译诗练习：米沃什 《猫的画像》
猫的画像
作者 / [波兰] 切斯瓦夫·米沃什 翻译 / 王兆阳
一个小女孩盯着一本书上猫的画像， 它戴着毛茸茸的项圈，穿着绿色天鹅绒连衣裙。 她的嘴唇，非常红，在甜蜜的遐想中半张着。 这是发生在1910年或1912年的事，画上没有日期。 这幅画的作者是马乔里.C.墨菲，一个美国人， 生于1888年，差不多和我母亲一样大。 我凝视着这幅画，在爱荷华州的格林奈尔， 在本世纪末的时候。那只戴着项圈的猫 他在哪里？那个女孩呢？我要去见她吗， 用手杖轻叩一个擦着胭脂的木乃伊？ 但这张脸：一个小小的塌鼻子，圆圆的脸颊。 让我如此心动，非常像，我半夜里突然醒来 在我旁边的枕头上看到的那张脸。 猫不在这里，他在书里，书在画里。 没有女孩，而她却在这里，在我面前 而且绝不会失去。我们真正的相遇 是在童年时代。惊奇地唤醒了爱情， 一个动容的念头，一只穿着天鹅绒的猫。
伯克利，1985
A PORTRAIT WITH A CAT
A little girl looks at a book with a picture of a cat Who wears a flutty collar and has a green velvet frock. Her lips, very red, are half opened in a sweet reverie. This takes place in 1910 or I91I2, the painting bears no date. It was painted by Marjorie C. Murphy, an American Born in 1888, like my mother, more or less. I contemplate the painting in Grinnell, Iowa, At the end of the century. That cat with his collar Where is he? And the girl? Am I going to meet her, One of those mummies with rouge, tapping with their canes? But this face: a tiny pug nose, round cheeks, Moves me so, quite like a face that I, suddenly awake In the middle of the night, saw by my side on a pillow. The cat is not here, he is in the book, the book in the painting. No girl, and yet she is here, before me And has never been lost. Our true encounter Is in the zones of childhood. Amazement called love, A thought of touching, a cat in velvet.
Berkeley, 1985
万圣节前夕
在我最喜欢的那个月的巨大静寂中， 十月(枫树的红，橡树的古铜青， 白桦树上疏疏落落的叶子的澄黄)， 我颂扬时光的停留。
辽阔的亡灵之国啊到处都有它的起点: 在林荫小巷的转弯处，在对面公园的草坪上。 但我没有进去，我还没有被召唤。 摩托艇泊在河岸上，小路掩映在松针里。 天早早地黑了，河那边没有灯。 我要去参加鬼魂和女巫的舞会。 一群戴着面具和假发的人将出现在那里， 加入到生者的合唱中， 跳舞，不会被认出。
南哈德利,1985
ALL HALLOWS’EVE
In the great silence of my favorite month, October (the red of maples, the bronze of oaks, A clear-yellow leaf here and there on birches), I celebrated the standstill of time.
The vast country of the dead had its beginning everywhere: At the turn of a tree-lined alley, across park lawns. But I did not have to enter, I was not called yet.
Motorboats pulled up on the river bank, paths in pine needles. It was getting dark early, no lights on the other side.
I was going to attend the ball of ghosts and witches. A delegation would appear there in masks and wigs, And dance, unrecognized, in the chorus of the living.
South Hadley, 1985
与她在一起
我那在不存在的国家的，可怜的、 因关节炎而膝盖肿胀的母亲。 在我七十四岁生日那天，在伯克利圣玛丽教堂 做早弥撒时，我想起了他们。 这个礼拜天读智慧书 说上帝为何不曾创造死 也不为人的死亡而欢欣。 《马可福音》中读到 一个小女孩。他对她说：“大利大，古米！“ 这正是讲给我的。让我从死中复活 并重复那些在我之前活着的人的希望， 带着她死亡的痛苦，在恐惧中与她融为一体。 在黑暗的十一月，在但泽附近的一个村庄， 两个悲伤的德国人，年迈的男人和妇女， 还有来自立陶宛的难民都将染上斑疹伤寒。 与我在一起吧，我对她说，我的时间已经不多了。 你的话现在成了我的，在我内心深处。 “现在看来，这一切都只是一场梦。”
伯克利，1985
WITH HER
Those poor, arthritically swollen knees Of my mother in an absent country. I think of them on my seventy-fourth birthday As I attend early Mass at St. Mary Magdalen in Berkeley. A reading this Sunday from the Book of Wisdom About how God has not made death And does not rejoice in the annihilation of the living. A reading from the Gospel according to Mark About a little girl to whom He said:” Talitha, cumi!“ This is for me. To make me rise from the dead And repeat the hope of those who lived before me, In a fearful unity with her, with her pain of dying, In a village near Danzig, in a dark November, When both the mournful Germans, old men and women, And the evacuees from Lithuania would fall ill with typhus. Be with me, I say to her, my time has been short. Your words are now mine, deep inside me: “it all seems now to have been a dream.“
Berkeley, 1985
