(英汉对照) (美) 弗罗斯特 Robert Frost

[朱松壑]

弗罗斯特（Robert Frost)美国著名的诗人。1874年3月26日生于美国西部的旧金山。他是第一个四次获得普利策奖的人。主要诗集有《孩子的意愿》、《波士顿以北》、《新罕布什尔》、《西去的溪流》、《理智的假面具》、《慈悲的假面具》、《林间中地》等。


The Mountain 山

The Mountain

The mountain held the town as in a shadow
I saw so much before I slept there once:
I noticed that I missed stars in the west,
Where its black body cut into the sky.
Near me it seemed: I felt it like a wall
Behind which I was sheltered from a wind.
And yet between the town and it I found,
When I walked forth at dawn to see new things,
Were fields, a river, and beyond, more fields.
The river at the time was fallen away,
And made a widespread brawl on cobble-stones;
But the signs showed what it had done in spring;
Good grass-land gullied out, and in the grass
Ridges of sand, and driftwood stripped of bark.
I crossed the river and swung round the mountain.
And there I met a man who moved so slow
With white-faced oxen in a heavy cart,
It seemed no hand to stop him altogether.
"What town is this?" I asked.
"This? Lunenburg."
Then I was wrong: the town of my sojourn,
Beyond the bridge, was not that of the mountain,
But only felt at night its shadowy presence.
"Where is your village? Very far from here?"
"There is no village--only scattered farms.
We were but sixty voters last election.
We can't in nature grow to many more:
That thing takes all the room!" He moved his goad.
The mountain stood there to be pointed at.
Pasture ran up the side a little way,
And then there was a wall of trees with trunks:
After that only tops of trees, and cliffs
Imperfectly concealed among the leaves.
A dry ravine emerged from under boughs
Into the pasture.
"That looks like a path.
Is that the way to reach the top from here?--
Not for this morning, but some other time:
I must be getting back to breakfast now."
"I don't advise your trying from this side.
There is no proper path, but those that have
Been up, I understand, have climbed from Ladd's.
That's five miles back. You can't mistake the place:
They logged it there last winter some way up.
I'd take you, but I'm bound the other way."
"You've never climbed it?"
"I've been on the sides
Deer-hunting and trout-fishing. There's a brook
That starts up on it somewhere--I've heard say
Right on the top, tip-top--a curious thing.
But what would interest you about the brook,
It's always cold in summer, warm in winter.
One of the great sights going is to see
It steam in winter like an ox's breath,
Until the bushes all along its banks
Are inch-deep with the frosty spines and bristles--
You know the kind. Then let the sun shine on it!"
"There ought to be a view around the world
From such a mountain--if it isn't wooded
Clear to the top." I saw through leafy screens
Great granite terraces in sun and shadow,
Shelves one could rest a knee on getting up--
With depths behind him sheer a hundred feet;
Or turn and sit on and look out and down,
With little ferns in crevices at his elbow.
"As to that I can't say. But there's the spring,
Right on the summit, almost like a fountain.
That ought to be worth seeing."
"If it's there.
You never saw it?"
"I guess there's no doubt
About its being there. I never saw it.
It may not be right on the very top:
It wouldn't have to be a long way down
To have some head of water from above,
And a good distance down might not be noticed
By anyone who'd come a long way up.
One time I asked a fellow climbing it
To look and tell me later how it was."
"What did he say?"
"He said there was a lake
Somewhere in Ireland on a mountain top."
"But a lake's different. What about the spring?"
"He never got up high enough to see.
That's why I don't advise your trying this side.
He tried this side. I've always meant to go
And look myself, but you know how it is:
It doesn't seem so much to climb a mountain
You've worked around the foot of all your life.
What would I do? Go in my overalls,
With a big stick, the same as when the cows
Haven't come down to the bars at milking time?
Or with a shotgun for a stray black bear?
'Twouldn't seem real to climb for climbing it."
"I shouldn't climb it if I didn't want to--
Not for the sake of climbing. What's its name?"
"We call it Hor: I don't know if that's right."
"Can one walk around it? Would it be too far?"
"You can drive round and keep in Lunenburg,
But it's as much as ever you can do,
The boundary lines keep in so close to it.
Hor is the township, and the township's Hor--
And a few houses sprinkled round the foot,
Like boulders broken off the upper cliff,
Rolled out a little farther than the rest."
"Warm in December, cold in June, you say?"
"I don't suppose the water's changed at all.
You and I know enough to know it's warm
Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm.
But all the fun's in how you say a thing."
"You've lived here all your life?"
"Ever since Hor
Was no bigger than a----" What, I did not hear.
He drew the oxen toward him with light touches
Of his slim goad on nose and offside flank,
Gave them their marching orders and was moving.

