Posted on

Three Governor General’s winners’ work

星子安娜翻译介绍三个加拿大总督文学奖获奖诗人作品

Patricia Kathleen Page帕特丽夏- 凯瑟琳-佩奇（1916 –2010）加拿大诗人，作家，画家和教育者。她也以P. K. Page 著称。著有三十本书，The Metal and the Flower（金属和鲜花）获1954总督文学奖。她的诗题材广泛，小到茶壶，大到广饶的天际，于精巧处感动你，并迂回于哲理和灵思中。这里翻译了她的一首以波斯古典诗歌中的抒情诗体：加扎勒（ghazal）形式写的英文诗。（由8个对句组成，只用一个韵脚，在最后一个对句中点出主题）

Singer Traveller
P.K. Page

What is this love that is my life’s companion?
Shape-changer, sometimes faceless, this companion.

Single traveller, I wander a wasting world
awaiting the much anticipated Companion.

A trillium covered wood one April day
served as a nearly consummate companion.

A horse, two dogs, some cats, a blue macaw
each in its turn became a loyal companion.

Behind the loved embrace, a face of light-
demon or angel-lures me from my companion.

The street of love is neither wide nor narrow.
Its width depends on me and my companion.

Am I too bound and blinded by coarse wrappings
ever to know true love as my companion?

O Poet, squanderer of time and talents
why do you search for love as your Companion?
孤旅者

这爱是什么样才是我一生的伴侣？
变形者，有时没有脸孔，这样的伴侣。

孤单旅者，我徜徉一个荒废的世界
等待着这一个期盼向往良久的伴侣。

一块被三叶草覆盖的木材四月天
担任了我的似乎完美精湛的伴侣。

一匹马两条狗几只猫和蓝色鹦鹉，
每一个轮流成为一个忠诚的伴侣。

在被爱的怀抱，在光亮的面孔之后－
魔鬼或天使－诱惑我离开我的伴侣。

爱情的街道往往是不宽也不窄。
它的宽度取决于我和我的伴侣。

是我太约束或蒙蔽于粗燥的包装
以致于不知道真爱才是我的伴侣？

哦，诗人，放荡着时间和才华的旅者
为什么你要找寻爱成为你的伴侣？

我很喜欢这首诗，刚开始读觉得有些意象奇怪，但再读时再回想我们自己对爱的定义和寻找，就会很理解诗人。尤其当一个人独自旅行，在大自然中，很简单很细小的东西都会让我们倍感温馨。而当我们沉浸在爱中，我们往往会面对更多的诱惑而迷失。“爱情的街道不宽也不窄，宽度取决于我和我的伴侣。”是多么智慧的语言.

Milton Acorn(1923-1986)米尔顿.阿扩恩出生在加拿大的爱得华王子岛，从1939年到1945年他在加拿大军队服役。 他于加拿大多个城市生活过。本为木匠，在蒙特利尔市生活的某天，他决定出售他的所有工具而立志成为作家。1956年他出版了他的第一本书。他的第五本书，“我品尝了我的血” (1969)，建立他的声誉。1972年出版了“更多的诗给大众”。被昵称为大众诗人。他获得人民诗人奖，总督文学奖等。他的诗歌关注战争，政治，突出百姓的疾苦。
这里选用一首他的反战的诗歌来翻译。他的诗写法比较直接，语言普通但充满力量，情感鲜明。

I’ve Tasted My Blood
By Milton Acorn

If this brain’s over-tempered
Consider that the fire was want
And the hammers were fists.
I’ve tasted my blood too much
To love what I was born to.

But my mother’s look
Was a field of brown oats, soft-bearded;
Her voice rain and air rich with lilacs:
And I loved her too much to like
How she dragged her days like a sled over gravel.

Playmates? I remember where their skulls roll!
One died hungry, gnawing grey porch-planks;
One fell, and landed so hard he splashed;
And many and many
Come up atom by atom
In the worm-casts of Europe.

My deep prayer a curse.
My deep prayer the promise that this won’t be.
My deep prayer my cunning,
My love, my anger,
And often even my forgiveness
That this won’t be and be.
I’ve tasted my blood too much
To abide what I was born to.

