威廉·卡洛斯·威廉斯：诗二十三首

赵毅衡 译




　　威廉·卡洛斯·威廉斯（William Carlos Williams, 1883–1963）是美国现代最重要的诗人之一。他是庞德的同窗好友，诗风很接近意象派，但他并没有移居国外加入伦敦的意象派集团。然而，在意象派星散之后，他却是唯一一个坚持意象派的具体性原则且终身服膺勿替的诗人。可以说，他的诗歌创作和诗学思想，是意象派最有积极意义而且最持久的成果。威廉斯坚持使用描述性的意象，他的口号是“要事物，不要思想”。他的诗很少使用复杂的结构、繁复的比喻，他再三强调“象征主义要不得”。但是实际上，他的白描后面蕴藏着深沉的寄托。20世纪30年代初，威廉斯参与发起“客体主义”诗派，这实际上是意象主义原则的再现。因此，很多文学家认为他属于意象派。威廉斯创作的另一个特点是强调美国本土风格，用普通美国人的语言，写美国题材。这与艾略特所强调的欧洲文化传统大相异趣。为此，威廉斯称艾略特《荒原》的出现是“一场大灾祸”，后又与庞德反目为仇。威廉斯的职业是儿科医生，终生在新泽西州一个小城市行医，因此他的题材往往取自小城市和乡村的生活，他对民间的疾苦也比较关心。威廉斯后期的创作主要是五卷本长诗《斐德森》，描写一个小城市的历史，试图以此为缩影写出美国民族的历史。此长诗诗文混杂，引录了不少地方史资料，结构颇为特殊，但被认为是美国现代主要哲理诗之一。20世纪50年代后期，美国反学院派诗兴起，威廉斯的影响也越来越大。许多美国当代诗人祖述威廉斯，以威廉斯诗风反艾略特诗风。大多数论者现在认为，威廉斯和庞德是对当代美国诗影响最大的诗人。



To Waken an Old Lady

Old age is
a flight of small
cheeping birds
skimming
bare trees
above a snow glaze.
Gaining and failing
they are buffeted
by a dark wind—

But what?
On harsh weedstalks
the flock has rested—
the snow
is covered with broken
seed husks
and the wind tempered
with a shrill
piping of plenty.



唤醒老妇人

老年
这是小小鸣鸟的
飞翔
在冻结成冰的雪原上
掠过
光秃的树枝。
加快，跌闪
是阴暗的风
挡住了它们的飞行——

但这有什么关系？
在坚硬的草茎上
这群鸟在休息，
雪地上
撒满种子的
碎壳儿
而丰满的笛声
那颤音
使风势变缓。




The Great Figure

Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
firetruck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city.



巨大的数字

在密雨中
在灯光里
我看到一个金色的
数字5
写在一辆红色的
救火车上
无人注意
疾驰
驶向锣声紧敲
警报尖鸣之处
轮子隆隆
穿过黑暗的城市。



The Young Laundryman

Ladies, I crave your indulgence for
My friend Wu Kee; young, agile, clear-eyed
And clean-limbed, his muscles ripple
Under the thin blue shirt; and his naked feet, in
Their straw sandals, lift at the heel, shift and
Find new postures continually.

Your husband's shirts to wash, please, for Wu Kee.



年轻的洗衣工

太太们，我请求你们照应
我的朋友吴启；年轻，心灵手巧，
手脚干净，他的肌肉
在单薄的蓝衬衫下起伏；赤裸的脚
穿着草鞋，一个脚跟踮起，又换一只脚
永远在寻找新的姿势。

请把你家丈夫的衬衫给吴启洗。



The Farmer

The Farmer in deep thought
is pacing through the rain
among his blank fields, with
hands in pockets,
in his head
the harvest already planted.
A cold wind ruffles the water
among the browned weeds.
On all sides
the world rolls coldly away:
black orchards
darkened by the March clouds—
leaving room for thought.
Down past the brushwood
bristling by
the rainsluiced wagonroad
looms the artist figure of
the farmer—composing
—antagonist



