【王尔德的情人】王尔德《雷丁监狱之歌》片段The Ballad of Read
王尔德的情人】王尔德的《雷丁监狱之歌》片段--《The Ballad of Reading Gaol》
王尔德《雷丁监狱歌谣》
The Ballad of Reading Gaol
雷丁监狱歌谣
Section I
第一章
Stanza 1
He did not wear his scarlet coat, For blood and wine are red, And blood and wine were on his hands When they found him with the dead, The poor dead woman whom he loved, And murdered in her bed.
1
他没有穿猩红的外套， 因为血和酒是红的， 血和酒就沾在他的手上 当人们发现了他和那个已经死去的人， 那个可怜的死掉的女人他曾经爱过， 然而已被谋杀在了她的床头。
Stanza 2
He walked amongst the Trial Men In a suit of shabby grey; A cricket cap was on his head, And his step seemed light and gay; But I never saw a man who looked So wistfully at the day.
2
他走在审判团的中间 穿着破旧的灰套装； 头上扣着一顶板球帽， 他的脚步似乎愉悦又轻快； 但我从未见过一个人看着 像他那天般的依恋。
Stanza 3
I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky, And at every drifting cloud that went With sails of silver by.
3
我从未见过一个人 用如此依恋的眼光 仰望着那顶蓝色的小帐篷 犯人们把它叫天堂， 还有每一片飘过的云张着 银色的风帆。
Stanza 4
I walked, with other souls in pain, Within another ring, And was wondering if the man had done A great or little thing, When a voice behind me whispered low, “That fellow’s got to swing.”
4
我走着，和另一些痛苦的灵魂， 走在另一个圈子里， 可一直琢磨这人是做了 一桩大事还是小事， 这时我身后有低声的耳语， "那个家伙得摇摆了"。
Stanza 5
Dear Christ! the very prison walls Suddenly seemed to reel, And the sky above my head became Like a casque of scorching steel; And, though I was a soul in pain, My pain I could not feel.
5
亲爱的基督！这监狱的墙 好像突然旋转飞舞， 我头顶上的天变成了 滚烫的钢盔； 此刻，虽然我的心灵苦痛， 但我的痛苦我已无法感触。
Stanza 6
I only knew what hunted thought Quickened his step, and why He looked upon the garish day With such a wistful eye; The man had killed the thing he loved And so he had to die.
6
我只知道多虐心的念头 加快了他的步伐，还有为什么 他看这花哨的日子 眼中有如此的依恋； 这个男人已杀死了他的所爱 而他也要因此去死。
Stanza 7
Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword!
7
可每个人都会杀死他的所爱 要让每个人知道这一点， 一些人带着苦涩的表情， 一些人用恭维的语言， 懦夫用一个吻来完成 而勇者用剑!
Stanza 8
Some kill their love when they are young, And some when they are old; Some strangle with the hands of Lust, Some with the hands of Gold: The kindest use a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold.
8
一些人年轻时杀死他的所爱， 一些人在老的时候； 一些人用色欲之手扼杀， 一些人用黄金之手： 最善良的人用刀子，因为 那些死者会相当快地变冷。
Stanza 9
Some love too little, some too long, Some sell, and others buy; Some do the deed with many tears, And some without a sigh: For each man kills the thing he loves, Yet each man does not die.
9
有人爱得太少，有人太久， 有人卖，另一些人在买； 有人杀人时饱含泪水， 也有人做时没有一点哀叹： 因为每个人都会杀死他的所爱， 可并不是每个人都会死掉。
Stanza 10
He does not die a death of shame On a day of dark disgrace, Nor have a noose about his neck, Nor a cloth upon his face, Nor drop feet foremost through the floor Into an empty place.
10
他没有在可耻的死中死去 在那黑暗耻辱的一天， 没有绞索套在他的颈上， 没有布蒙住他的脸， 他的脚没有突兀地穿过地板 掉进一个虚空的地方。
Stanza 11
He does not sit with silent men Who watch him night and day; Who watch him when he tries to weep, And when he tries to pray; Who watch him lest himself should rob The prison of its prey.
11
他没有和沉默的人坐在一起 那些人监守他日日夜夜； 那些人监守他，当他想要哭泣 当他想要祷告； 那些人监守他以免他把自己 这监狱里的猎物毁掉。
Stanza 12
He does not wake at dawn to see Dread figures throng his room, The shivering Chaplain robed in white, The Sheriff stern with gloom, And the Governor all in shiny black, With the yellow face of Doom.
12
他没有在黎明醒时看到 可怕的身影挤满了他的房间， 微微颤抖的牧师穿着白色的袍子， 警官严厉而阴暗， 监狱长一身闪闪发亮的黑， 脸上泛着厄运的黄。
Stanza 13
He does not rise in piteous haste To put on convict-clothes, While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes Each new and nerve-twitched pose, Fingering a watch whose little ticks Are like horrible hammer-blows.
13
他没有慌张起身 穿上他的囚衣， 身边是某个粗鲁的医生在嘲讽，记下 每个新的，扭曲的姿势， 手指抚弄怀表发出滴答的响声 像可怕的锤击。
Stanza 14
He does not know that sickening thirst That sands one’s throat, before The hangman with his gardener’s gloves Slips through the padded door, And binds one with three leathern thongs, That the throat may thirst no more.
14
他没有意识到那难捱的口渴 他的喉咙在被砂纸打磨，直到 绞刑手带着园丁的手套 迈步溜过了门前的脚垫， 用三根皮条把他捆住， 他的喉咙也许就不再渴了。
Stanza 15
He does not bend his head to hear The Burial Office read, Nor, while the terror of his soul Tells him he is not dead, Cross his own coffin, as he moves Into the hideous shed.
15
他没有垂下头去听 殡仪馆的宣读， 也没有，他恐惧的灵魂 一直在告诉他没有死， 为自己的棺木划上十字，当他走进 那丑恶的棚子之际。
Stanza 16
He does not stare upon the air Through a little roof of glass; He does not pray with lips of clay For his agony to pass; Nor feel upon his shuddering cheek The kiss of Caiaphas.
16
他没有瞪着天空 透过小顶棚的玻璃； 他没有用粘土的嘴唇祷告 以便让他的苦痛过去； 也没有感到他抽动的脸颊上 该亚法的吻。
Section 2
第二章
Stanza 1
Six weeks our guardsman walked the yard, In a suit of shabby grey: His cricket cap was on his head, And his step seemed light and gay, But I never saw a man who looked So wistfully at the day.
1
六周的时间，我们的卫兵走在院子里 穿着破旧的灰套装: 头上扣着一顶板球帽， 他的脚步似乎愉悦又轻快； 但我从未见过一个人看着 像他那天般的依恋。
Stanza 2
I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky, And at every wandering cloud that trailed Its raveled fleeces by.
2
我从未见过一个人 用如此依恋的眼光 仰望着那顶蓝色的小帐篷 犯人们把它叫天堂， 还有每一片飘过的云拖着 丝丝扯扯的羊毛团。
Stanza 3
He did not wring his hands, as do Those witless men who dare To try to rear the changeling Hope In the cave of black Despair: He only looked upon the sun, And drank the morning air.
3
他没有绞他的双手，像那些 蠢人他们敢于 培育虚幻的希望 在黑色绝望的洞穴: 他只是仰望太阳， 畅饮清晨的空气。
Stanza 4
He did not wring his hands nor weep, Nor did he peek or pine, But he drank the air as though it held Some healthful anodyne; With open mouth he drank the sun As though it had been wine!
4
他没有绞他的双手也没有抽泣， 他没有窥视也没有哀怨， 但他畅饮空气，好像那里有 某种止痛的良药； 嘴张着他畅饮阳光 好像它已经成为葡萄美酒！
Stanza 5
And I and all the souls in pain, Who tramped the other ring, Forgot if we ourselves had done A great or little thing, And watched with gaze of dull amaze The man who had to swing.
