这好像是云使的又一个版本 MEGHADUTA Part One A year from amorousness: it passes slowly. So thought a Yaksha by his master sent, For scanting duty, to the Ramagiry: To mope in penance groves as banishment By rivers Sｉtａ's bathing there made holy. Áshａdha's ending on the mountain found Him weakened, gold ring slipping from his wrist, And mixed his pleasure when a cloud came down So playfully to hug the summit mist, As elephants in heat will butt the ground. In tears withheld he took that fall from grace, From wealth attending on the King of Kings. The otherworld that brimmed in cloudy air Was still discomfort when far longing brings A breath to hold him to that neck's embrace. With now the rainy month stood close at hand, To fresh Kutaja blooms he adds his plea And asks most courteously the cloud bring news Of welfare to his loved-one ─ words that she, Revived to hear of him, will understand. How can a cloud so moving, mixed and got Of water vapour, fire and wind be used By Yaksha appropriately as messenger? But he in eagerness and grief confused Mistakes as sentient a thing that's not. Such clouds the ending of the world presage; You minister to form at will. Though kin I plead for are by power detained, better To be by majesty refused than win An approbation of base parentage. I ask you, shelter from the sun's fierce glare, As one apart, beneath Kubｅra's sanctions, To bear this message to a loved one waiting In Alakａ, where Shiva on those mansions Sheds forehead's moonlight from his garden there. For you the women look through tangled hair With menfolk travelling and take their cheer From unions urged on by your path of air, While I still distant and to blame appear A hapless prisoner to another's care. The sights along that opened road impart A woman delicate as flowers are sinking From want of nourishment. Your brother's wife, Her days computing, of her husband thinking, Awaits, a captive taken by the heart. 10. As wind will move you onward, ever slow, To greet you on the left you'll hear the cry Of nesting chａtakas, and, all around, Conceiving female cranes will bless the eye, Across the sky in garlands, row on row. Thunder, and the ground is thick with white Assurances of harvest. The wild geese wake And bearing lotus shoots for voyage flap Out for Mａnasa. Your company, these take You on to Mount Kailａsa with their flight. Time to quit the lofty mountain station, Where years of festivals do not efface The steps of Rａma, that most honoured man. But take your leave, as old friends do: embrace In tears long following on separation. Cloud, take in the features I compile For you of onward journey, day by day More arduous and more testing: wearied, Very wearied, on those peaks you'll stay And by their foaming waters rest awhile. Now among the wet Nichula where there crop The wandering elephants you'll come to, shrink From contact with their heavy trunks but thence Fly up, that startled Siddhas women think The wind has carried off the mountain top. To loom about you in the darkened storm The broken bow of Indra, many-gemmed As serpent reared up from an anthill top, Or, with his peacock feathers diademed, Flares Vishnu in his dark-hued cowherd form. Arrived where women furrow brows for men, And moisten eyes as of that harvest telling, You'll stop and bless the high ground here and thence From soil fresh ploughed and sweetly smelling A little westward float on north again. To Ámrakｕta mountain, provident To bear your weariness and not forget Its forest fires you quenched with rain. The poor Remember kindness and repay each debt: How more will one who is so eminent! So on that summit, and in drifts unrolled Of glistening hair, around so thickly pressed The slopes with fruiting mangoes, it will seem To heavenly couples passing earth's own breast, The dark surrounded by the palest gold. And thence to groves which shelter forest wives To see how, waters emptied, heady pace, Like whites on elephants when streaked with ash, The tumbling Revａ through the rocky base Of Vidhya Mountain, bouldery, arrives. 20. If now you take in moisture where there mate Wild elephants and clumps of Jambｕ choke The streams, yet drink in moderation: while Mere lightness will your worthiness revoke It is the winds that onward bear your weight. Where Nipa stamens, green and brown, detain The spotted deer, and rich Kandali grow In blazing white along the banks, the fragrant Humours of the forest earth will show The hot, dry path to you for dropping rain. In mountain after mountain, as you're faced With flowered Kakubha and the gladdening sight Of peacocks screeching and their watering eyes: I call this favour from you: Cloud, despite Such joyful welcomings, pass on in haste. At your approach, the garden walls ignite With white Ketaka