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徐玉诺 诗两首《春天》《紫罗兰与蜜蜂》 西思翎 翻译
Xu Yu Nuo (China): 《Spring》《The Violet and the Bee》
杨 劳伦斯 西思翎 （美国）译
Translation by Jan Laurens Siesling (USA)
诗人简介：(Xu Yu Nuo)
民国4年（1915）考入开封省立第一师范就读，在求学期间，受“五四”新文化影响，他的民主思想也逐步形成，开始进行文学创作，他的早期小说代表作《一只破鞋》被收入《新文学大系· 小说一集》。民国9年（1920）到民国13年（1924）是徐玉诺文学创作的爆发期，他兴之所至，可一日数章、甚至在十几天内写成一本诗集。五年间先后写了300多篇作品，陆续登载于《小说 月刊》、《晨报》副刊、《文学周报》、《诗》等报刊，尤其在民国11年（1922年）编辑出版了诗集《将来之花园》和《雪朝》等优秀作品，揭露社会黑暗，引起较大反响，受到鲁迅、 茅盾等著名作家称赞。
叶圣陶为其写了万言长篇评论《玉诺的诗》，称《玉诺的诗》有“奇妙的表现力、微妙的思想、绘画般的技术和吸引人的格调”，此外郑振铎、朱自清、闻一多等人，都对他的诗表示过赞赏 和评论。鲁迅曾三番五次嘱咐《晨报》副刊编辑孙伏园收集徐玉诺的小说出版，并表示“自愿作序”，却被徐玉诺婉言谢绝。徐玉诺被誉为“替社会鸣不平，为平民叫苦的人”，徐玉诺一生为人 淳厚、不畏权势、特立独行的轶闻趣事广为流传。
从河南平顶山市区出发途经新城区，沿平鲁大道前行约6公里，路北侧便是徐营村，根据路旁立着的徐玉诺故居指示牌，徐玉诺故居是一个用红砖院墙围起来的小院，院子坐西朝东，东面和西 面各有3间瓦屋。在徐玉诺故居大门前，立着一个写有“徐玉诺故居”的标志物，其背面关于徐玉诺的生平简介，徐玉诺20岁考入开封省立第一师范学校，1919年在《晨报》开始发表第一篇小 说《良心》，是活跃于20世纪20年代中国新文学运动中的知名作家，与郑振铎、叶圣陶等交往甚厚。（摘自百度百科）
Jan Siesling 简介:
杨 劳伦斯 西思翎（Jan Laurens Siesling) 是艺术史学者和著有小说和诗歌的作家。他的小说常处理艺术，他的艺术的书是处理诗意灵感。他是一个语言的人，在他的自由时间他喜欢翻译，从一种喜爱的语言到另一种。中文很可能变成他的将来的挑战。他生于荷兰，从阿姆斯特丹自由大学取得博士学位。他在法国生活很多年，他的书大多是用法语写的。现在他半年在欧洲，半年在美国。他最近的书“艺术是更多” (Art is More)，是一个非传统的历代的西方艺术史。 这本书的纸质版在 www.artismore.org 和电子版在 www.amazon.com 可找到。
Jan Laurens Siesling is an art historian and a writer of fiction and poetry. His novels often deal with art and his books on art deal with the poetry behind artistic inspiration. He is a man of languages and in his free time he likes to do translations from one beloved language into another. Chinese is likely to become his future challenge. He was born in the Netherlands and he obtained his degrees from the Free University of Amsterdam. He lived in France for many years and most of his books were written in French. Now he spends half of the year in Europe, the other half in America. His most recent book, Art is More, is an unconventional history of Western art through the ages. It is available as a hard copy www.artismore.org or as an e-book on www.amazon.com
Two poems by Xu Yu Nuo, an introductory note on this translation.
On April 5th, 1922, Xu Yu Nuo wrote two poems about spring. Almost one century later, in spring, I propose a translation in English.
Should I, instead of translation, more correctly use the word transcription? Musicians use it when they arrange a piece for a different instrument than it was originally written for. My versions of the two Xu Yu Nuo poems are not literal translations; some may think they are not sufficiently literal. But I believe they are true to the original. I believe my arrangement was able to maintain the spirit of the poems, while sacrificing to the letter. I believe the essence of a poem is its spirit.
How much of the spirit of a poem is in the mere letters and words? This is a problem with all translations, and a headache for translators. Some would argue it is in the words, period. I would suggest it is between the words, between the lines. In translations from the Chinese (into Western languages) the question is pressing. This is why: The true and ultimate justification for translating poetry is to transmit the poetic quality (or essence) of a poem. I would be pretentious if I, a European, boasted I am able to capture the poetic essence of Chinese poetry. Still the goal of my reading poetry is exactly that. Also, with more obstacles in the way, it is the goal of my translating. My understanding of poetic quality, however, is determined by the language I am born in, or by the ones I am very familiar with. Poetic quality and the spirit, I mentioned above, are probably close cousins. The spirit, I supposed, dwells between the words. And so I fill the space between the words of the foreign language poem with what goes for poetic quality in my own language. I can’t help doing it; it is part of my chemistry. But I think it is only in this way I can serve readers of the poem in its new language (my language). If I do well, I may even hope to do a service to the poem, and to whoever reads it in its original language. Let me move now to the transcription of the two poems that provoked these thoughts.
