求艾略特《荒原》原文+译文

　　I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

　　April is the cruellest month, breeding
　　Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
　　Memory and desire, stirring
　　Dull roots with spring rain.
　　Winter kept us warm, covering
　　Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
　　A little life with dried tubers.
　　Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
　　With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
　　And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10
　　And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
　　Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
　　And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
　　My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
　　And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
　　Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
　　In the mountains, there you feel free.
　　I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

　　What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
　　Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20
　　You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
　　A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
　　And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
　　And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
　　There is shadow under this red rock,
　　(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
　　And I will show you something different from either
　　Your shadow at morning striding behind you
　　Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
　　I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 30
　　Frisch weht der Wind
　　Der Heimat zu
　　Mein Irisch Kind,
　　Wo weilest du?
　　"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
　　"They called me the hyacinth girl."
　　- Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
　　Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
　　Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
　　Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40
　　Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
　　Od' und leer das Meer.

　　Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
　　Had a bad cold, nevertheless
　　Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
　　With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
　　Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
　　(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
　　Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
　　The lady of situations. 50
　　Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
　　And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
　　Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
　　Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
　　The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
　　I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
　　Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
　　Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
　　One must be so careful these days.

　　Unreal City, 60
　　Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
　　A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
　　I had not thought death had undone so many.
　　Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
　　And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
　　Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
　　To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
　　With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
　　There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying "Stetson!
　　"You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70
　　"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
　　"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
　　"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
　　"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
　　"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
　　"You! hypocrite lecteur! - mon semblable, - mon frere!"

　　II. A GAME OF CHESS

　　The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
　　Glowed on the marble, where the glass
　　Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
　　From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80
　　(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
　　Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
　　Reflecting light upon the table as
　　The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
　　From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
　　In vials of ivory and coloured glass
　　Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
　　Unguent, powdered, or liquid - troubled, confused
　　And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
　　That freshened from the window, these ascended 90
　　In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
　　Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
　　Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
　　Huge sea-wood fed with copper
　　Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
　　In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
　　Above the antique mantel was displayed
　　As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
　　The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
　　So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100
　　Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
　　And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
　　"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.
　　And other withered stumps of time
　　Were told upon the walls; staring forms
　　Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
　　Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
　　Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
　　Spread out in fiery points
　　Glowed into words, then would be savagely still. 110

　　"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
　　"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
　　"What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
　　"I never know what you are thinking. Think."

　　I think we are in rats' alley
　　Where the dead men lost their bones.

　　"What is that noise?"
　　The wind under the door.
　　"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"
　　Nothing again nothing. 120
　　"Do
　　"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
　　"Nothing?"

　　I remember
　　Those are pearls that were his eyes.
　　"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"
　　But
　　O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag -
　　It's so elegant
　　So intelligent 130
　　"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
　　I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
　　"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
　　"What shall we ever do?"
　　The hot water at ten.
　　And if it rains, a closed car at four.
　　And we shall play a game of chess,
　　Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

　　When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said -
　　I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140
　　HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
　　Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
　　He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
　　To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
　　You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
　　He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
　　And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
　　He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
　　And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
　　Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said. 150
　　Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
　　HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
　　If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.
　　Others can pick and choose if you can't.
　　But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
　　You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
　　(And her only thirty-one.)
　　I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
　　It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
　　(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) 160
　　The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.
　　You are a proper fool, I said.
　　Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
　　What you get married for if you don't want children?
　　HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
　　Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
　　And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot -
　　HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
　　HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
　　Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. 170
　　Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
　　Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

　　III. THE FIRE SERMON

　　The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
　　Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
　　Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
　　Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
　　The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
　　Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
　　Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
　　And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; 180
　　Departed, have left no addresses.

　　By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .
　　Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
　　Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
　　But at my back in a cold blast I hear
　　The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
　　A rat crept softly through the vegetation
　　Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
　　While I was fishing in the dull canal
　　On a winter evening round behind the gashouse 190
　　Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
　　And on the king my father's death before him.
　　White bodies naked on the low damp ground
　　And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
　　Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
　　But at my back from time to time I hear
　　The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring
　　Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
　　O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter
　　And on her daughter 200
　　They wash their feet in soda water
　　Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

　　Twit twit twit
　　Jug jug jug jug jug jug
　　So rudely forc'd.
　　Tereu

　　Unreal City
　　Under the brown fog of a winter noon
　　Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
　　Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants 210
　　C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
　　Asked me in demotic French
　　To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
　　Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

　　At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
　　Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
　　Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
　　I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
　　Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
　　At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220
　　Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
　　The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
　　Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
　　Out of the window perilously spread
　　Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
　　On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
　　Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
　　I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
　　Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest -
　　I too awaited the expected guest. 230
　　He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
　　A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
　　One of the low on whom assurance sits
　　As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
　　The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
　　The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
　　Endeavours to engage her in caresses
　　Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
　　Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
　　Exploring hands encounter no defence; 240
　　His vanity requires no response,
　　And makes a welcome of indifference.
　　(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
　　Enacted on this same divan or bed;
　　I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
　　And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
　　Bestows one final patronising kiss,
　　And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

　　She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
　　Hardly aware of her departed lover; 250
　　Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
　　"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."
　　When lovely woman stoops to folly and
　　Paces about her room again, alone,
　　She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
　　And puts a record on the gramophone.

