Poetic Forms: The Sonnet
by Conrad Geller
The sonnet is like the legendary camel which, having put its nose into the tent to keep it warm, soon makes himself at home. Originally an Italian import, it has become the most popular, almost the standard form in English, with thousands of published examples produced by practically every major and minor poet since before Shakespeare.
Everyone should write at least one sonnet in a lifetime.
Sonnets are fourteen-line poems, period. They exist in every line length, with every rhyme scheme imaginable, or with no rhyme scheme at all. The more or less standard sonnets, however, fall into two types: Italian and Shakepearean.
Of these, let's work with the more popular, more elaborate, and at least formally more difficult form. The Italian sonnet was popularized by the Italian poet Petrarch in the fourteenth century, when he wrote a whole bunch of them about his hopeless love for Laura (she seems to have been married). Hopeless lovers have imitated him ever since.
Italian, or Petrarchan, sonnets are usually written with a long line of five beats (da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM). They break down into one eight-line stanza, that tells an experience or expresses a thought or feeling, and a six-line stanza, that contrasts with, resolves, or comments on the first part.
The eight-line stanza, called an octave, uses two rhyme words. The first line rhymes with the fourth, fifth, and eighth lines; the second with the third, sixth, and seventh. Confused? Here is the octave of a sonnet by the best sonneteer of the twentieth century, Edna St. Vincent Millay:
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
See? "Why" rhymes with "sigh," "reply," and "cry"; "lain" rhymes with "rain," "pain," and "gain."
So now she has expressed her feeling (Loneliness? Regret?) In the six-line finale (the sestet), she is going to make the feeling more vivid still by resorting to a comparison of her situation with that of a tree in winter which, cold and abandoned, seems to have only a faint, nonspecific sense of loss:
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Note the rhyming here is "tree" (line 1) rhyming with "me" (line 5); "one" (line 2) rhyming (imperfectly) with "gone" (line 4); and "before" (line 3) rhyming with "more" (line 6). We could represent that using the scheme abcbac. Actually, thatÕs trickier than most sestets. The usual is either abcabc, ababab or, if the poet wants a summarizing last two lines, ababcc.
Does that seems too hard? I estimate that probably a million sonnets are written nowadays worldwide, by poets young and old, of all possible levels of skill. Why not you?
A bigger question is, why bother? Well, you can't know how satisfying, how pleasant, and even how liberating the sonnet can be until you try one. Millay, in a sonnet about writing a sonnet, puts it best, as usual:
I will put Chaos into fourteen lines
And keep him there; and let him thence escape
If he be lucky; let him twist, and ape
Flood, fire, and demon--his adroit designs
Will strain to nothing in the strict confines
Of this sweet Order, where, in pious rape,
I hold his essence and amorphous shape,
Till he with Order mingles and combines.
Past are the hours, the years, or our duress,
His arrogance, our awful servitude:
I have him. He is nothing more than less
Than something simple not yet understood;
I shall not even force him to confess;
Or answer. I will only make him good.
=====
I will add another one from Elizabeth Barrett Browning
XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- posted on 09/26/2005
xw wrote:
Poetic Forms: The Sonnet
by Conrad Geller
Sonnets are fourteen-line poems, period. They exist in every line length, with every rhyme scheme imaginable, or with no rhyme scheme at all. The more or less standard sonnets, however, fall into two types: Italian and Shakepearean.>
唉,Dasha读德语诗律学时也发现了,sonnet究竟是不是“十四行”,这些洋鬼子自己也弄不清。
希望象罔兄能找些elegy的相关Poetic Form来看看。
象罔兄,可曾收到Dasha的email,需要哪些书? - Re: Poetic Forms: The Sonnet(Conrad Geller)posted on 09/26/2005
DASHA兄信早收到了,目录也看了,太大。
回了你信,怕你的信箱把我的信删掉了。
如果能把希腊罗马的那些拷过来就很好。但是希罗多德和修昔底德我
都有了。柏拉图我不全,亚里斯多德正为我所爱!
老普林尼的没有?小普林尼的也不够。希腊古戏剧?
你看着好的拷给我就是了,不要多,图画的就不要了。
如果DASHA需要学希腊语梵语方面的资料,我可以在国外替你收集看
看,互通有无。
这里的SONNET解得很好,ELEGY容我再研究看看。
多交流,再叙!
- posted on 09/26/2005
Poetic Form: Elegy
The elegy began as an ancient Greek metrical form and is traditionally written in response to the death of a person or group. Though similar in function, the elegy is distinct from the epitaph, ode, and eulogy: the epitaph is very brief; the ode solely exalts; and the eulogy is most often written in formal prose.
The elements of a traditional elegy mirror three stages of loss. First, there is a lament, where the speaker expresses grief and sorrow, then praise and admiration of the idealized dead, and finally consolation and solace. These three stages can be seen in W. H. Auden’s classic "In Memory of W. B. Yeats," written for the Irish master, which includes these stanzas:
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
Other well-known elegies include "Fugue of Death" by Paul Celan, written for victims of the Holocaust, and "O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Whitman, written for President Abraham Lincoln.
Many modern elegies have been written not out of a sense of personal grief, but rather a broad feeling of loss and metaphysical sadness. A famous example is the mournful series of ten poems in Duino Elegies, by German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. The first poem begins:
If I cried out
who would hear me up there
among the angelic orders?
And suppose one suddenly
took me to his heart
I would shrivel
Other works that can be considered elegiac in the broader sense are James Merrill’s monumental The Changing Light at Sandover, Robert Lowell’s "For the Union Dead," Seamus Heaney’s The Haw Lantern, and the work of Czeslaw Milosz, which often laments the modern cruelties he witnessed in Europe.
=====
Poems that had been mentioned:
In Memory of W. B. Yeats
by W. H. Auden
I
He disappeared in the dead of winter:
The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted,
And snow disfigured the public statues;
The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day.
What instruments we have agree
The day of his death was a dark cold day.
Far from his illness
The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests,
The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays;
By mourning tongues
The death of the poet was kept from his poems.
But for him it was his last afternoon as himself,
An afternoon of nurses and rumours;
The provinces of his body revolted,
The squares of his mind were empty,
Silence invaded the suburbs,
The current of his feeling failed; he became his admirers.
Now he is scattered among a hundred cities
And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections,
To find his happiness in another kind of wood
And be punished under a foreign code of conscience.
The words of a dead man
Are modified in the guts of the living.
But in the importance and noise of to-morrow
When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the Bourse,
And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed,
And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom,
A few thousand will think of this day
As one thinks of a day when one did something slightly unusual.
What instruments we have agree
The day of his death was a dark cold day.
II
You were silly like us; your gift survived it all:
The parish of rich women, physical decay,
Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still,
For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives
In the valley of its making where executives
Would never want to tamper, flows on south
From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,
Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives,
A way of happening, a mouth.
III
Earth, receive an honoured guest:
William Yeats is laid to rest.
Let the Irish vessel lie
Emptied of its poetry.
In the nightmare of the dark
All the dogs of Europe bark,
And the living nations wait,
Each sequestered in its hate;
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice;
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
&&&&
Fugue of Death
by Paul Celan
Translated by Christopher Middleton
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie there
A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when the night falls to Germany your golden
hair Margarete
he writes it and walks from the house the stars glitter he
whistles his dogs up
he whistles his Jews out and orders a grave to be dug in
the earth
he commands us strike up for the dance
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you in the morning at noon we drink you at
nightfall
drink you and drink you
A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when the night falls to Germany your golden
hair Margarete
Your ashen hair Shulamith we are digging a grave in the
sky it is
ample to lie there
He shouts stab deeper in earth you there and you others
you sing and you play
he grabs at the iron in his belt and swings it and blue are
his eyes
stab deeper your spades you there and you others play on
for the dancing
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at nightfall
we drink you at noon in the mornings we drink you at
nightfall
drink you and drink you
a man in the house your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith he plays with the serpents
He shouts play sweeter death's music death comes as a
master from Germany
he shouts stroke darker the strings and as smoke you
shall climb to the sky
then you'll have a grave in the clouds it is ample to lie
there
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at noon death comes as a master from
Germany
we drink you at nightfall and morning we drink you and
drink you
a master from Germany death comes with eyes that are
blue
with a bullet of lead he will hit in the mark he will hit
you
a man in the house your golden hair Margarete
he hunts us down with his dogs in the sky he gives us a
grave
he plays with the serpents and dreams death comes as a
master from Germany
your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith.