沉思的农夫

沉思的农夫
淋着雨踱步
在未耕种的田里，双手
插在兜中，
在他头脑里
庄稼已经种下。
寒风吹皱
棕黄野草间的池水，
四面八方
世界冰冷地向前滚动：
黑色的果园
在三月的云下更加幽暗——
耐人寻思。
在大雨洗过的大马路旁
那蒙茸的
灌木林后
朦胧地显出农夫
那艺术家的身影——在创作
——苦斗的人



By the Road to the Contagious Hospital

By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the
waste of broad, muddy fields
brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen

patches of standing water
the scattering of tall trees

All along the road the reddish
purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy
stuff of bushes and small trees
with dead, brown leaves under them
leafless vines—

Lifeless in appearance, sluggish
dazed spring approaches—

They enter the new world naked,
cold, uncertain of all
save that they enter. All about them
the cold, familiar wind—

Now the grass, tomorrow
the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf

One by one objects are defined—
It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf

But now the stark dignity of
entrance—Still, the profound change
has come upon them: rooted they
grip down and begin to awaken



去传染病院的路上

去传染病院的路上
冷风——从东北方向
赶来蓝斑点点的
汹涌层云。远处，
一片泥泞的荒野
野草枯黄，有立有伏

一潭潭的死水
偶见几丛大树

沿路尽是灌木
小树，半紫半红
枝丫丛丛纠结
下面是枯黄的叶子
无叶的藤——

看来毫无生命，倦怠不堪
而莽撞的春天来临——

他们赤裸地进入新世界，
全身冰凉，什么都不明白
只知道他们在进入春天。而周围
依然是熟悉的寒风——

瞧这些草，明天
野胡萝卜那坚挺的卷叶

一件一件清清楚楚——
越来越快：明晰，这叶子的轮廓

可是在此刻，进入春天
依然那么艰难——然而深沉的变化
已经来到：它们扎住的根
往下紧攫，开始醒来



The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.



红小车

这么多东西
要靠

红色的手推
小车

雨水淋漓，闪闪
发光

白色的鸡在旁边
走着。



Young Sycamore

I must tell you
this young tree
whose round and firm trunk
between the wet

pavement and the gutter
(where water
is trickling) rises
bodily

into the air with
one undulant
thrust half its height—
and then

dividing and waning
sending out
young branches on
all sides—

hung with cocoons
it thins
till nothing is left of it
but two

eccentric knotted
twigs
bending forward
hornlike at the top



幼橡树

我必须告诉你，
这株幼小的树
它滚圆坚实的树干
在潮湿的

人行道和阴沟之间
（那里有水
点点滴滴）升起
浑然一体

升入空中
弯弯扭扭地
一刺，到一半高度——
然后

分开、变细
向各个方向
送出
幼嫩的枝干——

挂满了茧
渐渐稀疏
直到什么也不剩
只有两根

长满古怪树瘤的
树枝
向前弯曲
长在树顶，如角然



Nantucket

Flowers through the window
lavender and yellow

changed by white curtains—
Smell of cleanliness—

Sunshine of late afternoon—
On the glass tray

a glass pitcher, the tumbler
turned down, by which

a key is lying—And the
immaculate white bed



南塔刻特

窗外的花
淡紫、嫩黄

白窗帘变化色调——
洁净的气息——

向暮的日光——
照着玻璃托盘

玻璃水瓶，酒杯
翻倒，旁边

有把钥匙——还有那
洁白无瑕的床



On Gay Wallpaper

The green-blue ground
is ruled with silver lines
to say the sun is shining

And on this moral sea
of grass or dreams lie flowers
or baskets of desires

Heaven knows what they are
between cerulean shapes
laid regularly round

Mat roses and tridentate
leaves of gold
threes, threes and threes

Three roses and three stems
the basket floating
standing in the horns of blue

Repeating to the ceiling
to the windows
where the day

Blows in
the scalloped curtains to
the sound of rain



鲜艳的糊墙纸

蓝绿色的底子
划着银色的线
好像是阳光闪烁

在这草或梦的
道德的海上有花
或欲望的篮子

天知道这是什么
在天蓝的图形间
画着整齐的圆圈

金边的玫瑰和三齿的
黄金叶子
三个一组，三个一簇

三朵玫瑰三株茎
花篮飘浮地
钩在蓝色的角上

图案重复直到天花板
直到窗口
白昼从那里

把窗帘吹进来
像一只扇贝应和着
迷蒙的雨声



The Locust Tree in Flower

Among
of
green

stiff
old
bright

broken
branch
come

white
sweet
May

again



槐花盛开

就在
那些
翠绿

坚硬
古老
明亮

折断的
树枝
中间

白色
芬芳的
五月

回来吧



The Hounded Lovers

Where shall we go?
Where shall we go
who are in love?

