第 3 节
作者:翱翔1981      更新:2024-04-07 21:07      字数:9322
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  THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
  She sat in our midst; and judged us; and few knew what was passing
  behind that face 〃like an awakening soul;〃 to use one of her own epithets。
  Her eyes were like deep pools; and you seemed to fall through them into
  depths below depths。
  ARTHUR SYMONS。
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  THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
  FOLK SONGS
  PALANQUIN BEARERS
  Lightly;  O   lightly we   bear   her along;   She sways   like   a flower in the
  wind of our song; She skims like a bird on the foam of a stream; She floats
  like a laugh from the lips of a dream。 Gaily; O gaily we glide and we sing;
  We bear her along like a pearl on a string。
  Softly; O softly we bear her along; She hangs like a star in the dew of
  our song; She springs like a beam on the brow of the tide; She falls like a
  tear from the eyes of a bride。 Lightly; O lightly we glide and we sing; We
  bear her along like a pearl on a string。
  WANDERING SINGERS (Written to one of their Tunes)
  Where     the   voice  of  the  wind    calls  our  wandering     feet;  Through
  echoing forest and echoing street; With lutes in our hands ever…singing we
  roam; All men are our kindred; the world is our home。
  Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed; The laughter and beauty of
  women long dead; The sword of old battles; the crown of old kings; And
  happy and simple and sorrowful things。
  What   hope   shall   we   gather;   what   dreams   shall   we   sow?   Where   the
  wind calls our wandering footsteps we go。 No love bids us tarry; no joy
  bids us wait: The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate。
  INDIAN WEAVERS
  Weavers; weaving at break of day; Why do you weave a garment so
  gay? 。  。  。  Blue   as   the   wing   of   a halcyon   wild; We   weave   the   robes   of   a
  new…born child。
  Weavers;   weaving   at   fall   of   night; Why  do   you   weave   a   garment   so
  bright? 。 。 。 Like the plumes of a peacock; purple and green; We weave the
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  THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
  marriage…veils of a queen。
  Weavers;      weaving    solemn     and  still;  What   do   you   weave    in  the
  moonlight chill? 。 。 。 White as a feather and white as a cloud; We weave a
  dead man's funeral shroud。
  COROMANDEL FISHERS
  Rise;   brothers;   rise;   the   wakening   skies   pray to   the   morning   light;
  The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn             like a child that has cried
  all  night。   Come;    let  us  gather  our  nets  from   the   shore;   and   set  our
  catamarans free; To capture the leaping wealth of the tide; for            we are the
  sons of the sea。
  No longer delay; let us hasten away in the          track of the sea…gull's call;
  The    sea  is  our  mother;   the  cloud   is  our  brother;   the   waves    are  our
  comrades all。 What though we toss at the fall of the sun             where the hand
  of the sea…god drives? He who holds the storm by the hair; will hide                 in
  his breast our lives。
  Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade; and           the scent of the mango
  grove; And sweet are the sands at the full o' the          moon with the sound of
  the voices we love。 But sweeter; O brothers; the kiss of the spray            and the
  dance of the wild foam's glee: Row; brothers; row to the blue of the verge;
  where the low sky mates with the sea。
  THE SNAKE…CHARMER
  Whither   dost   thou   hide   from   the   magic   of   my   flute…call?   In   what
  moonlight…tangled meshes of perfume; Where the clustering keovas guard
  the squirrel's slumber; Where the deep woods glimmer with the jasmine's
  bloom?
  I'll feed thee; O beloved; on milk and wild red honey; I'll bear thee in a
  basket of rushes; green and white; To a palace…bower where golden…vested
  maidens Thread with mellow laughter the petals of delight。
  Whither      dost   thou   loiter;  by   what    murmuring      hollows;    Where
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  THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
  oleanders   scatter   their   ambrosial   fire?   Come;   thou   subtle   bride   of   my
  mellifluous wooing; Come; thou silver…breasted moonbeam of desire!
