【译诗】 伊丽莎白·毕肖普诗选译
1 《犰狳》（The Armadillo ） 致罗伯特·洛威尔 【美】伊丽莎白 毕肖普 一年的这个时候 差不多在每个夜晚 出现这些脆弱，非法的火气球。 慢慢爬向山巅， 升向一位圣人 依然在这些地方受到尊崇， 那纸壁的屋堂泛红，充满了 来去明灭的光，像是心。 一旦升入到天空就很难 将它们与群星区分—— 行星，确切说—— 着色星体： 金星下沉，或是火星，
抑或浅绿的一颗。风一吹， 他们便燃烧、摇晃，摆动、震荡； 但若是无风，他们就会在 南十字座风筝支架间引航， 后退着，缩小着，庄严 而平稳地将我们舍弃， 或者，一股从山顶顺下的风， 瞬间便转向危急。
昨天晚上又一个大的坠落。 它噼啪作响像个火卵 撞到房屋后面的崖壁。 焰舌跑下来。我们看见
一对筑巢那里的猫头鹰飞起来 越发高远，他们飞旋的黑与白 下方被沾染鲜艳的粉红，直到 它们尖叫冲天飞出视线之外。
那古老的猫头鹰巢肯定已焚毁。 孑然一身，匆忙地， 一只闪亮犰狳离开了现场， 带瑰红色斑痕，垂着头，尾也垂着，
而后一只崽兔跳了出来， 短耳朵，吃了我们一惊。 多么柔软！—— 难以捉摸的一把灰烬 带着凝注，燃烧的眼睛。
太漂亮，像梦一般的模仿！ 哦坠落的火焰和尖利的哭声 还有恐慌，和一只虚弱装甲的拳头 无知无畏地紧握挥对天空！
选自作者诗集《旅行的问题》（Questions of Travel , 1965）
注： 犰狳是一主要分布在巴西的小型哺乳动物，在遇到危险时会蜷成球形避害。也因此特点被选为2014年世界杯标志性吉祥物。 此诗是戏赠给诗人好友罗伯特·洛威尔的，后来洛威尔也回应写诗《臭鼬时刻》。此诗是战后典型的智性现代诗，但并不摒弃韵律。此诗首节保持ABAB韵式，其后诗节偶行基本用韵（间用近韵词） ，此汉译本保持此特点。
The Armadillo For Robert Lowell Elizabeth Bishop This is the time of year when almost every night the frail, illegal fireballoons appear. Climbing the mountainheight, rising toward a saint still honored in these parts, the paper chambers flush and fill with light that comes and goes, like hearts. Once up against the sky it's hard to tell them from the stars— planets, that is—the tinted ones: Venus going down, or Mars, or the pale green one. With a wind, they flare and falter,wobble and toss; but if it's still they steer between the kite sticks of the Southern Cross,
receding, dwindling, solemnly and steadily forsaking us, or, in the downdraft from a peak, suddenly turning dangerous.
Last night another big one fell. It splattered like an egg of fire against the cliff behind the house. The flame ran down. We saw the pair
of owls who nest there flying up and up, their whirling black-and-white stained bright pink underneath, until they shrieked up out of sight.
The ancient owls' nest must have burned. Hastily, all alone, a glistening armadillo left the scene, rose-flecked, head down, tail down,
and then a baby rabbit jumped out, short-eared, to our surprise. So soft!—a handful of intangible ash with fixed, ignited eyes.
Too pretty, dreamlike mimicry! O falling fire and piercing cry and panic, and a weak mailed fist clenched ignorant against the sky!
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2 《想象的冰山》（The Imaginary Iceberg） 【美】伊丽莎白·毕肖普
与其轮船我们宁愿选择冰山， 虽然它意味着旅行的结束。 尽管它像云翳的岩石般静静矗立 整个的大海都是移动大理石。 与其轮船我们宁愿选择冰山； 我们宁愿拥有这呼吸的雪原 尽管片片船帆铺展在海上 就像雪落在水中却不融化。 哦 肃穆的，漂浮的园地， 你是否觉察到一座冰山正休眠 与你，当他醒来可会放牧在你雪原？
这是一幕水手会放眼而观的场景。 轮船被忽视。这冰山升起 又再次沉落；它如璃的端顶 在天空中校准椭圆星系。 在这一幕有人会踏在甲板 这是淳朴的修辞。而幕布 足够轻盈地可从空中雪铸的旋结 攀上最为精细的绳索。 这些白色群峰的智慧 与太阳角逐；在一个转换着的舞台上 矗立凝视，并挑战它的重量。
冰山从内部切割它的各面。 就像宝石来自一座永 远自我拯救并自我装饰 的坟墓，也许这冰雪 正如此吃惊地横卧海上。 再见，我们说，再见，这轮船转舵 那里一浪屈身于另一浪花并浪浪相从 云朵便跑入更暖的天空。 冰山自必要于灵魂 （二者均由最不可见的元素自造） 去看它们这般：鲜活，艳丽，不可分割地招遥。
The Imaginary Iceberg Elizabeth Bishop
We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship, although it meant the end of travel. Although it stood stock-still like cloudy rock and all the sea were moving marble. We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship; we'd rather own this breathing plain of snow though the ship's sails were laid upon the sea as the snow lies undissolved upon the water. O solemn, floating field, are you aware an iceberg takes repose with you, and when it wakes may pasture on your snows?
