2012年4月30日 星期一
Essex Man
精靈之城：德里一年 City of Djinns: A Year in Delhi
這本書的譯者相當優秀 不過 還是有些小缺點
譬如說
p.9 Essex Man 沒注解
這是近代1980s 英國社會的一重要概念語
現在Wikipedia可以找出這字的說明 新的平均人 工人階段 嚮往中產者
(這在十年前可能沒網路工具可利用)
Essex man and Mondeo man are stereotypical figures which were popularised in 1990s England. "Essex man" as a political figure is an example of a type of median voter and was used to help explain the electoral successes of Margaret Thatcher in the previous decade. The closely related "Mondeo man" was identified as the sort of voter the Labour Party needed to attract to win the 1997 election.[1]
2012年4月29日 星期日
organic intellectuals
機動知識份子(organic intellectuals) 是義大利馬克斯主義理論家葛蘭西 (A. Gramsci)提出的名詞 意指生活於都市的知識份子 是現代工業社會的產物 能坐言起行爭取文化霸權
李歐梵《城市奏鳴曲。發現文化動力：深圳》台北：時報出版，2003，頁12 ---文末採用"機動或行動知識份子"
此一嘗試 或許是採用"知行合一"的思路
2012年4月20日 星期五
梁宗岱譯莎士比亞十四行
胡適日記全集, 第 8 卷: 1940-1952
1951.6.13 此日的日記 台灣版 網路上看不到
中國版附梁宗岱的翻譯
胡適某友人摘出一些"百讀不厭"的莎士比亞十四行
現在網路上有很不錯的 相關網站
例如第六十四首
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate
That Time will come and take my love away.
This thought is as a death which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
(毀滅便教我再三這樣反省 時光終要跑來把我的愛帶走 哦 多麼致命的思想! 它只能夠哭著去把那刻刻怕失去的佔有)
分析見
http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/64
73
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
(看見了這些 你的愛就會加強 因為他轉瞬要辭你溘然長往 )
突然。唐˙白居易˙與元九書：「溘然而至，則如之何？」
http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/73
30 (原文缺)
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
(但是只要那刻想起你 摯友 損失全收回 悲哀也化為烏有)
http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/30
104
For as you were when first your eye I ey'd,
Such seems your beauty still.
(對於我 俊友 你永遠不會衰老 因為自從我的眼碰見你的眼 你還是一樣美 )
56
應是第五十七首
So true a fool is love, that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.
(愛這呆子是那麼無救藥的呆 憑你為所欲為 他都不覺得壞)
http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/57
2012年4月19日 星期四
Don't wash your dirty linen in public
1954.2.18胡適回臺灣選總統 記者問關於罷免副總統 李宗仁的問題
他說 美國有句俗話說 不要在公眾面前洗滌臭氣薰天的裹腳布
這是根據中央社的說法 胡適是否會這樣翻譯 Don't wash your dirty linen in public. 我存疑
2012年4月15日 星期日
gymnasium
Lives of the Great 20th-Century Artists二十世紀偉大的藝術家
這本書的翻譯品質可能堪慮
以"諾．葛寶(Naum Gabo) "為例
"體育學校畢業後" 這是德國的"大學預科" gymnasium=2 ギムナジウム：ドイツの大学進学のための古典語教育を主とする中等学校.
還有諸如"有關藝術史的文學作品"等用法
Moholy-Nagy 的遺書書名也很怪
Experiment in Totality by Sibyl Moholy-Nag y拉茲洛·莫霍...
| 書 名： | 二十世紀偉大的藝術家 | 副標題 ： | |
| 書 號： | 90011 | 出版社 ： | 聯經出版公司 |
| 作 者： | Edward Lucie-Smith | 頁 數： | 384頁 |
knot garden Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
A Year in the World ( Frances Mayes ) 地球玩一年
本書有拜訪過的半張世界的地圖 很方便了解相對位置
但是作者對於園藝與語文的豐富知識 會讓我們目不暇給
所以即使書名改成有點酷
讀於讀者的要求很大
譯者一般表現不錯 不過有些地方仍有改善的空間
譬如說談"英倫三島"
knot garden是專門語
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knot_garden
翻譯成結園 還是不清楚
書中選的Thomas Gray的 Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard 的一段 翻譯還可改善
Stanza 11
41. Can storied urn or animated bust 胸像 bust不是雕像
42. Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? 此句過分意繹
43. Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
44. Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Notes
(1) Storied urn: Vase adorned with pictures telling a story. Urns have sometimes been used to hold the ashes of a cremated body. (2) Bust: sculpture of the head, shoulders, and chest of a human. (3) Storied urn . . . breath? Can the soul (fleeting breath) be called back to the body (mansion) by the urn or bust back? Notice that urn and bust are personifications that call. (4) Can Honour's . . . Death? Can honor (Honour's voice) attributed to the dead person cause that person (silent dust) to come back to life? Can flattering words (Flatt'ry) about the dead person make death more "bearable"? (5) General meaning of stanza: Lines 41-45 continue the idea begun in Lines 37-40. In other words, can any memorials—such as the trophies mentioned in Line 38, the urn and bust mentioned in Line 41, and personifications (honor and flattery) mentioned in Lines 43 and 44—bring a person back to life or make death less final or fearsome?