山

山如同暗中支撑着城镇一样。
有一次我在那里睡觉前看了那么久的山脉：
我注意到因它那黑色的身躯插进天空，
使我错过了西方的星星。
它似乎离我很近：我感觉它如同
身后的一面墙在风中保护着我。
黎明时当我为着看见新事物而向前走，
我发现山与城镇之间，
有田野，一条河，以及远处，更多的田野。
河流那时已快干涸，
泛泛地在鹅卵石上哗哗地流着；
但是从迹象仍可看到它春天的上涨：
不错的草地开了沟，在草里
堆着沙子，浮木被剥去了树皮。
我穿过了河流转向了那山。
在那里我遇见了个人带着头面容苍白
拉着沉重车子的公牛且很慢地移动，
总之让他停下来也没事儿。

“这儿是什么城镇？”我问。

“这儿？卢嫩堡。”

那么我错了：我逗留的城镇，
是在桥那边，倒不是山，
只是在晚上我能感觉它朦胧的存在。
“你的村子在哪儿？离这儿很远？”

“那里没有村子——只有分散的农庄。
上次选举中我们只有六十个投票者。
我们的人数不能自然增加到一个数量：
那东西占了很大的空间！”移了移他的刺棒。
他指着立在那里的山。
山腰上的牧场往上延伸了一小段，
然后是那里的一排树木的树干；
在那之后只有树木的顶端，和悬崖
没有彻底隐蔽在树叶之中。
主枝下面形成的那条干涸溪谷
直到那牧场。

“那看上去像条路。
就是从这里到达山顶的路吗？——
今天早晨不行，但其他时间：
我现在要回去吃早餐了。”

“我不建议你试着在这边上山。
没有真正的路，那些
上过山的人都是从拉德家开始往上爬。
往后走五英里。你可不能错过那地方：
他们在上个冬天把远处的有些树木伐掉了。
我想带着你，可惜我要走其它路。”

“你从来没有爬过它？”

“我去过山腰
打鹿以及钓鲑鱼。有条小溪
的源头就在那里的什么地方——我听说
在正顶端，最高点——是件另人好奇的事情。
但这小溪使你感兴趣的地方就是，
在夏天溪水总是冷的，而冬天是暖的。
冬天看见它的水汽如同
公牛的呼吸，这也是最伟大景观之一，
水汽顺着堤岸的灌木丛使它们有
一英寸厚的霜状棘刺和毛发——
你知道那样式。然后就让阳光照在上面！”

“那应该成为是这样一座山上的
世界风景——若一直到山顶都不是
繁茂树木的话。”我透过树叶茂盛的遮帘
看见大块花岗岩在阳光与阴影中成了台地，
攀爬时膝盖可以靠在那个倾斜面——
身后肯定有一百英尺来高；
或者转动身子且坐在上面向外俯视，
肘部就可以挨着裂缝里长出的蕨类。

“至于那个我不敢说。但泉水是存在的，
正好在山顶，几乎像一个喷泉。
那应该很值得看。”

“如果真的在那儿。
你从来没见过？”

“我想它存在于那里的
事实是不会有疑惑的。我从来没见过。
它也许不会在绝对的顶端：
我想从山间的河源不必一定要从
最上面那么长一路下来，
从那么远爬上来的人或许不会注意
一条从不近不远的距离流下来的溪水。
有一次我请一个正在攀爬的人
去看看然后再告诉我那是什么样子的。”

“他说了什么？”

“他告诉我说在爱尔兰
什么地方的山顶上有片湖。”

“但湖就是不一样。泉水呢？”

“他还没登上足够他可以看见的高度呢。
那就是为什么我不建议你在这边爬山。
他试过这边。我总想自己过去
然后亲眼看看，但你知道是怎么一回事：
去攀爬一座山几乎没有什么意义
因为你已经在这山麓周围工作一辈子了。
我上山做什么？要我穿着工作裤，
拿着根大棍子，如同奶牛在
挤奶时没有回到栅栏里一样？
或者为着遇见迷路的黑熊而拿着杆猎枪？
看上去似乎不是真为爬上去而爬呢。”

“如果我不想上去我也不会爬——
不是因为爬山本身的缘故。那山叫什么？”

“我们叫它霍：我不知道那对不对。”

“一个人能绕着它走吗？会很远吗？”

“你能在周围开车但要保持是在卢嫩堡境内，
不过你所能做的就这些，
它的边界线近近地贴着山脚。
霍就是镇区，镇区就是霍——
少许房屋散布在山脚周围，
如同巨石折断了上面的悬崖，
比起那静止不动的滚出了一点点远。”

“在十二月暖和，六月寒冷，你说的？”

“我根本不认为是水在改变。
你和我都很明白说它暖和
只是与寒冷的相比，寒冷呢是与暖和。
而所有乐趣就是你怎样说出一件事情。”

“你一辈子都在这里生活？”

“自从霍
的大小还不如一个——”说的什么，我没听到。
他用细长的刺棒轻轻触碰着公牛的鼻子与
后面的胁腹，将绳子朝自己拉了过来，
发出了几声吆喝，然后慢慢向远处移走。


Mending Wall 修补墙壁

Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, "Good fences make good neighbours."
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbours."