5
而我和所有痛苦中的灵魂， 被套在另一个环里， 忘记了我们是否曾干过 一桩大事或小事， 用呆滞的惊羡凝视着 那个人要被摇摆了。
Stanza 6
And strange it was to see him pass With a step so light and gay, And strange it was to see him look So wistfully at the day, And strange it was to think that he Had such a debt to pay.
6
这真怪异看着他走过 脚步那样的轻松而且愉快, 这真怪异看着他的样子 那样的依恋在那样的一天, 这真怪异当想到他 有多么大的一笔债要还。
Stanza 7
For oak and elm have pleasant leaves That in the spring-time shoot: But grim to see is the gallows-tree, With its adder-bitten root, And, green or dry, a man must die Before it bears its fruit!
7
橡树和榆树有着宜人的枝叶 在春天来临的时候吐露: 但看到绞架之树让人阴郁 它的根被毒蛇咬住, 翠绿或枯败，一个人必定要死 在它结出果实之前!
Stanza 8
The loftiest place is that seat of grace For which all worldlings try: But who would stand in hempen band Upon a scaffold high, And through a murderer’s collar take His last look at the sky?
8
至高之地乃恩典的宝座 它是所有世人的向往: 但谁将被套在麻绳里 站上高高的绞架, 越过屠夫的衣领最后一次 看到蓝天?
Stanza 9
It is sweet to dance to violins When Love and Life are fair: To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes Is delicate and rare: But it is not sweet with nimble feet To dance upon the air!
9
随小提琴跳舞甜美 若爱情与生活公平： 随长笛跳舞，随鲁特琴跳舞 精妙又珍稀： 但不甜美的是 敏捷的双脚在空中舞动!
Stanza 10
So with curious eyes and sick surmise We watched him day by day, And wondered if each one of us Would end the self-same way, For none can tell to what red Hell His sightless soul may stray.
10
于是用好奇的双眼和病态的揣测 我们注视着他一日又一日， 想知道会不会我们每一个人 都将以同样的方式了结， 因为没有人能说出哪一座红色的炼狱 他的盲目的灵魂将迷失在那里。
Stanza 11
At last the dead man walked no more Amongst the Trial Men, And I knew that he was standing up In the black dock’s dreadful pen, And that never would I see his face In God’s sweet world again.
11
最终这个死人再也不能 走在陪审团的中间， 而我知道他曾在噩运的笔下 站起来从黑色的被告席上， 我将永远不会再看到他的脸 在上帝的甜美的人间。
Stanza 12
Like two doomed ships that pass in storm We had crossed each other’s way: But we made no sign, we said no word, We had no word to say; For we did not meet in the holy night, But in the shameful day.
12
像暴风雨中两艘交了噩运的船 我们曾穿过了彼此的航线： 但我们没有点头，我们没有说话， 我们相对无言； 因为我们不是在神圣的夜晚相遇， 却是在可耻的白天。
Stanza 13
A prison wall was round us both, Two outcast men were we: The world had thrust us from its heart, And God from out His care: And the iron gin that waits for Sin Had caught us in its snare.
13
监狱的围墙围住我们， 我们是两个被抛弃的人： 世界把我们从它的心中推开， 上帝从他的关爱里： 辣口的金酒等待着罪 它的陷阱已捕获住我们。
Section III
第三章
Stanza 1
In Debtors’ Yard the stones are hard, And the dripping wall is high, So it was there he took the air Beneath the leaden sky, And by each side a Warder walked, For fear the man might die.
1
债权人的院子石头很硬， 滴水的墙很高， 他就在那里放风 走在铅灰的天空之下， 四周走着看守， 生怕这人死掉。
Stanza 2
Or else he sat with those who watched His anguish night and day; Who watched him when he rose to weep, And when he crouched to pray; Who watched him lest himself should rob Their scaffold of its prey.
2
或者另一些时候他和他们同坐 那些人日夜观看着他的痛苦； 他们观看着他，当他起身抽泣， 当他俯身祷告； 他们观看着他以免他把自己 这绞架上的猎物毁掉。
Stanza 3
The Governor was strong upon The Regulations Act: The Doctor said that Death was but A scientific fact: And twice a day the Chaplain called And left a little tract.
3
狱警严厉 执行着<<条例法案>>： 医生说死亡不过是 一个科学事实： 还有牧师一天拜访了两次 然后留下一本小册子。
Stanza 4
And twice a day he smoked his pipe, And drank his quart of beer: His soul was resolute, and held No hiding-place for fear; He often said that he was glad The hangman’s hands were near.
4
他每天抽两斗烟， 喝一扎他的啤酒： 他的灵魂坚毅，那里 恐惧无处藏匿； 他常说他很高兴 绞刑手的双手在接近。
Stanza 5
But why he said so strange a thing No Warder dared to ask: For he to whom a watcher’s doom Is given as his task, Must set a lock upon his lips, And make his face a mask.
5
但他为什么说这般奇怪的话 没有看守敢去问询： 因为他承受了看守给他的厄运 这是看守接受的任务， 必须给他的嘴巴上锁， 必须给他的脸带上面具。
Stanza 6
Or else he might be moved, and try To comfort or console: And what should Human Pity do Pent up in Murderers’ Hole? What word of grace in such a place Could help a brother’s soul?
6
否则他或许会被感动，试图 给他帮助或安慰： 然而人的怜悯能做些什么 在囚禁凶犯的洞穴? 何等恩典的语言在这里可以 帮助一个兄弟的灵魂?
Stanza 7
With slouch and swing around the ring We trod the Fool’s Parade! We did not care: we knew we were The Devil’s Own Brigade: And shaven head and feet of lead Make a merry masquerade.
7
无精打采摇摆着绕着圈子 我们在进行愚人节的游行！ 我们满不在乎：我们知道我们是 纯粹的恶魔军团： 剃着光头脚上栓着铅块 开起一场欢快的化装舞会。
Stanza 8
We tore the tarry rope to shreds With blunt and bleeding nails; We rubbed the doors, and scrubbed the floors, And cleaned the shining rails: And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank, And clattered with the pails.
8
我们把油浸的绳索撕成碎片 用流着血磨钝的指甲； 我们擦门，涮地， 把护栏打理得闪亮： 就这样，一层一层，我们用肥皂水洗木板， 水桶碰的咚咚响。
Stanza 9
We sewed the sacks, we broke the stones, We turned the dusty drill: We banged the tins, and bawled the hymns, And sweated on the mill: But in the heart of every man Terror was lying still.
9
我们缝麻袋，我们碎石头， 我们转动起尘土飞扬的钻头： 我们敲打着罐头，大声唱赞美诗， 在磨粉机旁被汗水浸透： 但每个人的心里 恐惧占据纹丝不动。
Stanza 10
So still it lay that every day Crawled like a weed-clogged wave: And we forgot the bitter lot That waits for fool and knave, Till once, as we tramped in from work, We passed an open grave.
10
就这样仍然每天它躺在那里 匍匐着像长满野草的波浪: 而我们忘了苦涩的命运 它在等待傻瓜和无赖， 直到一次，当我们疲惫的劳作后归来， 我们经过了一个敞开的墓穴。
Stanza 11
With yawning mouth the yellow hole Gaped for a living thing; The very mud cried out for blood To the thirsty asphalte ring: And we knew that ere one dawn grew fair Some prisoner had to swing.
11
它打着哈欠的嘴那黄色的洞 瞪眼望着一个活的家伙； 就是这泥土呼喊鲜血 朝着那副饥渴的沥青的套索： 我们知道，无需到黎明 某个犯人就要摇摆。
Stanza 12
Right in we went, with soul intent On Death and Dread and Doom: The hangman, with his little bag, Went shuffling through the gloom And each man trembled as he crept Into his numbered tomb.
12
当我们经过，灵魂仍在专注 死亡，厄运和恐惧： 绞刑手，带着他的小包， 穿梭在幽暗的地域 每个人都在颤抖当他小心地 走进他编号的坟墓。
Stanza 13
That night the empty corridors Were full of forms of Fear, And up and down the iron town Stole feet we could not hear, And through the bars that hide the stars White faces seemed to peer.