http://www.cummingsstudyguides.net/ThoGray.html
2012年4月11日 星期三
胡適 魯拜一首 (含版本異同) 短篇小說The Rubaiyat of a Scotch Highball by O. Henry
胡適說 1919.2就想翻譯此篇 1928.9才刊登在新月 了10年心願 將此篇中的兩手魯拜翻譯出來
The Rubaiyat of a Scotch Highball by O. Henry
This document is intended to strike somewhere between a temperance
lecture and the "Bartender's Guide." Relative to the latter, drink
shall swell the theme and be set forth in abundance. Agreeably to
the former, not an elbow shall be crooked.
Bob Babbitt was "off the stuff." Which means--as you will discover
by referring to the unabridged dictionary of Bohemia--that he had
"cut out the booze;" that he was "on the water wagon." The reason
for Bob's sudden attitude of hostility toward the "demon rum"--as
the white ribboners miscall whiskey (see the "Bartender's Guide"),
should be of interest to reformers and saloon-keepers.
There is always hope for a man who, when sober, will not concede or
acknowledge that he was ever drunk. But when a man will say (in the
apt words of the phrase-distiller), "I had a beautiful skate on last
night," you will have to put stuff in his coffee as well as pray for
him.
One evening on his way home Babbitt dropped in at the Broadway bar
that he liked best. Always there were three or four fellows there
from the downtown offices whom he knew. And then there would be
high-balls and stories, and he would hurry home to dinner a little
late but feeling good, and a little sorry for the poor Standard Oil
Company. On this evening as he entered he heard some one say:
"Babbitt was in last night as full as a boiled owl."
Babbitt walked to the bar, and saw in the mirror that his face was
as white as chalk. For the first time he had looked Truth in the
eyes. Others had lied to him; he had dissembled with himself. He was
a drunkard, and had not known it. What he had fondly imagined was a
pleasant exhilaration had been maudlin intoxication. His fancied wit
had been drivel; his gay humors nothing but the noisy vagaries of a
sot. But, never again!
"A glass of seltzer," he said to the bartender.
A little silence fell upon the group of his cronies, who had been
expecting him to join them.
"Going off the stuff, Bob?" one of them asked politely and with more
formality than the highballs ever called forth.
"Yes," said Babbitt.
Some one of the group took up the unwashed thread of a story he had
been telling; the bartender shoved over a dime and a nickel change
from the quarter, ungarnished with his customary smile; and Babbitt
walked out.
Now, Babbitt had a home and a wife--but that is another story. And I
will tell you that story, which will show you a better habit and a
worse story than you could find in the man who invented the phrase.
It began away up in Sullivan County, where so many rivers and so
much trouble begins--or begin; how would you say that? It was July,
and Jessie was a summer boarder at the Mountain Squint Hotel, and
Bob, who was just out of college, saw her one day--and they were
married in September. That's the tabloid novel--one swallow of
water, and it's gone.
But those July days!
Let the exclamation point expound it, for I shall not. For
particulars you might read up on "Romeo and Juliet," and Abraham
Lincoln's thrilling sonnet about "You can fool some of the people,"
&c., and Darwin's works.
But one thing I must tell you about. Both of them were mad over
Omar's Rubaiyat. They knew every verse of the old bluffer by
heart--not consecutively, but picking 'em out here and there as you
fork the mushrooms in a fifty-cent steak a la Bordelaise. Sullivan
County is full of rocks and trees; and Jessie used to sit on them,
and--please be good--used to sit on the rocks; and Bob had a way of
standing behind her with his hands over her shoulders holding her
hands, and his face close to hers, and they would repeat over and
over their favorite verses of the old tent-maker. They saw only the
poetry and philosophy of the lines then--indeed, they agreed that
the Wine was only an image, and that what was meant to be celebrated
was some divinity, or maybe Love or Life. However, at that time
neither of them had tasted the stuff that goes with a sixty-cent
_table d'hote_.
Where was I? Oh, they married and came to New York. Bob showed his
college diploma, and accepted a position filling inkstands in a
lawyer's office at $15 a week. At the end of two years he had worked
up to $50, and gotten his first taste of Bohemia--the kind that
won't stand the borax and formaldehyde tests.