我品过自己的血
By Milton Acorn

如果这个头颅淬火过头，
请考虑火是需要，
而锤头是拳头。
我品过自己太多鲜血，
难以热爱我的出生。

但我母亲的脸色
是一片棕色燕麦地，带着柔软的细须；
她的声音是雨和空气带着丁香的芬芳：
我如此深爱着她,不愿意
她象雪撬颠簸在石渣路上一样拽扯着度日。

伙伴吗？我记得他们头骨在哪里滚动！
一个死于饥饿，啮咬着灰色门廊的板条；
一个跌落,着地时血肉飞溅；
还有许多的许多
成为一个个小粒子
在满是蠕虫的欧洲荒野。

我内心祷告却怒而诅咒。
我祷告，我不要这些发生！
我祷告，我的诡诈，我的挚爱，我的愤怒，
并且甚至于我的频繁饶恕
这些都不要一而再。
我已过多地品味自己的鲜血,
难以忍受我的原本出生。

Richard Greene（理查德．格林）多伦多大学英文系主任，著有八本书。诗集《Boxing the Compass》获2010年加拿大总督文学奖。其中的长诗“Over The Boarder”（跨越边界）, 记录着他在911事件后乘坐灰狗长途汽车多次跨越美国的旅行。）他的新诗集《Dante’s House》(但丁的屋子)于2013年出版。
Beside the Funeral Home
—Richard Greene

Twice a month, I watch special delivery
Of modish coffins for customers anxious
Not to be caught dead in the ordinary

Or to neglect the last public decencies
And thus send parent, aunt or cousin abroad
Again with no mark of comfort or success.

The undertaker’s under-men gravely load
Each empty coffin onto a folding cart
And then walk it from the alley to be stow

Behind a show-room where any broken heart
Costs twelve grand and death looks like a Pontiac,
Chrome -detailed and rust-proofed in every part.

But once cigarettes are stubbed on the sidewalk
And a monk in saffron robe has struck the gong
The cortege is led out by the Cadillac.

Cars reach slowly into traffic and are gone,
A sad departure for these new arrivals,
From a funeral home that calls itself “Wing On.”

殡仪馆旁
—理查德．格林

每月两次我目睹特别运送
为客户所急的时尚灵柩－
为死时不被视为普通平凡

或避免忽略最后体面离世
因此给海外父母阿姨表亲
送回不顺心不成功的印记

承办随从神情沉重地装置
每一个空灵柩到折叠拖车
然后步行护送着经过巷子

安置在展室后，心碎在那里
代价一万二，死如庞蒂亚克
所有环节细铬防锈精心处理

而一旦香烟掐灭在人行道上
藏红花长袍的和尚敲响铜锣
即由凯迪拉克引出队列送葬

车辆缓缓驶入车流渐渐消失，
这些新抵达的，一次伤心的离开
源自一个殡仪馆：名号为“永安”

这首选自理查德．格林的《Boxing the Compass》（搏击指南针）。之所以选用这首是因为它暗示了老华人移民在加拿大的生活和文化现象。另外这首有特别安排的韵律和巧妙的韵脚。Richard 的诗很多都是从普通的生活中提炼出来，不去炫耀技巧，但技巧却很自然地融入到诗人严谨的叙述中。他的长诗“Over The Boarder”（跨越边界）每一节都是sonnet（十四行），但读的时候，我们会被诗人漫长，单调的旅程而感染，更多地对内心的洞察和对环境的适应。

星子安娜，Anna Yin中国湖南出生。99年移民加拿大，其英文诗多次获奖，其中包括 2005 年安省的 Ted Plantos 纪念奖和2010 年和2013年 的MARTRY文学奖。2007年两首双语诗歌和十首翻译作品被选入加拿大HUMBER 学院 国际留学生班的教材。星子著有五本诗集，包括《Wings Toward Sunlgiht》（Mosaic Press 2011）以及《Inhaling the Silence》（Mosaic Press 2013）。2013年星子的诗被选上在全加拿大公共汽车上巡展一年。星子是加拿大诗人联盟安省代表，她工作和居住在安省的密西沙加。星子网站：annapoetry.com

