Zi 字媒體

艾略特是二十世紀最重要的現代詩人之一，他的《普魯弗洛克的情歌》是詩歌讀者熟悉的名篇。下面是他本人的朗誦錄音（值得收藏），並附原文和查良錚的精湛譯文。The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock By T.S.EliotS』io credesse che mia risposta fosseA persona che mai tornasse al mondo,Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.Ma percioche giammai di questo fondoNon torno vivo alcun, s』i』odo il vero,Senza tema d』infamia ti rispondo.（朗誦開始）Let us go then, you and I,When the evening is spread out against the skyLike a patient etherized upon atable;Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,The muttering retreatsOf restless nights in one-night cheap hotelsAnd sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:Streets that follow like a tedious argumentOf insidious intentTo lead you to an overwhelming question...Oh, do not ask, 「What is it?」Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and goTalking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,Lingered upon the pools that standin drains,Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,And seeing that it was a soft October night,Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be timeFor the yellow smoke that slides along the street,Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;There will be time, there will be timeTo prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;There will be time to murder and create,And time for all the works and days of handsThat lift and drop a question on your plate;Time for you and time for me,And time yet for a hundred indecisions,And for a hundred visions and revisions,Before the taking of a toast and tea. To wonder, 「Do I dare?」 and, 「Do I dare?」Time to turn back and descend the stair,With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —(They will say: 「How his hair is growing thin!」)My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —(They will say: 「But how his arms and legs are thin!」)Do I dareDisturb the universe?In a minute there is timeFor decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already,known them all:Have known the evenings, mornings,afternoons,I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;I know the voices dying with a dying fallBeneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already,known them all—The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,When I am pinned and wriggling onthe wall,Then how should I beginTo spit out all the butt-ends of mydays and ways? Andhow should I presume? And I have known the arms already,known them all—Arms that are braceleted and white and bare(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)Is it perfume from a dressThat makes me so digress?Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. Andshould I then presume? Andhow should I begin? Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streetsAnd watched the smoke that rises from the pipesOf lonely men in shirt-sleeves,leaning out of windows? ... I should have been a pair of ragged clawsScuttling across the floors of silent seas. And the afternoon, the evening,sleeps so peacefully!Smoothed by long fingers,Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?But though I have wept and fasted,wept and prayed,Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,I am no prophet — and here』s no great matter;I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it,after all,After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,Would it have been worth while,To have bitten off the matter with a smile,To have squeezed the universe into aballTo roll it towards some overwhelming question,To say: 「I am Lazarus, come from the dead,Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all」—If one, settling a pillow by herhead Should say: 「That is not what I meant at all; Thatis not it, at all.」 