作品原文

卞之琳 《春城》

北京城：垃圾堆上放风筝，
描一只花蝴蝶，描一只鹞鹰
在马德里蔚蓝的天心，
天如海，可惜也望不见你哪
京都！——

倒霉，又洗了一个灰土澡，
汽车，你游在浅水里，真是的，
还给我开什么玩笑？

对不住，这实在没有什么；
那才是胡闹（可恨，可恨）：
黄毛风搅弄大香炉，
一炉千年的陈灰
飞，飞，飞，飞，飞，
飞出了马，飞出了狼，飞出了虎，
满街跑，满街滚，满街号，
扑到你的窗口，喷你一口，
扑到你的五角，打落一角，
一角琉璃瓦吧？——

“好家伙！真吓坏了我，倒不是
一枚炸弹——哈哈哈哈哈！”
“真舒服，春梦做得够香了不是？
拉不到人就在车磴上歇午觉，
幸亏瓦片儿倒还有眼睛。”
“鸟矢儿也有眼睛——哈哈哈哈！”


哈哈哈哈，有什么好笑，
歇斯底里，懂不懂，歇斯底里！
悲哉，悲哉！
真悲哉，小孩子也学老头子，
别看他人小，垃圾堆上放风筝，
他也会“想起了当年事……”
悲哉，听满城的古木
徒然的大呼，
呼啊，呼啊，呼啊，
归去也，归去也，
故都故都奈若何！……

我是一只断线的风筝，
碰到了怎能不依恋柳梢头，
你是我的家，我的坟，
要看你飞花，飞满城，
让我的形容一天天消瘦。

那才是胡闹，对不住；且看
北京：垃圾堆上放风筝。
昨儿天气才真是糟呢，
老方到春来就怨天，昨儿更骂天
黄黄的压在头顶上像大坟，
老崔说看来势真有点不详，你看
漫天的土吧，说不定一夜睡了
就从此不见天日，要待多少年后
后世人的发掘吧，可是
今儿天气才真是好呢，
看街上花树也坐了独轮车游春，
看完了又可以红纱等下看牡丹。
（他们这时候正看樱花吧？）
天上是鸽铃声——
蓝天白鸽，渺无飞机，
飞机看景致，我告诉你，
决不忍向琉璃瓦上下蛋也……

北京城：垃圾堆上放风筝。

英文译文

City of Spring
Bian Zhilin

City of Spring: Fly a kite upon the garbage dump.
Depict a flower-butterfly, depict an eagle,
In the heart of Madrid’s blue sky,
Sky, oceanlike. A pity that one cannot see you,
Oh Kyoto!—

What bad luck! Again another bath of dust!
Cars, you swim in shallow water, but look at this!
What joke are you playing on me?

Sorry! This, this is nothing.
That other is really wild (Indeed, horrid!)
Winds of yellow wool stir up a huge incense-burner.
A thousand years of old old ash
Flies, flies, flies, flies, flies.
Out come horses, out come wolves, out come tigers,
Running, rolling, howling all over the streets,
Pouncing upon your window, spitting upon you,
Pouncing upon your house, downing a corner,
A corner of glazed tiles?—

“Good Lord! Really scared me! Lucky it’s not
A bomb-ha! ha! ha!”
“Feels so good: Spring dream dreams into fragrance?
No customer? So what! I will dose off at my pedals.
Lucky that titles have eyes”
“Bird droppings also have eyes! Ha! ha! ha!”
Ha! ha! ha! What is there to laugh about?
Hysteria, understand? Hysteria!
Sad! Sad!
Sad, indeed! Children mimic old men.
Don’t belittle their smallness. Flying a kite upon the garbage dump,
He will also hum: “I remember years back……”
Sad! Ancient trees of the whole city
Vainly howl and cry,
Howl and cry, howl and cry.
O Return, O Return
Ancient capital! What can we do to the Ancient Capital!.....

I am only a kite with a broken string,
Hitting tips of willow branches one is reluctant to have.
You are my home, my tomb,
Wanting to see you fluttering with flowers, fluttering all over,
As my form and shape thin out day by day.
This, it is this alone that is nonsense talk. Sorry, but look!
City of Spring: Fly a kite upon the garbage dump.
The weather yesterday was truly aweful.
Whenever spring comes, Mr. Fang always complains, slashing out at the sky even:
Yellow, yellow, a lid upon our heads like a huge tomb.
Mr. Cui: It looks indeed ominous. Just look:
A skyful of dust. Who knows! Maybe after one night of sleep,
We might never see the sky again, and have to wait for centuries
For others to dig us up, but
Today, look, what beautiful weather!
Even the flowering trees on the streets are riding upon unicycles for a spring outing.
After the spring outing, there are peony shows under red-silk lamps.
(At this hour, they are probably enjoying cherry-blossoms?)
In the sky, dove-bells—
Blue sky, white doves, not a trace of airplanes.
Seeing scenery from a plane, I tell you,
Nobody is hard-hearted enough to bomb the glazed tiles below
……
City of Peking: Fly a kite upon the garbage dump.