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[Thomas Dylan 100] 威爾士詩人 狄蘭·托馬斯(1914-2014

(2014-04-22 03:50:04) 下一個



今年 2014年, 有很多紀念活動, 一戰100周年, 莎士比亞誕辰450周年  還有威爾士詩人 狄蘭·托馬斯誕辰100周年他的詩吸引了我這個詩盲, 不懂詩, 但可以感受, 就如 感受音樂一樣

詩歌真是靈魂散步,遊曆時落下的聲音?

夜幕下的篝火?

是帳篷裏飄出的笛煙?


也很好奇100年前和幾百年前的人和事, 喜歡 聽他們美麗的思潮, 還有那些手工味很濃編織的聲音和文字




狄蘭·托馬斯(Dylan Thomas,1914年10月27日-1953年11月9日),威爾士詩人作家。生於英國威爾士,其父是一位中學校長。托馬斯很早就表現出對於文學的特殊興趣,他中學的時候曾擔任學校刊物的主編,並發表了一些作。1931年,17歲的托馬斯離開了家鄉前往倫敦開始他的寫作事業。20歲那年,托馬斯發表了第一本詩集《詩十八首》,當時的評論界並沒有特別關注這位年輕的詩人。但是美國的一些出版商卻很看好他,把他之前所出的三本書做成一部合集《我生活的世界》在美國發行,這部合集後來為他贏得了威廉·福亥爾獎金。第二次世界大戰期間,托馬斯為英國廣播公司服務,戰後他仍為該公司的一套文藝節目寫稿播音。1946年,托馬斯發表了他最重要的一部詩集《死亡和出場》,這部詩集為他帶來了名譽和作為詩人的地位。評論界普遍認為托馬斯是繼奧登以後英國的又一位重要詩人。托馬斯的詩作大體屬於超現實主義流派,其詩中所蘊含的內容較具有夢幻色彩,通過對於意象的描繪堆砌,托馬斯所創造出來的詩境往往引人入勝。另外,托馬斯很注重押韻,其詩以善於朗誦聞名。除了寫詩,托馬斯也寫過一些短篇小說發表在詩文集《愛的地圖》中,並寫了幾個電影劇本,如《三個怪姐妹》等。1953年,托馬斯在切爾西旅館逝世,享年39歲。

  • 《詩十八首》(1934年)
  • 《詩二十五首》(1936年)
  • 《愛的地圖》(1939年)
  • 《我生活的世界》(1940年)
  • 《新詩集》(1942年)
  • 《死亡和出場》(1946年)
  •  





  • Dylan Marlais Thomas (27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953) was a Welsh poet and writer whose works include the poems "Do not go gentle into that good night" and "And death shall have no dominion", the "play for voices", Under Milk Wood, and stories and radio broadcasts such as A Child's Christmas in Wales and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog. He became popular in his lifetime and remained so after his premature death in New York. In his later life he acquired a reputation, which he encouraged, as a "roistering, drunken and doomed poet".[3]

    Thomas was born in Swansea, Wales, in 1914. An undistinguished student, he left school at 16, becoming a journalist for a short time. Although many of his works appeared in print while he was still a teenager, it was the publication of "Light breaks where no sun shines", in 1934, that caught the attention of the literary world. While living in London, Thomas met Caitlin Macnamara, whom he married in 1937. Their relationship was defined by alcoholism and was mutually destructive.[3] In the early part of his marriage, Thomas and his family lived hand-to-mouth, settling in the Welsh fishing village of Laugharne.

    Although Thomas was appreciated as a popular poet in his lifetime, he found earning a living as a writer difficult, which resulted in his augmenting his income with reading tours and broadcasts. His radio recordings for the BBC during the latter half of the 1940s brought him to the public's attention and he was used by the Corporation as a populist voice of the literary scene. In the 1950s, Thomas travelled to America, where his readings brought him a level of fame, though his erratic behaviour and drinking worsened. His time in America cemented Thomas' legend, where he recorded to vinyl works such as A Child's Christmas in Wales. During his fourth trip to New York in 1953, Thomas became gravely ill and fell into a coma from which he did not recover. Thomas died on 9 November 1953 and his body was returned to Wales where he was buried at the village churchyard in Laugharne.

    Although writing exclusively in the English language, Thomas has been acknowledged as one of the most important Welsh poets of the 20th century. Noted for his original, rhythmic and ingenious use of words and imagery, Thomas' position as one of the great modern poets has been much discussed, though this has not tarnished his popularity amongst the general public, who find his work accessible.

    (wiki)


     

    Deaths and Entrances

    On almost the incendiary eve
    Of several near deaths,
    When one at the great least of your best loved
    And always known must leave
    Lions and fires of his flying breath,
    Of your immortal friends
    Who'd raise the organs of the counted dust
    To shoot and sing your praise,
    One who called deepest down shall hold his peace
    That cannot sink or cease
    Endlessly to his wound
    In many married London's estranging grief.

    On almost the incendiary eve
    When at your lips and keys,
    Locking, unlocking, the murdered strangers weave,
    One who is most unknown,
    Your polestar neighbour, sun of another street,
    Will dive up to his tears.
    He'll bathe his raining blood in the male sea
    Who strode for your own dead
    And wind his globe out of your water thread
    And load the throats of shells
    with every cry since light
    Flashed first across his thunderclapping eyes.

    On almost the incendiary eve
    Of deaths and entrances,
    When near and strange wounded on London's waves
    Have sought your single grave,
    One enemy, of many, who knows well
    Your heart is luminous
    In the watched dark, quivering through locks and caves,
    Will pull the thunderbolts
    To shut the sun, plunge, mount your darkened keys
    And sear just riders back,
    Until that one loved least
    Looms the last Samson of your zodiac.
     

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