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求艾略特《荒原》原文+译文

求艾略特《荒原》原文+译文

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD  April is the cruellest month, breeding  Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing  Memory and desire, stirring  Dull roots with spring rain.  Winter kept us warm, covering  Earth in forgetful snow, feeding  A little life with dried tubers.  Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee  扒轮敏With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,  And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10  桐滚And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.  Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.  And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,  My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,  And I was frightened. He said, Marie,  Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.  In the mountains, there you feel free.  I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.  What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow  Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20  You cannot say, or guess, for you know only  A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,  And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,  And the dry stone no sound of water. Only  春枝There is shadow under this red rock,  (Come in under the shadow of this red rock),  And I will show you something different from either  Your shadow at morning striding behind you  Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;  I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 30  Frisch weht der Wind  Der Heimat zu  Mein Irisch Kind,  Wo weilest du?  "You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;  "They called me the hyacinth girl."  - Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,  Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not  Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither  Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40  Looking into the heart of light, the silence.  Od' und leer das Meer.  Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,  Had a bad cold, nevertheless  Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,  With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,  Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,  (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)  Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,  The lady of situations. 50  Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,  And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,  Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,  Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find  The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.  I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.  Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,  Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:  One must be so careful these days.  Unreal City, 60  Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,  A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,  I had not thought death had undone so many.  Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,  And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.  Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,  To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours  With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.  There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying "Stetson!  "You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70  "That corpse you planted last year in your garden,  "Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?  "Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?  "Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,  "Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!  "You! hypocrite lecteur! - mon semblable, - mon frere!"  II. A GAME OF CHESS  The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,  Glowed on the marble, where the glass  Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines  From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80  (Another hid his eyes behind his wing)  Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra  Reflecting light upon the table as  The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,  From satin cases poured in rich profusion;  In vials of ivory and coloured glass  Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,  Unguent, powdered, or liquid - troubled, confused  And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air  That freshened from the window, these ascended 90  In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,  Flung their smoke into the laquearia,  Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.  Huge sea-wood fed with copper  Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,  In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.  Above the antique mantel was displayed  As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene  The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king  So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100  Filled all the desert with inviolable voice  And still she cried, and still the world pursues,  "Jug Jug" to dirty ears.  And other withered stumps of time  Were told upon the walls; staring forms  Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.  Footsteps shuffled on the stair.  Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair  Spread out in fiery points  Glowed into words, then would be savagely still. 110  "My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.  "Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.  "What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?  "I never know what you are thinking. Think."  I think we are in rats' alley  Where the dead men lost their bones.  "What is that noise?"  The wind under the door.  "What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"  Nothing again nothing. 120  "Do  "You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember  "Nothing?"  I remember  Those are pearls that were his eyes.  "Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"  But  O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag -  It's so elegant  So intelligent 130  "What shall I do now? What shall I do?"  I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street  "With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?  "What shall we ever do?"  The hot water at ten.  And if it rains, a closed car at four.  And we shall play a game of chess,  Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.  When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said -  I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140  HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME  Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.  He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you  To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.  You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,  He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.  And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,  He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,  And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.  Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said. 150  Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.  HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME  If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.  Others can pick and choose if you can't.  But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.  You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.  (And her only thirty-one.)  I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,  It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.  (She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) 160  The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.  You are a proper fool, I said.  Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,  What you get married for if you don't want children?  HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME  Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,  And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot -  HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME  HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME  Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. 170  Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.  Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.  III. THE FIRE SERMON  The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf  Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind  Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.  Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.  The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,  Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends  Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.  And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; 180  Departed, have left no addresses.  By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .  Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,  Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.  But at my back in a cold blast I hear  The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.  A rat crept softly through the vegetation  Dragging its slimy belly on the bank  While I was fishing in the dull canal  On a winter evening round behind the gashouse 190  Musing upon the king my brother's wreck  And on the king my father's death before him.  