This is a scene a sailor'd give his eyes for. The ship's ignored. The iceberg rises and sinks again; its glassy pinnacles correct elliptics in the sky. This is a scene where he who treads the boards is artlessly rhetorical. The curtain is light enough to rise on finest ropes that airy twists of snow provide. The wits of these white peaks spar with the sun. Its weight the iceberg dares upon a shifting stage and stands and stares.
The iceberg cuts its facets from within. Like jewelry from a grave it saves itself perpetually and adorns only itself, perhaps the snows which so surprise us lying on the sea. Good-bye, we say, good-bye, the ship steers off where waves give in to one another's waves and clouds run in a warmer sky. Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see them so: fleshed, fair, erected indivisible.
选自作者诗集《北与南》（North&South 1946）
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3 《失眠症》 （ Insomnia） 【美】伊丽莎白 毕肖普 月亮从梳妆台的镜中， 望出一百万英里 （也或许带着骄傲，望着自身 但她从未，从未流露笑意） 远离而超越睡眠，或者 大概她是个白昼睡眠者。 为宇宙所抛弃， 她会叫它下地狱， 她也会找到一汪水， 或面镜子，在上边居住。 那么将心事裹进蛛网， 蔓沿着井壁落入。 进入那个倒转的世界 那里左边永远是右方， 而幽影们却其实是实体， 我们在那里整夜醒望， 那儿的苍穹清浅如是 现在海洋深邃，并且你爱我。 毕肖普的这首诗，给我们呈现出极富诗意的画面。此诗凡三节 每节的偶数行有意无意押韵，译本保留此特点，欢迎博友批评。 Insomnia Elizabeth Bishop
The moon in the bureau mirror looks out a million miles (and perhaps with pride, at herself, but she never, never smiles) far and away beyond sleep, or perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.
By the Universe deserted, she'd tell it to go to hell, and she'd find a body of water, or a mirror, on which to dwell. So wrap up care in a cobweb and drop it down the well
into that world inverted where left is always right, where the shadows are really the body, where we stay awake all night, where the heavens are shallow as the sea is now deep, and you love me.
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4 《一个寒冷的春天》（A Cold Spring）
（美）伊丽莎白 毕肖普
献与简 杜威 ，马里兰
“没有什么像春天那样美丽” ——— 霍普金斯
一个寒冷的春天： 草地上的紫罗兰有了裂纹。 有两星期或更久，树木都在迟疑； 小小叶片等待着时机， 细心地显明它们的特性。 终于一阵黯绿的烟尘 落上你硕大、无目的的山丘。 一天，在一曝泛冷而白炽的日光下， 山丘的一侧，一头牛犊降生。 母牛停止哞叫 花费长时间嚼断胎盘， 一挂不幸的旗帜， 但小牛，很快地趔趄起身 看样子，像越发感觉欢快。
第二天 暖和了许多。 白绿相间的山茱萸渗入树林， 每瓣花朵灼伤，很显然，是烟蒂所为； 而朦胧一片的紫荆 站在旁边，一动不动，却差不多更 为生姿，相比所有看到的颜色。 四只小鹿练习跃过你的篱笆。 幼嫩的橡叶旋出冷静的橡树。 灵雀正已为夏天储满欢歌， 枫树上帮腔的红衣雀 嘶一响鸣鞭，沉睡者被唤醒， 从南方伸展几哩绿色的肢条。 帽中的丁香悄然变白， 然后有一天，她们飘落如雪。 此刻，夜幕里， 一弯新月出现。 山丘更为柔和。一簇簇长草 铺现疲牛躺卧的地方。 牛蛙们也正鸣响， 松弛的弦为沉重拇的指拨动。 你白色前门下，透出的光中 最小的飞蛾，像一把把中国扇子， 展扁自身，银色的，镀金银粒 散缀在浅黄，橙色，或灰色上。 现在，从厚密的草丛，闪亮流萤 开始升浮： 向上，然后向下，再向上： 照耀着自己攀升的航程 一齐漂浮到同样的水平， — 恰似像那香槟里的泡沫。 — 后来他们飞得越发高了。 而你荫翳的草场将能献予 这些独特而炽烈的馈赠 从现在起的每个夜晚，直至夏天过去。
这首之前尝试译过第一节（部分），后来就没再继续。感谢豆友尚友古人新的诠释，他有很好的想法，也给我一些很好的思路。 毕竟学浅，很多地方需承认很吃力，如“where each cow-flop lies” “motionless, but almost more like movement than any placeable color”诸句还是很抓狂的。期待与朋友们的交流，探讨。
【原诗】
A Cold Spring （1955） Elizabeth Bishop For Jane Dewey， Marryland
Nothing is so beautiful as spring---Hopkins
A cold spring： the violate was flawed on the lawn. For two weeks or more the trees hesitated; the little leaves waited, carefully indicating their characteristics. Finally a grave green dust Settled over your big and aimless hills. One day, in a chill white blast of snsine, on the side of one a calf was born. The mother stopped lowing and took a long time eating the after-birth, a wretched flag, but the calf got up promptly and seemed inclined to feel gay.