They had two furnished rooms and a little kitchen. To Jess,
accustomed to the mild but beautiful savor of a country town, the
dreggy Bohemia was sugar and spice. She hung fish seines on the
walls of her rooms, and bought a rakish-looking sideboard, and
learned to play the banjo. Twice or thrice a week they dined at
French or Italian _tables d'hote_ in a cloud of smoke, and brag and
unshorn hair. Jess learned to drink a cocktail in order to get the
cherry. At home she smoked a cigarette after dinner. She learned to
pronounce Chianti, and leave her olive stones for the waiter to pick
up. Once she essayed to say la, la, la! in a crowd but got only as
far as the second one. They met one or two couples while dining out
and became friendly with them. The sideboard was stocked with Scotch
and rye and a liqueur. They had their new friends in to dinner and
all were laughing at nothing by 1 A. M. Some plastering fell in the
room below them, for which Bob had to pay $4.50. Thus they footed it
merrily on the ragged frontiers of the country that has no boundary
lines or government.
And soon Bob fell in with his cronies and learned to keep his foot
on the little rail six inches above the floor for an hour or so
every afternoon before he went home. Drink always rubbed him the
right way, and he would reach his rooms as jolly as a sandboy.
Jessie would meet him at the door, and generally they would dance
some insane kind of a rigadoon about the floor by way of greeting.
Once when Bob's feet became confused and he tumbled headlong over a
foot-stool Jessie laughed so heartily and long that he had to throw
all the couch pillows at her to make her hush.
In such wise life was speeding for them on the day when Bob Babbitt
first felt the power that the giftie gi'ed him.
But let us get back to our lamb and mint sauce.
When Bob got home that evening he found Jessie in a long apron
cutting up a lobster for the Newburg. Usually when Bob came in
mellow from his hour at the bar his welcome was hilarious, though
somewhat tinctured with Scotch smoke.
By screams and snatches of song and certain audible testimonials of
domestic felicity was his advent proclaimed. When she heard his foot
on the stairs the old maid in the hall room always stuffed cotton
into her ears. At first Jessie had shrunk from the rudeness and
favor of these spiritual greetings, but as the fog of the false
Bohemia gradually encompassed her she came to accept them as love's
true and proper greeting.
Bob came in without a word, smiled, kissed her neatly but
noiselessly, took up a paper and sat down. In the hall room the old
maid held her two plugs of cotton poised, filled with anxiety.
Jessie dropped lobster and knife and ran to him with frightened
eyes.
"What's the matter, Bob, are you ill?"
"Not at all, dear."
"Then what's the matter with you?"
"Nothing."
Hearken, brethren. When She-who-has-a-right-to-ask interrogates you
concerning a change she finds in your mood answer her thus: Tell her
that you, in a sudden rage, have murdered your grandmother; tell her
that you have robbed orphans and that remorse has stricken you; tell
her your fortune is swept away; that you are beset by enemies, by
bunions, by any kind of malevolent fate; but do not, if peace and
happiness are worth as much as a grain of mustard seed to you--do
not answer her "Nothing."
Jessie went back to the lobster in silence. She cast looks of
darkest suspicion at Bob. He had never acted that way before.
When dinner was on the table she set out the bottle of Scotch and
the glasses. Bob declined.
"Tell you the truth, Jess," he said. "I've cut out the drink. Help
yourself, of course. If you don't mind I'll try some of the seltzer
straight."
"You've stopped drinking?" she said, looking at him steadily and
unsmilingly. "What for?"
"It wasn't doing me any good," said Bob. "Don't you approve of the
idea?"
Jessie raised her eyebrows and one shoulder slightly.
"Entirely," she said with a sculptured smile. "I could not
conscientiously advise any one to drink or smoke, or whistle on
Sunday."
The meal was finished almost in silence. Bob tried to make talk,
but his efforts lacked the stimulus of previous evenings. He felt
miserable, and once or twice his eye wandered toward the bottle, but
each time the scathing words of his bibulous friend sounded in his
ear, and his mouth set with determination.
Jessie felt the change deeply. The essence of their lives seemed to
have departed suddenly. The restless fever, the false gayety, the
unnatural excitement of the shoddy Bohemia in which they had lived
had dropped away in the space of the popping of a cork. She stole
curious and forlorn glances at the dejected Bob, who bore the guilty
look of at least a wife-beater or a family tyrant.
After dinner the colored maid who came in daily to perform such
chores cleared away the things. Jessie, with an unreadable
countenance, brought back the bottle of Scotch and the glasses and
a bowl of cracked ice and set them on the table.
"May I ask," she said, with some of the ice in her tones, "whether
I am to be included in your sudden spasm of goodness? If not, I'll
make one for myself. It's rather chilly this evening, for some
reason."
"Oh, come now, Jess," said Bob good-naturedly, "don't be too rough
on me. Help yourself, by all means. There's no danger of your
overdoing it. But I thought there was with me; and that's why I
quit. Have yours, and then let's get out the banjo and try over that
new quickstep."
"I've heard," said Jessie in the tones of the oracle, "that drinking
alone is a pernicious habit. No, I don't think I feel like playing
this evening. If we are going to reform we may as well abandon the
evil habit of banjo-playing, too."