Juliet went
to Friar Laurence's cell,
but we have no rest.

Rain water lies
on the hard-packed ground,
reflecting the morning sky,

But where shall we go?
We cannot resolve ourselves
into a dew

Or sink into the earth.
Shall we postpone it
to Eternity?

The dry heads
of the goldenrod,
turned to stiff ghosts,

Jerk at their dead
stalks, signalling hieroglyphs
of grave warning.

Where shall we go?
The movement of benediction
does not turn back
the cold wind.



被追赶的情人

我们上哪儿去？
上哪儿去，我们
正在恋爱的人？

朱丽叶还能
去劳伦斯神甫的地窖
我们永无休息之处——

雨水积在
坚硬的地面，
倒映着晨空，

但我们上哪儿去？
我们没法
化成一滴露珠

也没法潜入地下。
是不是再推迟
推到永远？

黄花
那干燥的花束，
变成了僵硬的鬼影，

在枯枝干上摇曳
象形文字的信号
给我们严重警告

我们上哪儿去？
祝福的姿势
也挡不住
刺骨的寒风。



Proletarian Poet

A big young bareheaded woman
in an apron

Her hair slicked back standing
on the street

One stockinged foot toeing
the sidewalk

Her shoe in her hand. Looking
intently into it

She pulls out the paper insole
to find the nail

That has been hurting her



无产者诗人

一个高大的姑娘，没戴帽子
系着围裙

头发向后梳，站在
街头

一只脚只穿袜子，脚尖
踮在人行道上

手里拿着一只鞋，仔细地
往里瞅

她拉出了鞋垫
寻找那个

扎痛她脚的钉子



An Early Martyr

Rather than permit him
to testify in court
Giving reasons
why he stole from
Exclusive stores
then sent post-cards
To the police
to come and arrest him
—if they could—
They railroaded him
to an asylum for
The criminally insane
without trial
The prophylactic to
madness
Having been denied him
he went close to
The edge out of
frustration and
Doggedness—

Inflexible, finally they
had to release him—
The institution was
"overcrowded"
They let him go
in the custody of
A relative on condition
that he remain
Out of the state—

They "cured" him all
right
But the set-up
he fought against
Remains—
and his youthful deed
Signalizing
the romantic period
Of a revolt
he served well
Is still good—

Let him be
a factory whistle
That keeps blaring—
Sense, sense, sense!
so long as there's
A mind to remember
and a voice to
carry it on—

Never give up
keep at it!
Unavoided, terrifying
to such bought
Courts as he thought
to trust to but they
Double-crossed him.



一个年轻的殉道者

没允许他
在法庭上说明
他为什么
从高价商店
偷了东西
却又发明信片
叫警察来逮捕他
——他们不让他讲话——
而是用火车
把他送到疯人院
作为不必受审的
病态犯罪分子
他们拒绝给他
精神病的
预防药物
让他走到
灰心丧气
偏执顽固
危险的边缘——

无可改变，最后
只好释放他——
这个机构
“过分拥挤”
他们放他走
让一个亲戚
监护他，条件是
不准他再进入
这个州——

他们“医治”
好了他
但他所反对的
整个体制
依然存在——
他稚气十足的行动
表现了一种
浪漫的
反抗精神
他按规服刑
表现良好——

让他成为一个
工厂的汽笛
不断地呼叫！——
清醒！清醒！清醒！
只要有一个心灵
能记住这词
只要有一个声音
把这话传下去——

别停下
坚持下去！
他信任的法庭
背叛了他
对于这种法庭来说，这声音
无法逃避，令人胆战。



Flowers by the Sea

When over the flowery, sharp pasture's
edge, unseen, the salt ocean

lifts its form—chicory and daisies
tied, released, seem hardly flowers alone

but color and the movement—or the shape
perhaps—of restlessness, whereas

the sea is circled and sways
peacefully upon its plantlike stem



海边的花

繁花鲜丽的草地近旁，
神秘的，那咸味的大海

莽然升起——菊苣和雏菊
一松一紧，它们看来不仅是花

而且是色彩和运动——也可能
是变化的表现形式，

而大海却旋转着，安详地
在茎上摇曳，像花一样。



To Poor Old Woman

munching a plum on
the street a paper bag
of them in her hand

They taste good to her
They taste good
to her. They taste
good to her

You can see it by
the way she gives herself
to the one half
sucked out in her hand