The next day Was much warmer. Greenish-white dogwood infiltrated the wood, each petal burned, apparently, by a cigarette-butt; and the blurred redbud stood beside it, motionless, but almost more like movement than any placeable color. Four deer practised leaping over your fences. The infant oak-leaves swung through the sober oak. Song-sparrows were wound up for the summer, and in the maple the complementary cardial cracked a whip, and the sleeper awoke, stretching miles of green limbs from the south. In his cap the lilacs whitened, then one day they fell like snow. Now, in the evening, a new moon comes. The hills grow softer. Tufts of long grass show where each cow-flop lies. The bull-frogs are sounding, slack strings plucked by heavy thumbs. Beneath the light, against your white front door, the smallest moths, like Chinese fans, flatten themselves, silver and silver-gilt over pale yellow, orange or gray. Now, from the thick grass, the fireflies begin to rise: up, then down, then up again: lit on the ascending flight, drifting simultaneously to the same height, ----exactly like the bubbles in champagne. ----Later on they rise much higher. And your shadowy pastures will be able to offer these particular glowing tributes every evening now throughout the summer.
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5《地图》（Map) 伊丽莎白·毕肖普
陆地躺卧水中，它被阴影成绿色 阴影，亦或是浅滩？它的边缘 露出一道海草丛生的长长礁线 那里，水草从绿色向碧蓝摇曳 抑或陆地倾沉从下面抬起大海， 拉着它，镇定坦然地围绕自己？ 沿着晴朗褐黄的岩架沙地 难道大陆从底下把海洋拖拽？
纽芬兰的影子躺着，平坦而静止。 黄色拉布拉多，是爱斯基摩人把月色 涂在上面。我们可以轻抚这些可爱的海湾， 一块玻璃底下，它们的绽放呼之欲出， 又像供给隐形鱼儿一盏洁净的笼子。 海岸小镇的名字跑到了海里， 城市的名字横过邻近的山脉。 —— 这里的印刷工正经历同样的激情 而当情绪大大超过其动因。 这些半岛从拇指与食指间取走海水 犹如妇人感受着织物的柔顺。
地图上的水比陆地更宁静， 借与陆地它们波浪自身的构造； 挪威野兔向着南方激动地跑， 陆与海的轮廓相互入侵。 是委派，还是国家可以选择她的颜色？ -- 怎样最适合体现特点，或天然的水域。 地形学并无偏心；一样地近，北方、西部。 比历史学家更精细的，是绘图者的着色。
【原文】
The Map （1946） Elizabeth Bishop
Land lies in water; it is shadowed green. Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges showing the line of long sea-weeded ledges where weeds hang to the simple blue from green. Or does the land lean down to lift the sea from under, drawing it unperturbed around itself? Along the fine tan sandy shelf is the land tugging at the sea from under?
The shadow of Newfoundland lies flat and still. Labrador's yellow, where the moony Eskimo has oiled it. We can stroke these lovely bays, under a glass as if they were expected to blossom, or as if to provide a clean cage for invisible fish. The names of seashore towns run out to sea, the names of cities cross the neighboring mountains ——the printer here experiencing the same excitement as when emotion too far exceeds its cause. These peninsulas take the water between thumb and finger like women feeling for the smoothness of yard-goods.
Mapped waters are more quiet than the land is, lending the land their waves' own conformation: and Norway's hare runs south in agitation, profiles investigate the sea, where land is. Are they assigned, or can the countries pick their colors? --What suits the character or the native waters best. Topography displays no favorites; North's as near as West. More delicate than the historians' are the map-makers' colors.