第16章 Fortuitousness (1)

Xu Zhimo

Being a cloud in the sky

On your heart lake I cast my figure.

You don’t have to wonder.

Nor should you cheer—

In an instant I will disappear.

On the dark sea we encounter

In different directions of our own we steer.

It’s nice for you to remember.

But you’d better forget the luster

That we’ve been devoted to cach other.

偶　然

徐志摩

我是天空里的一片云，

偶尔投影在你的波心

你不必讶异，

更无须欢喜

在转瞬间消灭了踪影。

你我相逢在黑夜的海上，

你有你的，我有我的，方向；

你记得也好，

最好你忘掉，

在这交会时互放的光芒。

背景知识

徐志摩（1897～1931），现代诗人、散文家。他的诗字句清新，韵律谐和，比喻新奇，想象丰富，意境优美，神思飘逸，富于变化，并追求艺术形式的整饬、华美，具有鲜明的艺术个性，为新月派的代表诗人。他的散文也自成一格，取得了不亚于诗歌的成就，其中不少都是传世的名篇。

作者在这首诗中把“偶然”这样一个极为抽象的时间副词，使之形象化，置入象征性的结构，充满情趣哲理，不但珠圆玉润，朗朗上口，而且余味无穷，意溢于言外。这首诗在徐志摩诗美追求的历程中，还具有一些独特的“转折”性意义。这首诗后来由香港歌手陈秋霞作曲并演唱。

单词注解

cast [kB：st] 投， 抛

cheer [tFiE] 愉快， 欢呼

luster [5lQstE] 光彩， 光泽

名句诵读

Being a cloud in the sky On your heart lake I cast my figure. You don’t have to wonder.

On the dark sea we encounter In different directions of our own we steer. It’s nice for you to remember. But you’d better forget the luster That we’ve been devoted to cach other.

第一章 The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

T.S.Eliot

Let us go then，you and I，

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table；

Let us go，through certain half-deserted streets，

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster shells：

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question ...

Oh，do not ask，“What is it？”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window panes，

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window panes

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening，

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains，

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys，

Slipped by the terrace，made a sudden leap，

And seeing that it was a soft October night，

Curled once about the house，and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street，

Rubbing its back upon the window panes；

There will be time，there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet；

There will be time to murder and create，

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate；

Time for you and time for me，

And time yet for a hundred indecisions，

And for a hundred visions and revisions，

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder，“Do I dare？” and，“Do I dare？”

Time to turn back and descend the stair，

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—

［They will say，“How his hair is growing thin！”］

My morning coat，my collar mounting firmly to the chin，

My necktie rich and modest，but asserted by a simple pin—

［They will say，“But how his arms and legs are thin！”］

Do I dare

Disturb the universe？

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already，known them all—

Have known the evenings，mornings，afternoons，

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons；

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume？

And I have known the eyes already，known them all—

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase，

And when I am formulated，sprawling on a pin，

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall，

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways？

And how should I presume？

And I have known the arms already，known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

［But in the lamplight，downed with light brown hair！］

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress？

Arms that lie along a table，or wrap about a shawl.

And should I then presume？

And how should I begin？

...

Shall I say，I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves，leaning out of windows？ ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

...

And the afternoon，the evening，sleeps so peacefully！

Smoothed by long fingers，

Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers，

Stretched on the floor，here beside you and me.

Should I，after tea and cakes and ices

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis？

But though I have wept and fasted，wept and prayed，

Though I have seen my head ［grown slightly bald］ brought in upon a platter

I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter；

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker，

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat，and snicker，

And in short，I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it，after all，

After the cups，the marmalade，the tea，

Among the porcelain，among some talk of you and me，