Whitman (1819.5.31-1892), published the 1st edition of Grass Blade
Collection in 1855, and received 12 poems.
At the end of the 9th edition, a total of 383 poems were received.
The longest one, "Song of Myself," totaled 1,336 lines.
惠特曼1855年《草叶集》的第1版问世,共收诗12首, 最后出第9版时共收诗383首,其中最长的一首《自己之歌》共1,336行。
1
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.
2 Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes, I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag, The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides, The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the earth much? Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.
Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.
Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.
I am satisfied - I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread, Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with their plenty, Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes, That they turn from gazing after and down the road, And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent, Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead?
4 Trippers and askers surround me, People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and city I live in, or the nation, The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new, My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues, The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love, The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations, Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, the fitful events; These come to me days and nights and go from me again, But they are not the Me myself.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.
Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.
5 I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other.
Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields, And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed.
6 A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children?
They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
7 Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots, And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good, The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.
I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, (They do not know how immortal, but I know.)
Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female, For me those that have been boys and that love women, For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted, For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the mothers of mothers, For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears, For me children and the begetters of children.
Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.
8 The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.
The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top.
The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.
The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the promenaders, The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor, The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls, The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous'd mobs, The flap of the curtain'd litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital, The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall, The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his passage to the centre of the crowd, The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes, What groans of over-fed or half-starv'd who fall sunstruck or in fits, What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and give birth to babes, What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls restrain'd by decorum, Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections with convex lips, I mind them or the show or resonance of them-I come and I depart.
9 The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready, The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon, The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged, The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow.
I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load, I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.
10 Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt, Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee, In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night, Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game, Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with my dog and gun by my side.
The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.
The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west, the bride was a red girl, Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders, On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his bride by the hand, She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach'd to her feet.
The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him, And brought water and fill'd a tub for his sweated body and bruis'd feet, And gave him a room that enter'd from my own, and gave him some coarse clean clothes, And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness, And remember putting piasters on the galls of his neck and ankles; He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass'd north, I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean'd in the corner.
11 Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.
She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.
Which of the young men does she like the best? Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.
Where are you off to, lady? for I see you, You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.
Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.
The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long hair, Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.
An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies, It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.
The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.
12 The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market, I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.
Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil, Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in the fire.
From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.
自我之歌
译: 蔷薇
1
我赞美我自己,歌唱我自己,
我所讲的一切,将对你们也一样适合,
因为属于我的每一个原子,也同样属于你。
我邀了我的灵魂同我一道闲游,
我俯首下视,悠闲地观察一片夏天的草叶。
我的舌,我的血液中的每个原子,都是由这泥土、这空气构成,
我在这里生长,我的父母在这里生长,他们的父母也同样在这里生长,
我现在是三十七岁了,身体完全健康,
希望继续不停地唱下去直到死亡。
教条和学派且暂时搁开,
退后一步,满足于现在它们所已给我的一切,
但绝不能把它们全遗忘,
不论是善是恶,我将随意之所及,
毫无顾忌,以一种原始的活力述说自然。
2
屋宇里充满了芳香,框架上也清香缭绕,
是我自身发出的清香,我知道它,喜欢它
这芬芳要使我沉醉,但我不让自己沉醉。
大气并不是一种芳香,
它没有熏香之气,它是无嗅的物质,
但它永远适宜于我的呼吸,我爱它,
我愿意走到林边的河岸上,
去掉一切人为的虚饰,赤裸了全身,
我疯狂地渴望能这样接触到我自己。
我自己呼出的气息,
回声、涟漪、切切细语、紫荆树、
合欢树、枝杈和藤蔓,
我的呼气和吸气,我的心的跳动,
血液和空气在我肺里的流动,
嫩绿的树叶和干黄的树叶,
海岸和海边黝黑岩石和放在仓房里面的谷草所吐的气息,
我吐出来散布在旋风里的文字的声音,
几次轻吻,几次拥抱,手臂的接触,
在柔软的树枝摇摆着的时候,
枝头清光和暗影的嬉戏,
独自一人时的快乐,或在拥挤的大街上、
在田边、在小山旁所感到的快乐。
3
一切日日夜夜来临又离我而去
但这不是我自己。
哪怕东拉西扯,我自岿然挺立,
快乐地挺立着,自足,慈悲,悠闲
向下看
像最确定的东西一样确定,
像垂直一样正直, 紧紧拴住,
用梁木牢牢支撑,
像马一样健壮、热情、傲慢、带电,
我和这种神秘,我们就站在这里。
4
我信奉你,我的灵魂
但我的肉体绝不对你自惭形秽
同我在草地上游荡吧,放开你的喉咙
我喜欢静谧,喜欢你用适度的声音发出低吟
我记得我们曾如何躺在明澈夏日的早晨
你将头横跨我的大腿,温柔地在我身上扭动
分开我的胸衣,将你的舌头伸进我裸露的心
直到你抚摸我的毛发,直到你将我牢牢锁紧
倏地在我周身焕发扩散出一种安详和启示
足以超越人间一切争论
天地万物的核心是爱
无穷无尽的是田野里僵硬枯萎的树叶
是树叶下小孔里的棕蚁
蠕虫围墙上的藓苔、乱石堆、接骨木、毛蕊花、牛蒡草。
5
我独自在遥远的荒山野外狩猎、漫游
为自己的愉快和欢乐而惊奇
傍晚选一块安全场所过夜
燃气篝火烘烧刚猎到的野味
在树叶堆上倒身便睡,狗和猎枪就在身旁
勤劳地负着轭或者停止在树荫下面的牛群哟,
你们眼睛里所表示的是什么?
