英美著名儿童诗一百首 [34]
Tom if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm,
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
■ 六十六 扫烟囱的小孩（一）
威廉·布莱克
我妈妈死的时候，我还挺小，
我爸爸卖了我，那时候我几乎不会叫，
不会叫"扫烟，扫烟，扫烟啊，扫！"
我现在扫你们烟囱，在灰堆里睡觉。
有个小汤姆·达克，鬈头发，像羊毛，
把他的头发剃掉的时候，他哭叫。
我说，"汤姆，别叫唤，你的头剃光了，
煤灰就不能把你的银发弄脏了。"
他安静下来，就在那天晚上，
汤姆睡着了，见到了这样的景象：
狄克，乔，奈德，贾克……千万个
扫烟囱小孩关进了黑棺材，加了锁，
来了位天使，拿着把发光的钥匙，
他打开棺材，放出了所有的孩子。
他们到草地上，又跳又跑又笑嚷，
到河里洗了澡，太阳下浑身闪亮光。
光身子，白皮肤，把口袋全都扔下，
孩子们升到云头，在风里玩耍。
天使说，"你只要做个好孩子，汤姆，
上帝就做你的父亲，你永远幸福。"
汤姆醒了，我们起身在黑暗中，
拿起口袋，拿起扫帚去上工。
早上冷，汤姆却感到温暖又快乐，
有道是，只要尽本分，不必怕灾祸。
屠 岸译
■ 67 THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER (2)
William Blake
A little black thing among the snow,
Crying"weep, weep!" in notes of woe!
"Where are thy father and mother
Say
"
"They are both gone up to the church to pray.
"Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil' d among the winter's snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
"And because I am happy, and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King
Who make up a heaven of our misery."
■ 六十七 扫烟囱的小孩（二）
威廉·布莱克
大雪天里有个乌黑的小东西，
"扫烟，扫烟！"他叫得惨惨凄凄！
"告诉我，你的爸爸妈妈在哪里？"
"他们都上了教堂，在祷告上帝。
"因为在家乡我总是欢欢喜喜，
就是在冬天雪地里我也爱笑；
他们便给我穿上这倒霉的丧衣，
还教我唱起这支凄凉的歌调。
"因为我总是高兴，又唱歌又跳舞，
他们自以为对我没给过损伤，
就跑去赞美上帝、神父和君主——
他们拿我们的痛苦来建造天堂。"
屠 岸译
■ 68 ALICE FELL OR, POVERTY
William Wordsworth
The post-boy drove with fierce career,
For threatening clouds the moon had drowned;
When, as we hurried on, my ear
Was smitten with a startling sound.
As if the wind blew many ways,
I heard the sound, —and more and more;
It seemed to follow with the chaise,
And still I heard it as before.
At length I to the boy called out;
He stopped his horses at the word,
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,
Nor aught else like it, could be heard.
The boy then smacked his whip, and fast
The horses scampered through the rain;
But, hearing soon upon the blast
The cry, I bade him halt again.
Forthwith alighting on the ground,
"Whence comes," said I, "this piteous moan
"
And there a little Girl I found,
Sitting behind the chaise, alone.
"My cloak!" no other word she spake,
But loud and bitterly she wept,
As if her innocent heart would break;
And down from off her seat she leapt.
He'd have God for his father and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm,
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
■ 六十六 扫烟囱的小孩（一）
威廉·布莱克
我妈妈死的时候，我还挺小，
我爸爸卖了我，那时候我几乎不会叫，
不会叫"扫烟，扫烟，扫烟啊，扫！"
我现在扫你们烟囱，在灰堆里睡觉。
有个小汤姆·达克，鬈头发，像羊毛，
把他的头发剃掉的时候，他哭叫。
我说，"汤姆，别叫唤，你的头剃光了，
煤灰就不能把你的银发弄脏了。"
他安静下来，就在那天晚上，
汤姆睡着了，见到了这样的景象：
狄克，乔，奈德，贾克……千万个
扫烟囱小孩关进了黑棺材，加了锁，
来了位天使，拿着把发光的钥匙，
他打开棺材，放出了所有的孩子。
他们到草地上，又跳又跑又笑嚷，
到河里洗了澡，太阳下浑身闪亮光。
光身子，白皮肤，把口袋全都扔下，
孩子们升到云头，在风里玩耍。
天使说，"你只要做个好孩子，汤姆，
上帝就做你的父亲，你永远幸福。"
汤姆醒了，我们起身在黑暗中，
拿起口袋，拿起扫帚去上工。
早上冷，汤姆却感到温暖又快乐，
有道是，只要尽本分，不必怕灾祸。
屠 岸译
■ 67 THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER (2)
William Blake
A little black thing among the snow,
Crying"weep, weep!" in notes of woe!
"Where are thy father and mother
Say
"
"They are both gone up to the church to pray.
"Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil' d among the winter's snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
"And because I am happy, and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King
Who make up a heaven of our misery."
■ 六十七 扫烟囱的小孩（二）
威廉·布莱克
大雪天里有个乌黑的小东西，
"扫烟，扫烟！"他叫得惨惨凄凄！
"告诉我，你的爸爸妈妈在哪里？"
"他们都上了教堂，在祷告上帝。
"因为在家乡我总是欢欢喜喜，
就是在冬天雪地里我也爱笑；
他们便给我穿上这倒霉的丧衣，
还教我唱起这支凄凉的歌调。
"因为我总是高兴，又唱歌又跳舞，
他们自以为对我没给过损伤，
就跑去赞美上帝、神父和君主——
他们拿我们的痛苦来建造天堂。"
屠 岸译
■ 68 ALICE FELL OR, POVERTY
William Wordsworth
The post-boy drove with fierce career,
For threatening clouds the moon had drowned;
When, as we hurried on, my ear
Was smitten with a startling sound.
As if the wind blew many ways,
I heard the sound, —and more and more;
It seemed to follow with the chaise,
And still I heard it as before.
At length I to the boy called out;
He stopped his horses at the word,
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,
Nor aught else like it, could be heard.
The boy then smacked his whip, and fast
The horses scampered through the rain;
But, hearing soon upon the blast
The cry, I bade him halt again.
Forthwith alighting on the ground,
"Whence comes," said I, "this piteous moan
"
And there a little Girl I found,
Sitting behind the chaise, alone.
"My cloak!" no other word she spake,
But loud and bitterly she wept,
As if her innocent heart would break;
And down from off her seat she leapt.