&&&&
O Captain! My Captain!
by Walt Whitman
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack,
the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for
you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores
a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
&&&&
For the Union Dead
by Robert Lowell
"Relinquunt Omnia Servare Rem Publicam."
The old South Boston Aquarium stands
in a Sahara of snow now. Its broken windows are boarded.
The bronze weathervane cod has lost half its scales.
The airy tanks are dry.
Once my nose crawled like a snail on the glass;
my hand tingled
to burst the bubbles
drifting from the noses of the cowed, compliant fish.
My hand draws back. I often sigh still
for the dark downward and vegetating kingdom
of the fish and reptile. One morning last March,
I pressed against the new barbed and galvanized
fence on the Boston Common. Behind their cage,
yellow dinosaur steamshovels were grunting
as they cropped up tons of mush and grass
to gouge their underworld garage.
Parking spaces luxuriate like civic
sandpiles in the heart of Boston.
A girdle of orange, Puritan-pumpkin colored girders
braces the tingling Statehouse,
shaking over the excavations, as it faces Colonel Shaw
and his bell-cheeked Negro infantry
on St. Gaudens' shaking Civil War relief,
propped by a plank splint against the garage's earthquake.
Two months after marching through Boston,
half the regiment was dead;
at the dedication,
William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe.
Their monument sticks like a fishbone
in the city's throat.
Its Colonel is as lean
as a compass-needle.
He has an angry wrenlike vigilance,
a greyhound's gently tautness;
he seems to wince at pleasure,
and suffocate for privacy.
He is out of bounds now. He rejoices in man's lovely,
peculiar power to choose life and die--
when he leads his black soldiers to death,
he cannot bend his back.
On a thousand small town New England greens,
the old white churches hold their air
of sparse, sincere rebellion; frayed flags
quilt the graveyards of the Grand Army of the Republic.
The stone statues of the abstract Union Soldier
grow slimmer and younger each year--
wasp-waisted, they doze over muskets
and muse through their sideburns . . .
Shaw's father wanted no monument
except the ditch,
where his son's body was thrown
and lost with his "niggers."
The ditch is nearer.
There are no statues for the last war here;
on Boylston Street, a commercial photograph
shows Hiroshima boiling
over a Mosler Safe, the "Rock of Ages"
that survived the blast. Space is nearer.
When I crouch to my television set,
the drained faces of Negro school-children rise like balloons.
Colonel Shaw
is riding on his bubble,
he waits
for the blessèd break.
The Aquarium is gone. Everywhere,
giant finned cars nose forward like fish;
a savage servility
slides by on grease.
- Re: Poetic Form: Elegyposted on 09/27/2005
学习中。。。
谢谢介绍 - posted on 09/27/2005
xw wrote:
DASHA兄信早收到了,目录也看了,太大。
回了你信,怕你的信箱把我的信删掉了。
惨,Dasha真的没有收到。
如果能把希腊罗马的那些拷过来就很好。但是希罗多德和修昔底德我
都有了。柏拉图我不全,亚里斯多德正为我所爱!
柏拉图的个人以为王太庆先生的译本是最可资采信与学习的,王晓朝的译本据称饱受圈内人士病诟。
老普林尼的没有?小普林尼的也不够。希腊古戏剧?
老、小普林尼似乎大陆尚未有专著出版,古希腊戏剧Dasha也就有周、罗、王、水诸人的一些译本。如果象罔兄对某一本书有特殊需要,Dasha愿意代为查询、下载。
你看着好的拷给我就是了,不要多,图画的就不要了。
上次小V同学所列书目以及Dasha跟贴,皆图画:超星公司的PDG格式,无法全文检索,但保持了图书原貌。不知象罔兄是否还需要。而且,如果象罔兄仅仅需要古希腊、罗马的东西,恐怕小V同学比Dasha搜集的更全面。建议玛雅MM回上海时直接召小V同学要光盘。
如果DASHA需要学希腊语梵语方面的资料,我可以在国外替你收集看
看,互通有无。
多谢象罔兄费心啦,Dasha目前学习资料还够用,匮缺时少不了添麻烦的。
这里的SONNET解得很好,ELEGY容我再研究看看。
多交流,再叙!
关于Sonnet,Dasha再转贴一文:
SONNET:辨體、正名
外語與翻譯1998年第1期(總第16期)
張少雄(張少雄:中南工業大學外語系教授)
通訊地址:410083長沙中南工業大學外語系
1. 辨體與正名的緣起國內外現行的很多英文教科書都認定:sonnet is a poem of fourteen lines…同時,幾乎全部中文書刊,甚至全部中文讀者,都把sonnet當成是十四行詩。
在這種認識或知識背景下,便會出現一些令人困惑不解的描述與解釋,如:文學史家都聲稱:莎士比亞寫有“十四行詩”154首,其中有一首十二行詩(第126首),還有一首十五行詩(第99首)。
《英美作家辭典》“沃森(ThomasWatson)”條下說:“他是繼……之後最早寫十四行詩的詩人。他創造了一種十八行的十四行詩,並有詩集……。莎士比亞及其他同時代詩人都研究過他的十四行詩。”十二行、十五行或十八行的詩當然不是“十四行詩”,但它們是貨真價實的sonnet。十四行詩當然是十四行。同樣的首理,四行七言詩不是七律,七律就是八行。因此,有必要對sonnet進行界定、辨體與正譯名。2. SONNET:界說與辨體要對sonnet作準確的界定,首先要考察被稱爲sonnet作品的創作史與這一樣式的流變史,其次要參考英美權威工具書的定義。這裏先看幾家定義:
之一:1. a poem normally of fourteen lines in any of several fixed verse and rhyme schemes, typi cally in rhymed iambic pentameter; sonnets characteristically express a single t heme or idea:see... 2. a short poem, usually a love poem.(Webster's,1979)
之二:1. A piece of verse (properly expres sive of one main idea) consisting of fourteen decasyllabic lines, with rimes arr anged according to one or other of certain definite schemes. 2. A short poem or piece of verse; in early use esp. one of a lyrical and amatory character.(OED,19 89)
之三:1. a fixed verse form of I talian origin consisting of fourteen lines...2. a short usu. amatory poem. (Webster's Third,1976)
之四:a poem consisting of 14 lines (of 11 syllables in Italian, generally 12 in French, and 10 in English), with rhymes arranged according to one or other of certain defi nite schemes, of which the Petrarchan and the Elizabethan are the principal,...( D rabble, 1985)
四家定義,a到c,都下得較爲靈活,沒有咬定十四行不放。綜合起來看,sonnet是一種短(抒情)詩,有多種體式,以十四行體最爲常見;或者說,十四行體是正常體(normal form, norm ),另外有各種變體(variation)。
3. 十四行詩:SONNET體之一十四行詩是sonnet最常見的體式,一般地說,在義大利語中每行十一音節,法語中每行十二音節,英語中十音節。英語十四行詩,又有多種樣式,常見的有三種。第一種是Petrarchan sonnet, or the Italian sonnet,由一個八行(octave)和一個六行(sestet)構成。前八行韻腳通常是ABBAABBA;後六行主要有CDECDE和CDCDCD兩種形式,另有一些變體。彼特拉克使這種體式風靡歐洲,體名因他而出。抄錄彼氏的O cameretta如下:
O cameretta, che gia fosti un porto
a le gravi te mpeste mie diurne,
fonte se' or di lagrime notturne,
che' l di celate per verg ogna porto,
O letticciuol, che requie eri e conforto
in tanti affanni, di che dogiiose urne
ti bagna Amor, con quelle mani eburne,
sol ver'me crudeli a si g ran torto!
