三月, 2018 的封存

The Story of an Hour

Posted: 2018 年 03 月 15 日 in Literature, Uncategorized

“The Story of An Hour"

Kate Chopin (1894)

Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death.

It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband’s friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard’s name leading the list of “killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.

She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.

There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.

There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.

She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.

She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.

There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.

Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will–as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under hte breath: “free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.

She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.

There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.

And yet she had loved him–sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!

“Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering.

Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhold, imploring for admission. “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door–you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door."

“Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.

Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

She arose at length and opened the door to her sister’s importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister’s waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.

Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine’s piercing cry; at Richards’ quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease–of the joy that kills.


Translation    http://bit.ly/2pfWPah


To His Coy Mistress

Posted: 2018 年 03 月 15 日 in Literature, Uncategorized

To His Coy Mistress        Andrew Marvell

致羞怯情人            呂健忠 譯

如果空間時間都夠,    Had we but world enough, and time,

小姐你矜持可接受,    This coyness, Lady, were no crime.

我們可以坐下斟酌         We would sit down and think which way

長愛如何度日消磨。     To walk and pass our long love’s day.

印度恆河畔你去揀         Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side  5

紅寶石,在亨柏溪邊      Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide

我寫詩訴怨。我愛你       Of Humber would complain.I would

從大洪水前十年算起,   Love you ten years before the Flood,

如你高興,拒絕無妨,    And you should, if you please, refuse

直到猶太人改變信仰。    Till the conversion of the Jews.     10

我的癡情生長不斷,        My vegetable love should grow

比帝國遼闊,還更遲緩: Vaster than empires, and more slow;

一百年該用來讚美             An hundred years should go to praise

妳的眼睛,端詳額眉;    Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;

各乳房傾慕兩百年,       Two hundred to adore each breast,    15

其餘總共平分三萬;       But thirty thousand to the rest;

至少一個時代一部分,   An age at least to every part,

最後一代捧你的心。       And the last age should show your heart.

小姐你值得這規格,       For, Lady, you deserve this state,

我的愛不想更淺薄。       Nor would I love at lower rate.           20

可是背後我總聽見          But at my back I always hear

時間飛車緊逼追趕;      Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;

何況你我眼前橫陳          And yonder all before us lie

永恆的荒漠一望無垠。   Deserts of vast eternity.

你的美會玉殞香消,      Thy beauty shall no more be found,        25

雲石墓穴將聽不到         Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound

情歌繚繞:蛆將圍剿      My echoing song: then worms shall try

你珍藏已久的貞操,      That long preserved virginity,

冰清玉潔化作浮塵,      And your quaint honour turn to dust,

熊熊情慾徒留灰燼:       And into ashes all my lust:     30

墳墓隱密是沒話說,      The grave’s a fine and private place,

在那擁抱並不適合。       But none, I think, do there embrace.

趁青春色澤還停駐          Now therefore, while the youthful hue

在你的肌膚像朝露,      Sits on thy skin like morning dew,

你的靈魂仍有意願           And while thy willing soul transpires      35

從各毛孔噴發烈焰,       At every pore with instant fires,

讓我們作樂求盡興,      Now let us sport us while we may,

就現在,像猛禽發情,  And now, like amorous birds of prey,

寧可一口吞噬時間         Rather at once our time devour

勝過被光陰細嚼慢嚥。 Than languish in his slow-chapped power.    40

我們用甜蜜來攪拌        Let us roll all our strength and all

所有力氣滾成砲彈,     Our sweetness up into one ball,

生猛一搏攫取歡樂          And tear our pleasures with rough strife

把人生鐵欄杆衝破:       Thorough the iron gates of life:

這樣,雖然無法攔阻       Thus, though we cannot make our sun      45

太陽,卻可逼他跑步。    Stand still, yet we will make him run.


Translation & Analysis



Romeo & Juliet (Act1, Scene5, Page5)

Posted: 2018 年 03 月 15 日 in Literature

Romeo & Juliet

Act1, Scene5, Page5

R: If I profane with my unworthiest hand,

   This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

   My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

   To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

J: Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much

  Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

  For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,

 And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

R: Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?

J: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

R: O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do!

   They pray. Grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

J: Saints do not move, though grant for prayer’s sake.

R: Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.

   Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

J: Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

R: Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

   Give me my sin again.

J: You kiss by the book.





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