我的十一月来客，弗罗斯特诗 My November Guest，……，再粗译一下～～

 

My sorrow, when she's here with me

当苦痛来访，
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

想起秋雨中黯寂的日子，
Are beautiful as days can be;

静美至极
She loves the bare, the withered tree;

她一心爱着那枯枝裸露的树

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

还喜欢徘徊在牧场泥泞的小道上。

 

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

她的喜悦感染不了我
She talks and I am fain to list:

她不停地说着，让我来给你们一 一列出
She's glad the birds are gone away,

她说她是多么享受飞鸟远去的自由
She's glad her simple worsted grey

她说她是多么爱那件简洁舒适的灰毛衣
Is silver now with clinging mist.

被那秋天的雾气点染地银光闪闪

 

The desolate, deserted trees,

静寂而萧疏的树木
The faded earth, the heavy sky,

素廖的大地，乌盈盈的天际，

The beauties she so truly sees,

在她那是如此之美
She thinks I have no eye for these,

她认为我看不见那一种美
And vexes me for reason why.

 她不依不饶的问着为什么？

 

Not yesterday I learned to know

并不是昨天我才开始品味到
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,

那落雪前

空阔辽远的十一月天 竟是如此坦诚热烈
But it were vain to tell her so,

不过一切都不必再说
And they are better for her praise.  

有她的赞美，十一月的天啊，美而更美 

 

====

贪杯人忍不住 。。。。

夜饮，无度～～～：))

 

 

我的十一月来客，弗罗斯特诗 My November Guest，……，粗译一下～～

来源：泥鳅儿

My sorrow, when she's here with me

我的忧郁，当她与我同在，
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

认为秋雨连绵的黯淡时日，
Are beautiful as days can be;

堪称尽美。
She loves the bare, the withered tree;

她热爱光秃，枯萎的树木，

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

她在湿漉漉的牧场小径上流连漫步。

 

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

她的愉悦令我没法无动于衷。
She talks and I am fain to list:

她交谈，我欣然倾听：
She's glad the birds are gone away,

她很开心，鸟儿飞远，
She's glad her simple worsted grey

她很快乐，她的简朴的灰色毛衣
Is silver now with clinging mist.

沾上水雾、如今银光忽闪。

 

The desolate, deserted trees,

孤寂、荒芜的树木，
The faded earth, the heavy sky,

褪隐的土地，低沉的天空，
The beauties she so truly sees,

令她心悦诚服的美丽，
She thinks I have no eye for these,

她以为我视而不见，
And vexes me for reason why.

因此喋喋不休，追问原由。

 

Not yesterday I learned to know

并非昨天，我才学会领略
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,

落雪之前，十一月时光

多么脉脉温情。
But it were vain to tell her so,

但是告诉她有何用，
And they are better for her praise.  

况且，有她的由衷赞美，岂不更好。

 

====

贪杯人拭红酒痕。。。。

小饮，无聊，粗译一下玩儿～～～：))

 

跟在一亩兄弟后面，试译 《十一月我的嘉宾》 "My November Guest" by Robert Frost

　

来源: 柳烟 

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be;

She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

当她与我在一起的时候，

想着秋雨连绵的日子，

我的忧伤，宛如这秋天一样的美丽

她酷爱这光秃秃的枯木朽枝；

她穿梭于湿漉漉的田园驿道。

 

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:

She's glad the birds are gone away,

She's glad her simple worsted grey

Is silver now with clinging mist.

我不能永留在她的欢愉中

我依然地记录着她的叮咛：

她欣喜鸟儿的逃逸，

她倾心灰色的简朴的毛衣

裹着薄雾的银辉。

 

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,

The beauties she so truly sees,

She thinks I have no eye for these,

And vexes me for reason why.

那荒凉的树木，

失血的大地， 沉沦的天空，

都是她眼中的美丽，

她认为我不具慧眼，以至于看不到如此的美景，

而瞋怪于我。

 

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow,

But it were vain to tell her so,

And they are better for her praise.

在茫茫的大雪来临之前，

并非直到昨天我才开始明了

十一月赤裸裸的爱，

可语言是何等的苍白，

而 (十一月的景色）是对她的最美的赞诵

 

 

十一月我的客人（译自弗罗斯特诗 My November Guest).

　

来源: Yimusanfendi 

My November Guest  
十一月我的客人

我的悲伤，当她在这里与我一起，
想起这些暗淡的日子弥漫着秋雨
美丽得像所有的日子拥有的美丽；
她喜欢这光秃，这枯萎的树枝；
她漫步在这湿漉的牧场小路。

她的愉悦，将不让我呆在家里
她说着话，我且欣然倾听：
她高兴于那些鸟儿已经迁移
她高兴于她身上平实的灰色外衣
现在已经沾上雾水洁白如银。

那荒凉的、寂静的树林，
褪色的地，厚重的阴天，
这些美丽她都看得认真，
她不知道我的理由而怪嗔，
以为我对这些，都看不上眼。

我不是到昨天才知道
在那雪花飘落之前
光秃的十一月的日子很美好，
但告诉她这样会是徒劳
且它们变得更好，因为她的美言。

My sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.