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【导语】
你好，我是陈乔恩，今晚我为你带来的这首诗，来自诺贝尔文学奖获得者、20世纪最著名的诗人之一——TS 艾略特。他的这首《普鲁弗洛克的情歌》，诗名虽然是情歌，但很多人觉得这其实是一首悲歌。这首诗也正是他反传统的成名作。从开篇引用自但丁《神曲》的6句题词开始，正文讲述了主人公普鲁弗洛克 这个青年男人的爱情故事，画面的一开始是他在黄昏中穿街走巷去参加宴会，那接下来又会发生什么故事呢？请你亲自来感受。
【但丁题词】
"If I thought that my reply would be to someone who would ever return to earth, this flame would remain without further movement; but as no one has ever returned alive from this gulf, if what I hear is true, I can answer you with no fear of infamy”.
如果我认为我是在回应，
一个可能会回到世间的人，
那么这火焰就将停止闪烁。
但从未有人能活着离开这里，
如果我听到的都不假，
（那）我就不惧流言来回应你。
【诗歌原文&译文】
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T.S Eliot
普鲁弗洛克的情歌
TS艾略特
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
我们走吧，你我二人
趁着黄昏慢慢铺展天际
像病人麻醉在手术台上；
我们走吧，穿过清冷的街道，
休憩之地，喃喃低语，
廉情旅店，夜夜不宁，
木屑满地，生蚝成堆；
街巷连着街巷，
如一场冗长乏味、图谋不轨的辩论
将你指向一个难以招架的问题……
噢，不要问“那是什么？”
我们这就去登门拜访。
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
房间里的女人，来来往往
谈论着米开朗琪罗。
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
黄色的雾， 在玻璃窗上厮磨它的背，
黄色的烟， 在玻璃窗上厮磨它的嘴，
把它的舌头舔进黄昏的每个⻆落，
在快要干涸的水沟上徘徊，
让跌下烟囱的煤灰落在它的背上，
它从天台滑落，突然纵身一跃，
看到这是一个温柔的十月夜晚，
就这么蜷伏在屋外，安然睡去。
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
而时间总会有的
让黄色的烟溜过街巷，
在玻璃窗上厮磨它的背；
时间会有的，
时间会有的
预备一副面孔，去见你要见的面孔；
时间会有的，去谋杀，去创造，
去工作，去生活
把疑问提起又抛下，留在盘中；
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
有你的时间，有我的时间，
有一百个犹豫不决的时间，
有一百个想入非非和变卦的时间，
在吃一片吐司，喝一杯茶之前。
In the room the women come
and go Talking of Michelangelo.
房间里的女人，来来往往
谈论着米开朗琪罗。
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
的确，时间总会有的
去犹疑，“我敢吗？”“我敢吗？”
会有时间转身，走下楼去，
暴露一块秃顶给众人——
(他们会说:"怎么他的头发越来越稀了!")
我的晨礼服，我的领子紧贴着下巴，
我的领带，大方端庄，却被一个简单的别针所主宰——
(他们会说：“但是他的胳膊和腿是如何变细的!“”)
我敢吗
去惊扰整个宇宙？
一会儿就有时间了
决定和变卦，一会儿就会推翻重来。
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
因为我早已熟悉她们，熟悉他们所有人：
熟悉每个黄昏，清晨和午后，
我用咖啡匙量过自己的生活；
我知道当音乐从远处的房间传来
人语声就渐渐沉寂，直至消失
那么，我该怎么行动呢？
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
而我也早已领教过那一双双眼睛，全都领教过——
那些把你钉牢在条条框框里的眼睛，
当我被公式化了，我在钉子下扭动，
我被钉住，在墙上挣扎的时候，
又该怎么开始呢
我该如何吐出生活中像烟头一样的全部残余？
我该怎么行动呢？
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
而我也领教过那些手臂，全都领教过——
那些戴着手镯的手臂，赤裸白皙
（可是在灯光下，长满浅棕色汗毛！）
是裙子上飘来的清香
让我魂不守舍吗？
那些搭在桌边的手臂，环绕着披肩的手臂。
我该行动了吗？
我又该怎么开始呢？
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …
我是否要说，我曾在黄昏时分，穿过狭窄街道
看过身着衬衣的孤身男人们倚靠在窗边
烟斗中的烟袅袅升起？……
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
我本应是一双粗粝的爪子
急匆匆的掠过寂静的海底。
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
还有午后，黄昏，睡得那么安静！
长长的手指轻抚着，
困了……倦了……或者装病，
张开身体躺在地板上，就在你我身旁。
饮过茶，吃过蛋糕和冰淇淋，
难道我就能有力量把这微妙的时刻一语道破？
尽管我哭过也斋戒过、哭过也祈祷过，
尽管我看到过我微秃的头，被在盘子里端进来过，
但我不是先知——这也没什么大不了的；
我看到了我的伟大瞬间忽隐忽现的闪烁，
我看见永恒的仆人拿着我的外套，暗自窃笑，
简而言之，我很害怕。
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.”
而这一切，真值得吗
在举杯，喝茶，吃过果酱后，
在杯盘之间，在你我的交谈中，
是不是还值得
将矛盾一笑而过
把宇宙捏成一个球
然后让它滚向某个压倒一切的问题
说：“我是拉撒路，从死里复活，
回来给你们报信，我将把一切告诉你们”——
要是有人把枕头塞到头下
轻轻的说：“那根本不是我的意思；
根本不是这样。”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
这一切会值得吗，会值得吗，
经过多少次落日，多少个院落和洒过水的街道之后，
经过多少部小说，多少只茶杯和多少条长裙摇曳在地板上之后——
还有这个，还有更多的？——
要我说出想说的是不可能的！
但是，就好像一盏神奇的幻灯把神经投射到屏幕上:
这样做是否值得
如果一个人，放好一个枕头或者扔掉一条披肩，
然后转身面对窗外，应该说:
“根本不是这样，
我根本不是那个意思。"
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
不！我不是哈姆雷特王子，也没打算是；
我只是侍从大臣，
推行改革，开创新景，
谏言王子；无疑，是一件顺手的工具，
毕恭毕敬，期待受用，
细致、周全、小心翼翼；
满腹经纶，却有点迟钝；
老实说，有时候几乎荒谬可笑——
有时候，几乎像个傻瓜。
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
我老了… 我老了…
我要把裤脚卷得高高的。
我应该把头发往后梳？我是否还敢去招惹一朵桃花？
我要穿上白色法兰绒裤，在海滩上漫步。
我听见美人鱼们在对唱。
我不认为她们会为我歌唱。
我见过她们乘着波浪向海中游去
梳理着像白发一般被风吹起的波浪
当狂风吹起，海水忽明忽暗。
我们在海底世界留恋许久
海底的姑娘被红色、棕色的海藻环绕
直到人声传来，惊醒我们，我们就此溺水而亡
