奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》
Ciprian Porumbescu 《Ballad》
琴声先于他的咳血穿透肺叶
露珠与大气四周的晨光
均被一根低音的神经困扰
它正攀上弹痕累累的半山腰回旋
倾听炊烟驱散硝烟
看荒芜经年的田园齐声复苏
龙须草点燃响水河两岸
滋养黑松林下长眠的一群牛羊
The wail of violin presaging his bloody coughs, has pierced the lung,
when the aura that surrounds morning dew and fresh body of air
is all haunted by a nerve of low pitch.
It soars to hover the mountainside pitted with shell craters,
listens to the fog of war being dispersed by the chimney smoke,
and eyes deserted fields reviving all at once after the idling years.
Along banks of the roaring river swell the alpine rushes
feeding to the horde forever sleeping under black pine woods.
昨夜丧失痛觉的故土
身披麻鞭,翻越噩梦的城门与我追逐
我逃不出幼年余音缭绕的长廊
说不清一脸童贞
也无心勒缚琴背上的马头
去拜山求医,去结识祖坟的心跳
传说那儿焚香完美
仙人的青丝郁郁成茵
浸泡月牙的浣溪纯得发苦
墨绿色水草如曲张过度的静脉
生死集结在帝国的丹田之外
Through loss of painfulness the night before,
the homeland, wearing a hemp whip,
clambers over the gate of nightmare to chase me.
I can’t escape the childhood corridor meandering with echoes,
give away the face of youthful innocence,
or seize the nomad soul riding on the fiddle
for begging miracles, and meeting pulses inside the ancient tombs.
As legend has it, sacred scents flaunt all over there,
hairs of wizard grow in dark green,
a lucid creek, bathed in by the moon shadow, tastes impalpably bitter
and water grasses overrun like veins creeping beneath skin,
all deadly entangled beyond the vitality of the empire.
可是每当有人叙述琴弦上的火苗
血浆中娇艳无比的罂粟
即刻隐灭在他结满碎石的胸口
哭泣的新娘不日远嫁他乡
她的泪腺是河流善变的源头
那些坚守村庄的石榴花、山雀的母语
历经阳光见证的盟誓
一切肩负生命疽疮的过客
都行将入殓赤土
陪葬一名伟大的遗腹子
并记录蒙受征服的蛮荒野史
世世代代为高尚的异族文字所垂青
But whenever shall anyone have the dance of flame on strings,
the lethally charming poppies in blood
are instantly quelled inside his chest overladen with pebbles crushed.
The sobbing bride is to marry off far away,
her tears as the mercurial origin of rivers.
These granada flowers in defense of village, the native tongue of lark
the oath witnessed by the sunlight,
and each passerby shouldered with ulcers of life
are all to be coffined into the crimson earth,
for complementing a genius fetus off to his finale
just as a barbarous legend once conquered
then adorned in letters by generations of its noble aliens.
告别寒冬最后一句虫鸣
琴声滞留在白骨的黑色音孔内
完成又一轮自闭的死循环
他终究比全音的休止符睡得沉稳、悠长
梦里咀嚼被露珠津润的尘泥
亦如重温一座失而复得的山岗
Seeing off the last chirp during the harsh winter,
the violin’s weeping clings to the dark voids within white bones
only to finish off another round of death cycle.
He eventually sleeps in peace over the length of a whole rest note,
chewing in his dream some dampened dust,
as if reminiscing the sight of a hill freshly reclaimed from loss.
2009.7
- Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》posted on 07/02/2009
差点当成齐奥塞斯库呢。;)
老瓦还有那个音乐链接吗?不知这个电影的DVD现在有没有。也许可以向罗马尼亚驻美大使馆管文化交流的打听打听。
+++
总算找到这个死鬼了。;) 没有电影里那么酷。
Ciprian Porumbescu
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ciprian_Porumbescu
- posted on 07/02/2009
- Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》posted on 07/02/2009
- Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》posted on 07/02/2009
音乐是一样的,画面不同。What a music。
老瓦的诗还要再慢慢读。
我也差点读成齐奥塞斯库:) - Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》posted on 07/02/2009
小时候看过这电影。
诗不错,听着音乐读甚好。 - Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》posted on 07/03/2009
瓦,我去过这里的山,罗马尼亚的山水都美极,今生难忘那山里的鸡汤,土豆条,还有吸血鬼的城堡.....
- Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》posted on 07/03/2009
写有关东欧的叙事,挖掘那里的神话与宝藏,《哈扎尔词典》一定要一读再读,
Dictionary of the Khazars,
takes the form of three cross-referenced encyclopaedias of the Khazar people
by Milorad Pavić
他的书,翻译一本我读一本,哈扎尔词典跟似水流年,总在我的厕所书架上的头排:)
please put the music title in english, help others to find us... - Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》Ciprian Porumbescu - Baladaposted on 07/03/2009
i like this version:
http://www.imeem.com/groups/UPh59oCi/music/PiNQVPU4/phoenix-gheorghe-zamfir-balada-de-ciprian-porumbescu-live/
i used to confuse romania for romance:) i had my own tragic romanian balada... should write a romanian rhapsody one day.... - Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》Ciprian Porumbescu - Baladaposted on 07/03/2009
Maya, it's a ballad. But balada sounds good too. ;) - Re: 奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》Ciprian Porumbescu - Baladaposted on 07/03/2009
Balada is Romianian for ballad....