Ne pur il mio secreto, e'l nio riposo
fuggo, ma piu me stesso, e' l mio pensero,
che, seguendol talor, levommi a volo;
e'l vulgo, a me nemico, e t odioso
(chi'l penso mai?), per mio refugio chero;
tal paura ho di ritrovarmi solo.
彌爾頓是Petrarchansonnet的高手。When I Consider How My Light is Spent後六行的韻式是CDECDE, On the Late Massacre in Piedmont等的後六行,韻式爲CDCDCD。均抄錄如下:
That murmur, soon replies,"God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke,they serve him best.
His state. Is kingly.Thous and sat his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."
The valesre doubled to the hills,and they
To Heaven. Their marty red blood and ashes sow
O'er all th' Italian fields where still doth sway
The tripletyrant: that from these may grow
A hundred fold,who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
彌爾頓的十四行和彼特拉克的十四行,外部體式一樣,內部結構卻不同:彼氏的前八行和後六行是兩個意義單元;彌氏的十四行爲一個整體。第二種是Spenserian sonnet。Sonnet從義大利傳入英國後,成爲很多詩人使用的一種時尚體式。斯賓塞將腳韻形式改爲ABABBCBCCDCDEE。因爲他的作品最爲成熟也最有特色,這種修正體式便以他的姓氏來命名,或稱爲英國體。國內流行的各種英國文學史:hoselips/that背景love's/own hand/did makeBreath'd forth/the sound/that said/"I hate"Tome/that lang-/uish'd for/her sake;But when/she saw/my woe-/ful state...
4. 十一行詩:SONNET體之二,這是一種壓縮體sonnet,由G.M.Hopkins發明,他在1918年版的《詩集》的“前言”裏稱之爲curtal sonnet。全詩十一行,十行長的,一行短的;分爲兩節,第一節六行,第二節四行加一行短的。《詩集》中的Peace和PiedBeauty篇,便屬於這一體。Pied Beauty全詩如下:
Glory be to God for dappled things-
For skies of couplecolour as brindled cow;
For rose moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh fire coal chest nut falls,finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced-fold,fallow,and plough;
And all trades,their gear and tack leand trim.
All things counter,original,spare,strange;
Whatever is fickle,freckled(who know show?)
With swift,slow;sweet,sour;adazzle,dim;
He fathers forth whose beauty is past change:
Praisehim.
工具書上對這種詩體有解釋,如:a curtailed or contracted sonnet;specif.a sonnet of eleven lines ABCABCDCBDC,orABCABCDBCDC,with the last line a tail(Webster's Third,1976).
5. 十二行詩:SONNET體之三,莎士比亞的sonnets第126首僅有十二行 ,每行五音步十音節,雙行押韻,即AABBCCDDEEFF。對這首詩,國內外姓f紛紜。國內學界或以爲“這首詩原缺兩行(梁宗岱,1983)”;或解說如:“這首詩其實只有六個偶句(couplet),共十二行而不是一首十四行詩(屠岸,1981)”;或認爲這首詩“僅12行,由六個押韻的偶句組成,每四行構成一小節,共3小節(錢兆明,1990)”。國外,或認爲它不是sonnet;或認爲它是未完成的作品;或把它看成敗筆;或把它當成印刷者插進去的劣作;或認爲它是莎翁特意寫成這樣的,是designedly different(Kerrigan,1986)。全持抄錄如下:
O thou,my lovely boy,who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass,his sickle,hour;
Who hast by waning grown,and there in show'st
Thy lover swithering as thy sweet self grow'st;
If Nature(sover eignmistres sover wrack)
As thou goes tonwards still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose,that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minute skill.
Yet fearher,O thou minion of her pleasure,
She may detain,but not still keep,her treasure!
Her audit (though delay'ed) answer'd mustbe,
And her quietus is to render thee.
這詩應該看成一首完整作品,理由主要有三。一、此詩意義完全,層次清晰,“沒有再加兩行之可能(梁實秋,1995)。”二、此詩結構完整,兩行一個意義單元,與韻式相合。莎翁的sonnets,通常有四個部分,起(4行)、承(4行)、轉(4行)、合(2行)明顯。此詩形式有些不同,起(第1、2雙行)、承(第3、4雙行)、轉(第5雙行)、合(第6雙行)設計精密,不像是“未完成品”。三、此詩與相關的sonnets聯繫緊密。莎翁的154首sonnets由三組構成,1到126首爲一組(The Better Angel Sonnets)。在這組詩中,發言人“found a continuous story conducted through various stages to its determination (Lowers,1965).”第126首是組詩的envoy (Lowers,1965),或“煞尾”(梁實秋,1995);它是故事的尾章,而第6個雙行正是故事的結束與結局:her quietus is to render thee.既然這首詩是完整的作品,它的體式——十二行,就應看成是sonnet體式的一種。
6. 十五行詩:SONNET體之四,莎翁sonnets的第99首十五行,每行五音步十音節。解釋姓f紛紜:“The...chide: Anextra,introductory line (Evans,1974)”;“這首多了一行(梁宗岱,1983)”;“這一首共有十五行,其押韻法爲121213434565677,在第一個四行組中多出一行來,是莎士比亞《十四行詩集》中唯一的一首(屠岸,1981)”;“此首15行,多出一行,爲引子(錢兆明,1990)”。
和第126首一樣,這首詩的內容、意義與形式都很完整。前五行是一個意義單位,押ABABA韻。它不是十四行多出一行,也不是一行引子加上一首十四行詩,更不是還沒有來得及刪除一行的未定稿十四行詩,而是一首完整的sonnet。相當多的sonnet sequences包括十五行詩,在伊利沙白時代,“此種情形屢有發現(梁實秋,1995)”。如Barnabe Barnes的Parthenophil and Parthenophe和Bartholomew Griffin的Fidessa中便有十五行詩(Kerrigan,1986)。十五行詩是莎翁時代一種較爲流行的sonnet樣式。
7. 十六行詩:SONNET體之五《諾頓英國文學史his sequence of fifty 16 linesonnets is a kind of novel inverse which analyzes the sufferings of a man and wife whose marriage is breaking up(Abrams,1986).所選梅氏sonnets均爲十六行,每行抑揚格五音步十音節而偶有變化,韻式一般是ABBACDDCEFFEGHHG。抄第一首:
By this he knews he wept with waking eyes:
That,at his hand's light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their commonbed
We recalled into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute,like little gaping snakes,
Dread fully venomous to him.She lay
Stone still,and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses.Then,as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the paled rug of silence,and so beat
Sleep's heavy measure,they from head to feet
We removeless,looking through their dead black years
By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall.
Likes culptured effigies they might be seen
Upon their marriage tomb,the sword between:
Each wishing for the sword thats evers all.
《十八行詩:SONNET體之六中文英國文學史書刊說,沃森“創造了一種十八行的十四行詩,並有詩集……”英語書刊在敍述沃森(Thomas Watson)的創作時則聲稱:His most important work was The Ekatompa Thia or Passionate Centurie of Love (1582), 18 line poems,called sonnets,of ten based on classical, French, and Italian sources... His" sonnets", among the earliest in English, we rean influence on Shakespeare and others.(Drabble,1985)The Ekatompa Thia,是希臘文的英文轉寫,又可寫成The Hekatompa thia,或The Hecatompa thia。下面一首詩出自這部著名的sonnets集:
Come, gentle Death! Who calls? One that's oppressed.
