drlecter 2008-5-12 16:10
翻译求助, 《去黑暗塔的罗兰少爷归来》
哪位有大能者帮忙翻译一下吧，我是快搞不定了，翻一段也行啊
Childe Roland To The Dark Tower Came
by Robert Browning
(1812-1889)
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I.
My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
II.
What else should he be set for, with his staff?
What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare
All travellers who might find him posted there,
And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh
Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph
For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,
III.
If at his counsel I should turn aside
Into that ominous tract which, all agree,
Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly
I did turn as he pointed: neither pride
Nor hope rekindling at the end descried,
So much as gladness that some end might be.
IV.
For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,
What with my search drawn out thro' years, my hope
Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope
With that obstreperous joy success would bring,
I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring
My heart made, finding failure in its scope.
V.
As when a sick man very near to death
Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end
The tears and takes the farewell of each friend,
And hears one bid the other go, draw breath
Freelier outside, (``since all is o'er,'' he saith,
``And the blow falIen no grieving can amend;'')
VI.
While some discuss if near the other graves
Be room enough for this, and when a day
Suits best for carrying the corpse away,
With care about the banners, scarves and staves:
And still the man hears all, and only craves
He may not shame such tender love and stay.
VII.
Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest,
Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ
So many times among ``The Band''---to wit,
The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressed
Their steps---that just to fail as they, seemed best,
And all the doubt was now---should I be fit?
VIII.
So, quiet as despair, I turned from him,
That hateful cripple, out of his highway
Into the path he pointed. All the day
Had been a dreary one at best, and dim
Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim
Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.
IX.
For mark! no sooner was I fairly found
Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,
Than, pausing to throw backward a last view
O'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round:
Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound.
I might go on; nought else remained to do.
X.
So, on I went. I think I never saw
Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers---as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You'd think; a burr had been a treasure-trove.
XI.
No! penury, inertness and grimace,
In some strange sort, were the land's portion. ``See
``Or shut your eyes,'' said nature peevishly,
``It nothing skills: I cannot help my case:
``'Tis the Last judgment's fire must cure this place,
``Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.''
XII.
If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk
Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents
Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents
In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk
All hope of greenness?'tis a brute must walk
Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents.
XIII.
As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair
In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud
Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood.
One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,
Stood stupefied, however he came there:
Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!
XIV.
Alive? he might be dead for aught I know,
With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain,
And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane;
Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe;
I never saw a brute I hated so;
He must be wicked to deserve such pain.
XV.
I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards---the soldier's art:
One taste of the old time sets all to rights.
XVI.
Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face
Beneath its garniture of curly gold,
Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold
An arm in mine to fix me to the place,
That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace!
Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold.
XVII.
Giles then, the soul of honour---there he stands
Frank as ten years ago when knighted first.
What honest man should dare (he said) he durst.
Good---but the scene shifts---faugh! what hangman hands
Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands
Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst!
XVIII.
Better this present than a past like that;
Back therefore to my darkening path again!
No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain.
Will the night send a howlet or a bat?
I asked: when something on the dismal flat
Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train.
XIX.
A sudden little river crossed my path
As unexpected as a serpent comes.
No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms;
This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath
For the fiend's glowing hoof---to see the wrath
Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes.
XX.
So petty yet so spiteful! All along,
Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it;
Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit
Of route despair, a suicidal throng:
The river which had done them all the wrong,
Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit.
XXI.
Which, while I forded,---good saints, how I feared
To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek,
Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek
For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard!
---It may have been a water-rat I speared,
But, ugh! it sounded like a baby's shriek.
XXII.
Glad was I when I reached the other bank.
Now for a better country. Vain presage!
Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage,
Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank
Soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank,
Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage---
XXIII.
The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque.
What penned them there, with all the plain to choose?
No foot-print leading to that horrid mews,
None out of it. Mad brewage set to work
Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk
Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.
XXIV.
And more than that---a furlong on---why, there!
What bad use was that engine for, that wheel,
Or brake, not wheel---that harrow fit to reel
Men's bodies out like silk? with all the air
Of Tophet's tool, on earth left unaware,
Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel.
XXV.
Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood,
Next a marsh, it would seem, and now mere earth
Desperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth,
Makes a thing and then mars it, till his mood
Changes and off he goes!) within a rood---
Bog, clay and rubble, sand and stark black dearth.
XXVI.
Now blotches rankling, coloured gay and grim,
Now patches where some leanness of the soil's
Broke into moss or substances like boils;
Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him
Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim
Gaping at death, and dies while it recoils.
XXVII.
And just as far as ever from the end!
Nought in the distance but the evening, nought
To point my footstep further! At the thought,
great black bird, Apollyon's bosom-friend,
Sailed past, nor beat his wide wing dragon-penned
That brushed my cap---perchance the guide I sought.
XXVIII.
For, looking up, aware I somehow grew,
'Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place
All round to mountains---with such name to grace
Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in vie
How thus they had surprised me,---solve it, you!
How to get from them was no clearer case.
XXIX.
Yet half I seemed to recognize some trick
Of mischief happened to me, God knows when---
In a bad dream perhaps. Here ended, then,
Progress this way. When, in the very nick
Of giving up, one time more, came a click
As when a trap shuts---you're inside the den!
