诗在翻译中死去

竹人
2007-05-18 看过
呵呵,起个耸人听闻的标题再说。刚加入豆瓣,这本书放下已经有一阵。当初看完的时候,在我的博上就其中DT的一首诗尝试做了解读。如果耐心读下来,我相信大家会相信,即便大牛如北岛,也不得不让诗意在翻译中流失很多。

原文见我的博“评论:文学/诗歌”。
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December 27
Lost in Translation
在三亚度假的时候,我睡得晚,所以每晚过了十点就到大堂的酒吧去。酒吧是半露天的,菲律宾歌手甜腻的歌声和远方隐隐约约的潮声在星空底下混成一杯暧昧的鸡尾酒。就这么零打碎敲地把北岛的《时间的玫瑰》读完了。
 
真有不少猛诗。不过,我一直觉得诗是可以读但不能译的,即使我相信北岛的功力,也一定要把原诗找来看看。北岛在书中嘴有点碎,肯定得罪不少人。我随手一Google,这不,我母校的某位,跟他练上了。
 
都是瞎忙,依我看。翻译的过程中丢的东西太多。这个Blog,我会慢慢Update。先把原诗和北岛的翻译放上来。英文的引自Jeanette Winterson,也是Google来的,我喜欢她写的读后感。
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Dylan Thomas 2
  
DYLAN THOMAS - 1914-1953. Welsh.

Dylan Thomas died fifty years ago this month, which feels strange because his work is so fresh and alive to us. His radio play, UNDER MILK WOOD, wrung out of him by a radio producer over a period of nine years, made radio history, and went on to be a successful stage play all around the world. Most of us know it through the memorable voice of Richard Burton.

Thomas was wild, romantic, impossible, a drunk and a womaniser, a bar room bully and quick with his temper and his fists. And he loved words.

We've featured him before in Poem of the Month, but for his anniversary, it feels like the right thing to do.

This is a poem I love, for its energy, its passion, and its memorable images. I know what the force is he talks about, live with it, fear it, love it, and am loved and destroyed by it too.
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The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
 
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《通过绿色导火索催开花朵的力量》
 狄兰·托马斯

 通过绿色导火索催开花朵的力量
 催开我绿色年华,炸毁树根的力量
 是我的毁灭者。
 而我哑然告知弯曲的玫瑰
 我的青春同样被冬天的高烧压弯。

 驱动穿透岩石之水的力量
 驱动我的鲜血,枯竭滔滔不绝的力量
 使我的血凝结。
 而我哑然告知我的血管
 同样的嘴怎样吮吸那山泉。

 在池中搅动水的手
 搅动流沙;牵引疾风的手
 牵引我裹尸布的帆。
 而我哑然告知那绞死的人
 我的泥土怎样制成刽子手的石灰。

 时间之唇蛭吸源泉;
 爱情滴散聚合,但沉落的血
 会平息她的痛楚。
 我哑然告知一种气候的风
 时间怎样沿星星滴答成天堂。

 而我哑然告知情人的墓穴
 我床单上怎样蠕动着同样的蛆虫。
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January 04
Lost in Translation (2)
这是第一段原文:

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

这里应该没什么冷僻的词汇。前三句是一小节,后两句是另一小节。看过《星球大战》(Star War)的一定都记得,恶战和远征之前洛克(Luke)总要受用一句福咒:May the Force BE with you。Tomas在这里说的Force,也是同样:神秘、巨大、无所不在、贯穿宇宙和时间。力,可以催生万物(The force that through the green fuse drives the flower/Drives my green age),也可以毁灭一切(that blasts the roots of trees/Is my destroyer.)。fuse和blasts把这Force之猛烈推到你的眼前:fuse是导火索,blasts意为爆炸,生或死都是迅猛而不可挡,一切似乎发生在瞬间。诗句中音乐感极佳,如第一句中Force、Fuse和Flower都是以F-作辅音为首,blasTS the rooTS of treeS又都以[S]结尾。Green fuse和Green age,连用两个Green,指生命的成长,也暗含生命一旦不得不面对逆势之力时的脆弱。Is my destroyer,嘎然而止,以悲情作结。如果roots可以被blasts,玫瑰自然凋折(crooked rose),这Force既然作用于万物,Tomas说:我们(我和玫瑰)同病(My youth is bent by the same wintry fever)。“I am dumb to”意指:I am so overpowered, that I am unable to。在这里以及后面的几端都表达一种状态:如此之敬畏以至于不敢或不能。

若此啰里啰唆,一是为了以我读懂的给读者做一个参考。更主要的是想证明我的观点:诗是可读而不可译的。这是北岛的翻译:

 通过绿色导火索催开花朵的力量
 催开我绿色年华,炸毁树根的力量
 是我的毁灭者。
 而我哑然告知弯曲的玫瑰
 我的青春同样被冬天的高烧压弯。

前一句半,翻得是准的,但Force对应更直接的是“力”而不是“力量”。但如果用“力”,就很难成句。对比原诗,前面三句中的乐感一点都找不到了,催生和毁灭之力的对比也大不如原诗,我相信Tomas在念到一句半后,一定是在第二个“That”那里顿一下。用中文念,也可以在“炸毁”那里略停,用重声念,但效果差得太远。第三句如果一定要翻,我不明白为什么不简单明了的一句“也毁灭我”。语气上要和原来符合得多。《时间的玫瑰》中用的四个译本,三个用“我的毁灭者”一个用“摧毁我的一切”,实在有些罗嗦。“哑然告知”是败笔,所有的译本都一定要把“告知”译出来,而不是想法传达那种敬畏的状态。

我有高招吗,没有。我的Point是,能读原诗,就别译了。导读应该导读原诗,还顺便帮助学英语不是?如今十亿人民九亿都在大学英语,谁怕谁啊?:)

再念一遍吧,真的是好诗:

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
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