What is thy will? That thou abridge my woe.
By cutting off my life.Cease thy request;
I can not kill thee yet.Alas,why so?
Thou want'st thy heart.Who stole the same away?
Love,whom thou serv'st.Entreat him,if thou may.
Come, come, come, Love? Who calleth me so oft?
Thy vassal true,whom thou should'st know by right.
What makes thy cry so faint? My voice is soft,
And almost spent by wailing day and night.
Why then, what's thy request? That thou restore
To me my heart, and steal the same no more.
And thou,O Death,when I possess my heart,
Dispatch me then at one.Why so?
By promise thou art bound to end my smart.
Why, if thy heart return,then what's thy woe?
That, brought from cold,it never will desire
To rest with me,which am more hot than fire.
這首十八行詩由3個六行節構成,韻式爲:ABABCCDEDEFFGHGHII。每行多爲抑揚格五首步十音節,偶有例外,如第3節第2行。
十八行體是sonnet的一種重要體式,在sonnet發展中起過承先啓後的作用,在英詩史上佔有重要地位。
9. 六行詩、十行詩、其他短詩體:SONNET的其他體式據文學史著作中記載,Sonnet還有其他形式,如六行體,十行體,和Tailed sonnet等。George Gascoigne在The Poisies裏說:There are Dyzaynes & Syxaines...which some English writers do also terme by the name of Sonnettes.Dyzayne,即是十行詩。前面談過十一行詩(curtal sonnet),不知霍普金斯創造它時,是否受了十行詩的影響,在十行詩上加個小尾巴?Syxaine是六行詩。Tailed sonnet工具書上的定義:a sonnet augmented by additional lines that are arranged systematically and are often shorter than the basic line of the sonnet proper.(Webster's Third,1976)六行體、十行體sonnet及tailed sonnet,國內外流行的英語詩集中,均沒有發現,具體體式待考。
10. 譯名:誤解、誤譯、再誤解Sonnet最初時,是一種呈活動性的短詩樣式,包括十四行,十五行等很多體式。因爲Petrarch,Spenser,Shakespeare和Yeats等大家的作品裏十四行詩體居多,也因爲這些十四行體的詩作影響深遠,人們形成了一種錯覺,即sonnet就是a poem of 14 lines,就是十四行詩,並以十四行爲標準,反過來衡量sonnet的成敗,John Kerrigan在對第126首總注解中提到了這樣一位學者的看法: The failure of the poem to be a sonnet is emphasized in Thorpe's text by two sets of brackets, indented after line 12, where a final couplet might have been. (Kerrigan,1986) 把sonnet狹義化地當成“十四行詩”是一種誤解。很多英語讀者,包括母語讀者和外語讀者,都因爲缺乏對英語詩體演變史的足夠瞭解而以偏概全地誤解了sonnet。
誤解會導致誤譯,中國學者把sonnet譯爲“十四行詩”,因此出現了本文開頭說到的令人困惑不解的描述或解釋。誤譯又會進一步導致再誤解,多重的誤解則會導致文學交流的阻塞。文學交流要完全實現,道路要暢通。 如果sonnet的漢語譯名能包括上述各種體式,便能避免理解上的困惑與知識上的混亂,同時又忠實于文學樣式的發展史。出於這樣的考慮,我們認爲早期的譯名“商籟”比現行的通譯“十四行詩”要好,原因有三:
第一,“商籟”更達意。先說“商”。商是古代宮、商、角、徵、羽五音階之一。《風俗通義聲音》引劉歆《鍾律書》說:“商……五行曰金(應劭,1990)”。因爲五音和五行附會,商便進一步指秋天、西方。《禮記月令》:“孟秋之月,……其音商”。東方朔《七諫初放》曰:“商風蕭而害生兮,百草育而不長。”王逸注解說:“商風,西風,……”商,還是十七宮調之一。楊朝英編《樂府新編陽春白雪》卷一刊有燕南芝庵先生撰《唱論》,曰:“大凡聲音,各應於律呂,分于六宮十一調,共計十七調宮。仙呂調唱清新綿逸,……商調唱悽愴怨慕,……”。臧晉叔編《元曲選》開卷也刊有《燕南芝庵論曲》,但文字略有出入,說:“……商調宜悽愴怨慕”。可以看出,由於文化歷史的積澱,“商”有西方,秋天等辭彙意義,同時,帶有悽愴怨慕的情感意義。其次說“籟”。“籟”,可以廣義地指一切聲音,也可以狹義地指音樂或詩篇。《莊子齊物論》中,南郭子綦對顔成子遊說有人籟、地籟、天籟,並說明了它們的特徵,區分了它們的層次。這裏對“籟”的討論,可能是最有名的了。最後說“商籟”。“商”與“籟”合而成“商籟”,含有“西方之音”、“悽愴怨慕之音”等意義,這與前面各家定義中的love poem, of a lyrial and amatory character, amatory poem等相當吻合。西語sonnet, sonnetto, soneto,等,詞根多爲son,意義均爲“聲”、“音”、“聲音”或“歌”(Webster's Third, 1976,OED,1989,Logos,1976)。“商籟”傳意的同時,又諧西語之音。“商籟”用來譯sonnet一名可謂音義皆似。“商籟”的首譯者是否考慮過這一點,難以肯定,也無法否定。
第二,用“十四行詩”作爲名稱,實際上是以一體之偏而概全部sonnet。“商籟”著重表現原名的音義,不偏倚於某種體式,因而可以概括sonnet的各種形式,比較符合詩體的流變史。
第三:名不正則言不順。說莎士比亞寫了154首商籟或商籟詩,名正言順;說莎翁寫了154首“十四行詩”,名不正而言不順,而且有算術錯誤,因爲莎翁只寫了152首十四行詩。說沃森寫了十八行的商籟好懂;說他寫了一些“十八行的十四行詩”,同樣犯了算術錯誤,而且,和說某某寫了一些七言四句的水調歌頭一樣不合常理。譯名不應該是歪名、偏名、或非名,而應該是正名。本文考據典籍,辨體正名,雖然小題大作,實爲求是之心所驅。
參考文獻
陳鼓應,《莊子今注今譯》,1983,中華書局。
董守信、王亦兵編著,1987,
《英美作家辭典》第一卷,語文出版社。
梁宗岱譯,1983,《莎士比亞十四行詩》,四川人民出版社。
梁實秋譯,1995.《莎士比亞全集》,內蒙古文化出版社。
《禮記正義月令》,《十三經註疏》,1980,中華書局。
錢兆明注釋,1990,《十四行詩集》,莎士比亞注釋叢書,商務印書館。
屠岸譯,1981,《莎士比亞十四行詩集》,上海譯文出版社。
楊朝英編,1987,《樂府新編陽春白雪》,上海書店。
王逸,《楚辭補注》,中華書局聚珍仿宋版,線裝,出版年代不詳。
應劭,《風俗通義》,1990,上海古籍出版社。
臧晉權編,1989,《元曲選》,中華書局。
Abrams, M.H.(ed),1986. The Norton Anthology of English Literature ,5 Edition, W. W. Norton & CompanyDrabble, M. ed., 1985.
The Oxford Companion to English Literature. Oxford University Press.Evans, G.B., etal. eds., 1974.
The River side Shakespeare. Boston : Houghton Nifflin Company, Logos Grand Dictionnairede la langue Francaise,Bordas,1976.Lowers,J.K.,1965.
Shakespeare's Sonnets,Notes,Cliffs Notes.Shakespeare,W.The Sonnets and A Lover's Complaint,ed.,1986.by John Kerrigan,Penguin Books, (編輯的看法在注釋中)
The Oxford English Dictionary,(20 Volumes).1989.Oxford:Clarendon Press.
