靠旋转不停的小齿轮运动的时间

Time that is moved by little fidget wheels

不是我的时间，那停滞的波流。

Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.

在轮船叮叮当当报时的

Between the double and the single bell

钟声之间，在游弋于下面的

Of a ship's hour, between a round of bells

昏暗战舰上的一阵钟声之间，

From the dark warship riding there below,

我几经生死之变，重温了久故的

I have lived many lives, and this one life

乔的一生，他活在五次钟声之间。

Of Joe, long dead, who lives between five bells.

深邃空蒙垂直的光线

Deep and dissolving verticals of light

摆渡下明月的落瀑。五次钟声

Ferry the falls of moonshine down. Five bells

冷冷荡出机械的音。夜色与水波

Coldly rung out in a machine's voice. Night and water

涌向黑暗的湍流，港口漂在

Pour to one rip of darkness, the Harbour floats

空中，十字星座倒悬水中。

In the air, the Cross hangs upside-down in water.

亡灵啊，我为什么想起你，为什么

Why do I think of you, dead man, why thieve

拖起抛泊在时间中的思绪的锚链

These profitless lodgings from the flukes of thought

从中偷取无谓的回忆？你

Anchored in Time? You have gone from earth,

弃世而去，你的姓名失去意义；

Gone even from the meaning of a name;

但仍有什么东西，它张口

Yet something's there, yet something forms its lips

对着空间的港口冲击、碰撞、哭诉，

And hits and cries against the ports of space,

向世人宣告它的愤怒。

Beating their sides to make its fury heard.

你把脸贴在无言的玻璃窗上

Are you shouting at me, dead man, squeezing your face

痛苦地说话，是喊我吗，阴魂？

In agonies of speech on speechless panes?

大声点，敲窗户，喊出你的名字！

Cry louder, beat the windows, bawl your name!

但我什么都听不见，只听到钟声

But I hear nothing, nothing...only bells,

五次钟声，愚人的计时法。

Five bells, the bumpkin calculus of Time.

你的声音消逝，它被生活淹没，

Your echoes die, your voice is dowsed by Life,

狭窄的生死线谁的声音都无法飞越——

There's not a mouth can fly the pygmy strait -

唯有对久已零落成泥土的

Nothing except the memory of some bones

尸骨的记忆；对你可能做过，

Long shoved away, and sucked away, in mud;

或者我以为你曾做过的

And unimportant things you might have done,

一些小事的记忆，这些你忘了，

Or once I thought you did; but you forgot,

谁能记得呢——那过去的言谈举止

And all have now forgotten - looks and words

啤酒渍，你面色憔悴，眼睛受伤，

And slops of beer; your coat with buttons off,

穿着掉了扣子的上衣，大讲

Your gaunt chin and pricked eye, and raging tales

爱尔兰王，讲英国人的背信弃义，

Of Irish kings and English perfidy,

说达灵赫斯特的店老板更糟，

And dirtier perfidy of publicans

竟然大逆不道，埋怨上帝。

Groaning to God from Darlinghurst.

　　　　　　　　　　五次钟声。

Five bells.

于是我仿佛看见我们摸黑

Then I saw the road, I heard the thunder

来摩尔岸之夜走过的路，听到

Tumble, and felt the talons of the rain

那滚滚雷声，受到暴雨利爪的袭击。

The night we came to Moorebank in slab-dark,

夜色深沉，不见你身影面容，

So dark you bore no body, had no face,

只听空中传来断续的声音

But a sheer voice that rattled out of air

（有如你此刻喊我打碎破璃的声音），

(As now you'd cry if I could break the glass),

这声音来自我身边的树丛，

A voice that spoke beside me in the bush,

声很小，不时被风声盖住，

Loud for a breath or bitten off by wind,

讲弥尔顿，讲西瓜，讲《人权》，

Of Milton, melons, and the Rights of Man,

讲吹笛子，说塔希提女郎

And blowing flutes, and how Tahitian girls

皮肤黑嘴厉害，悉尼女郎

Are brown and angry-tongued, and Sydney girls

皮肤白嘴也厉害，这是你的看法。

Are white and angry-tongued, or so you'd found.

但我只听到断续的词句，于是

But all I heard was words that didn't join

弥尔顿变为西瓜，西瓜变为女郎，

So Milton became melons, melons girls,

好象那晚有五十张嘴讲话，

And fifty mouths, it seemed, were out that night,

每棵树上都有人侧耳偷听，

And in each tree an Ear was bending down,

又象什么东西刚刚跑进树丛，

Or something that had just run, gone behind the grass,

这时惨白溟蒙的闪电，如狂人的

When blank and bone-white, like a maniac's thought,

怪念，如石精油的火光，划破长空

The naphtha-flash of lightning slit the sky,

以骇人的影相刺裂黑暗。

Knifing the dark with deathly photographs.

不论生活怎样贫苦艰难，

There's not so many with so poor a purse

谁愿深夜里在五里外

Or fierce a need, must fare by night like that,

黑暗的乡道上这样赶路，

Five miles in darkness on a country track,

但你既如此，就自有你的道理。

But when you do, that's what you think.

　　　　　　　　　　五次钟声。

Five bells.