13
那夜的走廊空荡 充满着各样的恐惧， 在钢铁的城镇上下 贼一样的脚步我们无法听见， 窗栏之外隐匿的群星 如白色的面孔在偷窥。
Stanza 14
He lay as one who lies and dreams In a pleasant meadow-land, The watcher watched him as he slept, And could not understand How one could sleep so sweet a sleep With a hangman close at hand?
14
他躺着像一个人在躺着做梦 在宜人的青草地上， 看守望着他熟睡 搞不懂， 为什么一个人能睡得这样甜美 而绞刑手就在他的身旁？
Stanza 15
But there is no sleep when men must weep Who never yet have wept: So we --—the fool, the fraud, the knave --— hat endless vigil kept, And through each brain on hands of pain Another’s terror crept.
15
但是当人必须哭泣时，便无法入睡 可有谁又从来不曾哭泣: 所以我们这些——傻瓜、骗子、和无赖--— 只能留在没有尽头的守夜， 每一个被痛苦的双手捧住的头 另一个人的恐惧已悄然潜入。
Stanza 16
Alas! it is a fearful thing To feel another’s guilt! For, right within, the sword of Sin Pierced to its poisoned hilt, And as molten lead were the tears we shed For the blood we had not spilt.
16
啊呀! 这是件多可怕的事情 感受着另一个人的负罪！ 于是，就在这里，罪之剑 一刺而入直抵带毒的剑柄， 我们流出的泪像熔化的铅 为我们没有流过的血。
Stanza 17
The Warders with their shoes of felt Crept by each padlocked door, And peeped and saw, with eyes of awe, Grey figures on the floor, And wondered why men knelt to pray Who never prayed before.
17
看守们蹑手蹑脚穿着毡鞋 走过每一扇紧锁的牢门， 向里窥视，眼中带着敬畏， 看见了地板上那些灰色的人影， 他们不解为什么这些人会跪下来祷告 这是些过去从不祈祷的人。
Stanza 18
All through the night we knelt and prayed, Mad mourners of a corpse! The troubled plumes of midnight were The plumes upon a hearse: And bitter wine upon a sponge Was the savior of Remorse.
18
整个夜晚我们跪着祷告， 疯狂的哀悼者为了一具尸体! 那午夜不安的气息 灵车上披盖的羽衣： 洒上苦酒的绷带 是悔恨者的救星。
Stanza 19
The cock crew, the red cock crew, But never came the day: And crooked shape of Terror crouched, In the corners where we lay: And each evil sprite that walks by night Before us seemed to play.
19
公鸡打鸣了，红公鸡打鸣了， 但白天不会到来: 扭曲的恐惧蜷缩， 在我们躺的角落： 随夜而来的邪恶精灵 仿佛在我们的眼前嬉闹。
Stanza 20
They glided past, they glided fast, Like travelers through a mist: They mocked the moon in a rigadoon Of delicate turn and twist, And with formal pace and loathsome grace The phantoms kept their tryst
20
他们滑过，他们滑得飞快， 像旅行者穿过迷雾： 他们嘲笑月亮跳利戈顿舞 精巧地转来又转去， 以正经的步伐和无聊的优雅 魅影们继续着他们的幽聚。
Stanza 21
With mop and mow, we saw them go, Slim shadows hand in hand: About, about, in ghostly rout They trod a saraband: And the damned grotesques made arabesques, Like the wind upon the sand!
21
连扫带轰，我们看着他们走开， 细长的影子手牵着手： 转呀，转呀，在鬼魅的庆典 他们跳着萨拉班德舞： 这些该死的怪物摆出阿拉贝斯克的姿势， 像风掠过荒漠！
Stanza 22
With the pirouettes of marionettes, They tripped on pointed tread: But with flutes of Fear they filled the ear, As their grisly masque they led, And loud they sang, and loud they sang, For they sang to wake the dead.
22
随着牵线木偶的皮鲁埃旋转， 他们绊倒在自己脚尖下的舞步： 可他们耳中充满恐怖的笛声， 就像他们戴的可怕的面具， 他们大唱，他们大唱， 因为他们要唤醒死者用他们的歌喉。
Stanza 23
“Oho!” they cried, “The world is wide, But fettered limbs go lame! And once, or twice, to throw the dice Is a gentlemanly game, But he does not win who plays with Sin In the secret House of Shame.”
23
“哦哦！” 他们大叫：“世界广阔， 但手脚被缚行动艰辛! 一次，或两次，投掷出骰子 这是绅士的游戏， 但他是在和罪玩他赢不了 在那间秘密的耻辱之屋里。”
Stanza 24
No things of air these antics were That frolicked with such glee: To men whose lives were held in gyves, And whose feet might not go free, Ah! wounds of Christ! they were living things, Most terrible to see.
24
这荒诞怪异的东西并不是虚无的空气 他们嬉闹如此的欢娱： 而那些戴着手铐生活的人， 他们的双脚无法自由的移步， 噢! 基督的伤口！ 他们是活生生的存在， 是看到的最大的恐怖。
Stanza 25
Around, around, they waltzed and wound; Some wheeled in smirking pairs: With the mincing step of demirep Some sidled up the stairs: And with subtle sneer, and fawning leer, Each helped us at our prayers.
25
转呀，转呀，他们跳着华尔滋转呀； 有的傻傻地笑着成双成对地转呀: 迈出婊子般扭捏的步态 有的已悄然爬上楼来： 带着狡黠的痴夷和谄媚的斜睨， 这些都让我们不住地祈祷。
Stanza 26
The morning wind began to moan, But still the night went on: Through its giant loom the web of gloom Crept till each thread was spun: And, as we prayed, we grew afraid Of the Justice of the Sun.
26
清晨的风开始悲鸣， 但夜晚仍在行进： 从它巨大的织机，黑暗的网 延伸至每一根纺线被纺尽： 而，当我们祈祷，我们变得恐惧 对于太阳的正义。
Stanza 27
The moaning wind went wandering round The weeping prison-wall: Till like a wheel of turning-steel We felt the minutes crawl: O moaning wind! what had we done To have such a seneschal?
27
悲鸣的风四下飘荡 监狱的墙在哭泣： 直到像个旋转的钢轮 我们感受到分秒的行进： 噢，悲鸣的风！ 我们做了些什么 要有这样的掌管执事？
Stanza 28
At last I saw the shadowed bars Like a lattice wrought in lead, Move right across the whitewashed wall That faced my three-plank bed, And I knew that somewhere in the world God’s dreadful dawn was red.
28
最后我看到栅栏投下的阴影 像铅铸的格笼， 正穿过白粉刷的墙壁 面对我在三层的床头， 我知道这个世界的某个地方 上帝的可怕的黎明是一片通红。
Stanza 29
At six o’clock we cleaned our cells, At seven all was still, But the sough and swing of a mighty wing The prison seemed to fill, For the Lord of Death with icy breath Had entered in to kill.
29
六点钟我们打扫牢房， 到七点时全安静下去， 但一只哗哗扇动的巨翅 仿佛充满了整座牢狱， 因为死亡之王散发的寒气 已经闯入并开始杀戮。
Stanza 30
He did not pass in purple pomp, Nor ride a moon-white steed. Three yards of cord and a sliding board Are all the gallows’ need: So with rope of shame the Herald came To do the secret deed.
30
他没有被豁免在紫色的盛典， 也没有骑上月光般的白马。 三尺长的绳索和一块翻板 这就是绞架全部的需要： 所以传令官带来耻辱的绳索 做起了秘密的准备。
Stanza 31
We were as men who through a fen Of filthy darkness grope: We did not dare to breathe a prayer, Or give our anguish scope: Something was dead in each of us, And what was dead was Hope.
31
我们像穿越沼泽的人 在泥泞的黑暗里寻探： 我们不敢低声祈祷， 抑或抑制我们的悲凉: 某个东西在每个人的心中死去， 死去的是希望。
Stanza 32
For Man’s grim Justice goes its way, And will not swerve aside: It slays the weak, it slays the strong, It has a deadly stride: With iron heel it slays the strong, The monstrous parricide!