touche wrote:
Maya, it's a ballad. But balada sounds good too. ;) - posted on 07/04/2009
记得正是在复习高考时看得。搞得泪水涟涟。手帕都湿得能拧出水来。
还记得主角和心上人在繁花绿茵的山坡上热吻,翻滚。。。
心想自己啥时能有这样一位美丽姑娘。。。
听了这首曲子再说音乐不传达人类感情,我非跟他急。有些现代音乐不是不想传达感情,而是没有感情。
老瓦 wrote:
奇普里安•波隆贝斯库《叙事曲》
琴声先于他的咳血穿透肺叶
露珠与大气四周的晨光
均被一根低音的神经困扰
它正攀上弹痕累累的半山腰回旋
倾听炊烟驱散硝烟
看荒芜经年的田园齐声复苏
龙须草点燃响水河两岸
滋养黑松林下长眠的一群牛羊
昨夜丧失痛觉的故土
身披麻鞭,翻越噩梦的城门与我追逐
我逃不出幼年余音缭绕的长廊
说不清一脸童贞
也无心勒缚琴背上的马头
去拜山求医,去结识祖坟的心跳
传说那儿焚香完美
仙人的青丝郁郁成茵
浸泡月牙的浣溪纯得发苦
墨绿色水草如曲张过度的静脉
生死集结在帝国的明镜之外
可是每当有人叙述琴弦上的火苗
血浆中娇艳无比的罂粟
即刻隐灭在他结满碎石的胸口
哭泣的新娘不日远嫁他乡
她的泪腺是河流善变的源头
那些坚守村庄的石榴花、山雀的母语
历经阳光见证的盟誓
一切肩负生命疽疮的过客
都行将入殓赤土
陪葬一名伟大的遗腹子
并当作蒙受征服的蛮荒野史
世世代代为高尚的异族文字所垂青
告别寒冬最后一句虫鸣
琴声滞留在白骨的黑色音孔内
完成又一轮自闭的死循环
他终究比全音的休止符睡得沉稳、悠长
梦里咀嚼被露珠津润的尘泥
亦如重温一座失而复得的山岗
2009.7
- posted on 07/06/2009
是,你这个版本更民族化,更地道。 哈扎尔词典没读过,但这诗也不是刻意专门写罗马尼亚。
对于任何听众,这首曲子可以唤起一种universal sentimentality, about the loss of land, loss of lover and loss of health etc. 第二段的城门,鞭子,长廊,仙人,浣溪等都是中国的元素。
谢各位阅读!
maya wrote:
i like this version:
http://www.imeem.com/groups/UPh59oCi/music/PiNQVPU4/phoenix-gheorghe-zamfir-balada-de-ciprian-porumbescu-live/ i used to confuse romania for romance:) i had my own tragic romanian balada... should write a romanian rhapsody one day.... - posted on 11/25/2009
又弄了翻译,谢xw和浮生提议的granada:)
**********************
Ciprian Porumbescu《Ballad》
The wail of violin presaging his bloody coughs, has pierced the lung,
when the aura that surrounds morning dew and fresh body of air
is all haunted by a nerve of low pitch.
It soars to hover the mountainside pitted with shell craters,
listens to the fog of war being dispersed by the chimney smoke,
and eyes deserted fields reviving all at once after the idling years.
Along banks of the roaring river swell the alpine rushes
feeding to the horde forever sleeping under black pine woods.
Through loss of painfulness the night before,
the homeland, wearing a hemp whip,
clambers over the gate of nightmare to chase me.
I can’t escape the childhood corridor meandering with echoes,
give away the face of youthful innocence,
or seize the nomad soul riding on the fiddle
for begging miracles, and meeting pulses inside the ancient tombs.
As legend has it, sacred scents flaunt all over there,
hairs of wizard grow in dark green,
a lucid creek, bathed in by the moon shadow, tastes impalpably bitter
and water grasses overrun like veins creeping beneath skin,
all deadly entangled beyond the vitality of the empire.
But whenever shall anyone have the dance of flame on strings,
the lethally charming poppies in blood
are instantly quelled inside his chest overladen with pebbles crushed.
The sobbing bride is to marry off far away,
her tears as the mercurial origin of rivers.
These granada flowers in defense of village, the native tongue of lark
the oath witnessed by the sunlight,
and each passerby shouldered with ulcers of life
are all to be coffined into the crimson earth,
for complementing a genius fetus off to his finale
just as a barbarous legend once conquered
then adorned in letters by generations of its noble aliens.
Seeing off the last chirp during the harsh winter,
the violin’s weeping clings to the dark voids within white bones
only to finish off another round of death cycle.
He eventually sleeps in peace over the length of a whole rest note,
chewing in his dream some dampened dust,
as if reminiscing the sight of a hill freshly reclaimed from loss.
- posted on 11/26/2009
pretty good, but not perfect though.
It soars to hover the mountainside pitted with shell craters,
hover:v.i
hover over the mountainside
Along banks of the roaring river swell the alpine rushes
feeding to the horde forever sleeping under black pine woods.
feeding to: feeding the horde
"feed" is supposed to be a v.t here.
as if reminiscing the sight of a hill freshly reclaimed from loss.
reminisce: v.i.
reminiscing on the sight
Please paste HTML code and press Enter.
(c) 2010 Maya Chilam Foundation