[烛光生存狂]-奥登诗集

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Spain

W. H. Auden (1937)

Yesterday all the past. The language of size

Spreading to China along the trade-routes; the diffusion

Of the counting-frame and the cromlech;

Yesterday the shadow-reckoning in the sunny climates.

Yesterday the assessment of insurance by cards,

The divination of water; yesterday the invention

Of cartwheels and clocks, the taming of

Horses. Yesterday the bustling world of the navigators.

Yesterday the abolition of fairies and giants,

The fortress like a motionless eagle eyeing the valley,

The chapel built in the forest;

Yesterday the carving of angels and alarming gargoyles.

The trial of heretics among the columns of stone;

Yesterday the theological feuds in the taverns

And the miraculous cure at the fountain;

Yesterday the Sabbath of witches; but to-day the struggle.

Yesterday the installation of dynamos and turbines,

The construction of railways in the colonial desert;

Yesterday the classic lecture

On the origin of Mankind. But to-day the struggle.

Yesterday the belief in the absolute value of Greece,

The fall of the curtain upon the death of a hero;

Yesterday the prayer to the sunset

And the adoration of madmen. But to-day the struggle.

As the poet whispers, startled among the pines,

Or where the loose waterfall sings compact, or upright

On the crag by the leaning tower:

'0 my vision. 0 send me the luck of the sailor.'

And the investigator peers through his instruments

At the inhuman provinces, the virile bacillus

Or enormous Jupiter finished:

'But the lives of my friends. I inquire. I inquire.'

And the poor in their fireless lodgings, dropping the sheets

Of the evening paper: 'Our day is our loss. 0 show us

History the operator, the

Organizer, Time the refreshing river.'

And the nations combine each cry, invoking the life

That shapes the individual belly and orders

The private nocturnal terror:

'Did you not found the city state of the sponge,'

'Raise the vast military empires of the shark

And the tiger, establish the robin's plucky canton?

Intervene, 0 descend as a dove or

A furious papa or a mild engineer, but descend.'

And the life, if it answers at all, replies from the heart

And the eyes and the lungs, from the shops and squares of the city:

'0 no, I am not the mover;

Not to-day; not to you. To you, I'm the

'Yes-man, the bar-companion, the easily-duped;

I am whatever you do. I am your vow to be

Good, your humorous story.

I am your business voice. I am your marriage.

'What's your proposal? To build the just city? I will.

I agree. Or is it the suicide pact, the romantic

Death? Very well, I accept, for

I am your choice, your decision. Yes, I am Spain.'

Many have heard it on remote peninsulas,

On sleepy plains, in the aberrant fisherman's islands

Or the corrupt heart of the city,

Have heard and migrated like gulls or the seeds of a flower.

They clung like birds to the long expresses that lurch

Through the unjust lands, through the night, through the alpine tunnel;

They floated over the oceans;

They walked the passes. All presented their lives.

On that arid square, that fragment nipped off from hot

Africa, soldered so crudely to inventive Europe;

On that tableland scored by rivers,

Our thoughts have bodies; the menacing shapes of our fever

Are precise and alive. For the fears which made us respond

To the medicine ad, and the brochure of winter cruises

Have become invading battalions;

And our faces, the institute-face, the chain-store, the ruin

Are projecting their greed as the firing squad and the bomb.

Madrid is the heart. Our moments of tenderness blossom

As the ambulance and the sandbag;

Our hours of friendship into a people's army.

To-morrow, perhaps the future. The research on fatigue

And the movement of packers; the gradual exploring of all the

Octaves of radiation;

To-morrow the enlarging of consciousness by diet and breathing.

To-morrow the rediscovery of romantic love,

The photographing of ravens; all the fun under

Liberty's masterful shadow;

To-morrow the hour of the pageant-master and the musician,

The beautiful roar of the chorus under the dome;

To-morrow the exchanging of tips on the breeding of terriers,

The eager election of chairmen

By the sudden forest of hands. But to-day the struggle.

To-morrow for the young poets exploding like bombs)

The walks by the lake, the weeks of perfect communion;

To-morrow the bicycle races

Through the suburbs on summer evenings. But to-day the struggle.

Today the deliberate increase in the chances of death,

The conscious acceptance of guilt in the necessary murder;

To-day the expending of powers

On the flat ephemeral pamphlet and the boring meeting.

To-day the makeshift consolations: the shared cigarette,

The cards in the candle-lit barn, and the scraping concert,

The masculine jokes; to-day the

Fumbled and unsatisfactory embrace before hurting.

The stars are dead. The animals will not look.

We are left alone with our day, and the time is short, and

History to the defeated

May say alas but cannot help or pardon.

