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醉人月光

2011-03-21    来源:网络    【      美国外教 在线口语培训

彼得·斯坦哈特,美国自然主义作家、艺术家,曾连续12年担任美国《奥杜邦杂志》(Audubon Magazine)的编辑和专栏作家。该杂志是美国国内影响力极大的群众性环保组织—奥杜邦协会出版发行的一份杂志,该协会致力于促进鸟类学研究。彼得· 斯坦哈特的文章多次出现在《纽约时报》(the New York Times)和《洛杉矶时报》(the Los Angeles Times)等多家报刊杂志上。他还曾两次入围美国国家杂志奖(National Magazine Award)。他的散文优美清新,给人以美的享受。至今,他已出版了多本书籍,其中有The Company of Wolves、Undressed Art: Why We Draw等。目前他居住在美国加利福尼亚州西部的帕拉托(Palo Alto)市,在写作的同时还从事绘画创作。
 
浪漫诗仙李白平生最喜爱的便是月亮。“床前明月光”、“举杯邀明月”……
连最后的辞世也是那么诗情画意,传说是醉酒的他天真地想捞起水中的月亮,最终抱着月亮的倒影离开了……

There is a hill near my home that I often climb at night. The noise of the city is a far-off murmur. In the hush of dark I share the cheerfulness of crickets and the confidence of owls. But it is the drama of the moonrise that I come to see. For that restores in me a quiet and clarity that the city spends too freely.
家的附近有座小山。我常在夜里爬上山去。那时候,城市的喧嚣只变成远方的低语。在夜色的沉寂中,蟋蟀们伴我同乐,夜枭也与我交心。然而,真正令我神往的,却是那美异如戏的月出。因为,它归予了我内心一份被城市恣意挥霍去的清宁。
 
From this hill I have watched many moons rise. Each one had its own mood. There have been broad, confident harvest moons in autumn; shy, misty moons in spring; lonely, white winter moons rising into the utter silence of an ink-back sky and smoke-smudged orange moons over the dry fields of summer. Each, like fine music, excited my heart and then calmed my soul.
在这山上,我看过许多次月出,每次都留予我不同的感受:秋季,获月朗朗,傲然大方;春宵,月色朦胧,娇倩含羞;冬夜,孤月冷寂,皓临苍穹;夏天,月出旱田,橘色如熏。每一种月,都宛如仙曲一支,直教我心动,而后又令人神定魂安.
 
Moongazing is an ancient art. To prehistoric hunters the moon overhead was as unerring as a heartbeat. They knew that every 29 days it became full-bellied and brilliant, then sickened and died, and then was reborn. They knew the waxing moon appeared larger and higher overhead after each succeeding sunset. They knew the waning moon rose later each night until it vanished in the sunrise. To have understood the moon’s patterns from experience must have been a profound thing.
观月是一项古老的艺术。对史前猎人们而言,月相的更迭就如同心脏跳动一般准确无误。他们知道,每过29天月亮就会变得饱满明亮,接着逐渐衰残、殆灭,转而又重生;他们也知道,在月盈期间,每经一次日落月亮都会显得更高更大;他们还知道,在月亏时候,月出将越来越迟,直至消失于日出中。单凭经验就掌握了月相的规律,这真可谓造诣非凡。


But we, who live indoors, have lost contact with the moon. The glare of street lights and the dust of pollution veil the night sky. Though men have walked on the moon, it grows less familiar. Few of us can say what time the moon will rise tonight.
然而,久惯深居的我们已然失去了与月的联系。街灯的光炫携伴烟尘的污影笼罩起夜空。尽管人类已涉足过月球,月亮对于我们却反而陌生了。实在没多少人能够说出今夜的月将何时升起。
 
Still, it tugs at our minds. If we unexpectedly encounter the full moon, huge and yellow over the horizon, we can't help but to stare back at its commanding presence. And the moon has gifts to bestow upon those who watch.
可是,即便如此,月亮依然牵动着你我的心弦。假若有缘邂逅满月,见其庞然高悬,金辉璀璨,我们只能不由自主地仰望起它那超然的威仪;而月,也将对其倾望者回以厚礼。
 
I leaned about its gifts one July evening in the mountains. My car had mysteriously stalled, and I was stranded and alone. The sun had set, and I was watching what seemed to be the bright-orange glow of a forest fire beyond a ridge to the east. Suddenly, the ridge itself seemed to burst into flame. Then, the rising moon, huge and red and grotesquely misshapen by the dust and sweat of the summer atmosphere, loomed up out of the woods.
我就是于七月里一夜在山间获其馈赠的。那时,车子莫名其妙地熄火了,我只身被困在林中。日已西沉,入我眼帘的,犹如森林大火那橙黄色亮光,自山脊后向东射来。突然间,那道山脉似乎也燃烧了起来。随之,一轮巨大的红月由林间冉冉浮升,且因尘埃和暑汽之故而形态颇异。
 
Distorted thus by the hot breath of earth, the moon seemed ill-tempered and imperfect. Dogs nearby farmhouse barked nervously, as if this strange light had wakened evil spirits in the weeds.
月亮于是被大地灼热的气息扭曲了面目:貌似躁戾,相若有缺。农舍旁的狗群不安地吠叫起来,仿佛这异样的月光唤起了草丛间的鬼魅。
 
