艾略特《荒原》
艾略特荒原中英对照

(一)艾略特是中国现代朦胧诗歌的鼻祖在网上,很多对中国现代诗歌(包括朦胧诗歌)起源和继承的评论是似是而非的。
这可能是由于一些国内不懂外文的评论家的错误导向所致,也有可能是由于自己就没有理解好中国的现代诗歌,而混枭了自己的观点,也误人子弟。
中国的现代诗歌,究其源泉是由于五四时期由胡适等人发起的白话文运动,白话诗也就应运产生。
一个很有意思的现象是,很多著名的作家严肃的学者并没有留下多少白话诗歌,只有一些类似嘻皮士的文人们,象刘半农,徐志摩等等,为了和女人的打情骂俏而留下过一首半首。
中国早期的现代诗歌应该是继承于欧洲而不是美洲。
这得益于一些留学欧洲学人的推荐和传播。
象卞之琳,徐志摩,李金发等等,所写的诗歌继承了欧洲维多利亚式的风格,并没有多少的创新,节奏的和谐和词澡的华丽是其主要的特点,但并没有什么心灵的震动,是沃斯瓦斯和波尔莱特在中国的翻版,甚至从中可以看到雪莱和拜伦的影子。
从中很少看到美洲惠特曼的影子,大概惠诗歌中的自然和平民的形象和这些留学欧洲的没落贵族的口吻不太合适所致。
很多人把这几个人归结为现代朦胧诗歌的起源。
其实是不当的。
这时候的诗歌还只能是现代诗歌而不是朦胧诗歌,当然,相对于旧体诗歌意象和词汇的运用已经有了朦胧的感觉。
中国诗歌在七十年代末八十年代初期,有一个特别辉煌的复兴时期。
一批经过文革,上过山下过乡的知识青年们用在煤油灯下的知识积累,带着对生活的感性体验,在马可雅夫斯基和莱蒙托夫的指引下开始中国诗歌的新一轮革命。
这期间杰出的诗人有北岛,舒婷等。
在八十年代的中末期,中国诗坛终于迎来了大爆炸的时期。
在理论领袖谢冕的指引下,一批批锐意的具有现代意识的中国诗人们以严辰主编的诗歌报为阵地,纷纷打出旗号,成立山头,一时间中国的诗歌流派竟然有几十家之多。
所写的诗歌讦曲骜牙,常人难以读懂。
这就是后来广被非议的现代朦胧诗。
为什么称为现代朦胧诗?这是为了区别于以唐朝李商隐为代表的古体朦胧诗歌。
中国的现代朦胧诗直接继承于艾略特,Pound等人的诗风,摈弃了近代诗歌徐志摩等人所提倡的维多利亚的模式。
艾略特《荒原》

艾略特没有在《荒原》 艾略特没有在《荒原》中表达小我所 体验的种种感受, 体验的种种感受,而是客观冷静地展 示了一个精神迷失的黑暗而痛苦的时 代; 这首诗对战后的失望心情, 这首诗对战后的失望心情,精神空虚 和无政府状况作出了权威的表现, 和无政府状况作出了权威的表现,这 一代人辨认出属于自己的景象.( .(这 一代人辨认出属于自己的景象.(这 一点是老一辈诗人做不到的 ) 这首诗不属于一个人, 这首诗不属于一个人,而属于现代的 城市,属于战后的世界. 城市,属于战后的世界.
三,拼贴画风格
把截然不同的情景并列或连接,也 把截然不同的情景并列或连接, 受电影中蒙太奇的影响, 受电影中蒙太奇的影响,它用各种 零碎的片段表现现代城市的支离破 碎. 我用这些碎片撑住了我的废墟. "我用这些碎片撑住了我的废墟."
艾略特的诗歌主张: 艾略特的诗歌主张:
后期象征主义诗人认为,自我作为纯精神 后期象征主义诗人认为, 的存在, 的存在,不具有被艺术直接表现并赋予感 性形象的可能, 性形象的可能,只能通过与之对应的象征 来暗示. 来暗示. 艾略特提出寻找主观感情的"客观对应 艾略特提出寻找主观感情的" 把各种情景,事件, 物",把各种情景,事件,典故等搭配成 一幅幅图案来表达某种情绪,引起共鸣. 一幅幅图案来表达某种情绪,引起共鸣. 艾略特认为诗与诗人的个人情绪没有什么 关系,提出诗歌"非个人化"的主张. 关系,提出诗歌"非个人化"的主张.
艾略特 《荒原》
荒原指经过了一战的整个欧洲,一 荒原指经过了一战的整个欧洲, 指经过了一战的整个欧洲 切都崩溃了, 切都崩溃了,城市里只有猥琐的人 在过着无生气的生活, 在过着无生气的生活,其标志为无 爱情的性行为. 爱情的性行为. 诗人认为比战争破坏更严重的是整 个文明社会的毁灭, 个文明社会的毁灭,尤其是宗教信 仰的丧失,荒原最缺的水是人的灵 仰的丧失,荒原最缺的水是人的灵 魂里的水. 魂里的水.
救赎的可能——艾略特《荒原》的一种解读

