The Idea of Order at Key West
西尾岛秩序感想
by Wallace Stevens
She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.
她的歌声响遏海的精魂。
海水不曾形成想法或言说，
像一具整全的尸体，挥舞着
空洞的衣袖；它模拟的涌动
却呼喊不绝，做作的声音
不似人类，然而我们懂得，
那与人无关，属于真切的汪洋。
The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.
海不是面具。她也一样不是。
因为她逐字吟唱，但即使
她完整地听到自己的歌声，
歌声与海水也并不交响。
也许在她的吐字里鼓动着
汹涌的海涛和叱咤的风，
但我们听见的是她，不是海洋。
For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.
If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.
因为她编造了她自己唱的歌曲。
而那总是兜着帽子又悲怆作态的海浪
不过是她徘徊吟唱的地方。
我们问，究竟是什么精魂？因为深知
这就是我们的追寻，深知
她的歌声不息，我们就要不停地追问。
倘若只是海暗沉的声音
响起，就算染上了波涛的颜色；
倘若只是从天空和云层传来
的声音，或来自海底深水围绕的珊瑚，
那么无论多么清晰，也只是深层的空气，
嘶哑的气流，夏日的声音
在夏日里无休止地重复，
孤独的声音。但其实不至于此，
甚至超乎她的，我们的声音，在这
海水与风无意义的运动中，还有
观看戏剧的距离，天际高耸的
青铜色投影，还有海天之间那
巍峨的气象。
It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.
是她的声音让
天空在消逝的刹那最为尖锐。
她赋予了时光孤寂苍茫。
她歌唱所在的世界，她一个人
缔造。当她唱起歌来，海，
不论原有怎样的自我，就变成一个自我，
那就是她的歌，因为她创造她的歌。于是，
看她在那里独自行走，
便知道对于她来说，根本没有别的世界，
除了她唱的那个，她在歌声中缔造的那个。
Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.
雷蒙·费南德兹，告诉我，如果你知道，
为什么，什么时候歌声停了，我们转身
往城里走，告诉我为什么眩亮的灯火，
那边停泊的渔船上的灯火，
夜幕降临的时候，在空中摇曳，
主宰黑夜，有划分海水，
确立光照的区域和火红的桅杆，
编排，加深，迷魅着黑暗。
Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker's rage to order words of the sea,
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.
哦！天赐的渴求秩序的激情，苍白的雷蒙，
创造者的激情，整饬海的语言，
星光黯淡的芬芳门庭的语言，
还有关于我们和我们起源的语言，
虽然界域愈发森然，声音却要更加尖锐。
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