情人的禮物(愛者之貽)
Lover’s Gifts(2)
泰戈爾
11
初夏，綠葉剛剛吐出嫩芽。夏天來到海邊花園里。和煦的南風，輕柔地傳來斷續的懶洋洋的歌聲。一天就這樣結束了。
然而，讓愛之花盛開的夏天來到海濱的花園里吧。讓我的歡樂誕生，讓它拍著手兒，和著洶涌澎湃的歌聲翩翩起舞吧。讓清晨甜蜜而又驚奇地睜大眼睛吧。
IT was only the budding of leaves in the summer, the summer that came into the garden by the sea. It was only a stir and rustle in the south wind, a few lazy snatches of songs, and then the day was done.
But let there be flowering of love in the summer to come in the garden by the sea. Let my joy take its birth and clap its hands and dance with the surging songs, and make the morning open its eyes wide in sweet amazement.
12
啊，春天!很久很久以前，你打開天國的南門，降臨混沌初開的大地。人們沖出房屋，歡笑著，舞蹈著，喜極欲狂，互相拋擲著花粉。
歲歲年年，你都帶著你第一次走出天堂時撒在路上的四月的鮮花來到人間。因此，你的花的濃郁芬芳里彌漫著如今已成夢境的歲月的聲聲嘆息——那已消亡的世界的眷戀情深的哀思。你的輕風里滿載著已從人類語言中消失的古老的愛的傳奇。
有一天，你突然闖進我因初戀而焦急震顫的心靈，帶來新的奇跡。從此，年復一年，那從未經歷過的歡樂的甜柔的羞怯便藏在你檸檬花綠色的蓓蕾里;我心中難描難訴的柔情便留在默默無言，如燃燒的火焰似的紅玫瑰中;我生命中最美好的一頁——那熱情奔放的五月的時光的深切懷念，便和著你年年新綠的嫩葉的沙沙聲悄悄低語。
AGES ago when you opened the south gate of the garden of gods, and came down upon the first youth of the earth,O Spring ; men and women rushed out of their houses, laughing and dancing, and pelting each other with flower-dust in a sudden madness of mirth.
Year after year you bring the same flowers that you scattered in your path in that earliest April. There- fore, to-day, in their pervading per- fume, they breathe the sigh of the days that are now dreams, the clinging sadness of vanished worlds. Your breeze is laden with love-legends that have faded from all human language.
One day, with fresh wonder, you came into my life that was fluttered with its first love. Since then the tender timidness of that inexperienced joy comes hidden every year in the early green buds of your lemon flowers ; your red roses carry in their burning silence all that was unutterable in me ; the memory of lyric hours, those
days of May, rustles in the thrill of your new leaves born again and again.
13
昨夜，在花園里，我向你獻上青春洋溢的醇酒。你舉起杯兒，放在唇邊，合上雙眼微笑著。我撩起你的面紗，撥散你的長發，將你那寧靜而又洋溢著柔情蜜意的臉龐貼在我的胸膛上。昨夜，月光夢一般漫溢在安睡的大地。
今朝，晨露晶瑩，黎明岑寂。你，剛剛沐浴歸來，身著潔白的長袍，手提滿籃的鮮花，向神廟走去。我佇立在通向神廟小路旁的樹蔭下，在靜悄悄的黎明中低垂著頭。
LAST night in the garden I offered you my youth’s foaming wine. You lifted the cup to your lips, you shut your eyes and smiled while I raised your veil, unbound your tresses, draw- ing down upon my breast your face sweet with its silence, last night when the moon’s dream overflowed the world of slumber.
To-day in the dew-cooled calm of the dawn you are walking to God’s temple, bathed and robed in white, with a basketful of flowers in your hand. I stand aside in the shade under the tree, with my head bent, in the calm of the dawn by the lonely road to the temple.