She took up a book and sat in her little willow rocker on the other
side of the table. Neither of them spoke for half an hour.
And then Bob laid down his paper and got up with a strange, absent
look on his face and went behind her chair and reached over her
shoulders, taking her hands in his, and laid his face close to hers.
In a moment to Jessie the walls of the seine-hung room vanished, and
she saw the Sullivan County hills and rills. Bob felt her hands
quiver in his as he began the verse from old Omar:
"Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing!"
And then he walked to the table and poured a stiff drink of Scotch
into a glass.
But in that moment a mountain breeze had somehow found its way in
and blown away the mist of the false Bohemia.
Jessie leaped and with one fierce sweep of her hand sent the bottle
and glasses crashing to the floor. The same motion of her arm
carried it around Bob's neck, where it met its mate and fastened
tight.
"Oh, my God, Bobbie--not that verse--I see now. I wasn't always such
a fool, was I? The other one, boy--the one that says: 'Remould it to
the Heart's Desire.' Say that one--'to the Heart's Desire.'"
"I know that one," said Bob. "It goes:
"'Ah! Love, could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire
Would not we--'"
"Let me finish it," said Jessie.
"'Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Remould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!'"
"It's shattered all right," said Bob, crunching some glass under his
heel.
In some dungeon below the accurate ear of Mrs. Pickens, the landlady,
located the smash.
"It's that wild Mr. Babbitt coming home soused again," she said.
"And he's got such a nice little wife, too!"
lecture and the "Bartender's Guide." Relative to the latter, drink
shall swell the theme and be set forth in abundance. Agreeably to
the former, not an elbow shall be crooked.
Bob Babbitt was "off the stuff." Which means--as you will discover
by referring to the unabridged dictionary of Bohemia--that he had
"cut out the booze;" that he was "on the water wagon." The reason
for Bob's sudden attitude of hostility toward the "demon rum"--as
the white ribboners miscall whiskey (see the "Bartender's Guide"),
should be of interest to reformers and saloon-keepers.
There is always hope for a man who, when sober, will not concede or
acknowledge that he was ever drunk. But when a man will say (in the
apt words of the phrase-distiller), "I had a beautiful skate on last
night," you will have to put stuff in his coffee as well as pray for
him.
One evening on his way home Babbitt dropped in at the Broadway bar
that he liked best. Always there were three or four fellows there
from the downtown offices whom he knew. And then there would be
high-balls and stories, and he would hurry home to dinner a little
late but feeling good, and a little sorry for the poor Standard Oil
Company. On this evening as he entered he heard some one say:
"Babbitt was in last night as full as a boiled owl."
Babbitt walked to the bar, and saw in the mirror that his face was
as white as chalk. For the first time he had looked Truth in the
eyes. Others had lied to him; he had dissembled with himself. He was
a drunkard, and had not known it. What he had fondly imagined was a
pleasant exhilaration had been maudlin intoxication. His fancied wit
had been drivel; his gay humors nothing but the noisy vagaries of a
sot. But, never again!
"A glass of seltzer," he said to the bartender.
A little silence fell upon the group of his cronies, who had been
expecting him to join them.
"Going off the stuff, Bob?" one of them asked politely and with more
formality than the highballs ever called forth.
"Yes," said Babbitt.
Some one of the group took up the unwashed thread of a story he had
been telling; the bartender shoved over a dime and a nickel change
from the quarter, ungarnished with his customary smile; and Babbitt
walked out.
Now, Babbitt had a home and a wife--but that is another story. And I
will tell you that story, which will show you a better habit and a
worse story than you could find in the man who invented the phrase.
It began away up in Sullivan County, where so many rivers and so
much trouble begins--or begin; how would you say that? It was July,
and Jessie was a summer boarder at the Mountain Squint Hotel, and
Bob, who was just out of college, saw her one day--and they were
married in September. That's the tabloid novel--one swallow of
water, and it's gone.
But those July days!
Let the exclamation point expound it, for I shall not. For
particulars you might read up on "Romeo and Juliet," and Abraham
Lincoln's thrilling sonnet about "You can fool some of the people,"
&c., and Darwin's works.
But one thing I must tell you about. Both of them were mad over
Omar's Rubaiyat. They knew every verse of the old bluffer by
heart--not consecutively, but picking 'em out here and there as you
fork the mushrooms in a fifty-cent steak a la Bordelaise. Sullivan
County is full of rocks and trees; and Jessie used to sit on them,
and--please be good--used to sit on the rocks; and Bob had a way of
standing behind her with his hands over her shoulders holding her
hands, and his face close to hers, and they would repeat over and
over their favorite verses of the old tent-maker. They saw only the
poetry and philosophy of the lines then--indeed, they agreed that
the Wine was only an image, and that what was meant to be celebrated
was some divinity, or maybe Love or Life. However, at that time
neither of them had tasted the stuff that goes with a sixty-cent
_table d'hote_.
