Мандельштам-残篇
我像需要怜悯与宽恕那样祈求你
法国！祈求你的土地和忍冬花
祈求你斑鸠的真理和侏儒的谎言
还有用纱布分割开来的葡萄园
轻松的十二月，你剪过毛的空气
蒙上一层白霜，那么富有，那么委屈
可是紫罗兰在监狱里——歌唱！
冷漠叫人发疯！
在铁窗后打着拍子，吹起无耻的口哨
——那里七月歪斜的街道
一片欢腾，驱赶着国王
如今在巴黎，在夏特尔和艾利斯
盛行仁慈的查理·卓别林
他头戴海洋圆礼帽，随性而拘谨地
指使着身边的卖花姑娘
她胸前别着玫瑰，在双倍劳役下
蛛网连缀的披肩逐渐石化
多可惜！拐弯抹角的致谢，
轻得像羽毛，盘旋着在小镇上喘息
金色山羊眼睛的
女无神论者，弯下你的脖子！
当你用——小舌音颤动的——
剪刀嘲弄着一丛丛吝啬的玫瑰。
As I'd ask for charity and mercy,I beg you,
France, for your land and honeysuckle,
For your turtledoves' truth and the falseness of midget
Winegrowers in their gauze partitions
In light December your close-cropped[剪短] air
Frosts over, well-heeled [富有]and indignant[委屈]
... anagrammatically shuffle themselves to become the honeysuckle,
keeps on singing even behind bars: "But a violet even in jail
-the nonchalance could drive you mad! The flapper-song, cheeky, whistles on
- Where July's crooked street
Seethed，sweeping kings away.
But now in Paris, in Chartres, in Aries
Good Charlie Chaplin reigns supreme
In his oceanic bowler, with absent-minded precision
He swaggers restlessly with his flower girl
There, with a rose on her breast, in two-towered sweat,
Her spiderweb shawl turns to stone
"Bend down your neck, little atheist," With a goat's golden eyes,
And with crooked ...
法国！祈求你的土地和忍冬花
祈求你斑鸠的真理和侏儒的谎言
还有用纱布分割开来的葡萄园
轻松的十二月，你剪过毛的空气
蒙上一层白霜，那么富有，那么委屈
可是紫罗兰在监狱里——歌唱！
冷漠叫人发疯！
在铁窗后打着拍子，吹起无耻的口哨
——那里七月歪斜的街道
一片欢腾，驱赶着国王
如今在巴黎，在夏特尔和艾利斯
盛行仁慈的查理·卓别林
他头戴海洋圆礼帽，随性而拘谨地
指使着身边的卖花姑娘
她胸前别着玫瑰，在双倍劳役下
蛛网连缀的披肩逐渐石化
多可惜！拐弯抹角的致谢，
轻得像羽毛，盘旋着在小镇上喘息
金色山羊眼睛的
女无神论者，弯下你的脖子！
当你用——小舌音颤动的——
剪刀嘲弄着一丛丛吝啬的玫瑰。
As I'd ask for charity and mercy,I beg you,
France, for your land and honeysuckle,
For your turtledoves' truth and the falseness of midget
Winegrowers in their gauze partitions
In light December your close-cropped[剪短] air
Frosts over, well-heeled [富有]and indignant[委屈]
... anagrammatically shuffle themselves to become the honeysuckle,
keeps on singing even behind bars: "But a violet even in jail
-the nonchalance could drive you mad! The flapper-song, cheeky, whistles on
- Where July's crooked street
Seethed，sweeping kings away.
But now in Paris, in Chartres, in Aries
Good Charlie Chaplin reigns supreme
In his oceanic bowler, with absent-minded precision
He swaggers restlessly with his flower girl
There, with a rose on her breast, in two-towered sweat,
Her spiderweb shawl turns to stone
"Bend down your neck, little atheist," With a goat's golden eyes,
And with crooked ...