32
因为人类严酷的正义秉公行事， 不会偏袒： 它残杀弱者，它残杀强人， 它迈着致命的步伐: 用钢铁的脚跟它残杀强人 这场骇人的弑父!
Stanza 33
We waited for the stroke of eight: Each tongue was thick with thirst: For the stroke of eight is the stroke of Fate That makes a man accursed, And Fate will use a running noose For the best man and the worst.
33
我们等着钟敲八下: 每个人的舌头又木又渴: 因为八下敲击是命运的敲击 让一个人受到刑责， 命运将用飞驰的绳索 对付最好的人和最坏的。
Stanza 34
We had no other thing to do, Save to wait for the sign to come: So, like things of stone in a valley lone, Quiet we sat and dumb: But each man’s heart beat thick and quick Like a madman on a drum!
34
>我们没有别的事可做， 只有专心等待征兆来临: 所以，像山谷里石头的孤寂， 我们静静地坐着，默默无语， 但每个人的心跳激剧又密集 像一面鼓上的一个疯子！
Stanza 35
With sudden shock the prison-clock Smote on the shivering air, And from all the gaol rose up a wail Of impotent despair, Like the sound that frightened marshes hear From a leper in his lair.
35
随着监狱的钟突然震动 击打着颤抖的空气， 从整座牢房响起一声哀号 绝望而且无力， 像惊恐的沼泽听到了 一个麻疯病人的小屋传来的声音。
Stanza 36
And as one sees most fearful things In the crystal of a dream, We saw the greasy hempen rope Hooked to the blackened beam, And heard the prayer the hangman’s snare Strangled into a scream.
36
像一个人看到了最恐怖的事情 在梦中的水晶里面， 我们看到的是那根油腻的麻绳 拴住了一条漆黑的横梁， 而听到的祈祷 是绞刑手勒出的一声尖叫。
Stanza 37
And all the woe that moved him so That he gave that bitter cry, And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats, None knew so well as I: For he who lives more lives than one More deaths than one must die.
37
还有所有曾如此打动过他的不幸 以至于他曾为之痛苦地哭泣， 还有那狂暴的悔恨，和血腥的汗水， 没有人比我更清楚： 因为他活过不止一次 他也要不止一次地去死。
Section IV
第四章
Stanza 1
There is no chapel on the day On which they hang a man: The Chaplain’s heart is far too sick, Or his face is far too wan, Or there is that written in his eyes Which none should look upon.
1
那天那里没有小教堂 他们把一个人吊起来： 牧师的心脏疼得厉害， 或者只是他的脸色过于苍白， 或者是因为写在他眼里的什么 那是每个人都不应看到的。
Stanza 2
So they kept us close till nigh on noon, And then they rang the bell, And the Warders with their jingling keys Opened each listening cell, And down the iron stair we tramped, Each from his separate Hell.
2
所以他们把我们一直关到快中午， 然后他们敲响了监狱的狱铃， 看守们带着叮当作响的钥匙 打开了一个个侧耳倾听的笼子, 踏着铁楼梯我们走下楼来， 从各自隔绝的地狱里。
Stanza 3
Out into God’s sweet air we went, But not in wonted way, For this man’s face was white with fear, And that man’s face was grey, And I never saw sad men who looked So wistfully at the day.
3
我们出来走进上帝甜美的空气， 但不再象过去那样， 因为这个人的脸色苍白带着恐惧， 而那个人的脸是灰的， 我从未见过悲伤的人看起来 像他那天般的依恋。
Stanza 4
I never saw sad men who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue We prisoners called the sky, And at every careless cloud that passed In happy freedom by.
4
我从未见过悲伤的人 有着如此依恋的眼眸 看着那方小小的蓝帐篷 那被我们囚犯称作的天空， 看着每一片漫不经心的云 在快乐的自由中飘过。
Stanza 5
But there were those amongst us all Who walked with downcast head, And knew that, had each got his due, They should have died instead: He had but killed a thing that lived Whilst they had killed the dead.
5
但我们中有这样一些人 走起路时头总垂着， 已经知道，如果每个人都得到应得的对待 那他们就早已经死掉而非活着: 他只是杀死了一个活物 而他们已杀死了死者。
Stanza 6
For he who sins a second time Wakes a dead soul to pain, And draws it from its spotted shroud, And makes it bleed again, And makes it bleed great gouts of blood And makes it bleed in vain!
6
因为有两次罪的他 唤醒了死去的灵魂感受到痛苦， 把它从斑驳的裹尸布里拉了出来 让它再一次流血， 并让它汩汩地流 并让它白白地流!
Stanza 7
Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb With crooked arrows starred, Silently we went round and round The slippery asphalte yard; Silently we went round and round, And no man spoke a word.
7
像猿猴或小丑，打扮得吓人的怪诞 用弯曲的箭头做装饰， 默默地我们一圈圈地走 光溜溜的柏油的院子； 默默地我们一圈圈地走 没有人说一个字。
Stanza 8
Silently we went round and round, And through each hollow mind The memory of dreadful things Rushed like a dreadful wind, And Horror stalked before each man, And terror crept behind.
8
默默地我们一圈圈地走 从空洞的每一个头脑中 可怕的事情的记忆 象可怕的风一样的涌出， 惊骇在每个人面前肆虐， 恐怖在身后悄悄跟随。
Stanza 9
The Warders strutted up and down, And kept their herd of brutes, Their uniforms were spick and span, And they wore their Sunday suits, But we knew the work they had been at By the quicklime on their boots.
9
看守们威严地上上下下， 看管着他们充满野性的兽群， 他们的制服簇新洁净， 他们穿上了他们礼拜的正装， 但我们知道他们刚干下的活计 因为他们的靴子上粘着生石灰。
Stanza 10
For where a grave had opened wide, There was no grave at all: Only a stretch of mud and sand By the hideous prison-wall, And a little heap of burning lime, That the man should have his pall.
10
在坟墓全都敞开的地方， 根本就没有坟墓: 不过是一堆泥土和砂砾 监狱的围墙骇人的脚下， 一小堆生石灰燃烧着， 但那个人本该装在他的棺材中。
Stanza 11
For he has a pall, this wretched man, Such as few men can claim: Deep down below a prison-yard, Naked for greater shame, He lies, with fetters on each foot Wrapt in a sheet of flame!
11
因为他有一副棺材，这可怜的人 但很少有人能讲出: 在监狱庭院的深处， 赤裸成为更大的耻辱， 他躺着，每只脚都戴着镣铐， 裹在一席火焰里!
Stanza 12
And all the while the burning lime Eats flesh and bone away, It eats the brittle bone by night, And the soft flesh by the day, It eats the flesh and bones by turns, But it eats the heart always.
12
生石灰一直燃烧 吃着他的骨和肉， 夜里吃易碎的骨， 白天吃柔软的肉， 它轮流吃骨和肉， 但总是在吃那颗心。
Stanza 13
For three long years they will not sow Or root or seedling there: For three long years the unblessed spot Will sterile be and bare, And look upon the wondering sky With unreproachful stare.
13
因为整整三年他们将不能在这里播种 这里也无法生根或发芽: 整整三年这不被祝福的小块土地 将变得贫瘠又荒凉， 仰头看奇妙的天空 无可奈何的凝视。
Stanza 14
They think a murderer’s heart would taint Each simple seed they sow. It is not true! God’s kindly earth Is kindlier than men know, And the red rose would but blow more red, The white rose whiter blow.
14
他们认为凶手的心会污染 每一粒播下的种子。 这不是真的!上帝慈爱的土壤 比人们知道的更加慈爱， 红玫瑰只会绽放得更红， 白玫瑰会更洁白地绽放。
Stanza 15
Out of his mouth a red, red rose! Out of his heart a white! For who can say by what strange way, Christ brings his will to light, Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore Bloomed in the great Pope’s sight?
15
从他的嘴中长出一朵红的，鲜红的玫瑰! 从他的心里长出一朵白的! 因为谁能用如此奇异的方式言说， 基督便让他的心愿彰显， 朝圣者携带的贫贱之物 在伟大教皇的眼中绽放?