After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,After the novels, after the teacups,after the skirts that trail along the floor—And this, and so much more?—It is impossible to say just what I mean!But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:Would it have been worth whileIf one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,And turning toward the window,should say: 「Thatis not it at all, Thatis not what I meant, at all.」 No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;Am an attendant lord, one that will doTo swell a progress, start a scene or two,Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,Deferential, glad to be of use,Politic, cautious, and meticulous;Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ...I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?I shall wear white flannel trousers,and walk upon the beach.I have heard the mermaids singing,each to each. I do not think that they will singto me. I have seen them riding seaward onthe wavesCombing the white hair of the waves blown backWhen the wind blows the water white and black.We have lingered in the chambers ofthe seaBy sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brownTill human voices wake us, and wedrown. J·阿爾弗瑞德·普魯弗洛克的情歌查良錚譯假如我認為，我是回答一個能轉回陽世間的人，那麼，這火焰就不會再搖閃。但既然，如我聽到的果真沒有人能活著離開這深淵，我回答你就不必害怕流言。那麼我們走吧，你我兩個人，正當朝天空慢慢鋪展著黃昏好似病人麻醉在手術桌上；我們走吧，穿過一些半清冷的街，那兒休憩的場所正人聲喋喋；有夜夜不寧的下等歇夜旅店和滿地蚌殼的鋪鋸末的飯館；街連著街，好象一場討厭的爭議帶著陰險的意圖要把你引向一個重大的問題…… 唉，不要問，"那是什麼？" 讓我們快點去作客。在客廳里女士們來回地走，談著畫家米開朗基羅。黃色的霧在窗玻璃上擦著它的背，黃色的煙在窗玻璃上擦著它的嘴，把它的舌頭舐進黃昏的角落，徘徊在快要乾涸的水坑上；讓跌下煙囪的煙灰落上它的背，它溜下台階，忽地縱身跳躍，看到這是一個溫柔的十月的夜，於是便在房子附近蜷伏起來安睡。呵，確實地，總會有時間看黃色的煙沿著街滑行，在窗玻璃上擦著它的背；總會有時間，總會有時間裝一副面容去會見你去見的臉；總會有時間去暗殺和創新，總會有時間讓舉起問題又丟進你盤裡的雙手完成勞作與度過時日；有的是時間，無論你，無論我，還有的是時間猶豫一百遍，或看到一百種幻景再完全改過，在吃一片烤麵包和飲茶以前。在客廳里女士們來回地走，談著畫家米開朗基羅。呵，確實地，總還有時間來疑問，"我可有勇氣？""我可有勇氣？" 總還有時間來轉身走下樓梯，把一塊禿頂暴露給人去注意—— （她們會說："他的頭髮變得多麼稀！"）我的晨禮服，我的硬領在齶下筆挺，我的領帶雅緻而多彩，用一個簡樸的別針固定—— （她們會說："可是他的胳膊腿多麼細！"）我可有勇氣攪亂這個宇宙？在一分鐘里總還有時間決定和變卦，過一分鐘再變回頭。因為我已經熟悉了她們，熟悉了她們所有的人—— 熟悉了那些黃昏，和上下午的情景，我是用咖啡匙子量走了我的生命；我熟悉每當隔壁響起了音樂話聲就逐漸低微而至停歇。所以我怎麼敢開口？而且我已熟悉那些眼睛，熟悉了她們所有的眼睛—— 那些眼睛能用一句成語的公式把你盯住，當我被公式化了，在別針下趴伏，那我怎麼能開始吐出我的生活和習慣的全部剩煙頭？我又怎麼敢開口？而且我已經熟悉了那些胳膊，熟悉了她們所有的胳膊—— 那些胳膊帶著鐲子，又袒露又白凈（可是在燈光下，顯得淡褐色毛茸茸！）是否由於衣裙的香氣使得我這樣話離本題？那些胳膊或圍著肩巾，或橫在案頭。那時候我該開口嗎？可是我怎麼開始？是否我說，我在黃昏時走過窄小的街，看到孤獨的男子只穿著襯衫倚在窗口，煙斗里冒著裊裊的煙？……那我就會成為一對蟹螯急急爬過沉默的海底。啊，那下午，那黃昏，睡得多平靜！被纖長的手指輕輕撫愛，睡了……倦慵的……或者它裝病，躺在地板上，就在你我腳邊伸開。是否我，在用過茶、糕點和冰食以後，有魄力把這一刻推到緊要的關頭？然而，儘管我曾哭泣和齋戒，哭泣和祈禱，儘管我看見我的頭（有一點禿了）用盤子端了進來，我不是先知——這也不值得大驚小怪；我曾看到我偉大的時刻閃爍，我曾看到我的外衣暗笑，一句話，我有點害怕。而且，歸根到底，是不是值得當小吃、果子醬和紅茶已用過，在杯盤中間，當人們談著你和我，是不是值得以一個微笑把這件事情一口啃掉，把整個宇宙壓縮成一個球，使它滾向某個重大的問題，說道："我是拉撒路，從冥界來報一個信，我要告訴你們一切。"—— 萬一她把枕墊放在頭下一倚，說道："唉，我意思不是要談這些；不，我不是要談這些。"那麼，歸根到底，是不是值得，是否值得在那許多次夕陽以後，在庭院的散步和水淋過街道以後，在讀小說以後，在飲茶以後，在長裙拖過地板以後，—— 說這些，和許多許多事情？—— 要說出我想說的話絕不可能！彷彿有幻燈把神經的圖樣投到幕上：是否還值得如此難為情，假如她放一個枕墊或擲下披肩，把臉轉向窗戶，甩出一句：那可不是我的本意，那可絕不是我的本意。不！我並非哈姆雷特王子，當也當不成；我只是個侍從爵士，為王家出行，鋪排顯赫的場面，或為王子出主意，就夠好的了；無非是順手的工具，服服帖帖，巴不得有點用途，細緻，周詳，處處小心翼翼；滿口高談闊論，但有點愚魯；有時候，老實說，顯得近乎可笑，有時候，幾乎是個丑角。呵，我變老了……我變老了…… 我將要捲起我的長褲的褲腳。我將把頭髮往後分嗎？我可敢吃桃子？我將穿上白法蘭絨褲在海灘上散步。我聽見了女水妖彼此對唱著歌。我不認為她們會為我而唱歌。我看過她們凌駕波浪駛向大海，梳著打回來的波浪的白髮，當狂風把海水吹得又黑又白。我們留連於大海的宮室，被海妖以紅的和棕的海草裝飾，一旦被人聲喚醒，我們就淹死。