Where was I? Oh, they married and came to New York. Bob showed his
college diploma, and accepted a position filling inkstands in a
lawyer's office at $15 a week. At the end of two years he had worked
up to $50, and gotten his first taste of Bohemia--the kind that
won't stand the borax and formaldehyde tests.
They had two furnished rooms and a little kitchen. To Jess,
accustomed to the mild but beautiful savor of a country town, the
dreggy Bohemia was sugar and spice. She hung fish seines on the
walls of her rooms, and bought a rakish-looking sideboard, and
learned to play the banjo. Twice or thrice a week they dined at
French or Italian _tables d'hote_ in a cloud of smoke, and brag and
unshorn hair. Jess learned to drink a cocktail in order to get the
cherry. At home she smoked a cigarette after dinner. She learned to
pronounce Chianti, and leave her olive stones for the waiter to pick
up. Once she essayed to say la, la, la! in a crowd but got only as
far as the second one. They met one or two couples while dining out
and became friendly with them. The sideboard was stocked with Scotch
and rye and a liqueur. They had their new friends in to dinner and
all were laughing at nothing by 1 A. M. Some plastering fell in the
room below them, for which Bob had to pay $4.50. Thus they footed it
merrily on the ragged frontiers of the country that has no boundary
lines or government.
And soon Bob fell in with his cronies and learned to keep his foot
on the little rail six inches above the floor for an hour or so
every afternoon before he went home. Drink always rubbed him the
right way, and he would reach his rooms as jolly as a sandboy.
Jessie would meet him at the door, and generally they would dance
some insane kind of a rigadoon about the floor by way of greeting.
Once when Bob's feet became confused and he tumbled headlong over a
foot-stool Jessie laughed so heartily and long that he had to throw
all the couch pillows at her to make her hush.
In such wise life was speeding for them on the day when Bob Babbitt
first felt the power that the giftie gi'ed him.
But let us get back to our lamb and mint sauce.
When Bob got home that evening he found Jessie in a long apron
cutting up a lobster for the Newburg. Usually when Bob came in
mellow from his hour at the bar his welcome was hilarious, though
somewhat tinctured with Scotch smoke.
By screams and snatches of song and certain audible testimonials of
domestic felicity was his advent proclaimed. When she heard his foot
on the stairs the old maid in the hall room always stuffed cotton
into her ears. At first Jessie had shrunk from the rudeness and
favor of these spiritual greetings, but as the fog of the false
Bohemia gradually encompassed her she came to accept them as love's
true and proper greeting.
Bob came in without a word, smiled, kissed her neatly but
noiselessly, took up a paper and sat down. In the hall room the old
maid held her two plugs of cotton poised, filled with anxiety.
Jessie dropped lobster and knife and ran to him with frightened
eyes.
"What's the matter, Bob, are you ill?"
"Not at all, dear."
"Then what's the matter with you?"
"Nothing."
Hearken, brethren. When She-who-has-a-right-to-ask interrogates you
concerning a change she finds in your mood answer her thus: Tell her
that you, in a sudden rage, have murdered your grandmother; tell her
that you have robbed orphans and that remorse has stricken you; tell
her your fortune is swept away; that you are beset by enemies, by
bunions, by any kind of malevolent fate; but do not, if peace and
happiness are worth as much as a grain of mustard seed to you--do
not answer her "Nothing."
Jessie went back to the lobster in silence. She cast looks of
darkest suspicion at Bob. He had never acted that way before.
When dinner was on the table she set out the bottle of Scotch and
the glasses. Bob declined.
"Tell you the truth, Jess," he said. "I've cut out the drink. Help
yourself, of course. If you don't mind I'll try some of the seltzer
straight."
"You've stopped drinking?" she said, looking at him steadily and
unsmilingly. "What for?"
"It wasn't doing me any good," said Bob. "Don't you approve of the
idea?"
Jessie raised her eyebrows and one shoulder slightly.
"Entirely," she said with a sculptured smile. "I could not
conscientiously advise any one to drink or smoke, or whistle on
Sunday."
The meal was finished almost in silence. Bob tried to make talk,
but his efforts lacked the stimulus of previous evenings. He felt
miserable, and once or twice his eye wandered toward the bottle, but
each time the scathing words of his bibulous friend sounded in his
ear, and his mouth set with determination.
Jessie felt the change deeply. The essence of their lives seemed to
have departed suddenly. The restless fever, the false gayety, the
unnatural excitement of the shoddy Bohemia in which they had lived
had dropped away in the space of the popping of a cork. She stole
curious and forlorn glances at the dejected Bob, who bore the guilty
look of at least a wife-beater or a family tyrant.
After dinner the colored maid who came in daily to perform such
chores cleared away the things. Jessie, with an unreadable
countenance, brought back the bottle of Scotch and the glasses and
a bowl of cracked ice and set them on the table.