out of pointed shoots. The village crows thick nest in sacred trees, And in the woods for days, as Jambｕ fruits, The wild geese settle and forget their flight. You'll come to Vidishａ, the capital Well known across the compass of these quarters, When, like a suitor, at the Vetravati, Hang on her face to have the frowning waters Turn to murmuring, and drink your fill. Rest on Nichais mountain. At your touch Kadamba flowers will bristle out as hair, And grottos give out odours, those by which The venal women of the town ensnare A roistering youth who have no sense as such. Refreshed, upon the forest river tiers Of jasmine, sprinkle moisture you have gained, And on the female garland makers, shading Those who, brushing faces sweat has stained, Have hurt the lotus blossoms in their ears. Circuitous your path: if not received With tumult in the palaces of Ujjain By women sidelong glittering in their eyelids, Your lightning's sweep and dazzlement has been By their eyes' allurement much deceived. From undulating lines of birds above The extended water's loquacious girdle string, See the Nirvandhyａ reveal her navel And, like a woman passed from dallying In gestured overtures, declare her love. From dwindled to a single braid of hair, And pale with old leaves fallen on her banks, So will the Sindhu cast off separation And from her thinness correspond with thanks: How fortunate to pass her needful there! 30. Hear in Avanti, whose villagers are found With Udayana stories, that renown Again of Ujjain, enriched by worthy Ones whose last of merit has brought down A part of brilliant heaven to the ground. In wind, which off the River Shiprａ brims With smell of morning lotuses, is caught The long, sad calling of the cranes, at which The coaxing lovers skilfully exhort Again their pleasure out of tired limbs. Hang by lattice windows, large and sweet With incense out of women's new-washed hair, Watch the filial peacocks dance affection, And in the flower-scented palace air See dancers moving on their red-lac feet. If dark as Shiva's neck you thence frequent That master of the three world's shrine, the gaze Of Ganas there will show respect. In groves An odour off the Gandhavatｉ strays With girls there laughing and the lily scent. Cloud, when come to Mahａkａla, wait For sun descending to have settled under The line of sight to Shiva's shrine. If then You offer moderately your solemn thunder Praise unlimited attends your state. Begemmed their hands, and jingling navels please, Though wearying the chowries and the dances. But shoot your raindrops through the nailmarks, soothing: The courtesans will cast you sidelong glances, Their rows in unison as honey bees. After Shiva's dance, when twilight fills The forest long-encircled by his arms, Then red as Japａ flowers, remove his need For blooded ganja skin. His consort calms, Her eyes to see you as devotion wills. When night upon the road so thickly clings A needle cannot prick the darkness, draw A lightning flash of gold to lead the women Out for lover's dwellings: do not pour Down rain or thunder: they are timid things. Among the pigeons on some rooftop stay The night with lightning who is half worn out From all her flickering, but on the morrow Promptly leave as those who go about Good offices for friends and won't delay. That time returning lovers brush a tear From faces they've offended, leave the path Of sunlight unattended. He who draws The dew drop from the lotus burns in wrath To find obstructions to his sunbeams here. 40. Let no barrenness of heart deny The ever-glancing Gambhｉra her wish For you are handsome on her surface. Watch How white-as-lotuses Shaphara fish Beguilingly there greet you, leap and fly. Remove the deep blue robe of water where Her bank of abdomen slopes down to view A trail of canes like slender hands. You'll go At last from her reluctantly, for who Will leave a mistress with her charms laid bare? Afterwards, when cooled the earth and wholly Saturated with your rain, and rich With smells to please the sniffing elephants, Are wild figs ripening in the wind by which To Devagiri you are carried slowly. Arrived, you'll form a cumulous of flowers For Skanda who is resident, the god of war. All-powerful Shiva took him from the sun's Fierce mouth to safeguard Indra's army. Pour Down the Ganges in your heavenly showers. With thunder, echoed in the mountains, make To dance then Skanda's peacock, corner-eyed In Shiva's crescent. Bhavａnｉ will put A lustrous feather in her ear beside That deep blue lotus for her dear son's sake. Left the god who in the reeds took birth, You're clear of Siddha pairs who fear the waters Will harm the lutes they carry. Rantideva Here made slaughter of Surabhi's daughters That now the River Chambal blesses earth. When