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Selected poems：《希尼自選詩集：1988-2013》
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Selected poems：《希尼自選詩集：1988-2013》
書名：希尼自選詩集(1966-2013)(全2冊)
作者：謝默斯·希尼 (Seamus Heaney)
譯者：羅池
出版社：人民文學出版社
出版日期：2025/10
《希尼自選詩集：1966-1987》涵蓋了謝默斯·希尼前半程的創作生涯。從第一本詩集開始，謝默斯·希尼的寫作就“成熟而確定”，正如奧斯汀·克拉克刊於《愛爾蘭時報》上的評論所言，貫穿二十世紀六十年代以及七十年代的創作：詩集《一個博物學家的死亡》(1966)《通向黑暗的門》(1969)《越冬》(1972)《北方》(1975)，還包括傑作《田野作業》(1979)和《苦路島》(1984)，收尾篇目選自榮獲英國惠特布萊德文學獎的詩集《山楂燈籠》(1987)。
《希尼自選詩集：1988-2013》這部詩集彙編了詩人所選的後期詩歌，包括突破性的詩集《靈視》(1991)《水平儀》(1996)和《貝奧武甫》(1999)，也涵蓋頗受讚譽的詩集《電燈》(2001)《區線和環線》(2006)和《人鏈》(2010)。本書也收錄了希尼創作的最後一首詩《應時合拍》。這部詩集尤其記錄了詩人自1995年榮獲諾貝爾文學獎之後精彩非凡的詩歌寫作。與之前出版的自選詩集一道，完整呈現了謝默斯·希尼的詩歌創作生涯。
〈祈雨棒〉
給貝絲和蘭德
把祈雨棒倒竪，接下來發生的
是一種音樂，你以前絕對從沒聽過
這樣的。在仙人掌的莖乾裡
大雨傾盆，水閘噴湧，漫流和回浪
一路泛濫衝刷。你站在那裡像一管蘆笛
被水奏響，你再輕輕搖動它
漸弱音就淌過它的全部音階，
像檐槽滴答著停歇。而此刻又有
幾顆水珠從青蔥的葉片滾落，
然後是青草與雛菊上纖微的小濕露；
然後是燦燦的細雨，風中隱隱的呼吸聲。
再將祈雨棒倒竪一次。接下來發生的
是絲毫未減的靈驗，無論此前已發生過
一次、兩次、十次或一千次。
誰會在乎那傳出的一切音樂不過是
沙礫或乾草籽在仙人掌裡滾動呢？
你就像一個財主要想進天堂
先得穿過一顆雨滴的耳朵。請再聽一遍。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
The Rain Stick
Up-end the stick and what happens next
Is a music that you never would have known
To listen for. In a cactus stalk
Downpour, sluice-rush, spillage and backwash
Come flowing through. You stand there like a pipe
Being played by water, you shake it again lightly
And diminuendo runs through all its scales
Like a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comes
A sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,
Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;
The glitter-drizzle, almost-breaths of air.
Up-end the stick again. What happens next
Is undiminished for having happened once,
Twice, ten, and thousand times before.
Who cares if all the music that transpires
Is the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?
You are like a rich man entering heaven
Through the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.
〈砂石路〉
河水砂石。從起初，就那樣。
盛夏，釣魚人的摩托車
深陷路旁花叢，像落馬的騎士，
我們過後曾追問他的幽靈：“運氣好嗎？”
當世界的引擎都發動起來，青嫩的堅果
晃悠著、簇擁著，越來越靠近旋渦。
樹林浸入水中。燧石和砂岩塊
在淺灘的閃爍中互相碰撞著磨圓
並縮小，麥芽糖一般的湍急水流裡
成群的鯽魚被我們的玩鬧所驚嚇——
一種永恆終被打破，當拖拉機
將它的挖鬥擦進砂石灘
然後水泥攪拌機開始活動起來，
穿工作服的男人們，像被拘來的幽鬼，
在攪拌混凝土，填料、轉動、換向、轉動，彷彿
有一座埃及法老的制磚廠在他們頭腦中燃燒。
*
珍藏和讚美這砂石的真實性吧。
識貨的人奉為至寶。大地的精華。
它那單調的咔嚓之歌刮著鐵鏟
對“價格公道”之類的詞進行敲測和噴砂。
無論河裡或河外都一樣美，
在你的體內也有著砂石的王國——
在深深處，在遠遠處，清清的水淌過
焦糖褐、冰雹白、鯖魚藍的卵石。
但要真正淘洗出的那種物質會讓你
在彎腰拖動滿滿的推車時保持緩慢和穩當，
像進入一種肉身的赦免中，
從疲憊的骨頭和脊髓裡感覺到已懺悔過的生命。
那就凌空蹈步吧，哪怕你明知這樣不對，
也要把自己建立在某一處境地，介於
那些混合了灰色水泥的堅固工件
和一首名為《砂石路》的召喚綠色的曲子之間。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
The Gravel Walks
River gravel. In the beginning, that.