修补墙壁

有一种东西不喜欢墙壁，
它使冻结的地面在墙壁下膨胀，
在阳光中倒出地表的大石头；
甚至使裂纹超过了两人并起的肩膀。
猎人毁墙则是另一件事情：
我要跟在他们后面修复他们经过
且不把石头放回原处的地方，
他们还会让兔子不再躲藏，
以取悦那吠叫的狗。我所说的裂纹，
没有人看见或听见它们怎样形成，
但在春天修补的时候便会看到千疮百孔。
我约了那位山那边的邻居；
在某天我们走到那断墙并见了面
又一次将墙壁搁置在了我们中间。
我们边走边把破的墙补上，
用落向各自墙角的所有石头。
有些如同面包片有些则类似球形
我们要用一段符咒来使它们平衡：
“我们转身之前，请留在你所在的位置！”
处理它们使我们的手磨得粗糙。
哦，像是另一种户外游戏，
一个站一边。有点感觉了：
其实这里是我们不需墙壁的地方：
他那儿全都是松树而我的是苹果园。
我告诉他，我的苹果树绝不会
穿越过去在他的松树下吃松果。
他只说，“只有好栅栏才能促成好邻居。”
在我心里春天是个危害，我在想
我能否在他脑中放置这样一个想法：
“为什么栅栏能促成好邻居？难道它
不该竖在有奶牛的地方？但是这儿没奶牛。
在我建墙壁之前我就该知道
我做围墙是想围住以及隔开什么，
我又可能会得罪谁。
有些东西不喜欢墙壁，
希望墙壁倒下。”我会对他说那是“小精灵”，
但正确说那不是，我宁可
让他自己说那是什么。我看他在那里
用双手尖紧紧抓着
块石头，像原始人的石器武装。
在我看来他在黑暗中移动，
不止是木头还有树木的阴影。
他不会去探究父辈所说的话，
他倒喜欢想起这一句所以会又
说，“只有好栅栏才能促成好邻居。”


The Star-Splitter 星星破裂者

The Star-Splitter

You know Orien always comes up sideways.
Throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains,
And rising on his hands, he looks in on me
Busy outdoors by lantern-light with something
I should have done by daylight, and indeed,
After the ground is frozen, I should have done
Before it froze, and a gust flings a handful
Of waste leaves at my smoky lantern chimney
To make fun of my way of doing things,
Or else fun of Orion's having caught me.
Has a man, I should like to ask, no rights
These forces are obliged to pay respect to?"
So Brad McLaughlin mingled reckless talk
Of heavenly stars with hugger-mugger farming,
Till having failed at hugger-mugger farming,
He burned his house down for the fire insurance
And spent the proceeds on a telescope
To satisfy a life-long curiosity
About our place among the infinities.

"What do you want with one of those blame things?"
I asked him well beforehand. "Don't you get one!"
"Don't call it blamed; there isn't anything
More blameless in the sense of being less
A weapon in our human fight," he said.
"I'll have one if I sell my farm to buy it."
There where he moved the rocks to plow the ground
And plowed between the rocks he couldn't move,
Few farms changed hands; so rather than spend years
Trying to sell his farm and then not selling,
He burned his house down for the fire insurance
And bought the telescope with what it came to.
He had been heard to say by several:
"The best thing that we're put here for's to see;
The strongest thing that's given us to see with's
A telescope. Someone in every town
Seems to me owes it to the town to keep one.
In Littleton it may as well be me."
After such loose talk it was no surprise
When he did what he did and burned his house down.
Mean laughter went about the town that day
To let him know we weren't the least imposed on,
And he could wait--we'd see to him to-morrow.
But the first thing next morning we reflected
If one by one we counted people out
For the least sin, it wouldn't take us long
To get so we had no one left to live with.
For to be social is to be forgiving.
Our thief, the one who does our stealing from us,
We don't cut off from coming to church suppers,
But what we miss we go to him and ask for.
He promptly gives it back, that is if still
Uneaten, unworn out, or undisposed of.
It wouldn't do to be too hard on Brad
About his telescope. Beyond the age
Of being given one's gift for Christmas,[1]
He had to take the best way he knew how
To find himself in one. Well, all we said was
He took a strange thing to be roguish over.
Some sympathy was wasted on the house,
A good old-timer dating back along;
But a house isn't sentient; the house
Didn't feel anything. And if it did,
Why not regard it as a sacrifice,
And an old-fashioned sacrifice by fire,
Instead of a new-fashioned one at auction?

Out of a house and so out of a farm
At one stroke (of a match), Brad had to turn
To earn a living on the Concord railroad,
As under-ticket-agent at a station
Where his job, when he wasn't selling tickets,
Was setting out up track and down, not plants
As on a farm, but planets, evening stars
That varied in their hue from red to green.

He got a good glass for six hundred dollars.
His new job gave him leisure for star-gazing.
Often he bid me come and have a look
Up the brass barrel, velvet black inside,
At a star quaking in the other end.
I recollect a night of broken clouds
And underfoot snow melted down to ice,
And melting further in the wind to mud.
Bradford and I had out the telescope.
We spread our two legs as it spread its three,
Pointed our thoughts the way we pointed it,
And standing at our leisure till the day broke,
Said some of the best things we ever said.
That telescope was christened the Star-splitter,
Because it didn't do a thing but split
A star in two or three the way you split
A globule of quicksilver in your hand
With one stroke of your finger in the middle.
It's a star-splitter if there ever was one
And ought to do some good if splitting stars
'Sa thing to be compared with splitting wood.