"May I ask," she said, with some of the ice in her tones, "whether
I am to be included in your sudden spasm of goodness? If not, I'll
make one for myself. It's rather chilly this evening, for some
reason."
"Oh, come now, Jess," said Bob good-naturedly, "don't be too rough
on me. Help yourself, by all means. There's no danger of your
overdoing it. But I thought there was with me; and that's why I
quit. Have yours, and then let's get out the banjo and try over that
new quickstep."
"I've heard," said Jessie in the tones of the oracle, "that drinking
alone is a pernicious habit. No, I don't think I feel like playing
this evening. If we are going to reform we may as well abandon the
evil habit of banjo-playing, too."
She took up a book and sat in her little willow rocker on the other
side of the table. Neither of them spoke for half an hour.
And then Bob laid down his paper and got up with a strange, absent
look on his face and went behind her chair and reached over her
shoulders, taking her hands in his, and laid his face close to hers.
In a moment to Jessie the walls of the seine-hung room vanished, and
she saw the Sullivan County hills and rills. Bob felt her hands
quiver in his as he began the verse from old Omar:
"Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing!"
And then he walked to the table and poured a stiff drink of Scotch
into a glass.
But in that moment a mountain breeze had somehow found its way in
and blown away the mist of the false Bohemia.
Jessie leaped and with one fierce sweep of her hand sent the bottle
and glasses crashing to the floor. The same motion of her arm
carried it around Bob's neck, where it met its mate and fastened
tight.
"Oh, my God, Bobbie--not that verse--I see now. I wasn't always such
a fool, was I? The other one, boy--the one that says: 'Remould it to
the Heart's Desire.' Say that one--'to the Heart's Desire.'"
"I know that one," said Bob. "It goes:
"'Ah! Love, could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire
Would not we--'"
"Let me finish it," said Jessie.
"'Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Remould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!'"
"It's shattered all right," said Bob, crunching some glass under his
heel.
In some dungeon below the accurate ear of Mrs. Pickens, the landlady,
located the smash.
"It's that wild Mr. Babbitt coming home soused again," she said.
"And he's got such a nice little wife, too!"
胡適 魯拜一首 (含版本異同)
魯拜集是英文翻譯界的第二盛世事
昨天蘇錦坤先生提省我它的版本異同 即台北晨鐘版選的是第一/二版的 而胡適用的是更後來的版本
Dear HC,
2011.12.4 ＜譯藝＞提到胡適翻譯「魯拜集」
O love! Could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this Sorry Scheme of Things entire,Would we not shatter it to bits, and ThenRemould it nearer to the heart’s desire!要是天公換了卿和我，該把這糊塗(後改糟糕) (最後改寒傖)世界一齊打破，
再團再煉再調和，
好依著你我的安排，
把這世界重新造過。我手上的版本《狂酒歌》 1971年，晨鐘出版社
譯文為：
啊，我愛，難道我們不能與命運溝通，
將這不幸的世界緊握掌中；
難道我們不能把它粉碎擊破，
重新塑造接近心中渴望的一個?
http://yifertw.blogspot.com/2010/01/rubaiyat-of-omar- khayyam.html
發現英文原文不同(狂酒歌為波斯詩人 Omar Khayyam 奧馬 開儼 所作的阿拉伯文詩歌)，英譯也有幾個版本，這也是校勘學(
Textual Criticism)的議題.
我手上的英文是
Ah, love! Could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this Sorry Scheme of Things entire,Would not we shatter it to bits, and ThenRemould it nearer to the heart’s desire!Ken
***
讓我查一下
Comparing editions
This page shows any textual differences between Stanza 108 of the second edition and the corresponding stanzas (if any) in other editions.
If there are differences, they will be highlighted in red on an yellow background.