High summer, and the angler’s motorbike
Deep in roadside flowers, like a fallen knight
Whose ghost we’d lately questioned: ‘Any luck?’
As the engines of the world prepared, green nuts
Dangled and clustered closer to the whirlpool.
The trees dipped down. The flints and sandstone-bits
Worked themselves smooth and smaller in a sparkle
Of shallow, hurrying barley-sugar water
Where minnows schooled that we scared when we played –
An eternity that ended once a tractor
Dropped its link-box in the gravel bed
And cement mixers began to come to life
And men in dungarees, like captive shades,
Mixed concrete, loaded, wheeled, turned, wheeled, as if
The Pharaoh’s brickyards burned inside their heads.
*
Hoard and praise the verity of gravel.
Gems for the undeluded. Milt of earth.
Its plain, champing song against the shovel
Soundtests and sandblasts words like ‘honest worth’.
Beautiful in or out of the river,
The kingdom of gravel was inside you too –
Deep down, far back, clear water running over
Pebbles of caramel, hailstone, mackerel-blue.
But the actual washed stuff kept you slow and steady
As you went stooping with your barrow full
Into an absolution of the body,
The shriven life tired bones and marrow feel.
So walk on air against your better judgement
Establishing yourself somewhere in between
Those solid batches mixed with grey cement
And a tune called ‘The Gravel Walks’ that conjures green.
〈格蘭莫的烏鶇〉
我來時，你在草地上
給靜寂注入生命，
但只要稍不對勁
就隨時會驚飛。
我走時，你在青藤中。
你啊，烏鶇，我的愛。
我要停車，止步，留著神。
呼吸。只是呼吸和靜坐，
而我從前翻譯過的詩句
又浮現：“我想離開
去死者居所，去我爸爸
那低矮的土屋”。
我想起有個人已去了他那裡，
一個小小的靜寂舞者——
揪心的孩子，早夭的弟弟——
蹦蹦跳跳穿過院子，
見我回家就樂壞了，
在我的想家第一個學期結束時。
又記起一個鄰居
那場事故之後很久說的：
“那只鳥在棚屋頂上，
就在屋脊上停了幾個星期——
我當時什麼都沒說，
但我根本不喜歡那只鳥。”
車門自動鎖咔嗒
關上，烏鶇的恐慌
是短暫的，在一瞬間
我從鳥瞰看到自己，
礫石路上的一個影子
在我的生命居所的屋前。
樹籬上的雀躍者呀，對你而言
我是絕對，你的伶俐回嘴，
你的每一次若即若離的回歸，
你挑剔的、神經質的金啄——
我來時，你在草地上，
我走時，你在青藤中。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
The Blackbird of Glanmore
On the grass when I arrive,
Filling the stillness with life,
But ready to scare off
At the very first wrong move.
In the ivy when I leave.
It’s you, blackbird, I love.
I park, pause, take heed.
Breathe. Just breathe and sit
And lines I once translated
Come back: ‘I want away
To the house of death, to my father
Under the low clay roof.’
And I think of one gone to him,
A little stillness dancer –
Haunter-son, lost brother –
Cavorting through the yard,
So glad to see me home,
My homesick first term over.
And think of a neighbour’s words
Long after the accident:
‘Yon bird on the shed roof,
Up on the ridge for weeks –
I said nothing at the time
But I never liked yon bird.’
