风夜狂想曲

Rhapsody on a Windy Night BY T. S. ELIOT Twelve o'clock. Along the reaches of the street Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations Dissolve the floors of memory And all its clear relations, Its divisions and precisions, Every street lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium. Half-past one, The street lamp sputtered, The street lamp muttered, The street lamp said, "Regard that woman Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door Which opens on her like a grin. You see the border of her dress Is torn and stained with sand, And you see the corner of her eye Twists like a crooked pin." The memory throws up high and dry A crowd of twisted things; A twisted branch upon the beach Eaten smooth, and polished As if the world gave up The secret of its skeleton, Stiff and white. A broken spring in a factory yard, Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left Hard and curled and ready to snap. Half-past two, The street lamp said, "Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter, Slips out its tongue And devours a morsel of rancid butter." So the hand of a child, automatic, Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay. I could see nothing behind that child's eye. I have seen eyes in the street Trying to peer through lighted shutters, And a crab one afternoon in a pool, An old crab with barnacles on his back, Gripped the end of a stick which I held him. Half-past three, The lamp sputtered, The lamp muttered in the dark. The lamp hummed: "Regard the moon, La lune ne garde aucune rancune, She winks a feeble eye, She smiles into corners. She smoothes the hair of the grass. The moon has lost her memory. A washed-out smallpox cracks her face, Her hand twists a paper rose, That smells of dust and old Cologne, She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells That cross and cross across her brain." The reminiscence comes Of sunless dry geraniums And dust in crevices, Smells of chestnuts in the streets, And female smells in shuttered rooms, And cigarettes in corridors And cocktail smells in bars. The lamp said, "Four o'clock, Here is the number on the door. Memory! You have the key, The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair, Mount. The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall, Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life." The last twist of the knife. 风夜狂想曲 艾略特 作 苏北海 翻译 十二时 沿着街道外围运化月魂 飒飒谣响咒语 消融记忆深基 它清晰的关联 划割与精微 我所经过的每一盏街灯 宿命之鼓似的跳跃鼓动 午夜摇撼着记忆 如同一个疯子折碎一株死去的天竺葵 一点半 街灯唾沫星子迸溅 街灯呢喃鼎沸 街灯说: “向那位借着门灯之火，狐疑地朝你走去的女子致意。” 门开时如同咧嘴呲笑 你看她裙裾的边缘 被风沙撕破玷污 你再看她的眼角 拧紧缠绕成一枚曲别针 记忆高高扬起晾晒 一堆扭曲了的东西 一根落在海滩弯曲的树干 被剥光并冲刷干净 好似世界倾覆了 骷髅的秘密 僵硬 苍白 工厂大院里破碎的弹簧（春光 泉涌） 力余留下来并附着锈迹斑斑的形体 僵硬 卷曲 时刻将要断裂 二点半 街灯说 瞧，那只在阴沟里舔舐自己毛衣的猫咪 溜出舌头 一口吞下一块腐臭的黄油 而后，一个小孩的手漠然伸出 将一只沿着码头奔逃的玩具收入囊中 孩子眼睛深处我什么也看不见 我曾觉察到街上数双眼睛 借着百叶窗透出的灯光极力的凝视着 另外在某天午后，水池里一只蟹 背上趴着藤壶的老螃蟹 紧握着我掰给他棍子的另一端 三点半 街灯细语 街灯在黑暗中咕哝着 街灯哼哼唧唧说着 向月亮致敬 月亮女神宽宏大量 她眯着眼睛与九曲缠绕的角落们 相视而笑 她抚平青草的秀发 月神已失忆 一颗褪色的天花使她脸上绽出微笑 她的手捻弄着一朵纸玫瑰 那是灰尘和古龙水的气味 她独自裹挟着所有古老之夜的味道 一再穿过她头脑的味道 怀旧来自 阴暗枯萎的天竺葵和缝隙里的尘土 街上炒栗子香 女子深闺密闭热烈的荷尔蒙 走廊上雪茄的烟香 还有酒吧鸡尾酒的醇芳 四点钟 街灯说 这是门牌号码 记忆 你怀揣钥匙 那盏小灯在楼梯上留下一个圆环 渐渐升起 嵌入 床已铺好，牙刷挂在墙上 鞋子脱在门口，睡吧，为生命绸缪 盐终于悬了起来