Stanza 16
But neither milk-white rose nor red May bloom in prison air; The shard, the pebble, and the flint, Are what they give us there: For flowers have been known to heal A common man’s despair.
&16
可是没有乳白的玫瑰也没有红色的 会在监狱的空气中绽放； 垃圾，石子，和土块， 这便是他们给我们的: 因为谁都知道鲜花可以治愈 一个普通人的绝望。
Stanza 17
So never will wine-red rose or white, Petal by petal, fall On that stretch of mud and sand that lies By the hideous prison-wall, To tell the men who tramp the yard That God’s Son died for all.
17
所以永远不会有酒红色的玫瑰或白色的， 花瓣片片，飘落在 延展的泥土和砂砾上 在可怕的监狱的围墙下， 告诉走在院子里的人们 上帝之子为了所有的人受难。
Stanza 18
Yet though the hideous prison-wall Still hems him round and round, And a spirit man not walk by night That is with fetters bound, And a spirit may not weep that lies In such unholy ground.
18
可尽管监狱可怕的围墙 仍一圈圈地把他框住， 一个人变成幽灵夜里仍然无法走动 他仍然被他的脚镣束缚， 而那个灵魂或许不会躺着哭泣 在这片如此污秽的泥土里。
Stanza 19
He is at peace— --- this wretched man— --- At peace, or will be soon: There is no thing to make him mad, Nor does Terror walk at noon, For the lampless Earth in which he lies Has neither Sun nor Moon.
19
他安息了——这可怜的人—— 安息，或很快将要安息: 没有什么能再让他生气， 也不再会有恐怖正午来袭， 对于他躺进的没有灯光的泥土 这里既没有月也没有日。
Stanza 20
They hanged him as a beast is hanged: They did not even toll A requiem that might have brought Rest to his startled soul, But hurriedly they took him out, And hid him in a hole.
20
他们把他吊起来像吊起一头野兽: 他们甚至连丧钟都没有敲 一只安魂曲或许就可以 安抚他惊惧的灵魂， 但他们很快便把他放下来， 然后藏进了一个洞穴中。
Stanza 21
They stripped him of his canvas clothes, And gave him to the flies; They mocked the swollen purple throat And the stark and staring eyes: And with laughter loud they heaped the shroud In which their convict lies.
21
他们剥去他的粗布衣裳， 然后把他交给了苍蝇； 他们嘲笑着他紫胀的喉咙 还有他的僵瞪的眼睛： 他们大声笑着堆起裹尸布 在他们的犯罪之地。
Stanza 22
The Chaplain would not kneel to pray By his dishonored grave: Nor mark it with that blessed Cross That Christ for sinners gave, Because the man was one of those Whom Christ came down to save.
22
牧师不会跪下祈祷 来到他不名誉的坟墓： 不会划祝福的十字 那是基督给予过罪人们的祝福， 因为这个人就是其中之一 基督要来降临拯救。
Stanza 23
Yet all is well; he has but passed To Life’s appointed bourne: And alien tears will fill for him Pity’s long-broken urn, For his mourner will be outcast men, And outcasts always mourn.
23
一切依旧；他只是走了 去到生命指定的异邦： 异乡人的泪水将为他注满 怜悯早已破碎的骨灰瓮， 因哀悼他的将是被遗弃的人们， 而被遗弃的人们总在哀悼。
Section V
第五章
Stanza 1
I know not whether Laws be right, Or whether Laws be wrong; All that we know who lie in goal Is that the wall is strong; And that each day is like a year, A year whose days are long.
1
我不知道法律是对 或错； 所有我们知道的是它最终的目的 要墙足够坚固； 而那里一天就像一年， 而一年里的日子都是漫长。
Stanza 2
But this I know, that every Law That men have made for Man, Since first Man took his brother’s life, And the sad world began, But straws the wheat and saves the chaff With a most evil fan.
2
但我知道，每一部法律 都是一些人为某个人所制定， 自从第一个人夺走他兄弟的性命， 悲惨的世界就此开始， 但丢弃掉谷粒收藏谷壳 带着最邪恶的热情。
Stanza 3
This too I know ---- —and wise it were If each could know the same—---- That every prison that men build Is built with bricks of shame, And bound with bars lest Christ should see How men their brothers maim.
3
我还知道——这是一种智慧 如果其他人知道也是一样—— 人造的每一座监狱 都是用耻辱之砖堆建， 并围上铁栏，以免基督会看到 人们是如何与兄弟相残。
Stanza 4
With bars they blur the gracious moon, And blind the goodly sun: And they do well to hide their Hell, For in it things are done That Son of God nor son of Man Ever should look upon!
4
他们用铁栏模糊典雅的月亮， 蒙蔽美好的太阳： 他们把他们的地狱很好地隐蔽， 这样就可以干他们的勾当 那是无论神子或人子 都不应当看到!
Stanza 5
The vilest deeds like poison weeds Bloom well in prison-air: It is only what is good in Man That wastes and withers there: Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate, And the Warder is Despair.
5
最卑鄙的行为，就像毒草 在监狱的空气里绽放： 这里只有人类的善 被浪费并枯萎： 苍白的痛苦守卫沉重的门， 而看守已经绝望。
Stanza 6
For they starve the little frightened child Till it weeps both night and day: And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool, And gibe the old and grey, And some grow mad, and all grow bad, And none a word may say.
6
他们让受到惊吓的孩子挨饿
直到他日夜哭泣：
他们痛打弱势，鞭笞愚众，
嘲笑老人和长者，
有些人变疯，而所有的人在变坏，
大家对此不置一词。
Stanza 7
Each narrow cell in which we dwell Is foul and dark latrine, And the fetid breath of living Death Chokes up each grated screen, And all, but Lust, is turned to dust In Humanity’s machine.
7
我们每间栖息的狭小的牢房 都是肮脏又黑暗的公厕， 活死人的恶臭的呼吸 窒息了每一个破碎的庇护所， 一切，除了色欲，都化为尘土 在人性的机器中。
Stanza 8
The brackish water that we drink Creeps with a loathsome slime, And the bitter bread they weigh in scales Is full of chalk and lime, And Sleep will not lie down, but walks Wild-eyed and cries to Time.
8
我们喝的水又脏又咸 晃着令人恶心的黏液， 他们用秤称苦味的面包 里面全是白垩和石灰， 睡眠不是躺着，而是行走 睁大眼睛向着时间哭泣。
Stanza 9
But though lean Hunger and green Thirst Like asp with adder fight, We have little care of prison fare, For what chills and kills outright Is that every stone one lifts by day Becomes one’s heart by night.
9
尽管饿得歪斜渴得发绿 象龟蛇大战， 我们全不关心监狱的公正， 因为最彻底的恐怖与屠杀 是每一块白天被抬起的石头 到夜晚变成了一个人的心。
Stanza 10
With midnight always in one’s heart, And twilight in one’s cell, We turn the crank, or tear the rope, Each in his separate Hell, And the silence is more awful far Than the sound of a brazen bell.
10
午夜一直盘亘在内心， 暮色总是笼罩着牢狱， 我们转动曲柄，或撕碎绳索， 每个人留在他孤独的地府， 那里的寂静 远比喧嚣的钟声恐怖。
Stanza 11
And never a human voice comes near To speak a gentle word: And the eye that watches through the door Is pitiless and hard: And by all forgot, we rot and rot, With soul and body marred.
11
从来没有一个人的声音传来 说出一句温柔的话语： 穿过牢门观看的眼中 毫无怜悯而且严酷： 被所有人忘却，我们腐烂还是腐烂， 灵魂和肉体都被耗损。
Stanza 12
And thus we rust Life’s iron chain Degraded and alone: And some men curse, and some men weep, And some men make no moan: But God’s eternal Laws are kind And break the heart of stone.
12
就这样我们锈蚀生命的铁链 屈辱又孤单： 有人诅咒，有人哭泣， 有人抑制着哀伤： 但上帝永恒的律条是仁爱 它打破了石头般的心脏。
Stanza 13
And every human heart that breaks, In prison-cell or yard, Is as that broken box that gave Its treasure to the Lord, And filled the unclean leper’s house With the scent of costliest nard.