The automatic lock
Clunks shut, the blackbird’s panic
Is shortlived, for a second
I’ve a bird’s eye view of myself,
A shadow on raked gravel
In front of my house of life.
Hedge-hop, I am absolute
For you, your ready talkback,
Your each stand-offish comeback,
Your picky, nervy goldbeak –
On the grass when I arrive,
In the ivy when I leave.
〈給艾薇因的風箏〉
仿喬萬尼．帕斯科里《風箏》
來自另一個生命和時間地點的空氣，
淡淡藍的天國之氣正托起
一扇白翅迎著微風鼓翼高飛，
啊，那是風箏！在從前的下午
我們成群結隊出發
穿過荊棘樹篙和剝落的刺頭，
我又站到這個位置，久久在
安阿霍利什山腳仰望藍天，
重回那片田野放飛我們的長尾彗星。
此刻它歪斜斜地盤旋，拉起，轉頭，俯衝，
然後又飛升，它隨風而上，一直
讓我們在下邊高聲地歡呼。
上升著，而我的手像個線軸
不停轉動，風箏像一棵細長花莖
攀緣著，上啊上啊，更遠更高，
攜著放風等人的胸膺和穩扎的雙腳
以及專注的臉龐上的那份渴望
直到斷了線——分離，欣喜——
風箏遠去，一路獨行，像吹落的果實。
譯注：
1.艾薇因（Aibhin）是希尼的二孫女。
2.帕斯科里（Giovani Pascoli, 1855-1912），意大利詩人。希尼晚年譯過帕斯科里的《風箏》（L’Agulone），下面這首詩基本出自前作中段6個小節譯文。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
A Kite for Aibhín
after ‘L’Aquilone’ by Giovanni Pascoli (1855–1912)
Air from another life and time and place,
Pale blue heavenly air is supporting
A white wing beating high against the breeze,
And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon
All of us there trooped out
Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn,
I take my stand again, halt opposite
Anahorish Hill to scan the blue,
Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet.
And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew,
Lifts itself, goes with the wind until
It rises to loud cheers from us below.
Rises, and my hand is like a spindle
Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower
Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher
The longing in the breast and planted feet
And gazing face and heart of the kite flier
Until string breaks and – separate, elate –
The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.
書名：希尼自選詩集(1966-2013)(全2冊)
作者：謝默斯·希尼 (Seamus Heaney)
譯者：羅池
出版社：人民文學出版社
出版日期：2025/10
《希尼自選詩集：1966-1987》涵蓋了謝默斯·希尼前半程的創作生涯。從第一本詩集開始，謝默斯·希尼的寫作就“成熟而確定”，正如奧斯汀·克拉克刊於《愛爾蘭時報》上的評論所言，貫穿二十世紀六十年代以及七十年代的創作：詩集《一個博物學家的死亡》(1966)《通向黑暗的門》(1969)《越冬》(1972)《北方》(1975)，還包括傑作《田野作業》(1979)和《苦路島》(1984)，收尾篇目選自榮獲英國惠特布萊德文學獎的詩集《山楂燈籠》(1987)。
《希尼自選詩集：1988-2013》這部詩集彙編了詩人所選的後期詩歌，包括突破性的詩集《靈視》(1991)《水平儀》(1996)和《貝奧武甫》(1999)，也涵蓋頗受讚譽的詩集《電燈》(2001)《區線和環線》(2006)和《人鏈》(2010)。本書也收錄了希尼創作的最後一首詩《應時合拍》。這部詩集尤其記錄了詩人自1995年榮獲諾貝爾文學獎之後精彩非凡的詩歌寫作。與之前出版的自選詩集一道，完整呈現了謝默斯·希尼的詩歌創作生涯。
〈祈雨棒〉
給貝絲和蘭德
把祈雨棒倒竪，接下來發生的
是一種音樂，你以前絕對從沒聽過
這樣的。在仙人掌的莖乾裡
大雨傾盆，水閘噴湧，漫流和回浪
一路泛濫衝刷。你站在那裡像一管蘆笛
被水奏響，你再輕輕搖動它
漸弱音就淌過它的全部音階，
像檐槽滴答著停歇。而此刻又有
幾顆水珠從青蔥的葉片滾落，
然後是青草與雛菊上纖微的小濕露；
然後是燦燦的細雨，風中隱隱的呼吸聲。
再將祈雨棒倒竪一次。接下來發生的
是絲毫未減的靈驗，無論此前已發生過
一次、兩次、十次或一千次。
誰會在乎那傳出的一切音樂不過是
沙礫或乾草籽在仙人掌裡滾動呢？
你就像一個財主要想進天堂
先得穿過一顆雨滴的耳朵。請再聽一遍。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
The Rain Stick
Up-end the stick and what happens next
Is a music that you never would have known
To listen for. In a cactus stalk
Downpour, sluice-rush, spillage and backwash
Come flowing through. You stand there like a pipe
Being played by water, you shake it again lightly
And diminuendo runs through all its scales
Like a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comes
A sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,
Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;
The glitter-drizzle, almost-breaths of air.