Comforted
a solace of ripe plums
seeming to fill the air
They taste good to her



贫穷老妇人

在街上啃着一颗
梅子手里还提着
一袋

味道对她来说真好
味道真好
对她来说味道
对她来说真好

这你自己可以看到
从她尽情享受
她手中咬掉一半的
梅子那种神态

安详舒适
熟梅子的快乐
似乎充满空中
对她来说味道真好



Tree and Sky

Again
the bare brush of
the half-broken
and already-written-of
tree stands alone
upon its battered
hummock—

Above
among the shufflings
of the distant
cloud-rifts
vaporously
opens the unmoving
blue



树与天空

依然是
我们已写过的
赤裸的树枝，长在
半折裂的
那棵树上，单独地
站在风吹雨打的
小山顶——

而遥远的
云的缝隙
雾气缭绕
来回移动
透过云缝
是那永不移动的
蓝天



Young Woman at a Window

She sits with
tears on

her cheek
her cheek on

her hand
the child

in her lap
his nose

pressed
to the glass



窗前少妇

她坐着
眼泪

在脸上
脸颊

在手中
孩子

在怀里
孩子的鼻子

紧贴在
玻璃上



The R R Bums

Their most prized possession—
their liberty—
Hands behind a coat
Shiny green. Tall, the eyes
downcast—
Sunlight through a clutter of
wet clouds, lush weeds—
The oriole!
Hungry as an oriole.



流浪汉

他们最可贵的财富——
他们的自由——
手背在
亮绿大衣后。太高，两眼
垂下——
阳光滤过
一团湿云，茂密的草丛——
黄莺！
饿得像黄莺。



Paterson (Excerpts I)

To make a start,
put of particulars
and make them general, rolling
up the sum, by defective means—
Sniffing the trees,
just another dog
among a lot of dogs. What
else is there? And to do?
The rest—have run out—
after the rabbits.
Only the lame stands—on
three legs. Scratch front and back.
Deceive and eat. Dig
a musty bone

For the beginning is assuredly
the end—since we know nothing, pure
and simple, beyond
our own complexities.

Yet there is
no return: rolling up out of chaos,
a nine months' wonder, the city
the man, an identity—it can't be
otherwise—an
interpenetration, both ways.
Rolling up! obverse, reverse;
the drunk the sober; the illustrious
the gross; one. In ignorance
a certain knowledge and knowledge,
undispersed, its own undoing.



斐特森（选段一）

以具体细节
为出发点
把它们变为一般，用有缺陷的
方法，滚卷而成——
嗅树木的
只是狗群中的
一只狗。这里
还剩什么？有何事可做？
其余的狗都去
追兔子了。
只有这只跛腿地站着
用三只脚。前抓后刨。
用尽心机觅食。挖出
一根发霉的骨头

因为开头肯定就是
结尾——因为我们不知道任何
超越我们自己的复杂性的
单纯而简朴的东西。

但是不可能
走回头了：从混沌中滚卷起
九个月的奇迹，这城市
就是人，两者一体——不可能
用别的方式——一种
双向的互相渗透。
滚卷起来！正面的，反面的；
喝醉的，清醒的；杰出的
粗俗的；都是一个。在无知中
有某种知识，无法
驱散，毁灭了自己。



Paterson (Excerpts II)

In a deep-set valley between hills, almost hid
by dense foliage lay the little village.
Dominated by the Falls the surrounding country
was a beautiful wilderness where mountain pink
and wood violet throve: a place inhabited only
by straggling trappers and wandering Indians.