We've looked and looked, but after all where are we?
Do we know any better where we are,
And how it stands between the night to-night
And a man with a smoky lantern chimney?
How different from the way it ever stood?
[1]Of being given one for Christmas gift

星星破裂者

“你知道猎户座经常从路头上来。
先是一条腿穿过我们栅栏似的群山，
然后升起手臂，它看着我
用灯笼光在户外忙碌于某些
我该在白天完成的
什么事情。确实，
大地结冻后，我则是做它结冻
之前应完成的，阵风将一些
无用的落叶丢进我冒烟的
灯罩，取笑我所做事情的方式，
或取笑猎户座让我着迷了。
我应该问问，一个人，难道
没有权利关心这些冥冥的影响力？”
那么布雷·麦克罗林轻率地把
空中的星星与杂乱的农事混合，
直到不再做那杂乱的农事，
他为着火灾保险金将房子全部烧毁了
然后用得来的钱买了台望远镜
以此满足我们在无穷宇宙之中
所在之地里的——毕生好奇心。
“你想要那该死的东西干什么？”
我预先问他，“你不是有一个！”
“不要把它叫该死；没有什么
比起在我们人类打斗中所用的武器
更为无过失，”他说，
“如果我卖掉农场我就要买一个。”
在那里他为着耕地而搬走了石块
且在他所不能搬动的石块之间耕着，
农场几乎不好转手；他花费了时间
想卖掉自己的农场却卖不掉，
他便为着火灾保险将房子全部烧毁
然后用所得的买了台望远镜。
有几个人都听他这样说：
“在我们这儿最美的事就是观看；
最让我们看得远的东西就是
望远镜。似乎每个城镇都应该
有人，来给城镇弄到一个。
在利特尔顿的人还是我最好。”
在这样大开口后他烧毁了自己的房子
并且做了他想做的，这实在没什么惊奇。

可那天冷笑声在城镇里四处走动
而让他知道我们一点也没受骗，
他就等着吧——我们明天要注意他。
但第二天早晨我们首先所想的
就是一个人最小的过失，
若是我们一个接一个地数点，
那么很快我们就会形只影单。
因为要彼此来往就要变得仁慈。
我们的盗贼，那个从我们那里偷窃的，
我们没有拒绝他来教堂参加圣餐仪式，
但为着所丢失的我们会到他那里去索取。
如若东西依然没被吃，没有弄坏，
或者没有处理掉，他会迅速地将它归还。
所以不要因为布雷的望远镜
而对他太刻薄。毕竟他超过了
得到这样一份圣诞礼物的年龄，
他要用自己所知道的最好方法
给自己提供一个。好，我们所要说的就是
他以为这件奇怪的事情已蒙混过关。
有人将同情浪费在了那房屋上，
是一幢不错的古老的原木房屋；
但它没有感情；房屋不会
有任何感觉。如果它有，
为什么不把当看作如同祭品一样的呢，
一个过时的火祭，
取代了新式的亏本拍卖？

在房屋外面同样在农场外面
一划（一根火柴），布雷转到
了要靠在康科德铁路谋生，
例如在他工作车站的地下
做车票代理，当他不卖车票了，
他就开始到处追看星星，不像是
在农场上忙碌，而是追看行星，晚星
从红色到绿色地改变着颜色。

他用六百美元得到了个好镜子。
新工作给了他注视星星的空闲。
他经常欢迎我来看一看
那黄铜色的圆筒，内面是柔软的黑色，
另一端对着星星震动着。
我回想了一晚上那破裂的云朵
和在脚下融化成冰的雪花，
在风中更远地融化成了泥土。
布拉德福和我一起用着望远镜。
我们伸展开双脚如同伸展开它的三根支架，
让我们的想法对着它所对着的方向，
在空闲时间中站立直到黎明到来，
并谈着那些我们从来没有说过的事情。

那望远镜被命名为星星破裂者，
因为它除了使星星如同
在你手中的水银小球一样
从中间裂开而分成
两三块以外，它不做任何事情。
如果曾经存在的话它就是星星破裂者
若破裂星星是件可以与砍木材
相比较的事情那它也应算做了些好事。

我们看了又看，但我们终究在哪里？
我们能更好地知道我们在哪里吗，
它今晚是怎样立在夜晚
和那有着冒烟灯笼的灯罩之间？
与它曾经的站立方式会有多大有变化？


Tree At My Window 树在我的窗前

Tree At My Window

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

1928

树在我的窗前

树在我的窗前，窗前的树，
当夜幕降临我放下窗扉；
但绝没有拉下窗帘
在你和我之间。

含混的梦首举出了地面，
事情差不多都漫散到云端，
并非你的所有高谈阔论
都能将深奥显现。

但是树啊，我看见你摇曳不安，
而如果你曾见过我在睡眠，
那你也看到过我的情感遭受熬煎
一切尽失落丢散。

那天命运发挥了她的想象力，
把我们的头放在一起，
你的头是那样焦虑外面的气候，
我的却与室内冷暖相关。

1928年


Fire and Ice 火和冰

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

火和冰

有人说世界将终止于火,
有人说将终止于冰。
依据我对于欲望的体验
我赞同那些倾向火的人。
但如果不得不毁灭两次,
我认为我懂得十分憎恨
去说那毁灭的原因
冰同样伟大绝伦
会满足如此重任。


Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening 雪夜林边驻马

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

雪夜林边驻马

我想我认识这树林的主人，
不过他的住房在村庄里面。
他不会看到我正停于此处，
观赏他的树林被积雪淤满。

我的小马定以为荒唐古怪，
停下来没有靠近农舍一间，
于树林和冰洁的湖滨当中，
在这一年中最阴暗的夜晚。

它摇晃了一下颈上的铃儿，
探询是否有什么差错出现。
那唯一飘掠过的别样声响，
是微风吹拂着柔软的雪片。

树林可爱，虽深暗而黑远，
但我已决意信守我的诺言，
在我睡前还有许多路要赶，
在我睡前还有许多路要赶。


After Apple-Picking 摘罢苹果

After Apple-Picking

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.

