Scrap/Poetry2008.11.28 19:08
Outside in the street I hear
A car door slam; voices coming near;
Incoherent scraps of talk
And high heels clicking up the walk;
The doorbell rends the noonday heat
With copper claws;
A second's pause.
The dull drums of my pulses beat
Against a silence wearing thin.
The door now opens from within.
Oh, hear the clash of people meeting ---
The laughter and the screams of greeting:

Fat always, and out of breath,
A greasy smack on every cheek
From Aunt Elizabeth;
There, that's the pink, pleased squeak
Of Cousin Jane, out spinster with
The faded eyes
And hands like nervous butterflies;
While rough as splintered wood
Across them all
Raps the jarring baritone of Uncle Paul;
The youngest nephew gives a fretful whine
And drools at the reception line.

Like a diver on a lofty spar of land
Atop the flight of stairs I stand.
A whirlpool leers at me,
I cast off my identity
And make the fatal plunge.


------------
마지막 두 행...형언할 수 없는 감정. 아마도 안타까움에 가장 가까운...
Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.11.28 03:14
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

more..



번역 맘에 안든다......
나중에 지속적으로 손을 볼 것 같은 기분이 드는군..
Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.10.20 21:36
I?
I walk alone;
The midnight street
Spins tself from under my feet;
When my eyes shut
These dreamng houses all snuff out;
Through a whim of mine
Over gables the moon’s celestrial onion
Hangs high.

I
Make houses shrink
And trees diminish
By going far; my look’s leash
Dangles the puppet-people
Who, unaware how they dwindle,
Laugh, kiss, get drunk,
Nor guess that if I choose to blink
They die.

I
When in good humor,
Give grass its green
Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun
With gold;
Yet, in my winteriest moods, I hold
Absolute power
To boycott color and forbid any flower
To be.

I
Know you appear
Vivid at my side,
Denying you sprang out of my head,
Claiming you feel
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,
Though it’s quite clear
All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,
From me.


Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.10.20 04:55
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fool's Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.

Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.10.20 04:50
. . .

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
. . .


부분발췌.
Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.10.10 01:55
거울 속에는 소리가 없소
저렇게까지 조용한 세상은 참 없을 것이오

거울 속에도 내게 귀가 있소
내 말을 못 알아 듣는 딱한 귀가 두 개나 있소

거울 속의 나는 왼손잡이오
내 악수를 받을 줄 모르는 - 악수를 모르는 왼손잡이오

거울 때문에 나는 거울 속의 나를 만져보지를 못하는구료만은
거울 아니었던들 내가 어찌 거울 속의 나를 만나보기만이라도 했겠소

나는 지금 거울을 안 가졌소만은 거울 속에는 늘 거울 속의 내가 있소
잘은 모르지만 외로된 사업에 골몰할게요

거울 속의 나는 참 나와는 반대요만은
또 꽤 닮았소

나는 거울 속의 나를 근심하고 진찰할 수 없으니 퍽 섭섭하오


Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.10.09 14:50
In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day

To him whose eyes are cast 

On things around him with a ray

Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream - that holy dream,

While all the world were chiding,

Hath cheered me as a lovely beam

A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro' storm and night,

So trembled from afar

What could there be more purely bright

In Truth's day-star?

Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.10.04 03:55
1
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
  The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
  The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
  While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
      But O heart! heart! heart!
      O the bleeding drops of red,
          Where on the deck my Captain lies,
            Fallen cold and dead.


     2
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
  Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
  For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
      Here Captain! dear father!
        This arm beneath your head;
          It is some dream that on the deck,
          You’ve fallen cold and dead.


     3
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
  My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
  The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
  From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
    Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
        But I, with mournful tread,
          Walk the deck my Captain lies,
            Fallen cold and dead.


-----
죽은 시인의 사회에 나왔던 시.
클라스메이트가 읊어준, 아니 보다 정확히는 '연기해 준' 시.
Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.10.03 07:03
Gaily bedight
A gallant knight
In sunshine and in shadow
Had journeyed long
Singing a song
In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old
This knight so bold
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow.
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be
This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the mountains
Of the moon
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied.
"If you seek for Eldorado!"


------------------------------

가장 좋아하는 미국 작가.
미국 작가이지만 옥스포드대학을 수료했다.

이 시는 지난 학기 영미문학번역 수업을 들을 때 공부했던 시.
물론 그 전에도 읽기는 했지만.

저 시가 왜 이상한데서 끊어졌나 싶으신 분들은 소리내서 읽어보시라.
그러면 왜 그런지 알 것임.
그리고 한국어로 번역하면...참 힘들지...

지난 학기에 저걸 번역할 때는 왜인지 각운 맞출 생각을 못해서, 그냥 내용만 맞춰서 막했는데...
아무래도 내가 아직도 시를 읽을 줄 모르는 것 같다.
한국어로도 노력했으면 얼추 어떻게든 맞출 수 있지 않았을까. 시적 허용은 괜히 있는게 아닌데.


이나저나 뜬금없지만, 스웨덴에 엘도라도 라는 브랜드가 있는데,
이 시를 차용해서 광고를 만들면 재미있겠다 싶었다.
풉...그런 컨텍스트로 생각하면 이 시는 참........................포 지못미 (...)
Posted by Lynn*
Scrap/Poetry2008.09.26 04:14
quando il bambino era bambino, se ne andava a braccia appese.
voleva che il ruscello fosse un fiume, il fiume un torrente, e questa pozza il mare.
quando il bambino era bambino, non sapeva d’essere un bambino.
per lui tutto aveva un’anima, e tutte le anime erano tutt’uno.
quando il bambino era bambino, su niente aveva un’opinione.
non aveva abitudini. sedeva spesso a gambe incrociate, e di colpo sgusciava via.
aveva un vortice tra i capelli, e non faceva facce da fotografo.
quando il bambino era bambino, era l’epoca di queste domande:perché io sono io, e perché non sei tu? perché sono qui, e perché non sono lí?quando é cominciato il tempo, e dove finisce lo spazio?la vita sotto il sole, é forse solo un sogno?non é solo l’apparenza di un mondo davanti a un mondo, quello che vedo, sento e odoro?c’é veramente il male? e gente veramente cattiva?
come puó essere che io, che sono io, non c’ero prima di diventare?
e che un giorno io, che sono io, non saró piú quello che sono?
quando il bambino era bambino, per nutrirsi gli bastavano pane e mela, ed é ancora cosí.
quando il bambino era bambino, le bacche gli cadevano in mano, come solo le bacche sanno cadere. ed é ancora cosí.
le noci fresche gli raspavano la lingua, ed é ancora cosí.
a ogni monte, sentiva nostalgia di una montagna ancora piú alta, e in ogni cittá, sentiva nostalgia di una cittá ancora piú grande.
e questo, é ancora cosí.
sulla cima di un albero, prendeva le ciliegie tutto euforico, com’é ancora oggi.
aveva timore davanti ad ogni estraneo, e continua ad averne.
aspettava la prima neve, e continua ad aspettarla.
quando il bambino era bambino, lanciava contro l’albero un bastone, come fosse una lancia.
e ancora continua a vibrare.
Posted by Lynn*