Webster's Third New International Dictionary of the English Language.1976.G.&C. Merriam Company.Webster's Dictionary of the English Language,1979,Encyclopedic Edition.New York: Publishers International Press. - posted on 09/27/2005
DASHA的文章有意思,译作“商籁”我是赞成的。但把这商籁过份开拓,
我却不同意。
第四节的十二行诗,只是六个COUPLET,萨士比亚写十四行多是用类似
于斯宾赛体的诗体 - ABABCDCDEFEFGG( 萨体?)。
蒲伯是写COUPLET的高手,这里有一个他用COUPLET写的诗论:
True Ease in Writing comes from Art, not Chance,
As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance,
'Tis not enough no Harshness gives Offence,
The Sound must seem an Eccho to the Sense.
Soft is the Strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth Stream in smoother Numbers flows;
But when loud Surges lash the sounding Shore,
The hoarse, rough Verse shou'd like the Torrent roar.
When Ajax strives, some Rocks' vast Weight to throw,
The Line too labours, and the Words move slow;
Not so, when swift Camilla scours the Plain,
Flies o'er th'unbending Corn, and skims along the Main.
Hear how Timotheus' vary'd Lays surprize,
And bid Alternate Passions fall and rise!
While, at each Change, the Son of Lybian Jove
Now burns with Glory, and then melts with Love;
Now his fierce Eyes with sparkling Fury glow;
Now Sighs steal out, and Tears begin to flow:
Persians and Greeks like Turns of Nature found,
And the World's Victor stood subdu'd by Sound!
The Pow'rs of Musick all our Hearts allow;
And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
http://eserver.org/poetry/essay-on-criticism.html
SONNET原意大利语就是小歌曲,主要是情歌。不在乎句多句少,而但
丁与彼得拉克一旦规范了以后,约定成十四行。这个在法语诗,德语
诗中还是一直遵照的。
我不把六行体,十六行,十八行当SONNET,外语中诗体相当多,恐怕
它们还有别的名称。我前不久就研究了很不少,有什么RONDEAU啊,
SESTINA啊,BALAD,BALADE,名堂很多的。
你说的那四位译的戏,我倒都想要。在外面读外语,终究与汉语的语感
脱节,叶君健的阿伽门侬王就是顶好的译笔。
再叙!
- posted on 09/28/2005
斯宾赛的商籁不同于萨士比亚的格式,我找到一首斯氏很好的SONNET:
Sweet is the Rose
Edmund Spenser Sonnet XXVI
Sweet is the Rose, but growes vpon a brere;
Sweet is the Iunipere, but sharpe his bough;
sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere;
sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough.
Sweet is the Cypresse, but his rynd is tough,
sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;
sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough;
and sweet is Moly, but his root is ill.
So euery sweet with soure is tempred still,
that maketh it be coueted the more:
for easie things that may be got at will,
most sorts of men doe set but little store.
Why then should I accoumpt of little paine,
that endlesse pleasure shall vnto me gaine.
ABABBCBCCDCDEE
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 12
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
ABABCDCDEFEFGG, which is a less strict version from
Edmund Spencer. And ...
Sonnet 73
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth steal away,
Death's second self, which seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
下面我把英国SONNET体发展以及欧洲一些SONNET的作品罗列一下。以
前跟自立聊诗,聊到诗体,我觉得这是一个很好的起点,并且用了些
功,并发现海子也在这方面用了功,他的不少精彩名篇不难看出。
诗歌是要有一定的规范的,尤其是对于年轻(小)诗人。
Although there are earlier precedents, the first important sonneteers
were Dante(1265-1321) and Francesco Petrarch(1304-1374).
The Italian Sonnet maintains a division between the octave(rhymed
abba abba) and the sestet(rhymed more casually in any variation of cde cde). The break between the two parts, called the volta(or turn),
often encourages a shift in tone or emotion.
The Italian sonnet was brought to England through the translation of
Petrarch by Wyatt and Surrey, written in the 1530s and 1540s and
published in Tottel's Miscellany(1557, one year before Elizabeth I
ascended the throne).
Thomas Wyatt
The long love that in my thought doth harbor
And in mine heart doth keep his residence,
Into my face presseth with bold pretence
And therein campeth, spreading his banner.
She that me learneth to love and suffer
And will that my trust and lust's negligence
Be reined by reason, shame, and reverence,
With his hardiness taketh displeasure.
Wherewithal unto the heart's forest he fleeth,
Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,
And there him hideth and not appeareth.
What may I do when my master feareth
But in the field with him to live and die?
For good is the life ending faithfully.
Henry Howard, earl of Surrey (1517?-1547)
Love that doth reign and live within my thought
And built his seat within my captive breast,
Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.
But she that taught me love and suffer pain,
My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire
With shamefast look to shadow and refrain,
Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.
And coward Love then to the heart apace
Taketh his flight, where he doth lurk and plain
His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.
For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pain;
Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove:
Sweet is the death that taketh end by love.
这两位的韵脚就不一样了!
Sir Philip Sidney(1554-1586), Astrofil and Stella(1582).
As an aristocrat, Sidney was a model of the perfect courtier and
Renaissance man: a poet, statesman, fighter, etc.; he seemed to embody
the virtues of the age.
Sir philip Sidney, Astrofil and Stella
Astrophel and Stella
Sonnet 31
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies !
How silently, and with how wan a face !
What, may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long with love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case;
I read it in thy looks; thy languisht grace
To me that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there, ungratefulness?
52
A strife is grown between Virtue and Love,
While each pretends that Stella must be his:
Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Love, do this
Since they do wear his badge, most firmly prove.
But Virtue thus that title doth disprove:
That Stella (oh dear name) that Stella is
That virtuous soul, sure heir of heav'nly bliss,
Not this fair outside, which our hearts doth move;
And therefore, though her beauty and her grace
Be Love's indeed, in Stella's self he may
By no pretense claim any manner place.
Well, Love, since this demur our suit will stay,
Let Virtue have that Stella's self; yet thus
That Virtue but that body grant to us.
71
Who will in fairest book of Nature know
How virtue may best lodg'd in beauty be,
Let him but learn of Love to read in thee,
Stella, those fair lines which true goodness show.
There shall he find all vices' overthrow,
Not by rude force, but sweetest sovranty
Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly,
That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so.
And, not content to be Perfection's heir
Thyself, dost strive all minds that way to move
Who mark in thee what is in thee most fair.
So while thy beauty draws the heart to love,
As fast that virtue bends that love to good.
But ah, Desire still cries: "Give me some food!"
英国无限制的游吟,经SONNET来一回规范,便迎来了一个诗歌上的辉煌
时代--萨士比亚时代。
John Donne, Holy Sonnets, Death, be not proud
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
14
Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend,
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee, and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv'd , and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely I love you, and would be loved faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie:
Divorce mee, untie, or breake that knot againe,
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.
再罗列一些英美SONNET发展中的名例:
John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."
1652
On the Late Massacre in Piedmont
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold,
Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshiped stocks and stones;
Forget not: in thy book record their groans
Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese that rolled
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they
To Heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow
O'er all th' Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple tyrant; that from these may grow
A hundred-fold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
1655
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802
William Wordsworth
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Ozymandias
Shelley, Percy Bysshe
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
William Butler Yeats
Leda and the Swan
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
Robert Frost - The Oven Bird
There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
he says the early petal-fall is past
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.
Never Again Would Bird's Song Be The Same
He would declare and could himself believe
That the birds there in all the garden round
From having heard the daylong voice of Eve
Had added to their own an oversound,
Her tone of meaning but without the words.
Admittedly an eloquence so soft
Could only have had an influence on birds
When call or laughter carried it aloft.
Be that as may be, she was in their song.
Moreover her voice upon their voices crossed
Had now persisted in the woods so long
That probably it never would be lost.
Never again would birds' song be the same.
And to do that to birds was why she came.
The Silken Tent
She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
Marilyn Hacker,Did you love well what very soon you left
Cannot find from Internet, Anybody can help.