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Stanza 73 (1859)
Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Stanza 108 (1868)
Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Stanza 99 (1872)
Ah Love! could thou and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Stanza 99 (1879)
Ah Love! could thou and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
***2011/12月/4
胡適在1942年2月17日給趙元任的信：
我匆匆出門，作八千英里的旅行，── 他們叫做 Grand Circle Tour ──動機是加拿大政府要我在Vancouver 幫他們作一次 Victory Loan 的演說。但是我有近兩年，沒有到西岸了，所以借此到西岸各大城去一遭，到了洛杉磯，然後東歸。，你的字典樣本，我竟沒能細讀。只好等我回去時再回信了。在這裏我要請教你一件小事。我在二十年前曾翻譯波斯詩人Omar 的「絕句」一章。當時本是「借他人的酒杯，澆自己的塊壘」，譯文雖然有人愛讀 ── 因為文章通順，音節響亮，── 但是很不正確。原文是：O love! Could you and I with Him conspireTo grasp this Sorry Scheme of Things entire,Would we not shatter it to bits, and ThenRemould it nearer to the heart’s desire!我的舊譯文是：(胡頌平注：譯題《希望》，參閱民國八年二月二十八日條。)要是天公換了卿和我，該把這糊塗(後改糟糕) (最後改寒傖)世界一齊打破，再團再煉再調和，好依著你我的安排，把這世界重新造過。前些時，一天晚上睡不著，我把這首詩改翻了，開了電燈，記在一個本子上，才睡了。後來周鯁生看了這新譯本，說是比舊譯好得多了。我把這稿子抄給你看，請你不客氣的修改，請你注意修改兩方面：一是白話的文法和「習慣」(idiom) ，二是音節。還有第三方面，就是譯文的正確程度。倘使偺(們)倆能和老天爺打成一氣，好教偺抓住了這整個兒天和地，偺可不先要打破了這不成樣子的東西，再從頭改造翻新，好教偺(？)真個稱心如意！這時候翻譯「莪馬」當然還是「借他人的酒杯，澆自己的塊壘」呵！在改詩工作上，你府上還有韵卿和四位小姐，他們都能幫我改白話。適之 卅一、二、十七因為寫這首詩的第一句，我想起三百年前一支地道的民歌，地道的老百姓的革命歌。這是我在一部清朝小說《豆棚閒話》裏發現的，據說是明末流寇時代最流行的一支民歌。我現在抄給你，盼望你能給他作個曲譜：老天爺你年紀大，耳又聾來眼又花，你看不見人聽不見話！，殺人放火的享盡榮華，吃素看經的活活餓殺！老天爺你不會做天，你塌了罷！老天爺你不會做天，你塌了罷！
"不同時空的對照" 此篇翻譯不穩定
A Tale of Flowering Fortunes (Eiga monogatari)
A tale of flowering fortunes: annals of Japanese a... Annals of Japanese Aristrocratic Life in the Heian Period Tr. William H. and Helen Craig McCullough 這兩位都有人類學和文史方面相關論文
可參考C. Levi-Strauss 的論文 "不同時空的對照"
(此篇翻譯不穩定 p.88對 p.93變成"榮氏物語"
收入 "遙遠的目光" 北京:中國人民大學 81-112
此書原來可稱結構人類學 iii
Stanford University Press, 1980; 2 Volumes
2012年4月3日 星期二
小記日本文學名譯家E Seidensticke和René Sieffert
2012年讀《看聽讀》《月的另一面：一位人類學家的日本觀察》
知道 另外一位日本文學知名譯家René Sieffert 除下文的翻譯 還有保元物語 平治物語
René Sieffert (4 août 1923 - 3 février 2004) est un japonologue français, professeur à l'Institut national des langues et civilisations orientales (INALCO).
René Sieffert a traduit de nombreux ouvrages et a aidé à rapprocher la littérature japonaise des lecteurs francophones. Par ailleurs avec son épouse Simone, il a créé en 1971, quand il était président de l'INALCO, la maison d'édition universitaire Publications orientalistes de France (POF).
Ouvrages[modifier]
Ses œuvres principales :- La Littérature japonaise, (ISBN 2716902291)
- Les Religions du Japon, (ISBN 2716903220)
- Treize siècles de lettres japonaises (2 vol.), (ISBN 2716903255)
- Le Japon et la France : images d'une découverte, (ISBN 2716900116)
- Théâtre classique, (ISBN 2716901856)
Traductions[modifier]
Quelques traductions majeures :- Le Dit de Hôgen, Le Dit de Heiji, trad. intégrale, éd. POF, coll. « Le Cycle Épique des Taïra et des Minamoto »
- Le Dit des Heike (平家物語, Heike monogatari?), trad. intégrale, éd. POF, coll. « Le Cycle Épique des Taïra et des Minamoto » - 1997 - (ISBN 978-2716903080)
- Le Dit du Genji (源氏物語, Genji monogatari?) de dame Murasaki Shikibu - 1988 - (ISBN 978-2-7169-0261-8)
- Les Belles endormies de Yasunari Kawabata, disponible en coll. « Livre de poche »
- Éloge de l'ombre de Tanizaki Jun'ichirô
- Contes d'Uji, trad. intégrale, éd. POF, coll. « Les œuvres capitales de la littérature japonaise », 1986
- Contes de Yamato (大和物語, Yamato monogatari?), suivis du Dit de Heichū (平中物語?), trad. intégrale, éd. POF, 1979
- De cent poètes un poème (百人一首, Hyakunin isshu?), trad. intégrale, éd. POF, coll. « Tama », 1993
***
我在2004年的小文:小記翻譯名家E Seidensticke
台灣每年入境日本的旅次突破百萬。不過就分類而言，
其實，我的這種觀點之立場很「老舊」。譬如說，讀新井一二三 ＜另一種專業：東京學---JR中央線之謎＞（2004.12.
