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Pessoa的诗 仍像是散文多于诗歌 不知是不是因为翻译成英文失去了原有的韵律 当你把诗句连接,逗号隔开,便更像是取于惶然录中的段落
他大概永远无法称为名垂青史的大诗人 他不浪漫 不唯美 不激情 不晦涩 甚至拒绝用任何象征手法 ("I don't know how any one can think a sunset is sad/ Unless it's because a sunset isn't a sunrise. But if it's a sunset, how could it ever be a sunrise?")
他简直就是诗的反面
但这并不妨碍他写诗 他的命题永远无关于苦大仇深生离死别爱恨情仇 更多的是关于他今个儿又不晓得自己开不开心了 窗前的盲人吉他手开始弹琴了 他睡不着了 零碎至极,但总能给你心有戚戚焉的妙趣
读着读着 你忍不住发笑 为他的别扭 为他把牢骚写成件理直气壮的妙事
"You speak of civilisation and how it shouldn't exist,
At least not as it is.
You say that everyone, or almost everyone, suffers
From human life being organised in this way.
You say that if things were different, people would suffer less.
You say things would be better if they were how you want them.
I hear you and don't listen.
Why would I want to listen to you?
I'd learn nothing by listening to you.
If things were different, they's be different: that's all.
If things were how you want them, they'd be how you want them, fine.
Too bad for you and for all who spend life
Trying to invent the machine for producing happiness"
好玩的是,我所习专业的宗旨,不正是invent the machine for producing happiness么?
Too bad for you,我似乎能看见老头摇头晃脑地在嘴里小声嘟囔。 |
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