翻译诗歌!赢取5月“爵士在东方”门票

5月“爵士在东方”系列音乐会将上演一次“音与诗的交响”。英国爵士名伶Tina May和世界级的爵士三重奏Frank Harrison同台合作,更有诗人Richard Douglas Pennant在音乐的错落节奏中,诵出诗歌的抑扬顿挫。一起在交织的音节和节奏中悠游穿行,回溯一段段关于古老传说和永恒之美的记忆。

翻译Richard Douglas Pennant歌词,赢取5月“爵士在东方”系列音乐会门票!

活动详情:

1. 任选Richard Douglas Pennant三首诗歌作品中的一首,以“信、达、雅”为标准翻译成中文。

2. 翻译大赛时间从即日起至4月27日止。翻译作品请发送至[email protected],并且留下即时联系方式。

3. 本次大赛设两位获胜者。评审工作将由JZ MUSIC专业评审团完成。4月29日起优胜者名单及翻译作品将在JZ网站公布。

4. 优秀翻译作品作者将每人获得1张5月2日“音与诗的交响”音乐会门票(价值180元)。

 

I love gardening

(For Mum)

 

I love gardening, you said.

 

I know, I remember you knee deep

in damp autumns, drizzly praying into

beds of clogged earth;

 

Trowelling at weeds till the light

going, went, and brought you in

to tea, sherry, and Evening Primrose.

 

I love gardening, you said.

 

I know, and you told me why;

a gardener always looks forward, you said,

to another day, another season,

that next patch of clear sky

and there to work in.

 

That’s why, you said;

as you toiled towards your next tomorrow

— until that next winter came,

and so quickly, took you.

 

 

Telling the time the old way

 

His old half hunter

dictated the time

making a space for itself

parked by the marmalade,

 

Introducing the bitter-sweet

summer fruits sharpening

sugared cereals

-milk blushed by raspberries.

 

It would be years before

my father would wear

a wrist watch.

 

‘Till then breakfasts

were always at the mercy

of this scarred face

cracked the length

of its enamel.

 

Time rationed to the

top of the hour slowly filtered

into the morning traffic,

when towns seep out to work.

 

Then the ache poisoning

the pit of my stomach.

A classroom reeking

of stale learning;

 

Victoriana by rote

and loathing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poet to poet

(To Elwyn Roberts, with thanks)

 

I observed

as you held my words

in a half nelson;

loose-leaf, limp bound,

the manuscript bent double

and folded back

across its spine,

 

And you read me aloud

frog marching my own

ideas past me,

and for the first time,

I understood what

the rumblings in my soul

sound like;

and the shape my thoughts

take in someone else’s mouth.

 

Then you put my feelings down

and picked up a sheaf of papers

— all yours; you gave me

a reading of what was

going on in inside your mind.

 

I heard every word,

looked up to the oak beams

that crossed, re-crossed the ceiling;

they listened intently as well.

Then as they creaked,

your home shifted slightly,

finding a more comfortable

posture in relation

to the wind outside.

 

You had read me

— and yourself —

before letting me go;

with good luck for a wish

on the shake of a hand …