13
我们每个人的心都会破碎， 在牢房或监狱的院子里， 就像破碎的献给主 珍宝的盒子， 不洁的麻风病人的屋里 充满了最昂贵的甘松的香气。
Stanza 14
Ah! happy day they whose hearts can break And peace of pardon win! How else may man make straight his plan And cleanse his soul from Sin? How else but through a broken heart May Lord Christ enter in?
14
啊! 那些心能破碎的人们将有快乐 和被赦免的胜利的安宁！ 人如何让他的计划通行 将他的灵魂从罪中洗净？ 除了通过一颗心的破碎 主基督将如何注入？
Stanza 15
And he of the swollen purple throat. And the stark and staring eyes, Waits for the holy hands that took The Thief to Paradise; Found a broken and a contrite heart The Lord will not despise.
15
他的喉咙紫胀。 双眼呆板， 期待着神圣的双手 把小偷送进天国； 发现一颗破碎悔罪的心 上帝将不会厌烦。
Stanza 16
The man in red who reads the Law Gave him three weeks of life, Three little weeks in which to heal His soul of his soul’s strife, And cleanse from every blot of blood The hand that held the knife.
16
宣读法律的红衣人
给予他三周的生命， 短短三周治愈 他心灵交战的心灵， 清洗每一块血渍 在拿过刀的手里。
Stanza 17
And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand, The hand that held the steel: For only blood can wipe out blood, And only tears can heal: And the crimson stain that was of Cain Became Christ’s snow-white seal.
17
他以血泪洗手， 那握过钢铁的手： 只因血可以拭去血， 只有泪可以治愈： 该隐殷红的污点 成为基督雪白的印封。
Section VI
第六章
Stanza 1
In Reading gaol by Reading town There is a pit of shame, And in it lies a wretched man Eaten by teeth of flame, In burning winding-sheet he lies, And his grave has got no name.
1
在雷丁镇的雷丁监狱 有一个耻辱的坑， 里面躺着一个可怜的人 被火焰的獠牙吞噬， 他躺在燃卷的席子里， 他的坟墓没有名字。
Stanza 2
And there, till Christ call forth the dead, In silence let him lie: No need to waste the foolish tear, Or heave the windy sigh: The man had killed the thing he loved, And so he had to die.
2
就在这里，直到基督召唤， 就让他就躺在静寂里： 无需浪费愚蠢的眼泪， 或发出风的叹息： 一个人杀死了他心爱之物， 所以他只能去死。
Stanza 3
And all men kill the thing they love, By all let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword!
3
所有的人都会杀死他们的所爱， 要让所有的人知道这一点， 一些人带着苦涩的表情， 一些人用恭维的语言， 懦夫用一个吻来完成， 而勇者用剑!
英文歌词
The Ballad of Reading Gaol
作者： Oscar Wilde（奥斯卡·王尔德）
I.
He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby grey;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by.
I walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
"That fellow's got to swing."
Dear Christ! the very prison walls
Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel.
I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
He does not die a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
Nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet foremost through the floor
Into an empty place
He does not sit with silent men
Who watch him night and day;
Who watch him when he tries to weep,
And when he tries to pray;
Who watch him lest himself should rob
The prison of its prey.
He does not wake at dawn to see
Dread figures throng his room,
The shivering Chaplain robed in white,
The Sheriff stern with gloom,
And the Governor all in shiny black,
With the yellow face of Doom.
He does not rise in piteous haste
To put on convict-clothes,
While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes
Each new and nerve-twitched pose,
Fingering a watch whose little ticks
Are like horrible hammer-blows.
He does not know that sickening thirst
That sands one's throat, before
The hangman with his gardener's gloves
Slips through the padded door,
And binds one with three leathern thongs,
That the throat may thirst no more.
He does not bend his head to hear
The Burial Office read,
Nor, while the terror of his soul
Tells him he is not dead,
Cross his own coffin, as he moves
Into the hideous shed.
He does not stare upon the air
Through a little roof of glass;
He does not pray with lips of clay
For his agony to pass;
Nor feel upon his shuddering cheek
The kiss of Caiaphas.
II.
Six weeks our guardsman walked the yard,
In a suit of shabby grey:
His cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay,
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every wandering cloud that trailed
Its raveled fleeces by.
He did not wring his hands, as do
Those witless men who dare
To try to rear the changeling Hope
In the cave of black Despair:
He only looked upon the sun,
And drank the morning air.
He did not wring his hands nor weep,
Nor did he peek or pine,
But he drank the air as though it held
Some healthful anodyne;
With open mouth he drank the sun
As though it had been wine!
And I and all the souls in pain,
Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we ourselves had done
A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
The man who had to swing.
And strange it was to see him pass
With a step so light and gay,
And strange it was to see him look
So wistfully at the day,
And strange it was to think that he
Had such a debt to pay.
For oak and elm have pleasant leaves
That in the spring-time shoot:
But grim to see is the gallows-tree,
With its adder-bitten root,
And, green or dry, a man must die
Before it bears its fruit!
The loftiest place is that seat of grace
For which all worldlings try:
But who would stand in hempen band
Upon a scaffold high,
And through a murderer's collar take
His last look at the sky?
It is sweet to dance to violins
When Love and Life are fair:
To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes
Is delicate and rare:
But it is not sweet with nimble feet
To dance upon the air!
So with curious eyes and sick surmise
We watched him day by day,
And wondered if each one of us
Would end the self-same way,
For none can tell to what red Hell
His sightless soul may stray.
At last the dead man walked no more
Amongst the Trial Men,
And I knew that he was standing up
In the black dock's dreadful pen,
And that never would I see his face
In God's sweet world again.
Like two doomed ships that pass in storm
We had crossed each other's way:
But we made no sign, we said no word,
We had no word to say;
For we did not meet in the holy night,
But in the shameful day.
A prison wall was round us both,
Two outcast men were we:
The world had thrust us from its heart,
And God from out His care:
And the iron gin that waits for Sin
Had caught us in its snare.
In Debtors' Yard the stones are hard,
And the dripping wall is high,
So it was there he took the air
Beneath the leaden sky,
And by each side a Warder walked,
For fear the man might die.
Or else he sat with those who watched
His anguish night and day;
Who watched him when he rose to weep,
And when he crouched to pray;
Who watched him lest himself should rob
Their scaffold of its prey.
The Governor was strong upon
The Regulations Act:
The Doctor said that Death was but
A scientific fact:
And twice a day the Chaplain called
And left a little tract.
And twice a day he smoked his pipe,
And drank his quart of beer:
His soul was resolute, and held
No hiding-place for fear;
He often said that he was glad
The hangman's hands were near.
But why he said so strange a thing
No Warder dared to ask:
For he to whom a watcher's doom
Is given as his task,
Must set a lock upon his lips,
And make his face a mask.
Or else he might be moved, and try
To comfort or console:
And what should Human Pity do
Pent up in Murderers' Hole?
What word of grace in such a place
Could help a brother's soul?
With slouch and swing around the ring
We trod the Fool's Parade!
We did not care: we knew we were
The Devil's Own Brigade:
And shaven head and feet of lead
Make a merry masquerade.
We tore the tarry rope to shreds
With blunt and bleeding nails;
We rubbed the doors, and scrubbed the floors,
And cleaned the shining rails:
And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank,
And clattered with the pails.
We sewed the sacks, we broke the stones,
We turned the dusty drill:
We banged the tins, and bawled the hymns,
And sweated on the mill:
But in the heart of every man
Terror was lying still.
So still it lay that every day
Crawled like a weed-clogged wave:
And we forgot the bitter lot
That waits for fool and knave,
Till once, as we tramped in from work,
We passed an open grave.
With yawning mouth the yellow hole
Gaped for a living thing;
The very mud cried out for blood
To the thirsty asphalte ring:
And we knew that ere one dawn grew fair
Some prisoner had to swing.
Right in we went, with soul intent
On Death and Dread and Doom:
The hangman, with his little bag,
Went shuffling through the gloom
And each man trembled as he crept
Into his numbered tomb.
