介绍:
2021年8月11日《古大叔小木屋》直播实况 私人录制
时间：晚9:00——10:00
汉英文本
Walden [ˈwɔldən] (Issue72)
4. Sounds(13)
[18] When other birds are still, the screech owls take up the strain, like mourning[ˈmɔːnɪŋ][与morning发音相同] women their ancient u-lu-lu[ˈjuːljʊˌlu]. Their dismal[ˈdɪzml] scream is truly Ben Jonsonian[dʒɔn'səuniən]. Wise midnight hags! It is no honest and blunt tu-whit[wɪt] tu-who of the poets, but, without jesting, a most solemn graveyard ditty, the mutual[ˈmjuːtʃʊəl] consolations of suicide lovers remembering the pangs and the delights of supernal[suːˈpɜːnl] love in the infernal[ɪnˈfɜːnl] groves. //Yet I love to hear their wailing, their doleful[ˈdəʊlfʊl] responses, trilled along the woodside; reminding me sometimes of music and singing birds; as if it were the dark and tearful side of music, the regrets and sighs that would fain be sung. They are the spirits, the low spirits and melancholy forebodings[fɔːˈbəʊdɪŋs], of fallen souls that once in human shape night-walked the earth and did the deeds of darkness, now expiating['ekspieɪt] their sins with their wailing hymns[hɪms] or threnodies[ˈθrenədɪz] in the scenery of their transgressions[trænzˈgreʃənz]. They give me a new sense of the variety and capacity of that nature which is our common dwelling. Oh[əʊ] -o-o-o-o that I never had been bor-r-r-r-n! sighs one on this side of the pond, and circles with the restlessness of despair to some new perch on the gray oaks. Then - that I never had been bor-r-r-r-n! echoes another on the farther side with tremulous sincerity[sɪnˈserɪtɪ], and - bor-r-r-r-n! comes faintly from far in the Lincoln woods.
[19] I was also serenaded by a hooting[huːtɪŋ] owl[aʊl]. Near at hand you could fancy it the most melancholy sound in Nature, as if she meant by this to stereotype and make permanent in her choir[ˈkwaɪə] the dying moans[məʊns] of a human being - some poor weak relic of mortality who has left hope behind, and howls[haʊls] like an animal, yet with human sobs, on entering the dark valley, made more awful by a certain gurgling melodiousness[mɪˈləʊdɪəsnɪs] - I find myself beginning with the letters gl when I try to imitate it - expressive of a mind which has reached the gelatinous[dʒɪˈlætɪnəs], mildewy[ˈmɪlˌdjuːɪ] stage in the mortification of all healthy and courageous thought. It reminded me of ghouls[guːls] and idiots and insane[ɪnˈseɪn] howlings. //But now one answers from far woods in a strain made really melodious[mɪˈləʊdɪəs] by distance - Hoo hoo hoo, hoorer hoo; and indeed for the most part it suggested only pleasing associations, whether heard by day or night, summer or winter.
当其他鸟儿静下来的时候角鸮xiāo[北美洲一种小型鸮]扯起了它们的调子，就像悲悼的妇人们那古老的“噢-啰-啰”。它们令人沮丧的嘶喊是正宗本•约翰逊式的。一群夜半母夜叉！那可真不是诗人们那“吐-喂-吐-呼”的诚实和率真，而是，不是开玩笑，一种最庄重的来自坟墓的歌谣，自杀的恋人在阴间的果园回忆起他们海誓山盟的爱的痛苦和欢欣的一种相互安慰。可是我爱听它们的哭嚎，他们阴沉的回应，声音沿着林边颤抖，有时候提醒我其他鸟儿的歌唱和音乐；仿佛它是音乐黑暗和令人心碎的一面，只想唱出懊悔和叹息。它们是精灵，消沉的精神和悲惨的预感，来自于大地上也曾经是人形的堕落的灵魂，做过黑暗的事情，如今正在以它们悲恸tòng的号啕或挽歌赎罪，面对着他们罪过。它们让我对我们习以为常的住所，自然有了一种新的感觉。“噢-哦-哦-哦-哦 我还从未出——生——生——生——生！”一只在湖的这一边叹息，以无尽的绝望飞旋着去了那些灰色橡树的新栖息枝。接着——“我还从未出——生——生——生——生！”另一只隐约在更远的湖的另一边真挚而颤抖着回应，而且——“出——生——生——生——生！”从更遥远的林肯郡的树林深处也传来微弱的应答。
我也曾被一只枭叫的猫头鹰拜访。近在咫尺，你可以设想它那大自然中最悲惨的声音，仿佛她就打算这样在她的咏叹里，把一个人濒死的***模板化和不朽化----某个可怜软弱的人的遗迹，把希望留在了身后，然后像一头野兽一样嚎叫，但还带有人的抽泣，在踏入那条黑色的山谷，而且这声音变得更加可怕，因为还夹杂着某种咯咯的音形——我发现每当我试图去模仿它总免不了以一声“咯哦”开始——表达了已经到达黏糊糊发霉状态的这样的一种心境，令所有的健康和勇敢的思想蒙羞。它让我想到食尸鬼、白痴和疯子的狂嚎。可是眼下从深深的林子里有了一个回应，由于距离的原因却是非常悦耳的——吼，吼，吼，吼尔，吼；真的，绝大部分都仅仅暗示联系的是快活，无论是在白昼还是夜晚，是夏天还是冬天被听到。
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