摘罢苹果

长梯穿过树顶，竖起两个尖端
刺向沉静的天穹。
梯子脚下，有一只木桶，
我还没给装满，也许
还有两三个苹果留在枝头
我还没摘下。不过这会儿，
我算是把摘苹果这活干完了。
夜晚在散发着冬眠的气息
——那扑鼻的苹果香；
我是在打磕睡啦。
我揉揉眼睛，
却揉不掉眼前的奇怪——
这怪景像来自今天早晨，
我从饮水槽里揭起一层冰——
像一块窗玻璃，隔窗望向
一个草枯霜重的世界。
冰溶了，我由它掉下．碎掉。
可是它还没落地，我早就
膘膘肪脆，快掉进了睡乡。
我还说得出，我的梦
会是怎么样一个形状。
膨胀得好大的苹果，忽隐忽现，
一头是梗枝，一头是花儿，
红褐色的斑点，全看得请。
好酸疼哪．我的脚底板．
可还得使劲吃住梯子档的分量，
我感到那梯子
随着弯倒的树枝，在摇晃。
耳边只听得不断的隆隆声——
一桶又一捅苹果往地窖里送。
摘这么些苹果，
尽够我受了；我本是盼望
来个大丰收，可这会儿已累坏了，
有千千万万的苹果你得去碰，
得轻轻地去拿，轻轻地去放．
不能往地上掉。只要一掉地，
即使没碰伤，也没叫草梗扎破，
只好全都堆在一边，去做苹果酒，
算是不值一钱。
你看吧，打扰我睡一觉的是什么，
且不提这算不算睡一觉。
如果土拨鼠没有走开，
听我讲睡梦怎样来到我身边，
那它就可以说，
这跟它的冬眠倒有些像，
或者说，这不过是人类的冬眠。