接着再列一些法国德国的SONNETS:
Sonnet d’Automne
Charles Baudelaire
Ils me disent, tes yeux, clairs comme le cristal :
« Pour toi, bizarre amant, quel est donc mon mérite ? »
– Sois charmante et tais-toi ! Mon cœur, que tout irrite,
Excepté la candeur de l’antique animal,
Ne veut pas te montrer son secret infernal,
Berceuse dont la main aux longs sommeils m’invite,
Ni sa noire légende avec la flamme écrite.
Je hais la passion et l’esprit me fait mal !
Aimons-nous doucement. L’Amour dans sa guérite,
Ténébreux, embusqué, bande son arc fatal.
Je connais les engins de son vieil arsenal :
Crime, horreur et folie ! – Ô pâle marguerite !
Comme moi n’es-tu pas un soleil automnal,
Ô ma si blanche, ô ma si froide Marguerite ?
秋之十四行诗
你明如水晶的眼睛告诉我:
“对于你我有什么价值,奇怪的朋友?”
——可爱的,不要作声!除了远古
野兽的单纯,仅有我这恼怒的心,
我不愿向你透露那地狱的秘密
和那用火焰写成的阴暗奇闻,
手扶摇篮诱我长眠入梦的女人。
我憎恨热情,精神给我带来痛苦!
我们悄悄地相爱,爱神在阴忧的哨所,
那里暗伏着命运的弓矢。
我知道那古代兵工厂的武器:
罪恶、恐怖和疯狂!——哦,苍白的玛格丽特,
你已不是秋天的太阳,像我一样,
哦,这样洁白而冰冷的玛格丽特!
Correspondances
La nature est un temple où de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles
L'homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles
Qui l'observent avec des regards familiers.
Comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent
Dans une ténébreuse et profonde unité,
Vaste comme une nuit et comme la clarté,
Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se répondent.
Il est des parfums frais comme de chairs d'enfants,
Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies,
—Et d'autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants,
Ayant l'expression des choses infinies,
Comme l'ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l'encens,
Qui chantent les transports de l'esprit et des sens.
Correspondences
Nature is a temple where living pillars
Let escape sometimes confused words;
Man traverses it through forests of symbols
That observe him with familiar glances.
Like long echoes that intermingle from afar
In a dark and profound unity,
Vast like the night and like the light,
The perfumes, the colors and the sounds respond.
There are perfumes fresh like the skin of infants
Sweet like oboes, green like prairies,
—And others corrupted, rich and triumphant
That have the expanse of infinite things,
Like ambergris, musk, balsam and incense,
Which sing the ecstasies of the mind and senses.
应和
自然是座庙宇,那里活的柱子
有时说出了模模糊糊的话音;
人从那里过,穿越象征的森林,
森林用熟识的目光将他注视。
如同悠长的回声遥遥地回合
在一个混沌深邃的统一体中
广大浩漫好像黑夜连着光明——
芳香、颜色和声音在相互应和。
有的芳香新鲜若儿童的肌肤,
柔和如双簧管,青翠如绿草场,
——别的则朽腐、浓郁,涵盖了万物,
像无极无限的东西四散飞扬,
如同龙涎香、麝香、安息香、乳香
那样歌唱精神与感觉的激昂。
从前的生活
堂堂柱廊,我曾长期住在其中,
海的阳光给它涂上火色斑斑,
那些巨大的石柱挺拔而庄严,
晚上使柱廊就象那玄武岩洞。
海的涌浪滚动着天上的形象,
以隆重而神秘的方式混合着
它们丰富的音乐之至上和谐
与我眼中反射出的多彩夕阳。
那里,我在平静的快乐中悠游,
周围是蓝天、海浪、色彩的壮丽,
和浑身散发香气的裸体奴隶,
他们用棕榈叶凉爽我的额头,
他们唯一的关心是深入探悉
使我萎靡的那种痛苦的秘密。
异域的芳香
一个闷热的秋夜,我合上双眼,
呼吸着你滚烫的胸脯的芳香,
我看见幸福的海岸伸向远方,
单调的阳光照得它神迷目眩;
一座慵懒的岛,大自然奉献出
奇特的树木,美味可口的果品,
身材修长和四肢强健的男人,
还有目光坦白得惊人的女子。
被你的芳香引向迷人的地方,
我看见一个港,满是风帆桅樯,
都还颠簸在大海的波浪之中,
同时那绿色的罗望子的芬芳——
在空中浮动又充塞我的鼻孔,
在我的心中和入水手的歌唱。
月亮的哀愁
今夜,月亮进入无限慵懒的梦中,
像在重叠的垫褥上躺着的美人,
在入寐以前,用她的手,漫不经心
轻轻将自己乳房的轮廓抚弄,
在雪崩似的绵软的缎子背上,
月亮奄奄一息地耽于昏厥状态,
她的眼睛眺望那如同百花盛开
向蓝天里袅袅上升的白色幻象。
有时,当她感到懒洋洋无事可为,
给地球上滴下一滴悄悄的眼泪,
一位虔诚的诗人,厌恶睡眠之士,
就把这一滴像猫眼石碎片一样
闪着红光的苍白眼泪收进手掌,
放进远离太阳眼睛的他的心里。
毁灭
魔鬼不停地在我的身旁蠢动,
像摸不着的空气在周围荡漾;
我把它吞下,胸膛里阵阵灼痛,
还充满了永恒的、罪恶的欲望。
它知道我酷爱艺术,有的时候
就化作了女人最是妩媚妖娆,
并且以虚伪作为动听的借口,
使我的嘴唇习惯下流的春药。
就这样使我远离上帝的视野,
并把疲惫不堪、气喘吁吁的我
带进了幽深荒芜的厌倦之原,
在我的充满了混乱的眼睛里
扔进张口的创伤、肮脏的衣裳,
还有那“毁灭”的器具鲜血淋漓!
钱春绮郭宏安等译
苦恼
魏尔伦
西西里牧歌鲜红的回音,
肥沃的田野,悲壮的夕阳,
还有色彩绚丽的霞光,
大自然啊,你没什么能激动我的心。
我嘲笑艺术,也嘲笑人,
嘲笑希腊庙宇,嘲笑歌与诗,
嘲笑教堂的旋形塔楼,它在浩空耸立,
我用同样的目光看着好人与恶棍。
我不相信上帝,我放弃和否认
所有的思想,至于古老的讽刺,
爱情,但愿别再跟我谈起。
我的灵魂活腻了,却又怕死,就象是
潮水的玩具,葬身大海的小船,
它扬帆出海,去迎接可怕的海难。
小跃 译
海涅也很少SONNET,SONNET愈变愈文绉绉的,会唱歌的诗人都拥抱
QUATRAIN去了。
致奥尔弗斯的十四行诗
第一部
1
那儿立着一棵树。哦纯净的超脱!
哦俄耳甫斯在歌唱!哦耳朵里的大树!
于是一切沉默下来。但即使沉默
其中仍有新的发展、暗示和变化现出。
寂静的动物,来自兽窟和鸟巢,
被引出了明亮的无拘束的丛林;
原来它们不是由于机伶
不是由于恐惧使自己如此轻悄,
而是由于倾听。咆哮,呼喊,叫唤
在它们心中渺不足道。那里几乎没有
一间茅屋屋曾把这些领受,
却从最模糊的欲望找到一个逋逃薮,
有一个进口,它的方柱在颤抖,——
那儿你为它们在听觉里造出了伽蓝。
(1922年2月2-5日,穆佐,下同)
2
它几乎是个少女,从竖琴与歌唱
这和谐的幸福中走出来
通过春之面纱闪现了光彩
并在我的耳中为自己造出一张床。
于是睡在我体内。于是一切是她的睡眠。
那永远令我激赏的树林,
那可感觉的远方,被感觉的草坪
以及落在我自己身上的每一次惊羡。
她身上睡着这世界。歌唱的神,你何如
使她尽善尽美,以致她不愿
首先醒来?看哪,她起立而又睡熟。
她将在何处亡故?哦你可听得出
这个乐旨,就在你的歌声销歇之前?