you there drinking at the water's hem Have stolen Krishna's colouring, you stand To gods intently staring from that distance As pearls there settling to a single strand Enlarged with sapphire set as central gem. Having crossed that river, train your powers To lift in coquetry the tendrilled brows Of Dasapura women making lashes Unlock a beauty as wild bees unblouse A darkness in the tossing jasmine flowers. Against the land of Brahmａtavarta loom, Above the graves of Kshatriyas slain In hundreds by Arjuna when on Kurus' Field his sharpened arrows fell as rain, The which you'll sprinkle on each lotus bloom. Having drunk those waters you are kin With Balarama, gentle one, refraining From war with kinsmen as from wine that shone In Revati's bright eyes. You, remaining Black in colour, are now white within. 50. Thence to Jahnu's daughter, there descending The Himａlaya, the heavenly stair Of Sagaras, but laughing at the frown On Gaurｉ's face to tug at Shiva's hair: Her hands as wavelets to his moon extending. On Yamunａ extended, so it seems, That instantly your flanks have dropped to drink Like Indra's elephant of crystal white: A wrong-place meeting, where such blendings sink Delightfully in slowly-moving streams. Arrived, you'll rest on peaks of snow, Until, with looks recovered, you appear As mud that Shiva's bull unearths, and then, From rocks thick-scented with the sitting deer, You'll fall to that same river source below. When winds ignite Sarala pines that press Together, matted as are wild yak's tails, Put out the torment with a thousand drops. Goods for the eminent, when grief assails, Are means to succour and allay distress. Scatter the Sharabhas should these attempt On hearing thunder to attack your person: Laugh with hailstones as they break their bodies. Those, who with extended self-exertion Labour fruitlessly, deserve contempt. Bent low as Siddhas walking round the rim Of Shiva's footprint in an adoration, You'll bring your worship as the thronged ascetics Who from this rock, and purged of sin's negation, Believe eternally and follow him. As breezes out of hollow bamboos come With pleasing music, and of conquests sing At famed Tripura the Kinnara women, Completing Shiva's concert you will bring, From caves resounding, a muraja drum. From snow-clad mountains northwards, drift your length Of glistening darkness as the foot of Vishnu Who put down Bali on the Krauncha Mountain. Wild birds frame the opening of that fissure, A tribute to Parashumａra's strength. As joint-cracked Mount Kailａsa's guest you'll stay, Whose top was made a mirror on behalf Of heavenly wives by Rａvana. There note In peaks as white as lotuses the laugh Of Shiva accumulating, day to day. I see you resting as a darkened stroke Across that mountain, just as made-up eyes Are capped in beauty by collyrium. Across a fresh-cut tusk of whiteness lies The dark blue bulk of Balarama's cloak. 60. As Shiva gave a helping arm to greet Her, leaving off his serpent-fashioned ring, So for Gaurｉ out of frozen water Your help upon that pleasure hill will bring A wave-like stairway for her climbing feet. Around you, watch the heavenly women sport As on your spray-releasing shape they beat So playfully their bracelet's sharpened points. If hard to leave them in the summer heat Then hurt their eardrums with your harsh retort. Let at Mａnasa your winds assist In shaking droplets from the wishing-trees, And where the mountains in the crystal lake Reflect the golden lotuses, you'll please The elephant of Indra with your mist. At Alakａ the Ganges' cloth unfurls But slowly, as with lovers, showing there A lap with palaces that crowd the slopes, And falls in season, as your rain through air, The hair unloosening its strings of pearls. Part Two When weighed with Alakａ you look the same: You both have palaces that graze the sky, Both floors of crystal, yours more water-formed, For dazzling women you make lightning fly, And for her pictures you have rainbow flame. All times see lotuses, and women where The cheeks are beautiful with Lodhra dust; Aramanth in topnot, ears acacia: At your approach, Kadamba flowers combust Along the path-like partings of the hair. On crystal terraces are Yakshas found, Their consorts beautiful: the high above Bright stars reflect as flowers, and wishing trees Give Ratiphala that engenders love As drums roll softly with your thunder sound. Do not obstruct, but let the moonlit air Collect in shining water droplet strings. Such moonstones mitigate the arm's fatigue In pleasure's drowsiness that loving brings To women loosed at last, still lying there. Propelled by winds across the mansion tops Those wantoning adopt another shape. Afraid, lest rain should harm those painted walls, They change at once to smoke, and make escape Through window lattices in tattered drops. When Yaksha lovers would that knot untwist Which hides their modesty, as lovers must, Abashed, their women in that candid light, Would throw on jewelled lamps their fists of dust, But fruitlessly: the hands do not desist. 