XXX.
Burningly it came on me all at once,
This was the place! those two hills on the right,
Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight;
While to the left, a tall scalped mountain... Dunce,
Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce,
After a life spent training for the sight!
XXXI.
What in the midst lay but the Tower itself?
The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart,
Built of brown stone, without a counter-part
In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf
Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf
He strikes on, only when the timbers start.
XXXII.
Not see? because of night perhaps?---why, day
Came back again for that! before it left,
The dying sunset kindled through a cleft:
The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay,
Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay,---
``Now stab and end the creature---to the heft!''
XXXIII.
Not hear? when noise was everywhere! it tolled
Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears
Of all the lost adventurers my peers,---
How such a one was strong, and such was bold,
And such was fortunate, yet, each of old
Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
XXXIV.
There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides, met
To view the last of me, a living frame
For one more picture! in a sheet of flame
I saw them and I knew them all. And yet
Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set,
And blew. ``Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.''
freedom 2008-5-12 17:12
不是很确定，供你参考
I.
My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
I
我第一个念头是，他句句都是谎话。
那个头发花白的跛子，用恶狠狠的目光
斜着觑视我对他谎言的反应。伤痕累累的嘴角撅着，
对因此又增加了一个受害者，似乎抑制不住的幸灾乐祸。
drlecter 2008-5-14 10:38
热心的网友们提供的个别词汇的解释（行首数字为诗行数）：
1] The title of the poem, and in Browning's own account the source of the theme, is spoken as a line of nonsense by the disguised Edgar in King Lear (at the end of III, iv).
"Childe" indicates a candidate for knighthood, the medieval sense being "a well-born youth."
48] estray: a tame beast found wandering or without an owner.
66] calcine: made friable by means of heat.
68] bents: blades of stiff grass.
70] as to: as if to.
72] Pashing: smashing.
80] colloped: ridged with lumps like collops of meat.
161] dragon-penned: winged like a dragon.
179] nonce: occasion.
182] the fool's heart. "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God" (Psalm 14:1).
203] slug-horn: usually explained as a corruption of slogan, used here by Browning in the mistaken idea that it means a horn. Chatterton made this mistake in his Battle of Hastings, II, 10: "Some caught a slughorne and an onset wound." But there is the hyphenated word slug-horn, meaning a short and ill-formed horn of some animal of the ox kind. It is possible that Browning used the word in this sense. To have a misshapen horn hanging at the gate would be in keeping with the other features of the poem.
一段相关介绍评论，本老头捉刀狗血翻译——
Summary
Published in the volume Men and Women, "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came" takes its title and its inspiration from the song sung by Edgar in Shakespeare's King Lear, when he pretends to be a madman. "Childe" is an archaic aristocratic title indicating a young man who has not yet been knighted. This particular young man is on a quest for the "Dark Tower": what the tower's significance is we do not know (perhaps it holds the Holy Grail). He wanders through a dark, marshy waste-land, filled with horrors and terrible noises. He thinks of home and old friends as he presses forward. Fighting discouragement and fear, he reaches the tower, where he sounds his horn, knowing as he does that his quest and his life have come to an end.
本诗的标题和灵感来源于莎士比亚的李尔王一剧中，埃德加装疯时唱的歌。Child一词是一个古老的贵族头衔，意指一个还未受封为骑士的年轻人。这个特别的年轻人正在执行去黑暗塔的任务：塔本身的意义不明确（也许圣杯藏身其间），他漫步于一片黑暗的充满沼泽的废土上，四周充斥吓人又恐怖的噪音，他在逼迫自己前进的路上思念家乡和老朋友。最终，当他战胜自己的恐惧与气馁，到达黑暗塔之时，他吹响了号角，昭示他完成了自己的使命，同时他的生命也走到了尽头。
Form
"Childe Roland" divides into six-line stanzas, mostly in irregularly stressed pentameter lines. The stanzas rhyme ABBAAB. Much of the language in this poem makes a rough, even unpoetic impression: it reflects the ugly scenery and hellish journey it discusses. Lines such as "In the dock's harsh swarth leaves..." wind so contortedly that they nearly confound all attempts at reading them aloud. Both the rhyme scheme and the poem's vocabulary suggest a deliberate archaicness, similar to some of Tennyson's poems. However, unlike Tennyson's poems, this poem recreates a medieval world that does not evoke pleasant fairy tales, but rather dark horrors.
（文字分析，忽略）
Commentary
Browning's vision of the wasteland prefigures T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land and other works of high modernism. The barren plains symbolize the sterile, corrupted conditions of modern life. Although they are depopulated and remote, they serve as a stand-in for the city. Childe Roland hallucinates about dead comrades and imagines horrors that aren't actually there: like the modern city, this place strains his psyche and provokes abnormal responses. Indeed, he has only arrived here by way of a malevolent guide: Roland's first instinct is to think that the man is lying to him, but his lack of spiritual guidance and his general confusion lead him to accept the man's directions.
