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附一首以前的译作 驶向拜占庭 W.B.叶芝 那不是衰老者的国度。 年轻人互相拥抱，鸟在树上 ——那些垂垂欲死的年代——放声歌唱， 鲑鱼瀑布，挤满鲭鱼的海洋， 鱼兽禽鸟，将整个盛夏颂扬 无论是萌动、诞生抑或是死亡。 沉迷于音乐的感官欲望，全然忽视 纪念永恒智慧的碑石。 一位年老者不过一无是处， 一件褴褛的衣衫搭在拐杖之上， 除非是灵魂击掌放歌，愈发嘹亮 为了尘世衣襟的每一缕碎布条， 没有经院可教授歌唱，除非去研习 碑石自己的壮伟辉煌； 因而我已扬帆航渡重洋 来到圣城拜占庭。 哦，圣贤兀立在上帝的圣火中 恍若兀立在镶金壁画上， 自那圣火中，螺旋环动， 并教我的灵魂放声吟唱。 焚毁我的心；带着欲望病重 再将它束缚在垂死的肉体上 它不识自己；且将我纳入 那永世不朽的技艺。 一旦超脱禀性 我将永不在禀性里索求身形， 除非是如希腊金匠铸成的形体 自那锻金和镀金 使沉沉欲睡的帝王保持清醒； 不然我便在金色的枝头歌唱 唱给拜占庭的勋爵与贵妇 唱那昔日的、如今的或是将来的事情。 附原文： Sailing to Byzantium W.B.Yeats That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
– Those dying generations – at their song,
The salmon‐falls, the mackerel‐crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing‐masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
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