14
假如我今天煩躁不安。我愛，寬恕我吧。這是第一場夏雨，河邊的樹木在搖曳顫抖，花繁葉茂的迦澹波樹舉著醇香的酒杯，在勸誘過路的風。看呵，天空里道道電光閃爍著投下匆匆的視線，風兒正在你的秀發上狂跳嬉戲。
假如我今天太殷勤，我愛，請不要生氣。迷蒙的雨幕掩住我們每日所見的景物，村子里一切勞動已經停止，牧場上杳無人跡。即將降臨的雨兒在你的黑眼睛里發現它的音樂，七月在你的門旁等待著用它含苞的素馨簪上你的秀發。
If I am impatient to-day, forgive me, my love. It is the first summer rain, and the riverside forest is aflutter, and the blossoming kadam trees are tempting the passing winds with wine- cups of perfume. See, from all corners of the sky lightnings are darting their glances, and winds are rampant in your hair.
If to-day I bring my homage to you, forgive me, my love. The everyday world is hidden in the dimness of the rain, all work has stopped in the village, the meadows are desolate. In your dark eyes the coming of the rain finds its music, and it is at your door that July waits with jasmines for your hair in its blue skirt.
15
村里人都叫她黑姑娘，可是在我心上，她卻是一朵小花——一朵黑色的百合。我第一次見到她是在烏云挾著閃電滾滾而來的田野上。她的面紗拖在地面，烏黑的發辮松垂在肩前。也許她是個黑姑娘，正像村里人說的那樣。但是，我只看到她那雙小鹿般可愛的黑眼睛。
狂風呼嘯，預示著暴雨即將來臨。聽到小花牛驚慌的哞哞低鳴，她快步跑出茅屋。抬起大眼睛仰望天空，傾聽著隱隱的雷聲。那時，我站在稻田邊——只有姑娘心里明白(或許我也知道)她是否注意到我。。她黑得那樣可愛，就像炎熱的夏季里帶來陣雨的烏云，像密林里溫柔的陰影，就像惱人的五月黑夜里渴望愛情的無言的秘密。
HER neighbours call her dark in the village but she is a lily to my heart, yes, a lily though not fair. Light came muffled with clouds when first I saw her in the field ; her head was bare, her veil was off, her braided hair hanging loose on her neck. She may be dark as they say in the village, but I have seen her black eyes and am glad.
The pulse of the air boded storm. She rushed out of the hut when she heard her dappled cow low in dismay. For a moment she turned her large eyes to the clouds, and felt a stir of the coming rain in the sky. I stood at the corner of the rice-field, if she noticed me, it was known only to her (and perhaps I know it). She is dark as
the message of the shower in summer, dark as the shade of the flowering wood- land ; she is dark as the longing for unknown love in the wistful night of May.
16
她曾經住在破損的石階伸到水面的池塘邊。多少個夜晚，她曾凝視過那因竹葉搖曳而變得使人眩暈的溶溶月色;多少個雨季，她嗅到從嫩秧田里飄來的濕潤的泥土的清香。
椰棗樹下，村莊的院落里，姑娘們談笑著縫制冬裝。她的名字總是被人們親昵地提起。池水深處還保留著她手臂戲水的記憶，通往村中的小徑上還印著她每天經過時潮濕的足跡。
今天，帶著水罐來池塘汲水的村姑就曾和她天真地逗趣，看到過她的微笑，那趕著牛群去鳧水的老人，也曾每天在她門首停下腳步，向她問候致意。
多少條帆船曾從村邊駛過，多少位旅人曾在那榕樹下休憩，渡船曾把多少人送到對岸的集市，但是從未有人留意這個地方，鄉間小路邊，靠近破損的石階伸近水面的池塘，曾住著我心愛的姑娘。
SHE dwelt here by the pool with its landing - stairs in ruins. Many an evening she had watched the moon made dizzy by the shaking of bamboo leaves, and on many a rainy day the smell of the wet earth had come to her over the young shoots of rice.
Her pet name is known here among those date-palm groves and in the court -yards where girls sit and talk while stitching their winter quilts. The water in this pool keeps in its depth the memory of her swimming limbs, and her wet feet had left their marks, day after day, on the footpath leading to the village.