（方平译）


The Housekeeper 女管家

The Housekeeper

I let myself in at the kitchen door.
"It's you," she said. "I can't get up. Forgive me
Not answering your knock. I can no more
Let people in than I can keep them out.
I'm getting too old for my size, I tell them.
My fingers are about all I've the use of
So's to take any comfort. I can sew:
I help out with this beadwork what I can."
"That's a smart pair of pumps you're beading there.
Who are they for?"
"You mean?--oh, for some miss.
I can't keep track of other people's daughters.
Lord, if I were to dream of everyone
Whose shoes I primped to dance in!"
"And where's John?"
"Haven't you seen him? Strange what set you off
To come to his house when he's gone to yours.
You can't have passed each other. I know what:
He must have changed his mind and gone to Garlands.
He won't be long in that case. You can wait.
Though what good you can be, or anyone--
It's gone so far. You've heard? Estelle's run off."
"Yes, what's it all about? When did she go?"
"Two weeks since."
"She's in earnest, it appears."
"I'm sure she won't come back. She's hiding somewhere.
I don't know where myself. John thinks I do.
He thinks I only have to say the word,
And she'll come back. But, bless you, I'm her mother--
I can't talk to her, and, Lord, if I could!"
"It will go hard with John. What will he do?
He can't find anyone to take her place."
"Oh, if you ask me that, what will he do?
He gets some sort of bakeshop meals together,
With me to sit and tell him everything,
What's wanted and how much and where it is.
But when I'm gone--of course I can't stay here:
Estelle's to take me when she's settled down.
He and I only hinder one another.
I tell them they can't get me through the door, though:
I've been built in here like a big church organ.
We've been here fifteen years."
"That's a long time
To live together and then pull apart.
How do you see him living when you're gone?
Two of you out will leave an empty house."
"I don't just see him living many years,
Left here with nothing but the furniture.
I hate to think of the old place when we're gone,
With the brook going by below the yard,
And no one here but hens blowing about.
If he could sell the place, but then, he can't:
No one will ever live on it again.
It's too run down. This is the last of it.
What I think he will do, is let things smash.
He'll sort of swear the time away. He's awful!
I never saw a man let family troubles
Make so much difference in his man's affairs.
He's just dropped everything. He's like a child.
I blame his being brought up by his mother.
He's got hay down that's been rained on three times.
He hoed a little yesterday for me:
I thought the growing things would do him good.
Something went wrong. I saw him throw the hoe
Sky-high with both hands. I can see it now--
Come here--I'll show you--in that apple tree.
That's no way for a man to do at his age:
He's fifty-five, you know, if he's a day."
"Aren't you afraid of him? What's that gun for?"
"Oh, that's been there for hawks since chicken-time.
John Hall touch me! Not if he knows his friends.
I'll say that for him, John's no threatener
Like some men folk. No one's afraid of him;
All is, he's made up his mind not to stand
What he has got to stand."
"Where is Estelle?
Couldn't one talk to her? What does she say?
You say you don't know where she is."
"Nor want to!
She thinks if it was bad to live with him,
It must be right to leave him."
"Which is wrong!"
"Yes, but he should have married her."
"I know."
"The strain's been too much for her all these years:
I can't explain it any other way.
It's different with a man, at least with John:
He knows he's kinder than the run of men.
Better than married ought to be as good
As married--that's what he has always said.
I know the way he's felt--but all the same!"
"I wonder why he doesn't marry her
And end it."
"Too late now: she wouldn't have him.
He's given her time to think of something else.
That's his mistake. The dear knows my interest
Has been to keep the thing from breaking up.
This is a good home: I don't ask for better.
But when I've said, 'Why shouldn't they be married,'
He'd say, 'Why should they?' no more words than that."
"And after all why should they? John's been fair
I take it. What was his was always hers.
There was no quarrel about property."
"Reason enough, there was no property.
A friend or two as good as own the farm,
Such as it is. It isn't worth the mortgage."
"I mean Estelle has always held the purse."
"The rights of that are harder to get at.
I guess Estelle and I have filled the purse.
'Twas we let him have money, not he us.
John's a bad farmer. I'm not blaming him.
Take it year in, year out, he doesn't make much.
We came here for a home for me, you know,
Estelle to do the housework for the board
Of both of us. But look how it turns out:
She seems to have the housework, and besides,
Half of the outdoor work, though as for that,
He'd say she does it more because she likes it.
You see our pretty things are all outdoors.
Our hens and cows and pigs are always better
Than folks like us have any business with.
Farmers around twice as well off as we
Haven't as good. They don't go with the farm.
One thing you can't help liking about John,
He's fond of nice things--too fond, some would say.
But Estelle don't complain: she's like him there.
She wants our hens to be the best there are.
You never saw this room before a show,
Full of lank, shivery, half-drowned birds
In separate coops, having their plumage done.
The smell of the wet feathers in the heat!
You spoke of John's not being safe to stay with.
You don't know what a gentle lot we are:
We wouldn't hurt a hen! You ought to see us
Moving a flock of hens from place to place.
We're not allowed to take them upside down,
All we can hold together by the legs.
Two at a time's the rule, one on each arm,
No matter how far and how many times
We have to go."
"You mean that's John's idea."
"And we live up to it; or I don't know
What childishness he wouldn't give way to.
He manages to keep the upper hand
On his own farm. He's boss. But as to hens:
We fence our flowers in and the hens range.
Nothing's too good for them. We say it pays.
John likes to tell the offers he has had,
Twenty for this cock, twenty-five for that.
He never takes the money. If they're worth
That much to sell, they're worth as much to keep.
Bless you, it's all expense, though. Reach me down
The little tin box on the cupboard shelf,
The upper shelf, the tin box. That's the one.
I'll show you. Here you are."
"What's this?"
"A bill--
For fifty dollars for one Langshang cock--
Receipted. And the cock is in the yard."
"Not in a glass case, then?"
"He'd need a tall one:
He can eat off a barrel from the ground.
He's been in a glass case, as you may say,
The Crystal Palace, London. He's imported.
John bought him, and we paid the bill with beads--
Wampum, I call it. Mind, we don't complain.
But you see, don't you, we take care of him."
"And like it, too. It makes it all the worse."
"It seems as if. And that's not all: he's helpless
In ways that I can hardly tell you of.
Sometimes he gets possessed to keep accounts
To see where all the money goes so fast.
You know how men will be ridiculous.
But it's just fun the way he gets bedeviled--
If he's untidy now, what will he be----?
"It makes it all the worse. You must be blind."
"Estelle's the one. You needn't talk to me."
"Can't you and I get to the root of it?
What's the real trouble? What will satisfy her?"
"It's as I say: she's turned from him, that's all."
"But why, when she's well off? Is it the neighbours,
Being cut off from friends?"
"We have our friends.
That isn't it. Folks aren't afraid of us."
"She's let it worry her. You stood the strain,
And you're her mother."
"But I didn't always.
I didn't relish it along at first.
But I got wonted to it. And besides--
John said I was too old to have grandchildren.
But what's the use of talking when it's done?
She won't come back--it's worse than that--she can't."
"Why do you speak like that? What do you know?
What do you mean?--she's done harm to herself?"
"I mean she's married--married someone else."
"Oho, oho!"
"You don't believe me."
"Yes, I do,
Only too well. I knew there must be something!
So that was what was back. She's bad, that's all!"
"Bad to get married when she had the chance?"
"Nonsense! See what's she done! But who, who----"
"Who'd marry her straight out of such a mess?
Say it right out--no matter for her mother.
The man was found. I'd better name no names.
John himself won't imagine who he is."
"Then it's all up. I think I'll get away.
You'll be expecting John. I pity Estelle;
I suppose she deserves some pity, too.
You ought to have the kitchen to yourself
To break it to him. You may have the job."
"You needn't think you're going to get away.
John's almost here. I've had my eye on someone
Coming down Ryan's Hill. I thought 'twas him.
Here he is now. This box! Put it away.
And this bill."
"What's the hurry? He'll unhitch."
"No, he won't, either. He'll just drop the reins
And turn Doll out to pasture, rig and all.
She won't get far before the wheels hang up
On something--there's no harm. See, there he is!
My, but he looks as if he must have heard!"
John threw the door wide but he didn't enter.
"How are you, neighbour? Just the man I'm after.
Isn't it Hell," he said. "I want to know.
Come out here if you want to hear me talk.
I'll talk to you, old woman, afterward.
I've got some news that maybe isn't news.
What are they trying to do to me, these two?"
"Do go along with him and stop his shouting."
She raised her voice against the closing door:
"Who wants to hear your news, you--dreadful fool?"

