翻開一本十幾年前先生寄給我的詩集（one hundred and one famous poems)，一首名為赤足小子～《the barefoot boy》的詩吸引了我。當我把它翻譯出來的時候，我的心也跟著那個小小男孩一起歡躍，就連院子裏那偷果子的小鬆鼠，遊泳池邊戲水的野鴨子，房瓦上的野鵝，還有那曾經蟄過我的黃蜂。。。也跟著可愛起來。
Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy,--
I was once a barefoot boy!
Prince thou art,--the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye,--
Outward sunshine, inward joy:
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Oh for boyhood's painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools,
Of the wild bee's morning chase,
Of the wild flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl and habitude,
Of the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his shell,
How the woodchuck digs his cell,
And the ground mole sinks his well
How the robin feeds her young,
How the oriole's nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries grow,
Where the groundnut trails its vine,
Where the wood grape's clusters shine;
Of the black wasp's cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
Of gray hornet artisans!--
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy,--
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Oh for boyhood's time of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw
Me, their master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming birds and honeybees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Plied the snouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the night
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall;
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Still, as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world I saw or knew
Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!
Oh for festal dainties spread,
Like my bowl of milk and bread,--
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,
On the doorstone, gray and rude!
O'er me, like a regal tent,
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold;
Looped in many a wind-swung fold;
While for music came the play
Of the pied frog's orchestra;
And to light the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
I was monarch: pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!
Cheerily, then, my little man,
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward
Every morn shall lead thee through
Fresh baptisms of the dew;
Every evening from thy feet
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like a colt's for work be shod,
Made to tread the mills of toil,
Up and down in ceaseless moil:
Happy if their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy if they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou shouldst know thy joy
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!
趁花仙燕子回複完了的空檔，趕快問花仙子個問題：
我家有棵double delight rose， 味道很迷人，雙色大玫瑰很很amazing. 可今年春天就可了兩朵大花就不幹了。我的這棵玫瑰長的不壯實，分出來的cane不太多（其實我好象什麽都做了讓她茁壯－－sunlight，fertilizer，bananer皮什麽的～～），可有一隻cane很壯，都有我那麽高了，其它４個canes都矮多了，大概兩三feet也不到的樣子。我看了看特高的那個不是sucker，是從bud union上麵長出了。今年春天開的兩朵迷人的大花也是這隻粗cane貢獻的。燕子，你說這隻cane我現在是不是prune back到跟其它矮的枝子一樣高好？這枝太高的，看起來很leggy不說，我覺得營養都被它搶走了可能。現在這隻cane上有分出兩三個新枝，又有兩三個新的花姑嘟在新枝上，這時候cut有點可惜：）
can 花仙 shed some light on me, pls?
京燕花園 發表評論於
回複九月，阿鬆，含嫣，藍寶寶的評論:
Dear 九月，offering you a cup of morning tea. Let's slow down and relax on this beautiful Saturday morning with birds chirping... blessings （＾Ｏ＾☆♪
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye,--
Outward sunshine, inward joy:
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Love this paragraph --- thou we were all once young :-) :-)
Told you I would come back enjoy this garden poetry, it's just too beautiful to resist!
縱然君, Thank you for the compliments, I had fun juggling the words & translating the poem. With a classic master piece like this, everyone has his/her own interpretation. I am lucky to be surrounded with many talented & poetic friends like you, tern, piaopiao... Many blessings （＾Ｏ＾☆♪
Even though translating poem is considered commonly as a very difficult job, you did pretty well on this piece, not only kept the essence of original poet’s intents, yet added a good dose of your artistic flairs/flavors in mother tongue (our native language).
Tackle more of those fun tasks please, if you need help, I guess that some of people here may lend you a hand or two. Suitable candidates may include, but not limited to, tern2 MM and piao-piao MM, just name few.:)
翻開一本十幾年前先生寄給我的詩集（one hundred and one famous poems)，一首名為赤足小子～《the barefoot boy》的詩吸引了我。當我把它翻譯出來的時候，我的心也跟著那個小小男孩一起歡躍，就連院子裏那偷果子的小鬆鼠，遊泳池邊戲水的野鴨子，房瓦上的野鵝，還有那曾經蟄過我的黃蜂。。。也跟著可愛起來。
Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy,--
I was once a barefoot boy!
Prince thou art,--the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye,--
Outward sunshine, inward joy:
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Oh for boyhood's painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools,
Of the wild bee's morning chase,
Of the wild flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl and habitude,
Of the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his shell,
How the woodchuck digs his cell,
And the ground mole sinks his well
How the robin feeds her young,
How the oriole's nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries grow,
Where the groundnut trails its vine,
Where the wood grape's clusters shine;
Of the black wasp's cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
Of gray hornet artisans!--
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy,--
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Oh for boyhood's time of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw
Me, their master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming birds and honeybees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Plied the snouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the night
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall;
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Still, as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world I saw or knew
Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!
Oh for festal dainties spread,
Like my bowl of milk and bread,--
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,
On the doorstone, gray and rude!
O'er me, like a regal tent,
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold;
Looped in many a wind-swung fold;
While for music came the play
Of the pied frog's orchestra;
And to light the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
I was monarch: pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!
Cheerily, then, my little man,
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward
Every morn shall lead thee through
Fresh baptisms of the dew;
Every evening from thy feet
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like a colt's for work be shod,
Made to tread the mills of toil,
Up and down in ceaseless moil:
Happy if their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy if they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou shouldst know thy joy
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!
