《致雲雀》----譯五言----日誌（一）

致雲雀 05/21/2022 

噫至樂精靈 /異千千飛禽/ 羽揚及天嶺/垂翼天之雲/心純若天音/乘未琢之靈
漸高漸遠循/渾地躍天心 /若流火之雲 /攜寂藍之行 /奮翔旋樂音   
沐萬丈金光 /倚沉暮之陽 /閃浮雲之亮 /伊展翅翱翔 /借無形之歡 /啟奮飛之航  
亦飛亦熔光 /流光托紫環/辰日天星閃 /仙藝未所望 /飛濺喜若狂   
敏若箭之芒 /銀濤射蒼茫 /明燈一線光 /晨暮清黎暗/不辨卻有望   
塵揚及天象 /彼音高且昂 /忽聞夜漸涼 /孤雲疑自賞 /清月散雨芒 /流光溢滿堂  
君知吾未知 /何與君相似 /雨虹未曾瀉 /水晶亮如斯 /君現若甘霖/傾灑韻如詩   
詩者存於世 /今夕隱於思 /即興起讚歌 /亦望亦悲思 /人世意遲遲   
高樓有佳人/苦戀情意癡 /深閣人未知 /起歌如愛樂/清輝滿閨室   
若泛金流螢 /穿幽穀之蔭 /躍清霜露凝 /散浮光色影 /共花遮草隱  
若綠葉玫瑰 /且倚枝靜退 /得暖風摧萎 /載清香之蕊 /容飛賊沉醉   
春霖淋漓聲 /雨催醒花淚 /群草共灼灼 /且樂且純澈 /如露亦如電 /未及樂之美  
智乎精衛鳥/至甜君思緲 /吾生未聞道 /摯愛醇酒謠 /亦歸聖樂潮   
誦婚歌桃夭 /凱旋讚寶刀 /比君歌聲處 /空空且寂寥   
何物為歡源/何事化甘泉 /何地為曠野 /何處起波漣/何者開山澗 /何形蟒如天/
何象若平原 /愛者同宗處 /於痛可絕緣   
彼情至真切/ 懈怠未曾現 /憂煩摻苦影 /一刻未近前 /君擁一生愛 /深愛免悲哀   
或醒或酣睡 /視死或如歸 /人間曉夢處 /弦弦思華年 /真深均不解/唯君起聖樂 /剔透亦湧瀉
吾瞻前顧後 /皆庸人自擾 /縱摯純微笑 /亦為苦所惱 /求至甜歌飄 /卻神傷意繞  
求懼畏可表 /盼驕傲全拋 /望生而無淚 /吾無從知曉 /怎近觀其妙   
比眾律縹緲 /超書華所描 /如詩篇純巧 /視塵土若藐   
求賜半心悅 /餘者或有緣 /君思吾亦思 /君知吾未知 /君聲出吾唇 /悠悠世長癡 *********************************

初中的時候我就迷上了雪萊這首詩，當時家裏有的是江楓的譯本。其實彼時該譯本全詩我隻能背誦我最喜歡的幾句。剛到美國的時候，我憑著記憶把英文詩再按照江楓的版本寫下來，加上自己的翻譯。但是我一直很遺憾，因為找不到江楓的原譯本了。很神奇的是，2001年打印的詩和我那時候用鉛筆按記憶記下來的江楓的版本我還留著，紙張邊沿都泛黃了，鉛筆字卻都還很清晰。最近我突然想起這首詩來，在網上穀歌搜，居然第一條就是江楓的譯本。真是真金不怕火煉，雖然這個版本當初沒能上網，但是美麗的翻譯一定會被大數據翻出來，翹居榜首。  

  過了20年了，我之所以起意重新想看這首詩，是因為最近發現如果使用文言體裁翻譯或演繹英文詩，雖然不能嚴格遵從英文的原文，但是更有助於把詩歌本身的靈動表達出來。詩歌和其他文學體裁非常不一樣的地方，就是它能給讀者帶來的無邊的想象力和美好的畫麵，讓讀者的思潮能夠一層一層地蔓延，無拘無束地跳躍。英文這個語言，較中文而言，本身其實更富於邏輯和澎湃的韻律，而不像中文那樣簡約且有張力。直譯英文詩為中文，就會往往會在安排詞句排比和設計邏輯結構的時候陷入尷尬無比的境地。但是如果拋開按字按句的翻譯，使用古文，反而就能跳出需要同時照顧詞句和邏輯的陷阱。  