But as the moon lifted off the ridge it gathered firmness and authority. Its complexion changed from red, to orange, to gold, to impassive yellow. It seemed to draw light out of the darkening earth, for as it rose, the hills and valleys below grew dimmer. By the time the moon stood clear of the horizon, full chested and round and the colour of ivory, the valleys were deep shadows in the landscape. The dogs, reassured that this was the familiar moon, stopped barking. And all at once I felt a confidence and joy close to laughter.
然而,在月亮缓缓脱离山头的同时,它也逐渐聚敛成型,重振威严。从火红、到橘红、到金色、再到清冷的浅黄,其容颜都在不断更易。而且,它似乎正从沦入黑暗的大地身上汲取光亮。因为随着它的起升,群山万壑都渐而晦暗难见了。直至月满高挂、色若象牙之时,幽谷便成了山水间的重重阴影。又见这一轮熟悉的月,吠犬们终于被安抚下来,便停止了叫声。刹那间,我感到自信满怀,无比愉悦,几近要放声大笑起来。
  
The drama took an hour. Moonrise is slow and serried with subtleties. To watch it, we must slip into an older, more patient sense of time. To watch the moon move inexorably higher is to find an unusual stillness within ourselves. Our imaginations become aware of the vast distance of space, the immensity of the earth and the huge improbability of our own existence. We feel small but privileged.
这一幕持续了一小时之久。月出进程缓慢而渐变微妙。欲观此变,我们须换以一种更加古老沉稳的时间感。看着月亮不可阻逆地高升,也就是在我们内心求索一种不寻常的宁谧。我们会联想到宇宙的广袤、大地的无垠,以及自身得以存在的渺茫几率,然后,自叹卑微却又受宠若惊。
 
Moonlight shows us none of life’s harder edges. Hillsides seem silken and silvery, the oceans still and blue in its light. In moonlight we become less calculating, more drawn to our feelings.
月光收起了生活中的坚硬棱角。在这光芒里,山坡柔若银缎,海洋静泛幽蓝。月下的我们,少了些许算计和心机,却多了几分对情感的专注。
 
And odd things happen in such moments. On that July night, I watched the moon for an hour or two, and then got back into the car, turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine start, just as mysteriously as it had stalled a few hours earlier I drove down from the mountains with the moon on my shoulder and peace in my heart.
而怪事也就是在这些时候发生的。在那个七月的夜里,我欣赏了一两小时的月色,然后回到车上,转动钥匙,便听到了引擎发动的声响,这正如数小时前它无故熄火时一般令人费解。之后我便从山上驶下,带着满肩月光,还有一心的宁静安详。
I return often to the rising moon. I am drawn especially when events crowd ease and clarity of vision into a small corner of my life. This happens often in the fall. Then I go to my hill and wait the hunter’s moon, enormous and gold over the horizon, filling the night with vision.
后来,我便经常回到那里观赏月出。在俗务缠身以致心乱目冥时,它的魔力尤为令我着迷。这经常发生于秋季。那时我便会登上我的山坡,静候一轮金黄的猎月,犹巨盘般当空悬起,将秋夜朗照无遗。
 
An owl swoops from the ridgetop, noiseless but bright as flame. A cricket shrills in the grass. I think of poets and musicians, of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" and of Shakespeare, whose Lorenzo declaims in The Merchant of Venice, "How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! /Here will we sit and let the sounds of music/ Creep in our ears." I wonder if their verse and music, like the music of crickets, are in some way voices of the moon. With such thoughts, my citified confusions melt into the quiet of the night.
蓦地,山脊上一只夜枭飞扑直下,悄无声响而赫然如一道火光。草间又有蟋蟀孑然长鸣。这令我想到了诗人和音乐家,想到了贝多芬的《月光奏鸣曲》,也想到了莎士比亚笔下的洛伦佐在《威尼斯商人》中的慷慨陈词:“柔美月光 酣眠堤上/吾辈团坐 席地此岸/任凭乐响 入耳悄然”。于是,我便怀疑起他们的诗句、乐曲、还有蟋蟀的音乐,是否都能算是月的声音。想到这里,我那些的受染于都市气习的困惑烦扰便都涣然融入夜的寂静中了。
 
Lovers and poets find deeper meaning at night. We are all apt to pose deeper questions about our origins and destinies. We indulge in riddles, rather than in the impersonal geometries that govern the day-lit world. We become philosophers and mystics.
恋人与诗人都在夜间找到了生命的深层意义。而我们也往往要对自己的来处和去向提出更深刻的质问。比起那毫无人情味的几何学,尽管它左右着白日的世界,我们更愿沉湎在不解之谜中。在夜里,我们都变成了哲人和神秘主义者。
 
 At moonrise, as we slow our minds to the pace of the heavens, enchantment steals over us. We open the vents of feeling and exercise parts of our minds that reason locks away by day. We hear, across the distances, murmurs of ancient hunters and see anew the visions of poets and lovers of long ago.
月升时分,当我们尾随天空的步履放慢思绪,月的魔力就在此时蔓延到我们全身。我们会敞开心扉,任凭那些在白天被理智禁锢的思绪情感尽情释放。就这样,我们穿越过时空,听见远古猎人们的低语,又再看到从前的诗人和恋人们眼中的世界。



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