Xu Yu Nuo is a revolutionary writer of the early 20th century. Presented as a naïve poet, a Douanier Rousseau of China, he ignores the strict rules of structure that had dominated Chinese verse since long. He communicates pure inspiration and delivers it in a spontaneous form, leaving an impression of liberation. To achieve this, he introduced a few typical elements of (Romantic) Western poetics into his writing. Between them are narration, simple and every day vocabulary, melodious language and symbolism. (It is interesting to see that in the same period prominent Western writers introduced Chinese notions of poetic quality, or what they thought it was, in their work, also under the banner of liberation.) Those elements were the principle features that struck me, when I discovered the two spring poems of 1922. To make an interesting and faithful transcription I stressed these features, and developed them here or there. I chose therefore an English rhythm, meter and rhyme, using them without academic rigor, but consistently, as verse would have been in England in 1922. I wanted it to be pleasant, not deprived of naïve humor or even linguistic oddities (so English!). To catch its candid mood was a must, as well as its latent symbolism. In so doing I lost some of the elliptical qualities of the Chinese form, sometimes with regret. But it was at that price that I saved for the English reader the joy that inhabits the poems, as their soul. This joy celebrates not only the coming of spring, but the dawn of a new poetic era, and beyond that the dawn of a new society.
February 6, 2017
徐玉诺的两首诗 - 关于翻译的注解
更确切些，我还是用“改写”， 而不是“翻译” 这个词吧。当音乐家为了另一种乐器去改写一首乐曲时，他们用这个词。我的版本的这两首徐玉诺的诗不是字面的翻译；有人可能认为它们不够字面。但我相信它们是忠实于原作的。虽然牺牲了一些字面的东西，我相信我的改编能够保持原诗的精神。我相信一首诗的本质是它的精神。
On a sapling in the field
Little birds are singing:
“Spring has come back to the world
Little birds are singing!”
“Pink and red and budding all,
The peonies are big and tall.
While the cherry tree is small,
Sweet its fruits will be and yellow.”
Grasses grow on the meadow’s side,
Swinging to the wind of spring,
Tiny faces moving with the tide,
Raising voices and they sing:
“Drink our dew, most gentle breeze,
There is more than you can tell;
Blow into our dresses, please,
Does it make them shine and swell!”
Riding on his buffalo
A young boy beats the beat
On his thighs and he sings too,
So romantic in the heat:
“We need a dive, we need to bathe,
We are a perfect team.
My buffalo can drink and graze,
It’s time for her to swim.”
“I see there is a shallow lake
For us to have a bath in.
The water is cool, for freshness sake
I will not stop my singing.”
Lo! said a thinker, walking by
With zero goal but his despair.
Where do we go, cried he, and why?
Both hands in his neglected hair.
He watched the boy, the meadow and
The birds, and then his heart knew better.
“Can peace be an illusion, though
These spring things really matter?”
A jaded poet passed in tears, but here
His fingers cleared them and the wrinkles
Of his forehead broke and cheered:
The vision of pure beauty made him twinkle.
Xu Yu Nuo, April 5, 1922
translation by Jan Laurens Siesling, February 6, 2017
仿佛这 …… 告他说虚幻的平安。
The Violet and the Bee
Violet was a violet and the sun was warm,
Bee was a bee far away from his swarm,
Flying so slow and so utterly lazy,
Trembling Violet got with joy a bit crazy,
In for a flirt, her color could show it,
Her perfume, the spring air would blow it.
“My dear, my bee, my honey, come near,
I need your sweet kisses, I’m waiting here.”
She said it out loud, it was foolish, however
The bee just flew off, as if an endeavor
She wasn’t worth, and he spoke in the tone
Of a slug in the sand or a snail on a stone:
“I’m here to work, honey, on honey you know,
Tonight two legs full of pollen I owe.”
How chastely Violet smiled, smiled encore,
Her odors invested the air even more.
“I know you young guys, you act the same.
Your heart is dry, and worried your brain,
Cold like crude iron, but the fault is not you.
You need tender warm cuddles, wet ones too.
Come closer, my lovely and lively bee,
Do what you want, but do it to me.
Fly over me, beauty, you don’t want to miss
An occasion to practice on me a deep kiss.”
When thus she spoke, her petals spoke too,
Followed by tears that trickled down, blue.
But Bee was as cold as a bee can be,
Keen, to his queen, on responsibility.
His job was his life, who wants to lose that?
Not for a kiss, not even with Violet.
“Goodbye girl, he said, time is running,
Work waits for me, stop short your cunning.”
Violet heard this and she did her best
To stop short her smile, but not her quest.
More like a prayer sounded her voice
When she offered Bee a last choice.
“Don’t run away, I might have what you need,
Honey for you, slow down! Or rather speed!
Speed up and put your mouth in mine,
Deep in there you will find my wine.”
“Sorry for now Violet! If you don’t mind,
I’m after flowers of another kind,
Old fashioned and useful, not sweet
Like you, but bitter barley and brown buckwheat.”
Such was the humble bee’s mumbling, before
He took off to blue heaven’s shore.
Violet was alone and she calmed down
Bowing her face, not showing her frown,
When she wondered how there could be
A bee unwilling to be with her to bee.
But wondering she smiled and smelt even more,
Telling the world what her beauty was for.
Xu Yu Nuo, April 5, 1922
translation by Jan Laurens Siesling, February 6, 2017
“不！…… 我要找野菜花去，我要找巧麦去 …… ”