目前日期文章:200801 (6)

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《跟著妹妹搭巴士 (
Riding the Bus With My Sister : a True Life Journey)Rachel Simon著,黃道琳譯,女書店,2004。
《深夜小狗神秘習題 (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time)Mark Haddon著,林靜華譯,大塊,2005。
 
找上《跟著妹妹搭巴士》的機會再巧合不過。為了找康薇爾的小說,在總圖標示準備移架整理的書櫃間地毯式瀏覽,發現有趣的題目就拾起來信手翻閱;不過吸引我的倒不是書名,反倒是譯者兼本系學長黃道琳。黃先生的翻譯既通暢又優美,不過大多都是與人類學或文化相關的書籍,例如相當有名的《菊花與劍》,原著Ruth Benedit已經讓作品具有相當的文學性,中譯繼承了這項特質,還必須兼顧評論性質在兩種不同語文轉換間說理通達的需求,非常厲害。那麼這本看起來跟醫療和心理學比較相關的書到底有什麼意思呢?

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America
Allen Ginsberg

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A Song in the Front Yard
Gwendolyn Brooks
 
I've stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it's rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose.
 
I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.
 
They do some wonderful things.
They have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it's fine
How they don't have to go in at quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George'll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate.)
 
But I say it's fine. Honest, I do.
And I'd like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.

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Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night
Dylan Thomas
 
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
 
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
 
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
 
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
 
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
 
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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One Art
Elizabeth Bishop
 
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
 
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
 
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
 
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
 
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
 
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

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Fabliau of Florida
Wallace Stevens
 
Barque of phosphor
On the palmy beach,
 
Move outward into heaven,
Into the alabasters
And night blues.
 
Foam and cloud are one.
Sultry moon-monsters
Are dissolving.
 
Fill your black hull
With white moonlight.
 
There will never be an end
To this droning of the surf.

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