Anna Yin was born in China and immigrated to Canada in 1999. Anna won the 2005 Ted Plantos Memorial Award, the 2010 MARTY Award etc. Her poems written in English & Chinese, along with ten translations, were published in a Canadian Studies textbook used by Humber College. She has five poetry books. Collections of her poetry “Wings Toward Sunlight” was published by Mosaic Press in 2011 and “Inhaling the Silence” was published in 2013. She was interviewed by CBC Radio, Rogers TV, CCTV, China Daily etc. Her poem “Still Life” was selected to ride buses across Canada from July 1, 2013 to July 1, 2014 for Poetry In Transit project. Anna is Ontario representative for the League of Canadian Poets. She works and lives in Mississauga, Ontario. Her website: Annapoetry.com

Posted on

C.D.Wright’s Poems

(Translation of C.D.Wright’s three poems (Published in PoetrySky.com in 2005 and “North American Maple” in 2006)

 until words turn to moss.

This was all roses, here, where an overblown house crowns
the hill, the whole field, roses, all the way to the end;
when the rosarian died, the partition of roses
began. We’ve come out of nowhere, literally,
nowhere, autumnal towns marked for destruction
by a phantom hand; houses held underwater, every bed
a sunken tub, tools drowned between rows, every keyhole
caulked; clouds hallucinating girls asleep on a wedge
of wedding cake; the white rose, among the greatest of liars
beginning to show the debilitating effects of fame,
the ever-popular blaze placates a vase; the bad sons
of thunder beating back a strand of light; someone
who knows nothing apart from the rain
standing on a chair in muddy legs; the roses
blown into their cumulonimbuses,
and someone whose glove is recovered, a face
that doesn’t come clear, a face drawn under an umbrella,
beautiful, charcoal, beautiful, like words
that never get old, the sons of thunder beating

这里曾经玫瑰遍地，整个田野和山岗
都是。从山顶上一所鲜花茂密的房子
开始，一路铺展开来。
当花匠死去，花儿开始分离。
我们来自无处，纯粹意义上，无处置身，
秋天的小镇已被一只无形的幻影之手
作上毁灭的记号，
房屋们都淹在水下，每一张床成了淹水浴盆，
工具没在水滩里，每个洞眼充塞着。。
云层屯集着象女孩们昏睡于层叠的蛋糕边缘。
白玫瑰，在巨大的谎言中，显露渐渐虚弱的光彩。
和曾经 眩目光芒抚 慰着的花瓶。
雷电的儿子们回击着一线光亮，
有人不知情地站在泥泞的高椅子上，
玫瑰被吹向积雨云，有人找到了她的手套，看不清楚的脸，从伞下
移出，美丽的，黑炭似的，美丽的，象语言从来不会变老，
雷电的儿子们回击着,直到文字变成苔藓

****************************************

in our only time.

“Follow me,” the voice, the long, longed-for voice stops
the writing hand. “I have your shoes.” Except
for a rotating fan, movement at a minimum. The plan,
if one can call it a plan, is to begin in what is known
to some as the perennial present; beginning
with a few sentences written in a kitchen while others
cling to their own images in twisted sheets of heat.
A napkin floats from a counter in lieu of a letter. Portals
of the back life part in silence: O verge
of song, O big eyelets of daylight. Leaving milk and bowl
on the table, leaving the house discalced. All this
mystery, mildly erotic. Even if one is terrified
of both death and the color red. Even if a message is sent
each of us in secrecy, no one can make it stay.
Notwithstanding scale—everything has its meaning,
every thing matters; no one a means every one an end

在我们独自的期限里。

” 随我来” ，声音传来，
悠长而热切；
让书写的手停了下来。
” 我带上了你的鞋。”
除了旋转的风扇，
没有任何移动物体。
这样的计划，如果能唤作计划的话，
是一些在别人看来习以为常的事务，
从厨房写下的几行话开始，而别人还留连
在他们自己床单余热的想象。
一片餐巾纸飘离台面，取代了一封信。
过往生活的入口无声地分离：
哦，那些歌的尽头，阳光空洞的眼。
桌上还留着牛奶和碗，就这样赤着脚离开房子。
这一切的神秘，弥漫着一丝暧昧。
即使一个人惧怕死和红色 ,
即使消息秘密地发送于我们，没有人能让它留下来。
尽管衡量，任何事都有它的意义，
事事都有关联；
没有人只是一个过客，每个人都是一个结局