女管家

我让自己进入了那厨房的门。

“是你，”她说。“我不能起来。原谅我
没有答应你敲门。我不会请他们
进来，就像我不能不让人进来。
我告诉他们我老得不行了。
我的用处就是我的手指还能忙活
也让我从中得些安慰。我能够缝补：
我能帮人家做珠饰活。”

“你用珠装饰的是对小舞鞋吧。
是谁的？”

“你是指？——哦，一个小姐。
我不能老跟在人家的女儿后面了解她们。
那多好啊，如果我能想到是谁
穿着我打扮的鞋子去跳舞！”

“那约翰在哪里？”

“你没看见他吗？当他去你那里时
我奇怪是什么使你动身来到了他的屋子。
你们不会错过吧。我知道原因了：
他一定改变了主意然后去了加兰家
若是那样他不会呆很久。你可以等一等。
可你或任何人在这里还会起什么作用呢——
太晚了。你听说过了？埃丝特尔离开了。”

“是的，为什么？她什么时候走的？”

“两星期以前。”

“看来，她是认真的。”

“我敢肯定她不会回来了。她藏在什么地方了。
我自己不知道在哪里。而约翰认为我知道。
他认为我只须对她说些话，
她就会回来。但，哎，虽说我是她母亲——
我却不能和她谈话，而且，嗯，希望我能！”

“那会使约翰为难。他会怎么做？
他找不到任何人能够取代她的位置。”

“哦，如果你问我，他会怎样做？
他吃了一些面包房的膳食，并且并着一餐吃。
和我坐下然后告诉他所有事情，
想要什么，是多少，以及在哪里。
但当我离开了——当然我不能留在这里：
埃丝特尔定居下来后她得带走我。
他和我只是互相碍眼。
虽然，我告诉他们不能赶我出门：
我在这里如同一个巨大教堂机构的一部分。
我们在这儿十五年了。”

“那是很长的一段时间
住在一起然后分开。
你看你们离开之后他会怎样生活？
你们两人离开会留下间空荡的房屋。”

“我看他也没有多少年日子了，
除了家具这里不会留下任何什么。
当我们离开后我讨厌再想起这个地方，
以及那穿过院子的小溪，
除了在附近叫喊的母鸡没有人会在这里。
真希望他能卖掉这地方，不过，他不能：
没有人会住在这里。
这里太衰败了。这就是结局。
我认为他要做的，就是结束那些东西。
他多少诅咒着时间离去。他很可怕！
我从没有看到一个人让家庭中的烦恼
在他男人的事务中制造出了那么多分歧。
他只是放下所有东西。像小孩一样。
我要责备的是：他是被母亲教育出来的。
他让干草堆淋过了三次雨水。
昨天为我锄了一小会儿地：
我认为那些种植的事会对他有好处。
有什么出错了。我看他用双手把
锄头扔得极高。我现在都能看见——
来这里——我给你看看——在苹果树那里。
对人们来说决不会在他那个年纪那么做：
他五十五了，要是他还有过得意的一天。”

“你不是害怕他吧？那把枪是干什么的？”

“哦，是小鸡生出时用来猎鹰的。
约翰·霍尔会碰我！除非他不了解自己的朋友。
我要为他这么说，约翰像有些男人一样
毫无威胁。没有人害怕他；
可问题是，他拿定主意而不愿承担
他所应承担的。”

“埃丝特尔在哪里？
没人和她谈谈话吗？她说了什么？
你说你不知道她在哪里。”

“也不想知道！
她认为与他住在一起实在不好，
那离开他一定是正确的了。”

“那是错的！”

“是的，他本来是要和她结婚的。”

“我知道。”

“这几年这样拖着她感觉疲惫了：
我不能用其他方式来说这事。
有的男人不同，至少约翰不同：
他知道自己比一般男人亲切。
要像结了婚一样好也应该比结了婚
还好——那是他经常说的。
我知道他是怎样的感觉——可全都照旧！”

“我在想为什么约翰没有和她结婚
就结束了。”

“现在太晚了：她不会要他了。
他给了些时间让她思考这些事。
那是他的错误。我那亲爱的知道我所关心的
就是保持不让这个家庭破裂。
这是个好家庭：我不要求更好。
但当我说，‘你们为什么不结婚，’
他会说，‘为什么要？’然后不再说话。”

“究竟为什么要结婚？我保证
约翰是公平的。他有的也总是她的。
在财产上没有争论。”

“原因很充分，根本没有财产。
几乎是一两个朋友拥有了那农场，
事实就是这样。它不值抵押。”

“我是说埃丝特尔总管着钱包。”