  CORN…GRINDERS
  O    LITTLE    MOUSE;      WHY   DOST      THOU     CRY   WHILE      MERRY
  STARS LAUGH IN THE SKY?
  Alas! alas! my lord is dead! Ah; who will ease my bitter pain? He went
  to seek a millet…grain In the rich farmer's granary shed; They caught him
  in a baited snare; And slew my lover unaware: Alas! alas! my lord is dead。
  O    LITTLE     DEER;    WHY     DOST     THOU     MOAN;     HID    IN  THY
  FOREST…BOWER ALONE?
  Alas! alas! my lord is dead! Ah! who will quiet my lament?
  At fall of eventide he went To drink beside the river…head; A waiting
  hunter threw his dart; And struck my lover through the heart。 Alas! alas!
  my lord is dead。
  O   LITTLE   BRIDE;   WHY   DOST   THOU   WEEP   WITH   ALL   THE
  HAPPY WORLD ASLEEP?
  Alas! alas! my lord is dead! Ah; who will stay these hungry tears; Or
  still the want of famished years; And crown with love my marriage…bed?
  My soul burns with the quenchless   fire That lit   my lover's   funeral   pyre:
  Alas! alas! my lord is dead。
  VILLAGE…SONG
  Honey; child; honey; child; whither are you        going? Would you cast
  your jewels all to the breezes    blowing? Would you leave the mother who
  on golden     grain has fed you? Would you grieve the lover who is riding
  forth   to wed you?
  Mother mine; to the wild forest I am going; Where upon the champa
  boughs   the   champa    buds   are   blowing;   To   the   koil…haunted   river…isles
  where lotus lilies   glisten; The voices of the fairy folk are calling me:     O
  listen!
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  THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
  Honey; child;  honey; child;  the  world is   full of         pleasure;  Of  bridal…
  songs and cradle…songs and sandal…             scented leisure。 Your bridal robes are
  in   the   loom;   silver   and  saffron   glowing;   Your   bridal   cakes   are   on   the
  hearth: O whither        are you going?
  The    bridal…songs     and   cradle…songs     have   cadences     of    sorrow;   The
  laughter   of   the   sun   to…day;   the   wind   of death   to…morrow。   Far   sweeter
  sound the forest…notes where forest…            streams are falling; O mother mine;
  I cannot stay; the fairy…folk       are calling。
  IN PRAISE OF HENNA
  A  kokila   called   from   a   henna…spray:   LIRA!   LIREE!   LIRA!   LIREE!
  Hasten; maidens; hasten away To gather the leaves of the henna…tree。 Send
  your   pitchers   afloat   on   the   tide;   Gather   the   leaves   ere   the   dawn   be   old;
  Grind them in mortars of amber and gold; The fresh green leaves of the
  henna…tree。
  A  kokila   called   from   a   henna…spray:   LIRA!   LIREE!   LIRA!   LIREE!
  Hasten maidens; hasten away To gather the leaves of the henna…tree。 The
  tilka's   red   for   the   brow   of   a   bride; And   betel…nut's   red   for   lips   that   are
  sweet; But; for lily…like fingers and feet; The red; the red of the henna…tree。
  HARVEST HYMN
  Men's Voices
  Lord of the lotus; lord of the harvest; Bright and munificent lord of the
  morn! Thine is the bounty that prospered our sowing; Thine is the bounty
  that   nurtured   our   corn。   We   bring   thee   our   songs   and   our   garlands   for
  tribute;   The    gold   of  our  fields   and   the  gold   of  our   fruit;  O  giver   of
  mellowing radiance; we hail thee; We praise thee; O Surya; with cymbal
  and flute。
  Lord of the rainbow; lord of the harvest; Great and beneficent lord of
  the   main!   Thine   is   the   mercy   that   cherished   our   furrows;   Thine   is   the
  mercy that fostered our grain。 We bring thee our thanks and our garlands
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  for tribute; The wealth of our valleys; new…garnered and ripe; O sender of
  rain   and   the dewfall;   we   hail   thee; We   praise thee; Varuna;   with   cymbal
  and pipe。
  Women's Voices
  Quee