她从我体内向何处沉没?……几乎是个少女……
3
神才做得到。但请告诉我
人怎能通过狭窄的竖琴跟他走?
他的感官是分裂的。在两条心路
的交叉处没有建庙为阿波罗。
正如你教导他,歌唱不是欲望,
不是争取一件终于会得到的东西;
歌唱就是存在。对于神倒是很容易。
但吾人何是存在?而他何时又将
地球和星辰转向吾人的生息?
青年人,它可不是你的爱情,即令
歌声从你的嘴里喷发出来,——学习
忘记你歌唱过,它已流逝一空。
在真实中歌唱,是另一种气音。
一种有若无的气音。神身上一缕吹拂。一阵风。
Deutsch:
Ein Gott vermags. Wie aber, sag mir, soll
ein Mann ihm folgen durch die schmale Leier?
Sein Sinn ist Zwiespalt. An der Kreuzung zweier
Herzwege steht kein Tempel für Apoll.
Gesang, wie du ihn lehrst, ist nicht Begehr,
nicht Werbung um ein endlich noch Erreichtes;
Gesang ist Dasein. Für den Gott ein Leichtes.
Wann aber sind wir? Und wann wendet er
an unser Sein die Erde und die Sterne?
Dies ist nicht, Jüngling, daß du liebst, wenn auch
die Stimme dann den Mund dir aufstößt, - lerne
vergessen, daß du aufsangst. Das verrinnt.
In Wahrheit singen, ist ein andrer Hauch.
Ein Hauch um nichts. Ein Wehn im Gott. Ein Wind.
English:
A god can do it. How do you expect
a man to squeeze on through the lyre and follow?
His mind is torn. Where heartways intersect,
you won't find any temple to Apollo.
True singing, as you teach it, isn't wanting,
not wooing anything that can be won;
no, Singing's Being. For the god, not daunting.
But when are we? And when will he then turn
into our being all the Earth and Stars?
It isn't that you love, child, even if
the voice exploded from your mouth - begin
forgetting, that you sang. That disappears.
To sing in truth is quite a different breath.
A breath of void. A gust in the god. A wind.
彼得拉克的找不到好的汉译,来首英文的吧:
140
Amor, che nel penser mio vive et regna
e 'l suo seggio maggior nel mio cor tene,
talor armato ne la fronte vene;
ivi si loca et ivi pon sua insegna.
Quella ch' amare et sofferir ne 'nsegna
e vol che 'l gran desio, l'accesa spene
ragion, vergogna, et reverenza affrene,
di nostro ardir fra se stessa si sdegna.
Onde Amor paventoso fugge al core,
lasciando ogni sua impresa, et piange et trema;
ivi s'asconde et non appar più fore.
Che poss' io far, temendo il mio signore,
se non star seco infin a l'ora estrema?
ché bel fin fa chi ben amando more.
English:
Love, who rules my thinking as his empire
and in my heart has placed his principal throne,
like a warrior storms into my forehead's dome,
sets up his flag and makes his outpost there.
She who teaches me to love and suffer
and who wishes reason, modesty and reverence
would tame my great desire and wild exuberance,
casts aside and denigrates our ardor.
So, terror-stricken, Love flees to my heart,
abandoning his war-plans and his tents,
and lays there hopeless, trembling, and laments.
When my lord is afraid, what is my part
but to stay with him until the final knell?
For his end is good, who dies by loving well.
Dante Alighieri
[Vita Nuova, chapter 3]
A ciascun’alma presa, e gentil core,
nel cui cospetto ven lo dir presente,
in ciò che mi rescrivan suo parvente
salute in lor segnor, cioè Amore.
Già eran quasi che atterzate l’ore
del tempo che onne stella n’è lucente,
quando m’apparve Amor subitamente
cui essenza membrar mi dà orrore.
Allegro mi sembrava Amor tenendo
meo core in mano, e ne le braccia avea
madonna involta in un drappo dormendo.
Poi la svegliava, e d’esto core ardendo
lei paventosa umilmente pascea:
appresso gir lo ne vedea piangendo.
Here’s a free prose translation:
I write this piece of poetry for any soul taken by love and any noble heart,
so that they may write me back their opinion about it. I greets our lord, that is Love.
Love itself appeared suddenly to me when one third of the night had already passed.
If I think back about it I’m frightened.
Love seemed cheerful while bringing in its arms a sleeping woman wrapped in a cloth and in its hands my heart.
Love then woke her up and she ate this burning heart; it then went away crying.
[Inferno, Canto 13, vv. 94-108]
Quando si parte l’anima feroce
dal corpo ond’ella stessa s’è disvelta,
Minòs la manda a la settima foce.
Cade in la selva, e non l’è parte scelta;
ma là dove fortuna la balestra,
quivi germoglia come gran di spelta.
Surge in vermena e in pianta silvestra:
l’Arpie, pascendo poi de le sue foglie,
fanno dolore, e al dolor fenestra.
Come l’altre verrem per nostre spoglie,
ma non però ch’alcuna sen rivesta,
ché non è giusto aver ciò ch’om si toglie.
Qui le trascineremo, e per la mesta
selva saranno i nostri corpi appesi,
ciascuno al prun de l’ombra sua molesta
Terza rima, not sonnet.
Here’s a free prose translation:
As soon as the soul violently separates from the body of the suicide himself or herself,
Minos sends it to the seventh circle of the Hell.
The soul falls on the ground of this wood, where it lands by chance. There it germinates and grows easily.
It then becomes a wild bush: the Harpies eat it, causing pain to the soul; its groans can be heard through the wounds on the eaten leaves.
The Day of the Judgement we’re going to take our bodies back just like any other human soul; nevertheless we’re not going back into them because it’s not fair that man has back what he or she has voluntarily teared apart.
Then, we’ll bring the bodies here and we’ll hang them up these trees born from our hostile souls.
海子的一些十四行,写得有彼得拉克式的鲜活:
十四行: 王冠
我所热爱的少女
河流的少女
头发变成了树叶
两臂变成了树干
你既然不能做我的妻子
你一定要成为我的王冠
我将和人间的伟大诗人一同戴
用你美丽的叶子缠绕我的竖琴和箭袋
秋天的屋顶、时间的重量
秋天又苦又香
使石头开花 象一顶王冠
秋天的屋顶又苦又香
空中弥漫着一顶王冠
被劈开的月桂和扁桃和苦香
十四行:玫瑰花
玫瑰花 蜜一样的身体
玫瑰花园 黑夜一样的头发
覆盖了白雪隆起的乳房
白雪的门 白雪的门外被白雪盖住的两只酒盅
白雪的窗户 白雪的窗内两只火红的玫瑰谷
或两只火红的蜡烛……热情的蜡烛自行燃尽
两只丁当作响的酒盅……热情的酒浆被我啜饮
在秋天我感到了 你的乳房 你的蜜
像夏天的火 春天的风 落在我怀里
像太阳的蜂群落入黑夜的酒浆
像波斯古国的玫瑰花园 使人魂归天堂
肉体却必须永远活在设拉子①
──千年如斯
玫瑰花 你蜜一样的身体
1987.8
-----------
① 设拉子,一译舍拉子,波斯(今伊朗)地名。
十四行:玫瑰花园
明亮的夜晚
我来到玫瑰花园
我脱下诗歌的王冠
和沉重的土地的盔甲
玫瑰花园 玫瑰花园
我们住在绝色美人的身旁 仿佛住在月亮上
我们谈论佛光中显出的美丽身影
和雪水浇灌下你的美丽的家园
我们谈到但丁 和他的永恒的贝亚丽丝
以及天国、通往那儿永恒的天路历程
四川,我诗歌中的玫瑰花园
那儿诞生了你——像一颗早晨的星那样美丽
明亮的夜晚 多么美丽而明亮
仿佛我们要彻夜谈论玫瑰直到美丽的晨星升起
这里还有较早的一首,还有他最后的一首“面朝大海,春暖花开”:
十四行:夜晚的月亮
推开树林
太阳把血
放入灯盏
我静静坐在
人的村庄
人居住的地方
一切都和本原一样
一切都存入
人的世世代代的脸
一切不幸
我仿佛
一口祖先们
向后代挖掘的井。
一切不幸都源于我幽深而神秘的水
1985.6.19
面朝大海, 春暖花开
从明天起, 做一个幸福的人
喂马, 劈柴, 周游世界
从明天起, 关心粮食和蔬菜
我有一所房子, 面朝大海, 春暖花开
从明天起, 和每一个亲人通信
告诉他们我的幸福
那幸福的闪电告诉我的
我将告诉每一个人
给每一条河每一座山取一个温暖的名字
陌生人, 我也为你祝福
愿你有一个灿烂的前程
愿你有情人终成眷属
愿你在尘世获的幸福
我也愿面朝大海, 春暖花开
1989.3.26
=====
抄来摘去这么些,是自己学习SONNET诗的一些笔记,整理好也方便大
家学习。年轻人写诗没有规范不行,我一直这么认为。
江南逢李龟年,天凉好个秋,不是初出茅庐写得出的。况且,写得出
又怎么样?谁去读呢?