“这一事实更难理解。
我认为是埃丝特尔和我装满了那钱包。
是我们让他拥有钱的，而不是他让我们。
约翰不是个好农民。我不是指责他。
年复一年，他没有收获多少。
我们来到这里是为着一个家，你知道，
埃丝特尔为着我们两个的伙食费
做着家务。但看看事情是怎样变化着的：
她似乎包揽了所有家务，此外
还有一半室外的工作，虽然关于这些，
他说她做得多是因为她喜欢。
你会看见我们值钱的东西都在室外。
与像我们这样有副业的人相比
我们的母鸡奶牛和猪是最好的。
在周围比我们处境好两倍的农夫们
却没有我们的那么好。他们没法配合农场。
但有件关于约翰的事你不得不喜欢，
他喜爱美好的事物——甚至可以说，他太喜欢了。
埃丝特尔也不抱怨：她喜欢他这点。
她希望我们的母鸡成为最好的。
你知道在展览会之前从来不会看见
这房间满是分开的鸡笼
和半浸的，瘦削的，修饰过的，发抖的鸡，
与在热气中潮湿的羽毛气味！
你说住在约翰家不安全。
你不知道我们是多么和善：
我们都不会伤害母鸡！你该看看我们
从一个到另一个地方搬动大群母鸡的情形。
我们不允许把它们弄得乱七八糟，
我们只能把它们的双脚抓起来。
规定就是一次两只，一只手一只，
不管我们走多远和
多少次。”

“你是说那是约翰的主意。”

“总之我们做到了；否则我不知道
他会有怎样的孩子脾气。
他设法管理自己的农场。
他是老板。但关于母鸡：
我们用栅栏把花朵围住而让母鸡走来走去。
没什么比它们还值钱。我们称为值。
约翰喜欢人们所说的那个价，
这公鸡二十，那个二十五。
他从来不卖。除非它们值得
卖那么多钱，它们同样值得保存。
虽然，全都是支出。把我
在食橱架上的小锡盒子拿下来，
上面的那层，锡盒子。那个。
我给你看看。给。”

“这是什么？”

“一张票据——
五十美圆买的一只狼山鸡——
已经收到了。那公鸡在院子里。”

“那它就不在玻璃箱子里了？”

“它需要个高的：
它能从地上吃掉一桶。
以前在玻璃箱子里，就像你所说的，
是在伦敦水晶宫殿。进口货。
约翰买的，然后我们用珠子的钱付了帐——
贝壳串珠，我那么叫它。注意，我们不埋怨。
但你看，不是吗，我们得照顾它。”

“并且也喜欢。它使事情变得更糟了。”

“似乎是那样。但不是全部：他那
无能时的情形我几乎不能告诉你。
有时他疯狂地记账
看看那些钱都这么快地用在了哪里。
你知道人会变得有多么可笑。
那只是他自己苦恼方式的可笑——
若现在他不修边幅，又会怎么样呢——”

“那会让事情都变得更糟。你只能闭着眼别看。”

“那是埃丝特尔。你不需要对我说起这事。”

“你和我不能找一找根源吗？
真正的麻烦是什么？什么会使她满意？”

“正如我所说的：埃丝特尔离开了他，就是这样。”

“但为什么，当她处境不错的时候？是因邻居，
或因为没有了朋友？”

“我们有我们的朋友。
不是那样。人们不怕与我们来往。”

“她曾让其困扰过自己。你却不管，
你是她的母亲。”

“但我并非一直都是。
最开始我就不喜欢这样。
但我习惯了。此外——
约翰说我要孙子，那也太老了点。
但事到这个地步谈这些有什么用呢？
她不会回来——更糟的是——她不能。”

“为什么你这样说啊？你知道什么？
你的意思是什么？——她伤害了自己？”

“我是指她结婚了——与其他什么人结婚了。”

“哦，哦！”

“你不相信我。”

“不，我信，
只是太好了。我就知道有什么！
这就是原因啊。她实在坏，就这样。”

“当她遇到机会而去结婚不好吗？”

“荒谬！看看她做了什么！但那人是谁，谁——”

“谁会在这样混乱的家中与她结婚？
明白地说吧——是她母亲也不要紧。
她找到的那人。我最好不提姓名。
约翰自己也不会想到他是谁。”

“那么结束了。我想我也该离开了。
你等等约翰。我同情埃丝特尔；
我想她也应该受到同情。
你应该拥有那厨房
告诉他这点。他就会得到那工作。”

“你不用考虑你要离开的事。
约翰就要到了。我看见什么人
从赖安山上下来了。我认为是他。
他到了。这个盒子！把它放好。
和这票据。”

“急什么？他还要卸马。”

“不，他都不会。他只会丢下缰绳
然后让多尔带着全部车具自己去牧场。
在轮子挂在什么东西上之前它不会
走远——没关系。看，他来了！
啊，他看上去好像已经听说什么了！”

约翰把门大大地打开却没有进去。
“你好吗，邻居？正好我要找你呢。
这里是地狱吗，”他说。“我想知道。
如果你想听我们谈话就出来吧。
然后呢，我就要和你谈一谈，老太婆。
我得到了些也许不是新闻的新闻。
他们在试着对我做什么，这两个人？”

“和他一起去，快别让他大喊大叫。”
她对着关闭的门提起了声音：
“谁想听你的新闻，你——可怕的白痴？”