Up-end the stick again. What happens next
Is undiminished for having happened once,
Twice, ten, and thousand times before.
Who cares if all the music that transpires
Is the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?
You are like a rich man entering heaven
Through the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.
〈砂石路〉
河水砂石。從起初，就那樣。
盛夏，釣魚人的摩托車
深陷路旁花叢，像落馬的騎士，
我們過後曾追問他的幽靈：“運氣好嗎？”
當世界的引擎都發動起來，青嫩的堅果
晃悠著、簇擁著，越來越靠近旋渦。
樹林浸入水中。燧石和砂岩塊
在淺灘的閃爍中互相碰撞著磨圓
並縮小，麥芽糖一般的湍急水流裡
成群的鯽魚被我們的玩鬧所驚嚇——
一種永恆終被打破，當拖拉機
將它的挖鬥擦進砂石灘
然後水泥攪拌機開始活動起來，
穿工作服的男人們，像被拘來的幽鬼，
在攪拌混凝土，填料、轉動、換向、轉動，彷彿
有一座埃及法老的制磚廠在他們頭腦中燃燒。
*
珍藏和讚美這砂石的真實性吧。
識貨的人奉為至寶。大地的精華。
它那單調的咔嚓之歌刮著鐵鏟
對“價格公道”之類的詞進行敲測和噴砂。
無論河裡或河外都一樣美，
在你的體內也有著砂石的王國——
在深深處，在遠遠處，清清的水淌過
焦糖褐、冰雹白、鯖魚藍的卵石。
但要真正淘洗出的那種物質會讓你
在彎腰拖動滿滿的推車時保持緩慢和穩當，
像進入一種肉身的赦免中，
從疲憊的骨頭和脊髓裡感覺到已懺悔過的生命。
那就凌空蹈步吧，哪怕你明知這樣不對，
也要把自己建立在某一處境地，介於
那些混合了灰色水泥的堅固工件
和一首名為《砂石路》的召喚綠色的曲子之間。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
The Gravel Walks
River gravel. In the beginning, that.
High summer, and the angler’s motorbike
Deep in roadside flowers, like a fallen knight
Whose ghost we’d lately questioned: ‘Any luck?’
As the engines of the world prepared, green nuts
Dangled and clustered closer to the whirlpool.
The trees dipped down. The flints and sandstone-bits
Worked themselves smooth and smaller in a sparkle
Of shallow, hurrying barley-sugar water
Where minnows schooled that we scared when we played –
An eternity that ended once a tractor
Dropped its link-box in the gravel bed
And cement mixers began to come to life
And men in dungarees, like captive shades,
Mixed concrete, loaded, wheeled, turned, wheeled, as if
The Pharaoh’s brickyards burned inside their heads.
*
Hoard and praise the verity of gravel.
Gems for the undeluded. Milt of earth.
Its plain, champing song against the shovel
Soundtests and sandblasts words like ‘honest worth’.
Beautiful in or out of the river,
The kingdom of gravel was inside you too –
Deep down, far back, clear water running over
Pebbles of caramel, hailstone, mackerel-blue.
But the actual washed stuff kept you slow and steady
As you went stooping with your barrow full
Into an absolution of the body,
The shriven life tired bones and marrow feel.
So walk on air against your better judgement
Establishing yourself somewhere in between
Those solid batches mixed with grey cement
And a tune called ‘The Gravel Walks’ that conjures green.