============================================================

西班牙

昨天一切都已成过去。那度量衡术语

沿着贸易航线传到了中国；那

算盘和史前巨石散播到四方；

昨天阴影在晴朗的气候里估算着变化。

昨天纸牌用来为保险估价，

水可用来占卜；昨天发明了

车轮和时钟，和驯养马匹的艺术。

昨天熙熙攘攘的世界满是航海家。

昨天仙女和巨人被废黜，

城堡如兀立不动的鹰俯瞰着山谷。

在森林里建起礼拜堂；

昨天雕刻出了那些檐角和吓人的滴水兽。

在石柱间审判那些异教徒；

昨天酒馆里发生过神学的纷争倾轧

还有那泉水治愈百病的神迹；

昨天有女巫的安息日；但今天只有斗争。

昨天诞生了发电机和涡轮机，

在殖民地的沙漠铺设出条条铁路；

昨天有关于人类起源的

经典演讲。但今天只有斗争。

昨天对希腊绝对价值的信仰犹存。

英雄死去时会垂下那幕帘；

昨天日出时会祈祷

对疯子会膜拜。但今天只有斗争。

当诗人低语着，在松林间惊诧莫名，

或在那自由欢畅的瀑布轰鸣之处，或直立

在那斜塔的峭壁上：

“哦我的幻念

哦赐我那水手的好运。”

而审查官会透过他的仪器窥视

那些野蛮的省份，那男子气概的病菌

庞大无比的朱庇特神①或许将如此结语：

“只是如我朋友般的生命。我会查明，我会查明。”

而在那没有炉火的住所，穷苦者会放下

那张晚报：“我们每天都在失去，哦让我们看到

那历史的掌控人，那

背后的运筹者，让时间的河流焕然一新。

让那些哀恸的国度联合起来，召唤那

各自满怀怨愤的生命，让

隐秘的夜的恐惧在喝令中止步；

“你难道没发现这城市已如海绵般蓄积了力量，

“召集起了那鲨鱼与老虎

的庞大军事王国，要为那知更鸟创立无畏的州郡？

干涉。哦象鸽子那般降落无论是

一个狂怒的父亲或是温和的工程师，任凭你降落。”

而生活，若它能回答任何问题，从心底里来回应

那些眼睛和肺腑，从那些商店到城市的那些广场：

“哦不，我不是那造物主；

今天不是；对于你来说不是。对于你，我是

“那说‘是’的人，是酒吧的常客，是容易受骗上当的笨蛋；

我是你可定义的任何一样东西。我是你从善如流的

誓言，是你说过的幽默故事。

我是你生意上的声音，我是你的婚姻。

“你有何建议？

建造一个正义之城？我愿意。

我同意。或许它是一份自杀的契约，那罗曼蒂克的

死亡？好吧，我接受，只因

我是你的选择，你的决定。是的，我是西班牙。”

很多人听到了这个声音，他们来自那些遥远的半岛

来自那些沉睡着的平原，来自那些脱离常轨的渔人小岛

或许还来自城市的腐败心脏，

他们听到了，如海鸥般迁徙而来，如花粉般飘扬而至。

他们如芒刺般紧贴在长长的快速列车上，摇摇晃晃地

穿过那些不公正的土地，穿过沉沉黑夜，穿过高山隧道；

他们跨洋渡海而来；

他们走过了重重关卡，他们来到只为奉献自己的生命。

那荒芜的广场，仿佛从炽热的非洲

掉落的碎片，如此生硬地联结了才智横溢的欧洲；

在那被河流分割的高原上，

我们的思想有了实质的形体；我们的热狂有了如此唬人的形状。

如此确切而生动。只因我们对

药品广告和冬季游览宣传单的那些恐惧

已变成了一支进攻的军队；

而我们的脸庞，那学校，那连锁商店，那废墟

正投射出他们的贪婪，当小股部队射击，当炸弹引爆。

马德里是心脏。我们的片刻柔情

会在救护车和沙袋间开放；

在一支民众军队中数小时也能缔结我们的友谊。

明天，也许就是未来。那关于苦役和

工人运动的研究；用八步音诗的射线

进行逐步的扫描；

明天食物和呼吸将促使觉悟成长。

明天将再次发现那浪漫爱情，

也要为那些乌鸦摄影；而欢乐都将服膺在

自由的专横的阴影下

明天将是庆典司仪和音乐家的时刻，

是教堂圆顶下那美妙喧闹的合唱；

明天会相互交流如何饲养猎狗，

会气氛热烈地选出一个主席

而底下会突然伸起一片手臂的森林。但今天只有斗争。

明天诗人们将为年轻人探索它，如拆解炸弹，

在湖畔的散步，完美分享的几周；

明天会有在夏夜穿过郊区的

自行车赛。但今天只有斗争。

今天

死亡的机率有预谋地倍增，

在必要的谋杀中清醒地容忍那罪恶；

今天

那些寄生在

无聊短命的小册子和冗长会议中的权力将继续消耗。

今天还有那暂时的慰籍：被分享的雪茄，

在蜡烛点亮的马厩里的牌戏，冲下斜坡时的齐声高唱，

和那些男子气的玩笑；今天

在负伤前，还有那笨手笨脚的凑合的拥抱。

那些星辰已死去。那些动物不会再观看。

我们孤零零只剩下了我们的日子，而时光短促，

历史或许会为那失败者

呜呼哀叹但既不能来救助也不能去宽恕。

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