70. From nighttime visiting, Mandａra curls Of petals show the path by women taken, As do the rich, gold ornaments from ears. And left as dropped, by hurried bodies shaken, At dawn lie strings of bosom-scented pearls. Respect for Shiva stops the love god use His bow too openly, here strung with bees. Not so the women who with knitted brows Draw back the love-looks and with practised ease Transfix successively each man they choose. Kubｅra's dwelling northwards, bearing such A gate to notice, arched in rainbowed stone: So stands my house with young Mandａra tree My love adopts as offspring of her own, Bent down with blossoms that a hand may touch. To ease their journey, here an emerald flight Of stairs leads down to golden lotuses With beryl stems. Lake Mａnasa is near, But not a settled bird here notices You bring the rainy season into sight. A pleasure mountain rises, sapphire blue, And has about it golden plantain trees. You, framed at length there in your lightning strikes, Return my loved one to such memories Of that same mountain she was fond of too. Here the red Ashoka waves, here twine The Mａdhavｉ and aramanth, a bower Close by the Kesara. The first requires, Like me, a lovely friend's left foot to flower, The last, they say, a mouth that sprinkles wine. In the midst thereof, where gems enhance Its crystal pedestal, a gold perch stands Whose lustre is of young bamboo. At night, Her bracelets tinkling as she claps her hands, My loved one makes the friendly peacock dance. You'll know, with wisdom stored, O noble one, My house from conch and lotus painted on Both sides of doorway and from gloom therein. A house that's lustreless when I am gone As is the lotus when deprived of sun. Descend at once from such exalted height. In size a baby elephant, you'll take A seat upon that pleasure-mount. From here, Like threaded fireflies, have your lightning make Within that house a play of moderate light. With glances timid as the startled fawn, With teeth fine-wrought in ripened Bimba lips, Dark skin, deep abdomen, slim waist, perhaps With breasts half-burdening slow-moving hips, You'll find that model of pure woman born. 80. Reserved she is and hardly speaks, who will From day to day become more solitary. Oppressed by absence is my second life: A single chakravａka misery, Or lotus injured in the winter's chill. From off her hand her face she hardly lifts, Her eyes are swollen, and long sighs replace The colour in her lower lip. Her hair's Unkempt, dishevelled and half hides her face, As is the moonlight tangled in your drifts. At duties constantly, and makes to view In thought my form emaciated, yet Still asks the same of that sweet mainａ bird: Remember him, your master, little pet: Of all his song birds he was fond of you. Perhaps she sings there words that make my name, A lute upon the lap, on which there fall Her tears, and on her clothes. She plucks, adjusts The strings, forgets the melody for all That she who made and sings it are the same. The months allotted from the day exiled From me she marks and counts by flowers set Upon the threshold floor, imagining The joys of union in bodies met: In this way lonely women are beguiled. With hand uncared for and with uncut nail She brushes hair from cheek, continually Reminded of that rough, bare knot I tied: A parting's token to be loosed by me When sorrows and that curse no more prevail. Engaged and busily in daylight she May feel at night the emptiness, and fear My absent company in separation. But you at midnight looking down may cheer Her tossing on her couch with words from me. The thinnest moon that hangs beneath the eastern sky Recalls her laid out on her side, where she, With tears obstructed and in fitful sleep, Can scarce recall that bliss, how instantly Was pleasure answering to every sigh. Her hair, rough-washed in water, on her face So spread her swollen lower lip is hurt. She sighs when thinking of us and our sport, When on an instant now those nights revert To hot tears falling on her sleeping place. Her eyes not wet with pleasure, yet disposed To let the moon in with its nectared ray Through creviced eyelashes, she turns away Now as the lotus on a cloudy day Will show an aspect neither full or closed. 