2022年2月21日

秋颂

 

~约翰·济慈

 

1

雾霭沉沉、果实丰硕的季节,

跟密友,那滋养万物的太阳;

密谋着如何  让累累的浆果

挂满藤蔓缠绕的茅草檐顶;

让农舍披着青苔的苹果树,

被里外熟透的仁果压弯了腰;

让葫芦胀大,让包孕甜果肉的

榛子壳变圆实;让迟开的花盛放,

不断盛放,以至蜜蜂继续忙碌

以为暖和的时日将会长驻,

而夏天早已溢出黏糊的巢房。

 

2

谁不曾见过你,常置身收成中?

谁要是四出寻找,就会发现

有时你悠然地坐在仓廪的地板上,

发丝随着簸谷的风轻轻飘扬;

或者躺在收割了一半的田间,

沉入罂粟花香的醉乡,而你的镰刀

放过下一刈庄稼和交缠的野花;

有时你像一个拾穗人,将穗子

顶在头上,稳健地涉过小溪;

或者站在榨汁器旁,用耐心的眼神

等待最后一滴浆汁徐徐滴下。

 

3

春天的歌啊,春天的歌在何处?

不必想念,你也有自己的音乐,

当斑斓的云霞辉映着将尽的白日,

给大片茬子地抹上玫瑰般的色泽;

一个哀歌合唱团结成,小飞虫

在河边的柳树丛悲鸣,它们

忽高忽低,如清风来来去去;

肥壮的羔羊在山涧引吭高歌;

蟋蟀在树篱下吟唱;婉转的高声部

有红胸知更鸟,从菜园送来啁啾;

而群飞的燕子,则在空中呢喃。

 

 

(桔子  译)

 

To Autumn

John Keats

 

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

 

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,

Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

 

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.



Alfred Sisley, The Farm at Trou d Enfer, Autumn Morning