Dart [Extract]
达特河(节选自长诗的开篇)
Alice Oswald
爱丽丝•奥兹瓦德
Alice Oswald's book-long poem, Dart, tracks the River Dart from its source to the sea.
It was built over three years of recorded conversations with people who live and work on the river.
[Beginning of the poem]
Who's this moving alive over the moor?
是谁在这片荒野高地行移掠动?
An old man seeking and finding a difficulty.
是一位老者寻觅捕获一种艰难。
Has he remembered his compass his spare socks
does he fully intend going in over his knees off the military track from Okehampton?
他是否记得带上他的指南针他留用的袜子
打定了主意要闯一闯膝盖准备远离始自奥克汉普顿的军用轨道?
keeping his course through the swamp spaces
and pulling the distance around his shoulders
the source of the Dart — Cranmere Pool on Dartmoor,
seven miles from the nearest road
循着沼泽的空隙穿梭
把一路远途拉近肩头
达特河的源头——达特高原的克莱米尔水池,
距离最近的公路有七英里
(靠右书写的原文为灰色字,下同——译者注)
and if it rains, if it thunders suddenly
where will he shelter looking round
and all that lies to hand is his own bones?
若突然下起雨,若电闪雷鸣
他环顾四周,躲向何处?
而手中所持已全是他自己的骨?
He consults his map. A huge rain-coloured wilderness.
This must be the stones, the sudden movement,
the sound of frogs singing in the new year.
Who's this issuing from the earth?
他查阅地图。一幕巨大雨色的旷野。
这一定是那石阵,倏忽的一动,
青蛙在新年里唱出声响。
是谁在大地上生出动静?
The Dart, lying low in darkness calls out Who is it?
trying to summon itself by speaking...
the walker replies
达特河,黑暗中低躺着,叫喊出:这是谁?
试图靠说话来召唤自身……
行路的人答复
An old man, fifty years a mountaineer, until my heart gave out,
so now I've taken to the moors. I've done all the walks, the Two
Moors Way, the Tors, this long winding line the Dart
我一位老人,五十年的登山者,直到我力不从心,
于是来到平地。我步履行遍这片土地,双原长道、
各种突岩、还有沿着达特河的这条绵长弯路
this secret buried in reeds at the beginning of sound I
won't let go of man, under
his soakaway ears and his eye ledges working
into the drift of his thinking, wanting his heart
在声响的初刻,这秘密埋藏在芦苇中,我
不愿放走路人,在深陷如井的耳下
在如脊的眼眶下,推动他
思虑的漂移,胁迫他的心
I keep you folded in my mack pocket and I've marked in red
where the peat passes are and the good sheep tracks
我把你折叠在我雨衣的口袋中,并标为红色
当泥煤经过山口,当温顺的绵羊路过
cow-bones, tin-stones, turf-cuts.
listen to the horrible keep-time of a man walking,
rustling and jingling his keys
at the centre of his own noise,
clomping the silence in pieces and I,
in the pit of his throat, I
summon him just out of earshot
牛遗骨、锡矿石、割草断。
聆听一个人行走中可怖的合拍,
在他自身喧闹的中心
他的钥匙沙沙然叮铃然,
用沉重的脚步击碎寂静,而我
位于他喉咙的凹陷处,我
在他听力边缘外侧召唤他
I don't know, all I know is walking. Get dropped off the military track from Oakehampton
and head down into Cranmere pool. It's dawn, it's a huge sphagnum kind of wilderness, and an hour in the morning is worth three in the evening. You can hear plovers whistling,
your feet sink right in, it's like walking on the bottom of a lake.
我不知道,我能做的全是行走。始自奥克汉普顿的军用轨道上,我下车离开,
然后奔准了克莱米尔水池方向。现在是黎明,一片巨大的水藓般的荒野,
晨间一小时值得上晚间三小时。你能听到滨鸟的哨音,
你的脚恰好没入其间,好似行走在一条河的底面。
What I love is one foot in front of another. South-south-west and down the contours.
I go slipping between Black Ridge and White Horse Hill into a bowl of the moor where
echoes can't get out.
我喜爱两条腿先后迈开。沿着等高的地势向南—向南—向西而下。
我滑滑悠悠地走在黑岩脊与白马山之间,这片野地一处碗状盆地,
那儿的回声出不去。
Listen,
a
lark
spinning
around
one
note
splitting
and
mending
it
听,
一只
云雀
旋转
围着
一个
音符
分离
并
修补
它
and I find you in the reeds, a trickle coming out of a bank, a foal of a river
而我在芦苇中找到你,是出于水岸的一滴,是河的马驹
one step-width water
of linked stones
trills in the stones
glides in the trills
eels in the glides
in each eel a fingerwidth of sea
in walking boots, with twenty pounds on my back: spare socks, compass, map, water purifier so I can drink from streams, seeing the cold floating spread out
above the morning,
一跨宽之水
连接石块
颤音在石块中
滑音在颤音中
鳗鱼在滑音里
每条鳗鱼里一指宽的大海
在行走的靴子里,背上二十磅重的东西:留用的袜子,指南针,地图,
滤水装置让我能喝溪水,看着这寒气漂散扩展出去
浮于早晨之上,
tent, torch, chocolate not much else.
帐篷、手电筒、没剩多少了的巧克力。
Which’ll make it longish, almost unbearable between my evening meal and sleeping,
when I’ve got as far as stopping, sitting in the tent door with no book, no saucepan,
not so much as a stick to support the loneliness
这样的时间绵延,从晚餐到入睡几乎无法忍受,
我已到达足够远,当我停下坐在帐篷口,没有书籍,没有炊锅,
没那么多好似一根手杖支撑我的寂寞