The women who come to-day with their vessels to the water have all seen her smile over simple jests, and the old peasant, taking his bullocks to their bath, used to stop at her door every day to greet her.
Many a sailing boat passes by this village ; many a traveller takes rest beneath that banyan tree ; the ferry boat crosses to yonder ford carrying crowds to the market ; but they never notice this spot by the village road, near the pool with its ruined landing- stairs, where dwelt she whom I love.
17
很久很久以前，蜜蜂在夏日的花園中戀戀不舍地飛來飛去，月亮向著夜幕中的百合微笑，閃電倏地向云彩拋下它的親吻，又大笑著跑開。詩人站在樹林掩映、云霞繚繞的花園一隅，讓他的心沉默著，像花一般恬靜，像新月窺人似地注視他的夢境，像夏日的和風似地漫無目的地飄游。
四月的一個黃昏，月兒像一團霧氣從落霞中升起。少女們在忙碌地澆花喂鹿，教孔雀翩翩起舞。驀地，詩人放聲歌唱：“聽呀，傾聽這世間的秘密吧!我知道百合為月亮的愛情而蒼白憔悴;芙蓉為迎接初升的太陽而撩開了面紗，如果你想知道，原因很簡單。蜜蜂向初綻的素馨低唱些什么，學者不理解，詩人卻了解。”
太陽羞紅了臉，下山了，月亮在樹林里徘徊踟躕，南風輕輕地告訴芙蓉：這詩人似乎不像他外表那樣單純呀!妙齡少女，英俊少年含笑相視，拍著手說：“世間的秘密已然泄露，讓我們的秘密也隨風飄去吧!”
WHILE ages passed and the bees haunted the summer gardens, the moon smiled to the lilies of the night, the lightnings flashed their fiery kisses to the clouds and fled laughing, the poet stood in a corner, one with the trees and clouds. He kept his heart silent, like a flower, watched through his dreams as does the crescent moon ;
and wandered like the summer breeze for no purpose.
One April evening, when the moon rose up like a bubble from the depth of the sunset ; and one maiden was busy watering the plants ; and one feeding her doe, and one making her peacock dance, the poet broke out singing " Oh listen to the secrets of the world. I know that the lily is pale for the moon’s love. The lotus draws her veil aside before the morning sun, and the reason is simple if you think. The meaning of the bee’s hum in the ear of the early jasmine has escaped the learned, but the poet knows."
The sun went down in a blaze of blush, the moon loitered behind the trees, and the south wind whispered to the lotus that the poet was not as simple as he seemed. The maidens and youths clapped their hands and cried " The world’s secret is out." They looked into each other’s eyes and sang " Let our secret as well be flung into the winds."
18
假如你一定要傾心于我，你的生活就會充滿憂慮。我的家在十字路口，房門洞開著，我心不在焉——因為我在歌唱。
假如你一定要傾心于我，我決不會用我的心來回報。倘若我的歌兒是愛的海誓山盟，請你原諒，當樂曲平息時，我的信證也不復存在，因為隆冬季節，誰會恪守五月的誓約?
假如你一定要傾心于我，請不要把它時刻記在心頭。當你笑語盈盈，一雙明眸閃著愛的歡樂，我的回答必然是狂熱而輕率的，一點兒也不切合實際——你應把它銘記在心，然后再把它永遠忘卻。
YOUR days will be full of cares, if you must give me your heart. My house by the cross-roads has its doors open and my mind is absent, for I sing.
I shall never be made to answer for it, if you must give me your heart. If I pledge my word to you in tunes now, and am too much in earnest to keep it when music is silent, you must forgive me; for the law laid down in May is best broken in December.
Do not always keep remembering it, if you must give me your heart. When your eyes sing with love, and your voice ripples with laughter, my answers to your questions will be wild, and not miserly accurate in facts, they are to be believed for ever and then forgotten for good.