救赎的可能——艾略特《荒原》的一种解
读
艾略特的小说《荒原》以英国乡村社会为背景,讲述了主人公罗伯特·埃克曼独自旅行在荒原上的故事。
他在旅途中结
识了一个古怪的老人,叫做伯特兰,这个老人以他的智慧和善良影响了罗伯特。
尽管他们之间的交往只有短暂的一次,但他们之间的深刻影响却永远不会消失。
在《荒原》的故事中,罗伯特发现自己不喜欢传统的社会模式,他开始思考自己的价值观和,并最终决定放弃这种传统模式,追求自由和精神上的解放。
这也是伯特兰对罗伯特的影响:他激励罗伯特去寻找自己的道路,而不是仅仅按照传统的方式走。
从罗伯特和伯特兰的交往中,我们看到了艾略特对人类自由、精神解放和救赎的深刻认识。
他希望人们能够自由地追求自己的精神解放,从而拯救自己的灵魂。
这是艾略特对人类的赞美,他认为只有当人们能够自由地拯救自己的灵魂,他们才能真正获得释放和救赎。
《荒原》的精神可以说是一种自我救赎的可能,也是艾略特对人类的深刻赞美。
在社会的传统模式限制人们的自由之下,伯特兰给了罗伯特一种自我解放的可能。
艾略特以这种方式来表达他对人类精神解放和救赎的期望。
他希望人们能够自由地追求自己的精神解放,从而拯救自己的灵魂。
通过《荒原》,艾略特传达了他对人类自由、精神解放和救赎的深刻认识。
他认为,只有当人们能够自由地拯救自己的灵魂,他们才能真正获得释放和救赎。
这种自我救赎的可能性是艾略特在小说中所表达的,而这种可能性也可以被广泛应用于现实生活中。
艾略特之《荒原》课件

表演风格和技巧
运用现代舞、肢体剧等表现手法,强 调身体语言和舞蹈元素,以视觉冲击 力展现诗歌中的抽象概念。
影视作品对《荒原》的改编和呈现
电影改编
将《荒原》改编成电影剧本,通 过镜头语言和画面构图,呈现诗
歌中的场景和意境。
视觉特效和音效
利用现代技术手段,如特效和音 效,增强电影的表现力和感染力 ,使观众更好地理解和感受诗歌
节奏和韵律的处理
节奏
艾略特在《荒原》中运用了独特的节奏感, 通过语言的排列和组合,使得诗歌具有一种 独特的韵律和节奏感,这种节奏感不仅增强 了诗歌的艺术效果,也使得诗歌更加易于记 忆和传颂。
韵律
艾略特在《荒原》中采用了多种韵律形式, 如押韵、对仗、排比等,这些韵律形式使得 诗歌的语言更加和谐和优美,也使得诗歌更 加具有音乐性和节奏感。
艾略特之《荒原》课件
目录
• 艾略特与《荒原》简介 • 《荒原》的诗歌技巧和语言特色 • 《荒原》中的思想和主题分析 • 《荒原》的影响和评价 • 《荒原》与中国文化 • 《荒原》的舞台表演和影视改编
01
艾略特与《荒原》简介
艾略特的生平和成就
艾略特(T.S. Eliot)的生平
艾略特出生于美国,后移民英国,成为英国现代派诗歌的代表人物。他的诗歌作 品融合了传统与现代,对20世纪诗歌产生了深远影响。
诗中通过对现代文明社会的种种弊病的揭示,表达了作者对现代文明的失望和不 满,以及对人类未来的担忧。
对宗教和神话的引用与探讨
《荒原》中引用了大量的宗教和神话元素,这些元素在诗中 起到了重要的象征和隐喻作用。
通过对宗教和神话的引用与探讨,艾略特试图寻找人类在面 临死亡和虚无时的一种精神寄托和慰藉,同时也揭示了宗教 和神话在人类文化中的重要地位。
荒原原文

