The Raven译文

乌鸦 爱伦坡

一次午夜时，我疲惫不堪困意浓，

稀奇古事挥不掉----

低头小憩时，忽闻窗外叩拍声，

好似有人轻轻把门敲----

心想必有来客访----

为此无他响。

啊，我铭记那是在凄凉寒冬十二月；

灰死空留断魂烙。

欲把情愁付书海，

难忘佳丽魂已销----

举世无双窈窕女，安琪唤其叫勒诺----

香销玉逝无人叫。

丝帘哀怨簌簌响，

莫名恐惧心头涌；

屏息起身细思忖，

“过客欲求栖身所----

夜深探问把门敲，

为此无他响。”

霎时心定意坚不狐疑，开口来问寻，

“先生/夫人请见谅，

意懒心倦正自烦，

叩门之音未听确。”

就此开门将客迎；

夜浓，无人影。

定足凝望，漫漫长夜心悬疑，

恰似幽梦初醒自难忘，

夜阑无声，静寂无形，

唯我低声唤勒诺，

凄然旷野映回声----

为此无他响。

转身回屋，心有余悸难平息，

窗边又起叩击声，阵阵不绝耳。

“始知屋外不明之物在眼前，

欲将个中究竟细细探----

安神初定前去找，

唯风无他响。”

卷帘开窗，鼓翼振翅飞入一乌鸦，

神态自若如智者；

不卑不亢，快若迅雷栖我处，

风度无人肖----

飞旋落定如玉女神帕拉丝----

宜栖宜坐岿不动。

但见其神情肃穆现高贵，

顿使我悲郁情怀化笑颜，

“你貌若凡鸟而神自定，

让我想起古之神鹊黄泉落，

敢问你彼岸尊姓和大名，”乌鹊答道“永不再会”。

其貌不扬一小鸟，吐字清晰令人奇，

纵然词不搭意难自圆，

世人罕有此经历，

有幸目睹它登门，

飞落室内神雕塑，

自唤名曰“永不再会”。

只见它静若雕像独端坐，

倾注灵魂于斯语，

唯此不言也不动----

我低声哀叹“亲朋皆逝我独留----

明日它亦弃我而去无望还。”

乌鸦即和“永不再会”。

惊闻接语称心又体贴，

始知其开口无他语，

必逢主人不幸遭磨难，

无奈常叹此一言，

长歌当哭忧愤起，

感慨“永不再会”。

而我已是悲思转笑颜，

侧身就座其栖息处，

慵倦陷沉思，

揣度这只亘古不祥鸟，

冷酷，笨拙，恐怖又憔悴，

缘和嘶叫“永不再会”。

我攒眉思忖不作响，

眼前它目光炯炯将我灼；

见我心驰神 态依旧，

灯下安然斜靠丝绒丝绒衬，

而今物是人非，纵心念佳人，

已是永不再会。

暗炉幽香渐扑鼻，

疑为轻盈天使一路来，

“竟是我主送你到身边，

相赠忘忧物，解我心中千千结；

痛饮忘情水，换我痴情涌相忘。”

却闻“永不再会”。

“无论你是鸟是魔，还是邪恶一先知，

不管你追随撒旦抑或屈从风暴，孤身一人不畏惧----

我如今身处荒原神恍惚----

在这闹鬼恐惧屋，恳切求尔语，

有否基列乳香将我医？”

却闻“永不再会”。

“无论你是鸟是魔，还是邪恶一先知，

看在我们头顶共青天，上帝同膜拜，

解我心中愁，在那远方乐土伊甸园，

我还能否相会梦中佳人名勒诺----

举世无双窈窕女，安琪唤其叫勒诺。”

却闻“永不再会”。

“闭口休再提！”我心中怒火不可遏，

“你就此踏归黄泉路！

收回满口荒唐言！

使我莫烦扰！离我门上半身像！

与你不相干，快些飞离我！”

只见乌鸦丝毫未动依自若，

栖我门上如玉帕拉丝，

魔鬼神情眼中露，

幽暗身形灯光映，

心中隐痛难抚平。永远不再会！

原文：

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -

Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -

This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -

'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -

Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -

Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'

Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee

Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -

On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -

Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -

`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore!

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