那对于我好像比我一生读到的还要多。
在我整天漫游的长途中,
我的步履惊起了一群野鸭,
它们一齐飞起来,
它们缓缓地在天空盘旋着。
我相信这些带翅膀者
也承认那这绿的、紫的和球状花冠都各有深意。
我更不因为龟只是龟而说它毫无价值,
树林中的坚鸟从来不学音乐,
但我仍觉得它唱的很美,
栗色的母马只需一瞥,
就使我对自己的笨拙感到羞愧。
6
我在一切人身上看到我自己,
不多也不差毫厘,
我对我自己的褒贬对他们也同样合适。
我知道我是庄严的,
我不想耗费精神去为自己申辩或求得人们的理解
我就按照我自己的现状生存
即使世界上再没有人意识到这一点,
我仍满足地坐着,
即使世上所有的人都意识到,
我也满足地坐着。
有个世界是意识到了的,
而且对我说来是最大的世界,
那便是我自己,
无论今天我能得到,
或者要在千百万年之后我才能得到我应得的一切,
我现在就愉快的接受,或同样愉快的等待。
我嘲笑你们所谓的消亡,
我深知时间是多么宽广。
7
我是肉体的诗人,我也是灵魂的诗人,
我享受天堂的快乐,
也忍受地狱的苦难,
我把快乐嫁接在身上并使之枝繁叶茂
我把苦难译成新的语言。
我是男人的诗人,
也是女人的诗人,
我唱着张扬骄傲的歌,
我们已经低头容忍得够久了
我同温柔的、生长着的夜晚一起行走,
我召唤黑夜拥抱大地和海洋。
8
华尔特.惠特曼,一个宇宙,
曼哈顿的儿子, 狂乱、肥壮、多欲、能吃、能喝、善于繁殖,
不是感伤主义者,不凌驾于男人和女人之上,
不谦恭也不放肆。
把门上的锁拆下来! 把门也从门框上撬下来!
谁贬低别人也就是贬低我, 无论什么言行最终都归结到我。
灵性汹涌澎湃的通过我奔流, 潮流和指标也从我身上通过。
我赞成种种的欲念和肉感,
视觉、听觉和感觉都是神奇的,
我的每一部分及附属于我的一切也都是奇观。
我里外都是神圣的,
我使我所接触的或接触过我的一切都变得圣洁。
9
我溺爱我自己,这一切都是我,
一切都这样的甘甜, 每一瞬间,
和任何时候发生的事情都使我因快乐而微颤,
我说不出我的脚踝怎样弯曲,
我的最微小的愿望来自何处,
也说不出我散发的友情的根由,
以及我重新取得的友情的缘故。
我走上我的台阶,
我停下来想想它是否真实,
我窗口的一朵牵牛花比图书中的哲理更使我满意。
看看破晓时的光景!
那一点点曙光把庞大透明的阴影冲淡了,
我觉得空气的滋味那么清新。
10
我相信一片草叶的意义不亚于星星每日的工程,
一只蝼蚁、一粒沙,一个鹪鹩蛋,
都是同样地完美,
雨蛙也是造物者的一件精心杰作,
四处蔓延的黑莓可以装饰天堂里的华屋。
而我手上一个极小的关节可以藐视一切机器!
低头吃草的母牛能胜过任何一座雕像,
一个小鼠便是奇迹,足以使千千万个异教徒震惊不已。
11
我自相矛盾么?
很好,我的确自相矛盾
(我辽阔无边没,我包罗万象)
我仍丝毫没被驯服,我还是不可理喻
我在世界的屋脊发出粗野的嚎叫
我要像空气一样离去,我对着夕阳甩动我的白发
我把我的血肉投进涡流,让它在有花边的步絮中漂流
我把自己馈赠给泥土,以期从我心爱的草叶中长出
你若再想见我,可以看看你的鞋底......
你若一时找不着我,请仍然保持勇气,
一处不见就到另一处寻觅, 我总会在某个地方等着你。