A print in colors by Paul Sandby, a well known
water color artist of the eighteenth century,
a rare print in the Public Library
shows the old Falls restudied from a drawing
made by Lieut. Gov. Pownall (excellent work) as he
saw it in the year 1700.

The wigwam and the tomahawk, the Totowa tribe
On either side lay the river-farms resting in
the quiet of those colonial days: a hearty old
Dutch stock, with a toughness to stick and
hold fast, although not fast in making improvements.

Clothing homespun. The people raised their own
stock. Rude furniture, sanded floors, rush
bottom chair, a pewter shelf of Brittania
ware. The wives spun and wove—many things
that might appear disgraceful or distasteful today
The Benson and Doremus estates for years were
the only ones on the north side of the river.



斐特森（选段二）

在群山间一个深藏的幽谷，有个
几乎被浓密的绿荫盖没的小村。
一条瀑布君临其上，而周围
是美丽的莽原。在那里山色淡红
林木绯紫：这地方居住的只有
零落的猎者和流浪的印第安人。

一幅彩色复制版画，是十八世纪
著名水彩画家保尔•桑德比的作品，
公共图书馆的珍品收藏
原画是副州长庞诺尔
所作（杰出的作品），画的是
1700年他见到的瀑布。

印第安人的小屋，战斧，托托瓦部落
在那安宁的殖民年代，河的两岸
有静静的农庄：一个热情的老荷兰
家族，有股顽强劲儿，他们严守
家风，进步十分缓慢。

土布的衣服，人们养育自己的
畜群。粗笨的家具，铺沙做地板，
灯草坐垫的椅子，一架子铜锡
合金的用具。妇女们又纺又织——
许多东西今天显得寒碜丢脸，
但多少年来班森和多慕斯庄园
是河北岸唯一的人家。



Three Sonnets (2)

The silent and snowy mountains
do not change their
poise—the broken line,
the mass whose darkness
meets the rising sun, waken
uncompromised above the gulls
upon the ice-strewn
river.

You cannot succor me,
you cannot change. I will
open my eyes at morning even though
their lids be sealed
faster by ice than stone!



三首十四行诗（之二）

静穆的雪山
永不改变
姿势——破碎的线，
莽然巨大的黑影
迎着上升的太阳，
毫不让步地醒来，比海鸥还高，
俯临漂着薄冰的
河面。

你没法援救我，
你没法改变这一切。我将要
在清晨睁开眼，哪怕
眼睑被冰冻住
比石头冻得更紧！



A Negro Woman

carrying a bunch of marigolds
wrapped
in an old newspaper:
She carries them upright,
bareheaded,
the bulk
of her thighs
causing her to waddle
as she walks
looking into
the store window which she passes
on her way.
What is she
but an ambassador
from another world
a world of pretty marigolds
of two shades
which she announces
not knowing what she does
other
than walk the streets
holding the flowers upright
as a torch
so early in the morning.



黑妇人

一束金盏花
包在
旧报纸里：
她竖直地擎着，
没戴帽子，
那粗壮的
大腿
使她步履
有点摇摆，
她一路走，
一路瞧着
路上的橱窗。
难道她不是
另一个世界
派来的使节
在向我们讲述
那长满美丽的
双色金盏花的世界
但她自己
只是在街上走
宣称自己一无所知
她笔直地擎着花束
好像火炬
朗照在清晨。



The Dance

In Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess ,
the dancers go round, they go round and
around, the squeal and the blare and the
tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles
tipping their bellies, (round as the thick
sided glasses whose wash they impound)
their hips and their bellies off balance
to turn them. Kicking and rolling about
the Fair Grounds, swinging their butts, those
shanks must be sound to bear up under such
rollicking measures, prance as they dance
in Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess



舞

布鲁盖尔的名画，《节日》，
舞蹈者转圈，转圈，再次
转圈，而风笛、号角以及
提琴，尖叫、镗鞳忽又啭鸣
扭着腰肢（腰圆得像他们
吞咽淡酒用的厚玻璃杯）。
臀部和身体扭得失去平衡
却又旋过身。踢踏、摇摆
在市集上晃着屁股，这些
腿肚一定很结实才能支撑
如此欢腾狂跃的舞蹈，就像
布鲁盖尔的名画，《节日》