That night the empty corridors
Were full of forms of Fear,
And up and down the iron town
Stole feet we could not hear,
And through the bars that hide the stars
White faces seemed to peer.
He lay as one who lies and dreams
In a pleasant meadow-land,
The watcher watched him as he slept,
And could not understand
How one could sleep so sweet a sleep
With a hangman close at hand?
But there is no sleep when men must weep
Who never yet have wept:
So we—the fool, the fraud, the knave—
That endless vigil kept,
And through each brain on hands of pain
Another's terror crept.
Alas! it is a fearful thing
To feel another's guilt!
For, right within, the sword of Sin
Pierced to its poisoned hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
For the blood we had not spilt.
The Warders with their shoes of felt
Crept by each padlocked door,
And peeped and saw, with eyes of awe,
Grey figures on the floor,
And wondered why men knelt to pray
Who never prayed before.
All through the night we knelt and prayed,
Mad mourners of a corpse!
The troubled plumes of midnight were
The plumes upon a hearse:
And bitter wine upon a sponge
Was the savior of Remorse.
The cock crew, the red cock crew,
But never came the day:
And crooked shape of Terror crouched,
In the corners where we lay:
And each evil sprite that walks by night
Before us seemed to play.
They glided past, they glided fast,
Like travelers through a mist:
They mocked the moon in a rigadoon
Of delicate turn and twist,
And with formal pace and loathsome grace
The phantoms kept their tryst.
With mop and mow, we saw them go,
Slim shadows hand in hand:
About, about, in ghostly rout
They trod a saraband:
And the damned grotesques made arabesques,
Like the wind upon the sand!
With the pirouettes of marionettes,
They tripped on pointed tread:
But with flutes of Fear they filled the ear,
As their grisly masque they led,
And loud they sang, and loud they sang,
For they sang to wake the dead.
"Oho!" they cried, "The world is wide,
But fettered limbs go lame!
And once, or twice, to throw the dice
Is a gentlemanly game,
But he does not win who plays with Sin
In the secret House of Shame."
No things of air these antics were
That frolicked with such glee:
To men whose lives were held in gyves,
And whose feet might not go free,
Ah! wounds of Christ! they were living things,
Most terrible to see.
Around, around, they waltzed and wound;
Some wheeled in smirking pairs:
With the mincing step of demirep
Some sidled up the stairs:
And with subtle sneer, and fawning leer,
Each helped us at our prayers.
The morning wind began to moan,
But still the night went on:
Through its giant loom the web of gloom
Crept till each thread was spun:
And, as we prayed, we grew afraid
Of the Justice of the Sun.
The moaning wind went wandering round
The weeping prison-wall:
Till like a wheel of turning-steel
We felt the minutes crawl:
O moaning wind! what had we done
To have such a seneschal?
At last I saw the shadowed bars
Like a lattice wrought in lead,
Move right across the whitewashed wall
That faced my three-plank bed,
And I knew that somewhere in the world
God's dreadful dawn was red.
At six o'clock we cleaned our cells,
At seven all was still,
But the sough and swing of a mighty wing
The prison seemed to fill,
For the Lord of Death with icy breath
Had entered in to kill.
He did not pass in purple pomp,
Nor ride a moon-white steed.
Three yards of cord and a sliding board
Are all the gallows' need:
So with rope of shame the Herald came
To do the secret deed.
We were as men who through a fen
Of filthy darkness grope:
We did not dare to breathe a prayer,
Or give our anguish scope:
Something was dead in each of us,
And what was dead was Hope.
For Man's grim Justice goes its way,
And will not swerve aside:
It slays the weak, it slays the strong,
It has a deadly stride:
With iron heel it slays the strong,
The monstrous parricide!
We waited for the stroke of eight:
Each tongue was thick with thirst:
For the stroke of eight is the stroke of Fate
That makes a man accursed,
And Fate will use a running noose
For the best man and the worst.
We had no other thing to do,
Save to wait for the sign to come:
So, like things of stone in a valley lone,
Quiet we sat and dumb:
But each man's heart beat thick and quick
Like a madman on a drum!
With sudden shock the prison-clock
Smote on the shivering air,
And from all the gaol rose up a wail
Of impotent despair,
Like the sound that frightened marshes hear
From a leper in his lair.
And as one sees most fearful things
In the crystal of a dream,
We saw the greasy hempen rope
Hooked to the blackened beam,
And heard the prayer the hangman's snare
Strangled into a scream.
And all the woe that moved him so
That he gave that bitter cry,
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats,
None knew so well as I:
For he who live more lives than one
More deaths than one must die.
IV.
There is no chapel on the day
On which they hang a man:
The Chaplain's heart is far too sick,
Or his face is far to wan,
Or there is that written in his eyes
Which none should look upon.
So they kept us close till nigh on noon,
And then they rang the bell,
And the Warders with their jingling keys
Opened each listening cell,
And down the iron stair we tramped,
Each from his separate Hell.
Out into God's sweet air we went,
But not in wonted way,
For this man's face was white with fear,
And that man's face was grey,
And I never saw sad men who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw sad men who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
We prisoners called the sky,
And at every careless cloud that passed
In happy freedom by.
But their were those amongst us all
Who walked with downcast head,
And knew that, had each go his due,
They should have died instead:
He had but killed a thing that lived
Whilst they had killed the dead.
For he who sins a second time
Wakes a dead soul to pain,
And draws it from its spotted shroud,
And makes it bleed again,
And makes it bleed great gouts of blood
And makes it bleed in vain!
Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb
With crooked arrows starred,
Silently we went round and round
The slippery asphalte yard;
Silently we went round and round,
And no man spoke a word.
Silently we went round and round,
And through each hollow mind
The memory of dreadful things
Rushed like a dreadful wind,
An Horror stalked before each man,
And terror crept behind.
The Warders strutted up and down,
And kept their herd of brutes,
Their uniforms were spick and span,
And they wore their Sunday suits,
But we knew the work they had been at
By the quicklime on their boots.
For where a grave had opened wide,
There was no grave at all:
Only a stretch of mud and sand
By the hideous prison-wall,
And a little heap of burning lime,
That the man should have his pall.
For he has a pall, this wretched man,
Such as few men can claim:
Deep down below a prison-yard,
Naked for greater shame,
He lies, with fetters on each foot,
Wrapt in a sheet of flame!
And all the while the burning lime
Eats flesh and bone away,
It eats the brittle bone by night,
And the soft flesh by the day,
It eats the flesh and bones by turns,
But it eats the heart alway.
For three long years they will not sow
Or root or seedling there:
For three long years the unblessed spot
Will sterile be and bare,
And look upon the wondering sky
With unreproachful stare.
They think a murderer's heart would taint
Each simple seed they sow.
It is not true! God's kindly earth
Is kindlier than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
Out of his mouth a red, red rose!
Out of his heart a white!
For who can say by what strange way,
Christ brings his will to light,
Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore
Bloomed in the great Pope's sight?
But neither milk-white rose nor red
May bloom in prison air;
The shard, the pebble, and the flint,
Are what they give us there:
For flowers have been known to heal
A common man's despair.
So never will wine-red rose or white,
Petal by petal, fall
On that stretch of mud and sand that lies
By the hideous prison-wall,
To tell the men who tramp the yard
That God's Son died for all.
Yet though the hideous prison-wall
Still hems him round and round,
And a spirit man not walk by night
That is with fetters bound,
And a spirit may not weep that lies
In such unholy ground,
He is at peace—this wretched man—
At peace, or will be soon:
There is no thing to make him mad,
Nor does Terror walk at noon,
For the lampless Earth in which he lies
Has neither Sun nor Moon.
They hanged him as a beast is hanged:
They did not even toll
A requiem that might have brought
Rest to his startled soul,
But hurriedly they took him out,
And hid him in a hole.
They stripped him of his canvas clothes,
And gave him to the flies;
They mocked the swollen purple throat
And the stark and staring eyes:
And with laughter loud they heaped the shroud
In which their convict lies.
The Chaplain would not kneel to pray
By his dishonored grave:
Nor mark it with that blessed Cross
That Christ for sinners gave,
Because the man was one of those
Whom Christ came down to save.