〈格蘭莫的烏鶇〉
我來時，你在草地上
給靜寂注入生命，
但只要稍不對勁
就隨時會驚飛。
我走時，你在青藤中。
你啊，烏鶇，我的愛。
我要停車，止步，留著神。
呼吸。只是呼吸和靜坐，
而我從前翻譯過的詩句
又浮現：“我想離開
去死者居所，去我爸爸
那低矮的土屋”。
我想起有個人已去了他那裡，
一個小小的靜寂舞者——
揪心的孩子，早夭的弟弟——
蹦蹦跳跳穿過院子，
見我回家就樂壞了，
在我的想家第一個學期結束時。
又記起一個鄰居
那場事故之後很久說的：
“那只鳥在棚屋頂上，
就在屋脊上停了幾個星期——
我當時什麼都沒說，
但我根本不喜歡那只鳥。”
車門自動鎖咔嗒
關上，烏鶇的恐慌
是短暫的，在一瞬間
我從鳥瞰看到自己，
礫石路上的一個影子
在我的生命居所的屋前。
樹籬上的雀躍者呀，對你而言
我是絕對，你的伶俐回嘴，
你的每一次若即若離的回歸，
你挑剔的、神經質的金啄——
我來時，你在草地上，
我走時，你在青藤中。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
The Blackbird of Glanmore
On the grass when I arrive,
Filling the stillness with life,
But ready to scare off
At the very first wrong move.
In the ivy when I leave.
It’s you, blackbird, I love.
I park, pause, take heed.
Breathe. Just breathe and sit
And lines I once translated
Come back: ‘I want away
To the house of death, to my father
Under the low clay roof.’
And I think of one gone to him,
A little stillness dancer –
Haunter-son, lost brother –
Cavorting through the yard,
So glad to see me home,
My homesick first term over.
And think of a neighbour’s words
Long after the accident:
‘Yon bird on the shed roof,
Up on the ridge for weeks –
I said nothing at the time
But I never liked yon bird.’
The automatic lock
Clunks shut, the blackbird’s panic
Is shortlived, for a second
I’ve a bird’s eye view of myself,
A shadow on raked gravel
In front of my house of life.
Hedge-hop, I am absolute
For you, your ready talkback,
Your each stand-offish comeback,
Your picky, nervy goldbeak –
On the grass when I arrive,
In the ivy when I leave.
〈給艾薇因的風箏〉
仿喬萬尼．帕斯科里《風箏》
來自另一個生命和時間地點的空氣，
淡淡藍的天國之氣正托起
一扇白翅迎著微風鼓翼高飛，
啊，那是風箏！在從前的下午
我們成群結隊出發
穿過荊棘樹篙和剝落的刺頭，
我又站到這個位置，久久在
安阿霍利什山腳仰望藍天，
重回那片田野放飛我們的長尾彗星。
此刻它歪斜斜地盤旋，拉起，轉頭，俯衝，
然後又飛升，它隨風而上，一直
讓我們在下邊高聲地歡呼。
上升著，而我的手像個線軸
不停轉動，風箏像一棵細長花莖
攀緣著，上啊上啊，更遠更高，
攜著放風等人的胸膺和穩扎的雙腳
以及專注的臉龐上的那份渴望
直到斷了線——分離，欣喜——
風箏遠去，一路獨行，像吹落的果實。
譯注：
1.艾薇因（Aibhin）是希尼的二孫女。
2.帕斯科里（Giovani Pascoli, 1855-1912），意大利詩人。希尼晚年譯過帕斯科里的《風箏》（L’Agulone），下面這首詩基本出自前作中段6個小節譯文。
[讀者自行補充英文資料]
A Kite for Aibhín
after ‘L’Aquilone’ by Giovanni Pascoli (1855–1912)
Air from another life and time and place,
Pale blue heavenly air is supporting
A white wing beating high against the breeze,
And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon
All of us there trooped out
Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn,
I take my stand again, halt opposite
Anahorish Hill to scan the blue,
Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet.
And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew,
Lifts itself, goes with the wind until
It rises to loud cheers from us below.
Rises, and my hand is like a spindle
Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower
Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher
The longing in the breast and planted feet
And gazing face and heart of the kite flier
Until string breaks and – separate, elate –
The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.
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