在墨尔本，你掉了胃口，

In Melbourne, your appetite had gone,

也失了愤怒，胃口和愤怒

Your angers too; they had been leeched away

被软箭似夏雨和海绵似的潮气

By the soft archery of summer rains

啮噬，缓缓浸渐的潮气

And the sponge-paws of wetness, the slow damp

使生命的茂叶枯萎，令头脑迟钝，

That stuck the leaves of living, snailed the mind,

让你那充盈过愤怒的皮骨外露，

And showed your bones, that had been sharp with rage,

这就是正直换得的潮湿的喜悦。

The sodden ectasies of rectitude.

我想起你用淡墨写下的话，

I thought of what you'd written in faint ink,

想起你的遗物中那本锯掉锁的

Your journal with the sawn-off lock, that stayed behind

日记本，如今这些都毫无用处，

With other things you left, all without use,

失去了意义，只表明

All without meaning now, except a sign

某人曾活着，而今他死了；

That someone had been living who now was dead:

「在拉巴萨。６×８英尺的房间；

"At Labassa. Room 6 x 8

因为在塔顶上，冬天屋里

On top of the tower; because of this, very dark

阴冷幽暗。这里堆满各类

And cold in winter. Everything has been stowed

杂物——颜色大小各不相同的

Into this room - 500 books all shapes

五百本书，乱扔在地板上

And colours, dealt across the floor

窗台上和椅子扶手上；

And over sills and on the laps of chairs;

还有枪和各种各样的相片

Guns, photoes of many differant things

有我弄来的各类奇珍古完……」

And differant curioes that I obtained..."

我们在悉尼，借着廉价气灯

In Sydney, by the spent aquarium-flare

投在粉色壁纸上将灭的微光，

Of penny gaslight on pink wallpaper,

讨论怎样才能炸毁地球，

We argued about blowing up the world,

可你却倒活，因此每夜

But you were living backward, so each night

你都朝母亲的怀抱爬近一刻，

You crept a moment closer to the breast,

他们依然活着，都还活着——

And they were living, all of them, those frames

那些困惑过你青春时代的

And shapes of flesh that had perplexed your youth,

肉体的框架和形状，

And most your father, the old man gone blind,

尤其是你的父亲，那位手里

With fingers always round a fiddle's neck,

总是拿着提琴的失明老人，

That graveyard mason whose fair monuments

那墓地的石匠。他用虔诚的梦

And tablets cut with dreams of piety

刻出富丽华美的灵位碑石，

Rest on the bosoms of a thousand men

压在芸芸众生的胸膛上。他们

Staked bone by bone, in quiet astonishment

尸骨相接，无言地愕然面对

At cargoes they had never thought to bear,

人未料到要承担的重负——

These funeral-cakes of sweet and sculptured stone.

那些用美丽的雕石做成的祭饼。

Where have you gone? The tide is over you,

你在何方？潮水将你淹没，

The turn of midnight water's over you,

夜半海水的涡流将你淹没，

As Time is over you, and mystery,

就像时间，像神秘，像记忆

And memory, the flood that does not flow.

将你淹没，那停滞的流波。

You have no suburb, like those easier dead

你无处栖身，而死于安乐者

In private berths of dissolution laid -

却躺进各自的死亡走廊——

The tide goes over, the waves ride over you

潮水涌过，波涛从你身上压过

And let their shadows down like shining hair,

投下波影像投下闪亮的云发，

But they are Water; and the sea-pinks bend

但它们是水；海石花像百荷

Like lilies in your teeth, but they are Weed;

在你口中飘摇，但它们是草；

And you are only part of an Idea.

而你也只是一个不完整的概念。

I felt the wet push its black thumb-balls in,

The night you died, I felt your eardrums crack,

你死之夜，我感到海水

And the short agony, the longer dream,

攥紧黑色手指，感到你耳膜震裂，

The Nothing that was neither long nor short;

继而是短暂的痛苦，长久的梦境，

But I was bound, and could not go that way,

不短也不长的虚无；但我

But I was blind, and could not feel your hand.

身系此世，不能随你而去，

If I could find an answer, could only find

我红尘翳目，不能与你携手。

Your meaning, or could say why you were here

如果我能找到答案，能找到

Who now are gone, what purpose gave you breath

你的价值，能够说你为何生过

Or seized it back, might I not hear your voice?

又死去；是什么给你生命又将它

索回，那么我能听到你的声音吗？

I looked out my window in the dark

At waves with diamond quills and combs of light

黑暗中我从窗口望大海波涛

That arched their mackerel-backs and smacked the sand

见钻石般细浪和粼粼碧波

In the moon's drench, that straight enormous glaze,

拱起鲐鱼形波峰舔舐月色

And ships far off asleep, and Harbour-buoys

溶溶的沙滩，洒满浩渺垂直的光；

Tossing their fireballs wearily each to each,

见远处船只沉睡，港口航标灯

And tried to hear your voice, but all I heard

无精打彩地闪闪呼应，

Was a boat's whistle, and the scraping squeal

我想听到你的声音，却只听见

Of seabirds' voices far away, and bells,

一声汽笛，听见远方海鸟

Five bells. Five bells coldly ringing out.

刺裂长空的尖鸣，听见钟声

Five bells.

五次钟声。冷冷荡出的五次钟声。

　　　　　　　　　　五次钟声。