White bodies naked on the low damp ground  And bones cast in a little low dry garret,  Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.  But at my back from time to time I hear  The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring  Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.  O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter  And on her daughter 200  They wash their feet in soda water  Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!  Twit twit twit  Jug jug jug jug jug jug  So rudely forc'd.  Tereu  Unreal City  Under the brown fog of a winter noon  Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant  Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants 210  C.i.f. London: documents at sight,  Asked me in demotic French  To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel  Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.  At the violet hour, when the eyes and back  Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits  Like a taxi throbbing waiting,  I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,  Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see  At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220  Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,  The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights  Her stove, and lays out food in tins.  Out of the window perilously spread  Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,  On the divan are piled (at night her bed)  Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.  I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs  Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest -  I too awaited the expected guest. 230  He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,  A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,  One of the low on whom assurance sits  As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.  The time is now propitious, as he guesses,  The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,  Endeavours to engage her in caresses  Which still are unreproved, if undesired.  Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;  Exploring hands encounter no defence; 240  His vanity requires no response,  And makes a welcome of indifference.  (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all  Enacted on this same divan or bed;  I who have sat by Thebes below the wall  And walked among the lowest of the dead.)  Bestows one final patronising kiss,  And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .  She turns and looks a moment in the glass,  Hardly aware of her departed lover; 250  Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:  "Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."  When lovely woman stoops to folly and  Paces about her room again, alone,  She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,  And puts a record on the gramophone.  "This music crept by me upon the waters"  And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.  O City city, I can sometimes hear  Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260  The pleasant whining of a mandoline  And a clatter and a chatter from within  Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls  Of Magnus Martyr hold  Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.  The river sweats  Oil and tar  The barges drift  With the turning tide  Red sails 270  Wide  To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.  The barges wash  Drifting logs  Down Greenwich reach  Past the Isle of Dogs.  Weialala leia  Wallala leialala  Elizabeth and Leicester  Beating oars 280  The stern was formed  A gilded shell  Red and gold  The brisk swell  Rippled both shores  Southwest wind  Carried down stream  The peal of bells  White towers  Weialala leia 290  Wallala leialala  "Trams and dusty trees.  Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew  Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees  Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."  "My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart  Under my feet. After the event  He wept. He promised 'a new start'.  I made no comment. What should I resent?"  "On Margate Sands. 300  I can connect  Nothing with nothing.  The broken fingernails of dirty hands.  My people humble people who expect  Nothing."  la la  To Carthage then I came  Burning burning burning burning  O Lord Thou pluckest me out  O Lord Thou pluckest 310  burning  IV. DEATH BY WATER  Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,  Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell  And the profit and loss.  A current under sea  Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell  He passed the stages of his age and youth  Entering the whirlpool.  Gentile or Jew  O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320  Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.  V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID  After the torchlight red on sweaty faces  After the frosty silence in the gardens  After the agony in stony places  The shouting and the crying  Prison and palace and reverberation  Of thunder of spring over distant mountains  He who was living is now dead  We who were living are now dying  With a little patience 330  Here is no water but only rock  Rock and no water and the sandy road  The road winding above among the mountains  Which are mountains of rock without water  If there were water we should stop and drink  Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think  Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand  If there were only water amongst the rock  Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit  Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340  There is not even silence in the mountains  But dry sterile thunder without rain  There is not even solitude in the mountains  But red sullen faces sneer and snarl  From doors of mudcracked houses  If there were water  And no rock  If there were rock  And also water  And water 350  A spring  A pool among the rock  If there were the sound of water only  Not the cicada  And dry grass singing  But sound of water over a rock  Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees  Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop  But there is no water  Who is the third who walks always beside you? 360  When I count, there are only you and I together  But when I look ahead up the white road  There is always another one walking beside you  Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded  I do not know whether a man or a woman  - But who is that on the other side of you?  What is that sound high in the air  Murmur of maternal lamentation  Who are those hooded hordes swarming  Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth 370  Ringed by the flat horizon only  What is the city over the mountains  Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air  Falling towers  Jerusalem Athens Alexandria  Vienna London  Unreal  A woman drew her long black hair out tight  And fiddled whisper music on those strings  And bats with baby faces in the violet light 380  Whistled, and beat their wings  And crawled head downward down a blackened wall  And upside down in air were towers  Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours  And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.  In this decayed hole among the mountains  In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing  Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel  There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.  It has no windows, and the door swings, 390  Dry bones can harm no one.  Only a cock stood on the rooftree  Co co rico co co rico  In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust  Bringing rain  Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves  Waited for rain, while the black clouds  Gathered far distant, over Himavant.  The jungle crouched, humped in silence.  Then spoke the thunder 400  DA  Datta: what have we given?  My friend, blood shaking my heart  The awful daring of a moment's surrender  Which an age of prudence can never retract  By this, and this only, we have existed  Which is not to be found in our obituaries  Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider  Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor  In our empty rooms 410  DA  Dayadhvam: I have heard the key  Turn in the door once and turn once only  We think of the key, each in his prison  Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison  Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours  Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus  DA  Damyata: The boat responded  Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar 420  The sea was calm, your heart would have responded  Gaily, when invited, beating obedient  To controlling hands  I sat upon the shore  Fishing, with the arid plain behind me  Shall I at least set my lands in order?  London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down  Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina  Quando fiam ceu chelidon - O swallow swallow  Le Prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie 430  These fragments I have shored against my ruins  Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.  Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.  Shantih shantih shantih