑脸 但放大了几倍 走路似乎有点异样 我伸出手去 撩他的裤管 他笑了：是真的 一起向前走 才想起握手 他在我手上捏了捏 完好如初 一切完好如初 我们哈哈大乐 《色盲》 你所讲述的彩虹 究竟如何美丽 我还看见了 一面尿片般的国旗 今生勉强下完 的一盘棋 是我帮你吃掉了 我的车 唉！ 你说我饱受颜色的折磨 你说我只晓得光明与黑暗 的色泽 我死在城市的 红绿灯下 死不瞑目地看啊 那永远搞不懂的真假 这是宿命 最后一瞥 我看到了爷爷 一个色盲农民 一生收获 猩红的麦子 THE ARTIFICIAL LIMB FACTORY My childhood friend Easton Chen Now works in an artificial limb factory. Out of the blue I get his phone call Arranging a time to get together. I see him at the factory door, His smile just like before But now on a grown-up face. There is something strange in the way he walks, I reach out my hand To brush up against his trouser leg. He laughs: it’s the real thing. We walk a few steps Then think of shaking hands. He digs his middle finger into my palm, Still sound and whole, Everywhere still sound and whole. We burst out laughing. COLOR BLIND The rainbow you tell me about: Where is the beauty in it? And to me that flag I see Looks like a diaper. I make myself finish the chessgame This lifetime, but the rook I lost to you Was a giveaway. What now? You say I’m a victim of strong colors; I know only shades of bright and dark. I die beneath stoplights of the city, I die unresigned and staring At an unsolved knot of truth and lies. As fate would have it, In my final glimpse, it is given to me To see my grandfather---a color blind farmer All his life harvesting Wheat of livid red. 《廢品店》 廢品店的生鐵 沈默地瞅著四周 剛剛被賣掉 經一個小崽子之手 被廉價地出賣 比人的骨骼還要堅硬的 生鐵 咽不下這口氣啊 今晚 倉庫頂上的月亮很高 他還沒有學會逃跑 只有沈默地等待 進一步地出賣 或者熔爐 或者有賊閃現 而此刻他已行動 一截生鐵渴望像一條蛇 那樣爬行 他艱難地爬向路口 當看倉庫的老頭出現時 他要瘋狂地撲上去 像蛇撲向 冬天的捕蛇者 （1990） THE REFUSE DEPOT Iron bar at the refuse depot Peering about in silence Was sold a little while ago Unloaded by some punk At a cheap price. Iron bar is harder than human bones: It can’t get over being slighted this way. Moon high tonight over the warehouse, Iron bar ignorant of escape Only waits in silence Waits to be sold more cheaply Or thrown in a furnace, Or maybe a thief sneaks in. This is when it leaps into action, Iron bar longs to crawl The way a snake does, Shakily it crawls to the intersection Where the old warehouse guard appears. It wants to strike Pounce on him crazily The way a snake wants to pounce on the handler Who caught it in winter. 《饿死诗人》 那样轻松的 你们 开始复述农业 耕作的事宜以及 春来秋去 挥汗如雨 收获麦子 你们以为麦粒就是你们 为女人迸溅的泪滴吗 麦芒就像你们贴在腮帮上的 猪鬃般柔软吗 你们拥挤在流浪之路的那一年 北方的麦子自个儿长大了 它们挥舞着一弯弯 阳光之镰 割断麦杆 自己的脖子 割断与土地最后的联系 成全了你们 诗人们已经吃饱了 一望无边的麦田 在他们腹中香气弥漫 城市中最伟大的懒汉 做了诗歌中光荣的农夫 麦子 以阳光和雨水的名义 我呼吁：饿死他们 狗日的诗人 首先饿死我 一个用墨水污染土地的帮凶 一个艺术世界的杂种 STARVE THE POETS As easy as you please, again You start to talk of farming Of proper tillage, and dripping sweat Like rain in the march of seasons, Until the wheat bears harvest. Do you think the kernels are yours, From the tears you shed for women? Does the wheat-awn seem as tender As whiskers along your cheek? That year you crowded the road with your wanderings The wheat plants in the North grew on their own Then danced to curve on curve Of scythes in the sun, Severing stalks, their own necks, Severing last ties to the land, Letting you be yourselves. The poets have eaten their fill, A wheatfield stretching out of sight Exudes a rich scent in their bellies. The city’s consummate idlers Are the blue-ribbon farmers of poetry. In the name of sun and rain I raise this cry, wheat plants: Starve them, The damned poets! But first of all starve me. Polluter with ink-stained fingers, I play my part Hybrid bastard in the world of art. 《在美国使馆遭拒签》 整个上午 一百个人挤在一个不大的厅里 像挤在一条偷渡船的仓底 在等待签证的百无聊赖中 一个学芭蕾的美少女 成为全场的最大姣点 在与签证官见面之前 我已经有点底虚了 我怎么瞧着被签的人中 几乎没有青壮年的男人 有那么两个 一个是带着老伴的老头 一个是个头够不到窗口的侏儒 美国怕了 真的怕了 他们现在怕男人 哇靠！大胡子的签证官 其实比我长得 更接近于穆斯林 也更像个恐怖分子 他未加丝毫考虑 坚定不移地拒签我 难道是猩猩惜猩猩 他一眼便瞧出了我眼中 深藏不露的杀气 移民之嫌 有此迹象乎 大唐李白想要移民波斯 你他妈甭跟老子开国际玩笑了 Turned Down at the American Consulate The whole morning A hundred people crowded into a small waiting room Like the cargo space of a people-smuggling boat As the weary hours of waiting for visas wore on A beautiful ballet-student of a girl Was the focus of enchantment for the room Before I went before the visa officer My chances started looking shaky Of those who were granted visas Hardly any were males in their prime Only two at most One was an older man, along with his wife One was a dwarf who didn’t reach the window America is getting afraid It’s starting to feel the fear Now they are afraid of grown men For crying out loud! That beard on that visa officer Was more Muslim-looking Than anything about me He looked more like a terrorist than me But without a moment’s consideration He adamantly refused my visa Was there some deep signal That I was a-gibbon to him, and he was a-gibbon to me? At one glance he saw something in my eyes That concealed impulse toward violence That intention to immigrate Do I give such indications? Hah! Would Li Bai of the Great Tang immigrate to Persia? That must be some kind of world-class joke! 在我扬长而去之时 那个学芭蕾的美少女 也被另一窗口的黑女人拒签 她真是快乐得像只欲飞的小鸭子 欢叫着离开此地 “一准儿是她父母逼着她去美国……” 队伍里有人做出了正确的判断 While I was getting ready to leave That lovely ballet-dancing girl Was refused by the black lady in the next window But actually she was happy; she left the place like a frisky duckling, even let out a YAY ! “Must be her parents pushing her off to America…” Someone in line judged it like it was
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