譬如說，紐約時報的當地新房地產新產品 'Quality and Convenience,' at a Price
(By ELEANOR CHARLES Published: December 5, 2004 )是萬樁類似事情之一端：
Homes at River Oaks on Long Ridge Road in Stamford are selling for $1.445 million to $1.56 million. "This is an extraordinarily robust upper-end boom in luxury housing with maintenance-free living that is not available in Greenwich or New Canaan," said James Fieber, head of the Fieber Group, builders of the 28-acre subdivision. "Demographically, it's a segment that will increase in viability. It's not downscaling, it's life-scaling that appeals to people from their 30's to their 70's." 】
「凡是對東京歷史有興趣的人，非看美籍日本文學專家Edward Seidensticker寫的《東京．下町．山手》和《
如果你是＜Simon University＞ 的Seidensticker的忠實讀者，而且記性很好，
最近google scholar很方便，你想列舉他的作品，彈指間就完成了（
前google scholar前兩頁標題大要。
日本：
Tokyo Rising: The City Since the Great Earthquake - E Seidensticker , Charles E. Tuttle, 1991 《東京起來》【hc：《東京新興起：
Low City, High City: Tokyo From Edo to the Earthquake, 1867-1923 -
E Seidensticke Middlesex, New York: Knopf, 1983 /UK: Penguin, 1985 《東京．下町．山手》
Japan EG Seidensticker Time-Life, 1968 這本不是台灣翻譯的『早期日本』
Tradition and Modernization in Japanese Culture -DH Shively, C Blacker - Princeton University Press, 1971
This Country Japan EG Seidensticker Kodansha, 1984
Showa: The Japan of Hirohito -C Gluck, SR Graubard Norton, 1992
----
日本古典文學：【Key Words
源氏物語 The tale of Genji
平安時代 Heian Period
日本文化 The culture of Japan
光源氏 Genji The Shining Prince
紫式部 Lady Murasaki Shikibu
源氏物語の概略 Summary of the tale of Genji
http://mcel.pacificu.edu/as/
The Tale of Genji (Everyman's Library, No.108) Murasaki Shikibu (著), Edward G. Seidensticker (著), Murasaki Shikibu (著) The Tale of Genji (Everyman's Library, No.108)
Genji Days - E Seidensticker New York: Kodansha International, 1983 （翻譯 ＜源氏物語＞日紀感言整理。）
【舉個例，第97頁10月7日周六 整天早上和前午都在翻譯Hotaru…..Yes, the treatment of Genji is distinctly ambiguous, ironical, one might wish to say; and there is an interesting foretaste of Niou. …（foretaste noun [S] 1. 【事】 先嚐,試食;預嚐到的滋味;預示,前兆,徵象）】
The Gossamer Years: A Diary by a Noblewoman of Heian Japan EG Seidensticker -Tuttle, 1964
----
日本近代文學：
Kafu the Scribbler: The Life and Writings of Nagai Kafu, 1879–1959 -永井荷風（他的作品大陸翻譯不少；
讀本 Modern Japanese Stories: An Anthology
I Morris, E Seidensticker, M Kuwata - Tuttle, 1962
三島
The decay of the angel - Y Mishima, E Seidensticker New York: Tuttle, 1973
川端康成：
Thousand Cranes - Y Kawabata, E Seidensticker - Knopf, 1958
Snow Country -Y Kawabata, E Seidensticker - Cited by 1
Knopf, 1956
House of the Sleeping Beauties: And Other StoriesY Kawabata, E Seidensticker Kodansha America, 1994
----自傳和翻譯論
[BOOK] The Craft of Translation - Library Search - Web Search
J Biguenet, R Schulte - Cited by 6
Chicago, The University of Chicago Press, 1989
[BOOK] Tokyo Central: A Memoir - Library Search - Web Search
E Seidensticker
Seattle, Wash.: University of Washington Press, 2002
Genji Days - E Seidensticker New York: Kodansha International, 1983 （翻譯 ＜源氏物語＞日紀感言整理。）
2012年4月2日 星期一
"一個"等是可怕的翻譯/楊憲益夫婦荷塘月色？
致張華
(謝謝他讓我先睹為快: 談翻譯中的「不譯」(2012.4.2修))
所言極是
近日讀 梁任公先生年譜長編初稿 台北:世界書局 1958
胡適之先生的序文(原手寫影印) 中有幾處將 "一......" 之一塗掉....
(梁任公先生年譜長編初稿 台北:世界書局 1958
此書採用胡適之先生珍藏的照片 梁啟超先生等人的墨寶 胡適的序言等 還有編者丁文江先生的弟弟的書籍經過.....)
楊憲益夫婦的翻譯，出自何處，最好交待 。我有點驚訝他們會翻譯朱自清的荷塘月色.....
用這通信錄懷念那對夫婦
了不起的愛情與友情
我說
楊憲益夫婦的翻譯出自何處最好交待 我有點驚訝他們會翻譯朱自清的荷塘月色.....
張華答
楊憲益夫婦的翻譯出自網路：http://www.en84.com/article-114-3.html
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