我这个人总是喜欢把小事当大事做,唉!
- posted on 09/30/2005
呵呵,既然象罔兄举了这许多“十四行”的例子,并有德语的且是里尔克的,那么我们看看里氏的经典Die Sonette an Orpheus中的第一部第二十首(就是“没有认清痛苦/爱也没有学成”的下一首):
Dir aber, Herr, o was weih ich dir, sag,
der das Ohr den Geschöpfen gelehrt? -
Mein Erinnern an einen Frühlingstag,
seinen Abend, in Rußland -, ein Pferd...
Herüber vom Dorf kam der Schimmel allein,
an der vorderen Fessel den Pflock,
um die Nacht auf den Wiesen allein zu sein;
wie schlug seiner Mähne Gelock
an den Hals im Takte des Übermuts,
bei dem grob gehemmten Galopp.
Wie sprangen die Quellen des Rossebluts!
Der fühlte die Weiten, und ob!
Der sang und der horte -, dein Sagenkreis
war in ihm geschlossen.
Sein Bild: ich weih's.
这15行诗不知道象罔兄怎么理解。 - Re: Poetic Forms: The Sonnet(Conrad Geller)posted on 09/30/2005
V负责把自己找的希腊罗马资料刻成CD,哈哈,家里网络修理好了,不用再如同以前一样萎靡。向XW兄问好。 - posted on 10/01/2005
DASHA与VIVO两兄弟好,谢谢VIVO兄为我拷CD。
这商籁或十四行,我列这么些例子也是求同,因为是求学,求大同即
是。可是学者们要严谨得多,DASHA爱逐异?
先抄三首飞白译的彼得拉克的十四行给两位,都是很棒的:
美好的瞬间
美好的年,美好的月,美好的时辰,
美好的季节,美好的瞬间,美好的时光,
在这美丽的地方,在这宜人的村庄,
一和她的目光相遇,我只好束手就擒。
爱神的金箭射中了我的心房,
它深深地扎进了我的心里,
我尝到了第一次爱情的滋味,
落进了痛苦又甜蜜的情网。
一个动听的声音从我的心房,
不停地呼唤着夫人的芳名,
又是叹息,又是眼泪,又是渴望。
我用最美好的感情把她颂扬,
只是为了她,不为任何别的人,
我写下了这样美好的诗章。
&&&
爱的矛盾
我结束了战争,却找不到和平,
我发烧又发冷,希望混着恐怖,
我乘风飞翔,又离不开泥土,
我占有整个世界,却两手空空;
我并无绳索缠身枷锁套颈,
我却仍是个无法脱逃的囚徒,
我既无生之路,也无死之途,
即便我自寻,也仍求死不能;
我不用眼而看,不用舌头而抱怨,
我愿灭亡,但我仍要求康健,
我爱一个人,却又把自己怨恨;
我在悲哀中食,我在痛苦中笑,
不论生和死都一样叫我苦恼,
我的欢乐啊,正是愁苦的原因。
&&&
爱的征兆
如果爱的征兆是正直的心和诚意,
是一片柔情,被高贵地控制的欲望,
善良的目的,被高贵的火焰烧旺,
和在黑暗的迷宫中漫长的寻觅;
如果爱的征兆是眉头显示的心迹,
一点晕彩,淡得像紫罗兰一样,
和由于恐怖和羞怯和阻挡
吐出的话变成了微微的叹息;
如果爱的征兆是悲叹不已,
拥抱一个人比自己更为贵重,
不断咀嚼烦恼、愤怒和悲哀,
在远处燃烧,而在近处冻结,--
这些征兆说明我已被爱销熔,
啊,我的爱,这全是你的错和我的灾。
&&&&&
里尔克这第二十首商籁体,确实有十五行。我这里的德英本没录,找
到绿原本,确实如DASHA所列,但最后一行是INDENTED了的,也就
承继前行的样子。当然其中是一个句号!
我说承继前行,是从韵的角度来说的。看德语里:
an den Hals im Takte des bermuts,
bei dem grob gehemmten Galopp.
Wie sprangen die Quellen des Rossebluts!
Der fhlte die Weiten, und ob!
Der sang und der horte -, dein Sagenkreis
war in ihm geschlossen.
Sein Bild: ich weih's.
以豪放的节拍拍打颈项,
一旦奔驰被粗暴地阻拦。
骏马热血的源泉怎样在喷放!
它感触到远方,那是当然!
它歌唱它倾听--,你的传奇始末
被封闭在它身上。
它的形象:我的供果。
找网上果然是将之列在一行的,看来的我直觉没错。
http://gutenberg.spiegel.de/rilke/sonette/sonett20.htm
管他INDENT没有,还是连成一行。从音韵的承接来说,dein Sagenkreis
与ich weih's是英国式的COUPLET韵。
这SONNET全体的韵是ABAB CDCD EFEF GG。
&&&&
绿原翻得确实不好,张索时的丢在单位了。请原谅我匆匆抄来的汉译
,非常高兴能在这里讨论SONNET。
我抄那么多本不是为了争十四行,更多的是为了那么多优美的SONNET。
- Re: Poetic Forms: The Sonnet(Conrad Geller)posted on 10/02/2005
XW,
问你个傻问题:这十四行诗,从意大利进口到英国(烹饪也是从意大利引入法国的),再到中国的翻译家和海子的笔下,就没有什么压韵一说了,对不对? - posted on 10/02/2005
weili wrote:
XW,
问你个傻问题:这十四行诗,从意大利进口到英国(烹饪也是从意大利引入法国的),再到中国的翻译家和海子的笔下,就没有什么压韵一说了,对不对?
应该押韵的。我想,现代汉语中的词的概念强起来了,押韵一说很难
符合古诗中一字一韵的概念。我知道汉译的十四行都押尾字韵的,但
许多押得并不自然,中国四节诗喜欢AABA式的起始,再说,四声
在外语中没有,同音同字或词句的韵就得要升华。。。
韵里面有许多东西,但我觉得海子创作的十四行,不求古典的韵,确
实有很好的诵读或十四行的气韵。
现代诗中的韵很复杂,我以为诗经中能学的东西都比七律多。
- Re: Poetic Forms: The Sonnet(Conrad Geller)posted on 10/02/2005
这线建议xw经常提起来一下(就像小马的灌水线),以便学习。
Please paste HTML code and press Enter.
(c) 2010 Maya Chilam Foundation