大家好,关于哪些人翻译过叶芝的白鸟啊很多朋友都还不太明白,不知道是什么意思,那么今天我就来为大家分享一下关于叶芝白鸟中英文的相关知识,文章篇幅可能较长,还望大家耐心阅读,希望本篇文章对各位有所帮助!
作者:叶芝
译者:傅浩
威廉·巴特勒·叶芝 William Butler Yeats (1865~1939),亦译“叶慈”、“耶茨”,爱尔兰诗人、剧作家,著名的神秘主义者,是“爱尔兰文艺复兴运动”的领袖,也是艾比剧院(Abbey Theatre)的创建者之一,被诗人艾略特誉为"当代最伟大的诗人"。叶芝对戏剧也有浓厚的兴趣,先后写过26部剧本。
我看的是袁可嘉版的叶芝诗集,还有傅浩的
附:
袁可嘉(1921—-2008),浙江慈溪人。民盟成员,九叶派著名诗人、翻译家。1946年毕业于西南联合大学外国语文系英国语言文学专业。历任北京大学西语系助教,中共中央宣传部毛泽东选集英译室翻译,外文出版社翻译,中国社会科学院外国文学研究所助理研究员、副研究员,社科院研究生院教授、博士生导师。全国文学翻译工作者协会理事。1941年开始发表作品。1962年加入中国作家协会。著有专著《西方现代派文学概论》、《现代派论英美诗论》、《论新诗现代化》、《半个世纪的脚印——袁可嘉文选》,主编《欧美现代十大流派诗选》、《现代主义文学研究》等。
傅浩生于西安。北京大学英语系、中国社科院研究生院外文系毕业。中国社科院外国文学研究所研究员、博士生导师。英国学术院驻剑桥大学、香港大学等大学、研究所高级访问研究员,美国富布莱特访问研究员,英国米德尔塞克斯大学荣誉客座教授,江西师范大学特聘教授。2001年加入中国作家协会。曾获尤金·奈达翻译奖、《文化译丛》译文奖、台湾梁实秋文学奖、中国社科院青年优秀科研成果奖、中国社科院优秀科研成果奖。 著有《叶芝评传》,195千字,浙江文艺出版社1999年版, 《叶芝》,170千字,四川文艺出版社1999年版。
摘录:(袁可嘉版)
当你老了 When you are old
当你老了,头白了,睡思昏沉, when you are old and grey and full of sleep
炉火旁打盹,请取下这部诗歌, And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
慢慢读,回想你过去眼神的柔和, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
回想他昔日浓重的阴影。 Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
多少人爱你青春欢畅的时辰 , How many loved your moments of glad grace,
爱慕你的美丽,假意或真心, And loved your beauty with love false or true,
只有一个人爱你那朝圣者的灵魂, But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
爱你衰老了的脸上痛苦的皱纹。 And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
这个不是济慈的诗,应该是叶芝的 从这里可以看出The White Birds
- by William B. Yeats
济慈的英文名是:John Keats
The White Birds
William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)
I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea:
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can pass by and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that never may die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose,
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam—I and you.
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more: Soon far from the rose and the lily, the fret of the flames, would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea.
I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!
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