　　"This music crept by me upon the waters"
　　And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
　　O City city, I can sometimes hear
　　Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260
　　The pleasant whining of a mandoline
　　And a clatter and a chatter from within
　　Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
　　Of Magnus Martyr hold
　　Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

　　The river sweats
　　Oil and tar
　　The barges drift
　　With the turning tide
　　Red sails 270
　　Wide
　　To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
　　The barges wash
　　Drifting logs
　　Down Greenwich reach
　　Past the Isle of Dogs.
　　Weialala leia
　　Wallala leialala

　　Elizabeth and Leicester
　　Beating oars 280
　　The stern was formed
　　A gilded shell
　　Red and gold
　　The brisk swell
　　Rippled both shores
　　Southwest wind
　　Carried down stream
　　The peal of bells
　　White towers
　　Weialala leia 290
　　Wallala leialala

　　"Trams and dusty trees.
　　Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
　　Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
　　Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."

　　"My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
　　Under my feet. After the event
　　He wept. He promised 'a new start'.
　　I made no comment. What should I resent?"
　　"On Margate Sands. 300
　　I can connect
　　Nothing with nothing.
　　The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
　　My people humble people who expect
　　Nothing."
　　la la

　　To Carthage then I came

　　Burning burning burning burning
　　O Lord Thou pluckest me out
　　O Lord Thou pluckest 310

　　burning

　　IV. DEATH BY WATER

　　Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
　　Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
　　And the profit and loss.
　　A current under sea
　　Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
　　He passed the stages of his age and youth
　　Entering the whirlpool.
　　Gentile or Jew
　　O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320
　　Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

　　V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

　　After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
　　After the frosty silence in the gardens
　　After the agony in stony places
　　The shouting and the crying
　　Prison and palace and reverberation
　　Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
　　He who was living is now dead
　　We who were living are now dying
　　With a little patience 330

　　Here is no water but only rock
　　Rock and no water and the sandy road
　　The road winding above among the mountains
　　Which are mountains of rock without water
　　If there were water we should stop and drink
　　Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
　　Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
　　If there were only water amongst the rock
　　Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
　　Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340
　　There is not even silence in the mountains
　　But dry sterile thunder without rain
　　There is not even solitude in the mountains
　　But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
　　From doors of mudcracked houses
　　If there were water
　　And no rock
　　If there were rock
　　And also water
　　And water 350
　　A spring
　　A pool among the rock
　　If there were the sound of water only
　　Not the cicada
　　And dry grass singing
　　But sound of water over a rock
　　Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
　　Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
　　But there is no water

　　Who is the third who walks always beside you? 360
　　When I count, there are only you and I together
　　But when I look ahead up the white road
　　There is always another one walking beside you
　　Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
　　I do not know whether a man or a woman
　　- But who is that on the other side of you?

　　What is that sound high in the air
　　Murmur of maternal lamentation
　　Who are those hooded hordes swarming
　　Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth 370
　　Ringed by the flat horizon only
　　What is the city over the mountains
　　Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
　　Falling towers
　　Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
　　Vienna London
　　Unreal

　　A woman drew her long black hair out tight
　　And fiddled whisper music on those strings
　　And bats with baby faces in the violet light 380
　　Whistled, and beat their wings
　　And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
　　And upside down in air were towers
　　Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
　　And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

　　In this decayed hole among the mountains
　　In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
　　Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
　　There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.
　　It has no windows, and the door swings, 390
　　Dry bones can harm no one.
　　Only a cock stood on the rooftree
　　Co co rico co co rico
　　In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
　　Bringing rain

　　Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
　　Waited for rain, while the black clouds
　　Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
　　The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
　　Then spoke the thunder 400
　　DA
　　Datta: what have we given?
　　My friend, blood shaking my heart
　　The awful daring of a moment's surrender
　　Which an age of prudence can never retract
　　By this, and this only, we have existed
　　Which is not to be found in our obituaries
　　Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
　　Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
　　In our empty rooms 410
　　DA
　　Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
　　Turn in the door once and turn once only
　　We think of the key, each in his prison
　　Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
　　Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
　　Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
　　DA
　　Damyata: The boat responded
　　Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar 420
　　The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
　　Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
　　To controlling hands

　　I sat upon the shore
　　Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
　　Shall I at least set my lands in order?
　　London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
　　Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
　　Quando fiam ceu chelidon - O swallow swallow
　　Le Prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie 430
　　These fragments I have shored against my ruins
　　Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.
　　Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
　　Shantih shantih shantih