Yet all is well; he has but passed
To Life's appointed bourne:
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourner will be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn.
V.
I know not whether Laws be right,
Or whether Laws be wrong;
All that we know who lie in goal
Is that the wall is strong;
And that each day is like a year,
A year whose days are long.
But this I know, that every Law
That men have made for Man,
Since first Man took his brother's life,
And the sad world began,
But straws the wheat and saves the chaff
With a most evil fan.
This too I know—and wise it were
If each could know the same—
That every prison that men build
Is built with bricks of shame,
And bound with bars lest Christ should see
How men their brothers maim.
With bars they blur the gracious moon,
And blind the goodly sun:
And they do well to hide their Hell,
For in it things are done
That Son of God nor son of Man
Ever should look upon!
The vilest deeds like poison weeds
Bloom well in prison-air:
It is only what is good in Man
That wastes and withers there:
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
And the Warder is Despair
For they starve the little frightened child
Till it weeps both night and day:
And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool,
And gibe the old and grey,
And some grow mad, and all grow bad,
And none a word may say.
Each narrow cell in which we dwell
Is foul and dark latrine,
And the fetid breath of living Death
Chokes up each grated screen,
And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
In Humanity's machine.
The brackish water that we drink
Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed and cries to Time.
But though lean Hunger and green Thirst
Like asp with adder fight,
We have little care of prison fare,
For what chills and kills outright
Is that every stone one lifts by day
Becomes one's heart by night.
With midnight always in one's heart,
And twilight in one's cell,
We turn the crank, or tear the rope,
Each in his separate Hell,
And the silence is more awful far
Than the sound of a brazen bell.
And never a human voice comes near
To speak a gentle word:
And the eye that watches through the door
Is pitiless and hard:
And by all forgot, we rot and rot,
With soul and body marred.
And thus we rust Life's iron chain
Degraded and alone:
And some men curse, and some men weep,
And some men make no moan:
But God's eternal Laws are kind
And break the heart of stone.
And every human heart that breaks,
In prison-cell or yard,
Is as that broken box that gave
Its treasure to the Lord,
And filled the unclean leper's house
With the scent of costliest nard.
Ah! happy day they whose hearts can break
And peace of pardon win!
How else may man make straight his plan
And cleanse his soul from Sin?
How else but through a broken heart
May Lord Christ enter in?
And he of the swollen purple throat.
And the stark and staring eyes,
Waits for the holy hands that took
The Thief to Paradise;
And a broken and a contrite heart
The Lord will not despise.
The man in red who reads the Law
Gave him three weeks of life,
Three little weeks in which to heal
His soul of his soul's strife,
And cleanse from every blot of blood
The hand that held the knife.
And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand,
The hand that held the steel:
For only blood can wipe out blood,
And only tears can heal:
And the crimson stain that was of Cain
Became Christ's snow-white seal.
VI.
In Reading gaol by Reading town
There is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a wretched man
Eaten by teeth of flame,
In burning winding-sheet he lies,
And his grave has got no name.
And there, till Christ call forth the dead,
In silence let him lie:
No need to waste the foolish tear,
Or heave the windy sigh:
The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.
And all men kill the thing they love,
By all let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
>雷丁监狱之歌
1988 /英国 /11分钟
主演： 昆廷·克里斯普
导演： Richard Kwietniowski
《The Ballad of Reading Gaol》是爱尔兰作家奥斯卡·王尔德创作的诗歌作品，最初匿名出版。该作品基于王尔德在雷丁监狱的服刑经历创作，讲述一名囚犯因谋杀爱人被判处绞刑后的三周囚禁生活，通过凝视天空等细节展现人性困境。
诗作采用反抒情叙事手法突破浪漫主义传统，揭露英国监狱体制对犯人人性的践踏，探讨法律与罪行的现代性命题。王尔德提出“人类皆为罪人”的哲学观，其叙事结构和人性描写为英国文学注入现代性美学元素。
雷丁监狱（Reading Prison），这所臭名昭著的英国监狱曾在1895年关押了爱尔兰诗人奥斯卡·王尔德（Oscar Wilde），并成为了他笔下最有名的诗歌之一的主题。雷丁监狱同时也是Artangel艺术中心最新的项目主题，题为：“Inside—Artists and Writers in Reading Prison"（高墙之内——艺术家和作家在雷丁监狱）。
许多大名鼎鼎的艺术家、表演家和作家纷纷响应这个激动人心的倡议，对王尔德作品、雷丁监狱的建筑，以及关于监禁与隔离的主题做出回应。
“高墙之内"将会是这所声名狼藉的监狱第一次向公众打开大门。接受委托的艺术家们的新作将会装点这所19世纪监狱的走廊、侧厅和单人牢房。领衔的艺术家有：马琳·杜马斯（Marlene Dumas）、罗伯特·戈伯（Robert Gober）、南·戈丁（Nan Goldin）、史蒂夫·麦奎因（Steve McQueen）、Jean-Michel Pancin，和沃尔夫冈·蒂尔曼斯（Wolfgang Tillmans）。
雷丁监狱的平面图
雷丁监狱建立于1844年，直到2013年还在运营中。王尔德无疑是雷丁监狱里最有名的犯人。在两年的监禁期间，王尔德被维多利亚时期残酷的监狱“分离制"（Separate System）被迫与其他囚犯隔离开来。
奥斯卡·王尔德
对于王尔德来说，监狱不仅仅是不公审判的来源，同时也是他创作灵感的源泉。狱中的经历促使他创作出晚期最杰出的几部作品：一部献给爱人阿尔弗雷德·道格拉斯勋爵史诗级的情书《狱中书》（又译《深渊书简》，De Profundis），还有大名鼎鼎的《雷丁监狱之歌》（Ballad of Reading Gaol）也是他获释后不久完成的作品。
《雷丁监狱之歌》手稿
除了维多利亚晚期的囚犯照片以及“分离制"监狱的示意图和版画，届时同时展出的还有来自艺术家的作品，包括维加·塞尔敏斯（Vija Celmins）、丽塔·罗纳（Rita Donagh）、彼特·德雷尔（Peter Dreher）、菲利克斯·冈萨雷斯托雷斯（Felix Gonzalez-Torres）、理查德·汉密尔顿（Richard Hamilton）和多丽丝·萨尔赛多（Doris Salcedo）。
雷丁监狱的囚犯在他们受指控或转移之前的照片
更有意思的是，包括帕蒂·史密斯（Patti Smith）、拉格纳·基亚尔坦松（Ragnar Kjartansson）、尼尔·巴特莱特（Neil Bartlett）、拉尔夫·费因斯（Ralph Fiennes）、凯瑟琳·亨特（Kathryn Hunter）、玛克辛·皮克（Maxine Peake）、科尔姆·托宾（Colm Tóibín）和本·威士肖（Ben Whishaw）在内的一大帮明星艺术家、作家、演员和表演家们也会加入到这个项目里。在9月和10月的每个星期天，他们都会以在监狱的教堂里朗读《狱中书》全文的方式向王尔德致敬。
艺术组织Artangel的联合总监James Lingwood和Michael Morris在一份声明里说到：“我们对即将开放雷丁监狱感到十分兴奋，尤其是来自各个领域的艺术家、作家和表演家将对这座维多利亚式的建筑，以及王尔德在牢房C.3.3.里所写的《狱中书》做出自己的艺术注解。"
他们补充道：“这个项目会给公众提供一个深思的机会，特别是在这个充满权威感的地点，提示参观者一种被国家机器从社会剥离的感受。"
这个地标性的项目同时将展示来自世界各地的艺术家用他们亲身经历或者想象撰写的信件，描述被国家机器从社会剥离的感受。艾未未、Tahmima Anam、安妮·卡森（Anne Carson）、乔·邓索恩（Joe Dunthorne）、黛博拉·利维（Deborah Levy）、吉莉安·斯洛沃（Gillian Slovo）和珍妮特·温特森（Jeanette Winterson）的信件将在监狱中的一些牢房里展出。