19
經書中寫道，人若年過半百，就應遠離喧囂的塵世，到森林中度隱居生活。然而，詩人卻宣稱：凈修林只應屬于年輕人。因為，那里是百花的故鄉，是蜂兒鳥兒的家園;那里，幽僻的角落期待著情侶們的私語的震顫。月華親吻著素馨花，傾訴著深情厚誼。只有遠遠未到五十的人才能領略其間的深意。
啊，風華少年，既缺乏經驗，又固執任性!因此，他們正應隱居在密林，經受談情說愛的嚴格訓練，而讓老人去管理世間營生。
IT is written in the book that Man, when fifty, must leave the noisy world, to go to the forest seclusion. But the poet proclaims that the forest hermitage is only for the young. For it is the birthplace of flowers and the haunt of birds and bees ; and hidden nooks are waiting there for the thrill of lovers’ whispers. There the moon-
light, that is all one kiss for the mdlati flowers, has its deep message, but those who understand it are far below fifty.
And alas, youth is inexperienced and wilful, therefore it is but meet that the old should take charge of the household, and the young take to the seclusion of forest shades and the severe discipline of courting.
20
我的歌呀，你的市場在哪里呢?是在那學者的鼻煙污染了夏日的清風，人們無休止地爭論著“是油依賴桶還是桶依賴油”的問題，連那陳舊泛黃的手稿也為那如此無聊地浪費轉瞬即逝的生命而蹙起眉峰的地方嗎?我的歌大聲叫道：呵，不，不，不是!
我的歌呀，你的市場在什么地方?大理石宮殿里住著越來越驕橫肥胖的百萬富翁，他的書架上堆滿皮革裝訂、黃金描繪的書籍，奴仆們不時地拂去書上的灰塵，這從未被人翻閱過的書籍扉頁上的題辭是獻給那無名的神明。你的市場是在那里嗎?我的歌猛吸一口氣，說道：不，不，不是!
我的歌呀，你的市場在什么地方?青年學生坐在桌旁，頭兒低垂在書本上，思想卻在青春的夢境里漂游;散文在書桌上蹀躞，詩歌深深地埋藏在心里。灰塵鋪滿零亂的書齋，歌兒呵，你可愿在那里捉迷藏?我的歌躊躇著，沒有開口。
我的歌呀，你的市場在什么地方?忙于操持家務的少婦，抽空兒快步跑進臥室，急匆匆從枕頭上抽出一本愛情故事，那書兒被小寶貝撕破揉皺，書頁散發著她頭發上的香氣。你的市場是在這個地方么?我的歌嘆息著，欲言又止，打不定主意。
我的歌呀，你的市場在什么地方?鳥兒輕輕地啼囀，溪流明睿地歡歌，宇宙的琴弦把歌曲傾在一對戀人兩顆顫動的心上，你的市場是在那里嗎?我的歌放聲高唱：是的，是的，是的!
WHERE is the market for you, my song ? Is it there where the learned muddle the summer breeze with their snuff ; where men endlessly dispute whether the oil depends upon the cask, or the cask upon the oil ; where yellow manuscripts frown upon the fleet- footed frivolousness of life ? My song cries out, Ah, no, no, no.
Where is the market for you, my song ? Is it there where the man of fortune grows enormous in pride and flesh in his marble palace, with his books on the shelves, dressed in leather, painted in gold, dusted by slaves, their virgin pages dedicated to the god obscure ? My song gasped and said, Ah, no, no, no.
Where is the market for you, my song ? Is it there where the young student sits, with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth’s dream-land ; where prose is prowling on the desk, and poetry hiding in the heart ? There among that dusty disorder, would you care to play hide - and - seek ? My song remains silent in shy hesitation.
Where is the market for you, my song ? Is it there where the bride is busy in the house, where she runs to her bedroom the moment she is free, and snatches, from under her pillows, the book of romance so roughly handled by the baby, so full of the scent of her hair ? My song heaves a sigh and trembles with uncertain desire.
Where is the market for you, my song ? Is it there where the least of a bird’s notes is never missed, where the stream’s babbling finds its full wisdom, where all the lute-strings of the world shower their music upon two fluttering hearts ? My song bursts out and cries, Yes, yes.