布朗宁风格的废土是TS艾略特的《荒原》以及其他高度现代主义作品的前身。那荒芜的平原象征着贫瘠腐朽的摩登生活。虽然他们稀少而遥远，却仍是城市的一部分。罗兰少爷幻觉出已死去的同志和并不存在的恐怖身影：就像摩登都市，这个废土使他精神紧张，并促发了不正常的反应。事实上，他能抵达这里全然出自一个恶意之人的引导：罗兰最初的直觉是认为这个人在欺骗他，但由于他缺乏精神上的指引以及他的迷茫，他还是接受了这个人的指引。
Childe Roland's quest has no pertinence to the modern world, a fact evidenced by the fact that the young man has no one with whom to celebrate his success--in fact, no one will even know of it. In this way his journey speaks to the anonymity and isolation of the modern individual. The meaninglessness of Roland's quest is reinforced by its origins: Childe Roland is not the creation of a genuine madman, but of a man (Edgar in Lear) who pretends to be mad to escape his half-brother's murderous intentions. The inspiration for Browning's poem thus springs from no sincere emotion, not even from genuine madness: it is a convenience and a folly, a sane man's approximation of what madness might look like. The inspiration is an empty performance, just as the quest described here is an empty adventure.
罗兰少爷的任务和现代世界没有相关性，一个事实证据就是这个年轻人身边没有人庆祝他的成功，事实上，甚至没有人知道。以这种方法，他的旅程表达了现代人的孤立与匿名——！罗兰之旅的无意义由它的起源得到加强：罗兰少爷不是一个天才疯子的造物，而出自一个装疯之人（用以逃脱其同父异母兄弟的谋杀意向）。因此布朗宁诗歌的灵感并非来源于真诚的情绪，甚至不是来源于一个天才疯子：他愚蠢而又无忧无虑，是一个正常人关于疯狂会是什么样子的近似值——！灵感来自于一段空洞的表演，正如诗中所描述的旅程是一段空虚的冒险。
Much of the poem's imagery references the storm scene in Lear from whence its inspiration comes. Shakespeare is, of course, the patriarch of all English literature, particularly poetry; but here Browning tries to work out his own relationship to the English literary tradition. He also tries to analyze the continued importance of canonical works in a much-changed modern world. (Via his reference to Shakespeare and to medieval themes, Browning places especial emphasis on these two eras of literature.) He suggests that while the Shakespearean and medieval modes still have aesthetic value, their cultural maintains a less certain relevance. That no one hears Roland's horn or appreciates his deeds suggests cultural discontinuity: Roland has more in common with the heroes of the past than with his peers; he has nothing in common with Browning's contemporaries except an overwhelming sense of futility. Indeed, the poem laments a meaninglessness so all-pervasive that even the idea of the wasteland cannot truly describe modern life or make a statement about that life; it is this sense of meaninglessness that dominates the poem.
诗歌中大部分形象出自它的灵感来源之地：李尔王中的暴风场景。莎士比亚毫无疑问是所有英语文学的元老级存在，特别在诗歌方面。但在这里布朗宁尝试建立他自己和英语文学传统的关联。他也尝试分析在一个变化巨大的社会中权威作品的连续重要性。（通过他对莎士比亚和中世纪主题的致敬，布朗宁特别强调了这两个文学时期。）
他认为莎士比亚和中世纪形式仍然具有美学的意义，他们之间的文化有一种必然的（较弱）关联。没有人听见罗兰的号角或者没有人赞美他的举措表达了文化断层：比起他的同辈，罗兰与古代的英雄有着更多共同点。除了那巨大的无力感，他和布朗宁同时代的人也没有共同之处。事实上，诗歌是在悲戚一种普遍存在的无意义，以至于甚至废土的概念也不能真正描绘现代生活或者对这种生活做出某种表达。正是这种“无意义”统领了全诗。
drlecter 2008-5-30 17:26
一下内容来自TBS的HLTV和cowboydrg，真的很谢谢他们！！！
.
My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
我的第一个念头是他句句都是谎言。
那头发花白的瘸子双目斜视着，
用恶意的目光注视着我的眼睛，
观察他的谎言产生的效果；
撅起的嘴唇掩盖住了奸笑的嘴角，
却无法掩盖住增添受害者后的幸灾乐祸。
II.
What else should he be set for, with his staff?
What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare
All travellers who might find him posted there,
And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh
Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph
For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,
他拄着拐杖站在这，还能有什么其他目的吗-
-除了给找他问路的旅人设下陷阱？
我猜想得到，这个拄拐杖的骗子
为了在这灰土弥漫的道路上
消磨时光而写给我的墓志铭
会让他爆发出如何象骷髅头般的狂笑
V.
As when a sick man very near to death
Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end
The tears and takes the farewell of each friend,
And hears one bid the other go, draw breath
Freelier outside, (``since all is o'er,'' he saith,
``And the blow falIen no grieving can amend;'')
当一个生老病死的人临终时
给人的感觉就像到达一个终点
但马上就要开始新的旅程一样
含着泪和朋友们一一道别
听着他们一个个离开的脚步
深吸一口气 终于没有了牵挂
（都结束了，他这样说着，
人死了再悲哀也改变不了什么）