艺文走廊 ✐2006-12-01


我家失火

凌风 译

 

1666年七月十日


朗诵:小蒋

在靜夜里我已经安息上床,
  卻不知祸患就在附近隐藏。
  我惊觉听到了如雷的巨响,
  夹杂着惨叫的可怕声浪:
  “火!”“火啊!”喊声充满惊惶,
  谁也不会想那是我的愿望。

  我,立即起来,看见了火光,
  我心向着我的上帝求诉:
  “在苦难中求你赐给我力量,
  不要撇下我无靠无助!”
  到外面以后,立即看见,
  烈焰吞噬了我的住处。

  当我不能夠继续看下去,
  就称颂主的名,祂赏赐又收取,
  我积存的财物现在成为虛无,
  那本是尘土应该归於尘土。
  那全是属於主,並不是我的,
  绝不该有任何的抱怨诉苦。

  祂虽然可能把一切尽都剝夺,
  卻留下部分足夠我们生活。
  我忧伤的眼睛也曾经瞥视,
  当我常从那废墟边经过:
  从这里和那里熟悉的角落,
  我常在这里坐,常在那里躺臥。

  这里放过我的箱,那里是我的柜,
  里面存放着我最宝贵喜欢,
  我喜爱的东西都化为灰烬,
  我再也不能得以看见。
  在你屋顶下再沒有宾客的座位,
  也不能再在你的桌旁聚集共餐。
  再也不能述说那可爱的故事,
  再也不能追忆那古老的事情。
  灯光不再照耀在你的当中,
  也不会听见新郎的欢声。
  你将在那里长臥安靜,
  再见,再见,一切的虛荣。

  然后我得着力量责备我的心,
  你岂是积儹财宝在地上?
  你岂是在腐土上注定你的希望?
  你岂是要倚靠血肉的臂膀?
  举起你的思想超越青天,
  那粪堆的迷雾全消逝凈光。

  在上面你有一座房屋,
  经营建造的是那位大能的工师,
  並且有荣美华丽的陈设装饰,
  地上的房屋过去它卻永远坚立。
  那屋已经买定了並且已付清,
  是那位万有的主祂成全备齐。

  其代价是那么巨大超乎所想,
  但靠祂的恩赐,你拥有安享。
  那里的财富满足,我一无所缺;
  去吧,我的钱财!去吧,我的宝藏!
  这世界不再是我所爱慕,
  我的盼望和财宝全在天上。

 

Upon the Burning of Our House
July 10th, 1666

In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow near I did not look,
I waken'd was with thundring noise
And piteous shreiks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of "Fire!" and "Fire!"
Let no man know is my Desire.

I, starting up, the light did spye,
And to my God my heart did cry
To strengthen me in my Distresse,
And not to leave me succourlesse.
Then coming out, beheld apace
The flame consume my dwelling place.

And when I could no longer look,
I blest his Name that gave and took,
That layd my goods now in the dust:
Yea so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own: it was not mine;
Far be it that I should repine.

He might of All justly bereft,
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the Ruines oft I past,
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast,
And here and there the places spye
Where oft I sate, and long did lye.

Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest;
There lay that store I counted the best:
My pleasant things in ashes lye,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under my roof no guest shall sitt,
Nor at thy Table eat a bitt.

No pleasant tale shall e'er be told,
Nor things recounted done of old.
No candle e'er shall shine in Thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice e'er heard shall bee.
In silence ever shalt thou lye;
Adeiu, Adeiu; All's vanity.

Then streight I' gan my heart to chide:
And did thy wealth on earth abide?
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the skye,
That dunghill mists away may flie.

Thou hast an house on high erect,
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished,
Stands permanent though this bee fled.
It's purchased, and paid for, too,
By Him who hath enough to doe.

A Prise so vast as is unknown,
Yet, by his Gift, is made thine own.
There's wealth enough, I need no more;
Farewell my Pelf, farewell my Store.
The world no longer let me Love,
My Hope and Treasure lyes Above.


Anne Bradstreet (1612?-1672)
  American's first poet

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