  所以我先起意想嚐試使用四言或五言來翻譯這首《致雲雀》。與我而言，四言還是太短，很難把詩人內心磅礴的感情以及對生活至深的思考表達出來，所以我不得不求助於五言。盡管我已經盡力，但是我還是很遺憾，因為五言翻譯還是失去了雪萊最後篇章裏那些非常有哲理的短挫的句子裏的深意。 

  我是邊看紙張上打出來的英文，邊在手機上打字，邊切換屏幕看江楓的原譯本。整個翻譯的過程，我感覺到那樣無窮的快樂和欣喜，那樣無邊的振奮和激昂，激動到讓我自己淚水滿眶。而我自己，就仿佛是那隻向天而衝的雲雀，向上，向上（higher still and higher)，一直在飛翔。我時而覺得自己仿佛就站立在那月光的清輝之中，時而覺得自己就是那流螢，是那玫瑰，此刻在那佳人旁邊沉醉。唯有此刻，我如雲雀般，完全沒有瞻前顧後的苦惱和帶著憂慮的真摯的微笑。我真的深深的希望，你能在讀到這首詩時，能感受到那無邊的浪漫和蓬勃若最美青春的雲彩。願這世間的最美，時時能在雲雀的身邊與你作伴。 

 ****************************** 

  視頻裏的照片是我的朋友蕊清拍攝的各樣鳥兒的照片。我們在討論她拍的照片的時候，她有一句話深得我心。“如果照片不能打動我，也就不能打動別人。” 為了追求這片刻的打動，她常常花很長的時間為了一張照片的拍攝以及後期處理下巨大的功夫。欣賞她的照片，和聽她說拍照時候的故事，常常讓我有莫名的感動，是一種感動到心悸的感覺(我對伯牙子期的關係的理解，雖然我並不拍照)。她拍過很多鳥兒的照片。而我每次看，都特別為鳥兒靜止的飛態而感動。因此我特地和她要到了這些照片做了這個視頻。需要注解的是，視頻裏大部分照片是蜂鳥，並不是雲雀。

  人生裏時時刻刻各個瞬間的感動，是一種永恒的美。願人類的感動和純美共享，和永恒共存。

*******************************

To a Skylark

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun,
O'er which clouds are bright'ning,
Thou dost float and run;
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.

The pale purple even
Melts around thy flight;
Like a star of Heaven,
In the broad day-light
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight,

Keen as are the arrows
Of that silver sphere,
Whose intense lamp narrows
In the white dawn clear
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.

All the earth and air
With thy voice is loud,
As, when night is bare,
From one lonely cloud
The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflow'd.

What thou art we know not;
What is most like thee?
From rainbow clouds there flow not
Drops so bright to see
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.

Like a Poet hidden
In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden,
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:

Like a high-born maiden
In a palace-tower,
Soothing her love-laden
Soul in secret hour
With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:

Like a glow-worm golden
In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden
Its aëreal hue
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:

Like a rose embower'd
In its own green leaves,
By warm winds deflower'd,
Till the scent it gives
Makes faint with too much sweet those heavy-winged thieves:

Sound of vernal showers
On the twinkling grass,
Rain-awaken'd flowers,
All that ever was
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.

Teach us, Sprite or Bird,
What sweet thoughts are thine:
I have never heard
Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

Chorus Hymeneal,
Or triumphal chant,
Match'd with thine would be all
But an empty vaunt,
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

What objects are the fountains
Of thy happy strain?
What fields, or waves, or mountains?
What shapes of sky or plain?
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

With thy clear keen joyance
Languor cannot be:
Shadow of annoyance
Never came near thee:
Thou lovest: but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.

Waking or asleep,
Thou of death must deem
Things more true and deep
Than we mortals dream,
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?

We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Yet if we could scorn
Hate, and pride, and fear;
If we were things born
Not to shed a tear,
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.

Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now.