90. She holds at heart, my friend, such love for me I knew on separating how that state Must fall from pleasure into dimming grief. The claims I make are not immoderate, As all too fully, brother, you will see. Without her ornaments, too heavy grown, She lies the midway through her bed of pain. Enfeebled, miserable, consumed by tears: Assuredly to view her is to drop your rain, An act to which the tender soul is prone. Unkempt, without collyrium in her hair, No deer-like glances when a look dissembles, No eyebrows wanton, and the wine is stopped. At your approach, however, her eyelid trembles As fish in leaping stir the lily there. No near-side nailmarks on her thigh today, No pearls at waist, but like the plantain tree Whose shoot is moist and tender, yellow-white, Her limbs will tremble, and remember he Would stroke and gently knead her after play. If she be sweetly sleeping, cloud, then stop And wait the night-watch passing: quiet, no thunder. She feels my creeper's clasp around her neck: From such or other bliss she may be under Don't wake her suddenly or arms will drop. With cool, moist wind you'll have her stirred As Mａlatｉ revive when rains appear. But mark her status and keep lightning in Intent, she'll watch you in her window, hear The wisdom in each pondered thunder-word. You see me as a cloud. I am a friend As well of your dear loved one who exhorts You hear his message in these pleasant sounds, As clouds drive hosts of travellers on with thoughts Of hair's undoing when their journeys end. The heart that hears will brim with eagerness. She'll gaze as Sｉtａ did on Hanｕman, And listen avidly, for women know That words through confidants of husbands can Against reunion weigh scarcely less. By words and nature, noble one, be blessed, And say her loved one in the Rａma hills In penance groves, still living, asks for news Of one so blamelessly beset by ills: To have her welfare is his first request. Excessive sorrows, and her sighs are his As he in waiting sighs for her. Distress That wastes her body draws at his. To block Once lawful union with a hopelessness Is still that fate athwart their path to this. 100. The one who'd whisper there to touch your face With things allowed in front of female friends Is now far out of earshot, out of sight, But in his fervent longing for you sends The words that faithfully this mouth will trace. The peacock's hue within the ringlet's fall, The dark-eyed glances of the startled fawn, The suppleness of vines in limbs, the moon's Full roundness in the face ─ your playful scorn In eyebrows tells me you combine them all. With mineral dyes I've drawn you in this feint Of anger at me when in truth the stone Should show me at your feet, my eyesight filled With tears. How hard a fate that won't condone The warm reunion I long to paint. When he who would embrace you only sees His virtuous at distance, and appears To outstretched arms an ache or emptiness, The woodland deities are sad: their tears Are swollen tenderly to pearls in trees. The winds from Himalayan snows that blast Their way on southwards to the air have lent The smell of opened pine trees' oozing shoots. Let me hold you, worthy one, whose scent Has come assuredly from bodies passed. How can the night's extended watches shrink Or all the days be cast in moderate heat? But in this manner, with unsteady eye, The sights petitioning for my defeat, In pain and helplessly of you I think. I live by brooding on you. Do not feel Excessive grief for me, my tender one. Unending pain and joy are no one's lot, But always upwards, downwards we are spun About the felly of life's turning wheel. When Vishnu rises from his serpent bed The curse had ending, which is four months hence. My soul's desire, now close your eyes, and think How love's long parting brings its recompense In moonlight falling through that night instead. Asleep, with arm on neck, in love's long draught, Your waking caught me with a sudden cry: I saw you sporting there with someone else, You said, when urgently I pressed for why. Oh what a rogue you are! ─ and quietly laughed. Accepting, hearing now I am in health, Believe no scandals of me. People say A love unsatisfied, my dearest, dark- Eyed one, must wither and must fall away, But this my ardour is my added wealth. 110. No answer, worthy one, I seek to gain From one who into silence has retired: But hope that friendship is its own acceptance: The eminent will do as is desired; To chａtakas in quiet you bring the rain. I pray, this favour granted, as you ride Above all regions with the rain's distension, Magnificent, a wanderer, in pity's Kindness ─ improper though my intervention ─ That lightning not a moment leave your side. © C. John Holcombe 2007. Material can be freely used for non-commercial purposes if properly referenced. -- 在这个地球上﹐我们确实只能带着痛苦的心情去爱﹐只能在苦难中去爱﹗ 我们不能用别的方式去爱,为了爱﹐我甘愿忍受苦难。 我希望﹐我渴望流着眼泪只亲吻我离开的那个地球﹐ 我不愿﹐也不肯在另一个地球上死而复生﹗ -----陀斯妥耶夫斯基 http://hd1.15150.com/photo/2005_10_16/13150_16114744.jpg ※ 来源:‧水木社区 http://newsmth.net‧[FROM: 129.74.17.*]