艾略特《荒原The Waste Land.》(原文)作者: T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). The Waste Land. 1922.The Waste LandI. THE BURIAL OF THE DEADAPRIL is the cruellest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land, mixingMemory and desire, stirringDull roots with spring rain.Winter kept us warm, covering 5Earth in forgetful snow, feedingA little life with dried tubers.Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,And I was frightened. He said, Marie, 15Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.In the mountains, there you feel free.I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20You cannot say, or guess, for you know onlyA heap of broken images, where the sun beats,And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,And the dry stone no sound of water. OnlyThere is shadow under this red rock, 25(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind youOr your shadow at evening rising to meet you;I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 30Frisch weht der WindDer Heimat zu.Mein Irisch Kind,Wo weilest du?'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; 35'They called me the hyacinth girl.'—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40Looking into the heart of light, the silence.Od' und leer das Meer.Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,Had a bad cold, neverthelessIs known to be the wisest woman in Europe, 45With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,The lady of situations. 50Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,Which I am forbidden to see. I do not findThe Hanged Man. Fear death by water. 55I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:One must be so careful these days.Unreal City, 60Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,I had not thought death had undone so many.Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. 65Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hoursWith a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson! 'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again! 75'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!' II. A GAME OF CHESSTHE Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,Glowed on the marble, where the glassHeld up by standards wrought with fruited vinesFrom which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra Reflecting light upon the table asThe glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,From satin cases poured in rich profusion; 85In vials of ivory and coloured glassUnstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes, Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confusedAnd drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the airThat freshened from the window, these ascended 90In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,Flung their smoke into the laquearia,Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.Huge sea-wood fed with copperBurned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, 95 In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam.Above the antique mantel was displayedAs though a window gave upon the sylvan sceneThe change of Philomel, by the barbarous kingSo rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100Filled all the desert with inviolable voiceAnd still she cried, and still the world pursues,'Jug Jug' to dirty ears.And other withered stumps of timeWere told upon the walls; staring forms 105Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. Footsteps shuffled on the stair.Under the firelight, under the brush, her hairSpread out in fiery pointsGlowed into words, then would be savagely still. 110'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'I think we are in rats' alley 115Where the dead men lost their bones.'What is that noise?'The wind under the door.'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?' Nothing again nothing. 120'Do'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember 'Nothing?'I rememberThose are pearls that were his eyes. 125'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'ButO O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—It's so elegantSo intelligent 130'What shall I do now? What shall I do?''I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?'What shall we ever do?'The hot water at ten. 135And if it rains, a closed car at four.And we shall play a game of chess,Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said—I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMENow Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, 145He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said. 150Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look. HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMEIf you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.Others can pick and choose if you can't.But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling. 155You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.(And her only thirty-one.)I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) 160 The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same. You are a proper fool, I said.Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,What you get married for if you don't want children?HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME 165Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMEHURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMEGoonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. 170Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night. III. THE FIRE SERMONTHE river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leafClutch and sink into the wet bank. The windCrosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. 175 Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette endsOr other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; 180 Departed, have left no addresses.By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept...Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.But at my back in a cold blast I hear 185The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.A rat crept softly through the vegetationDragging its slimy belly on the bankWhile I was fishing in the dull canalOn a winter evening round behind the gashouse 190Musing upon the king my brother's wreckAnd on the king my father's death before him.White bodies naked on the low damp groundAnd bones cast in a little low dry garret,Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year. 195But at my back from time to time I hearThe sound of horns and motors, which shall bringSweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.O the moon shone bright on Mrs. PorterAnd on her daughter 200They wash their feet in soda waterEt, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!Twit twit twitJug jug jug jug jug jugSo rudely forc'd. 205TereuUnreal CityUnder the brown fog of a winter noonMr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchantUnshaven, with a pocket full of currants 210C.i.f. London: documents at sight,Asked me in demotic FrenchTo luncheon at the Cannon Street HotelFollowed by a weekend at the Metropole.At the violet hour, when the eyes and back 215Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting,I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can seeAt the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220 Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lightsHer stove, and lays out food in tins.Out of the window perilously spreadHer drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays, 225 On the divan are piled (at night her bed)Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—I too awaited the expected guest. 230He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sitsAs a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.The time is now propitious, as he guesses, 235 The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caressesWhich still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; 240His vanity requires no response,And makes a welcome of indifference.(And I Tiresias have foresuffered allEnacted on this same divan or bed;I who have sat by Thebes below the wall 245 And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows on final patronising kiss,And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit... She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; 250Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: 'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.' When lovely woman stoops to folly andPaces about her room again, alone,She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, 255 And puts a record on the gramophone.'This music crept by me upon the waters'And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.O City city, I can sometimes hearBeside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260 The pleasant whining of a mandolineAnd a clatter and a chatter from withinWhere fishmen lounge at noon: where the wallsOf Magnus Martyr holdInexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold. 265 The river sweatsOil and tarThe barges driftWith the turning tideRed sails 270WideTo leeward, swing on the heavy spar.The barges washDrifting logsDown Greenwich reach 275Past the Isle of Dogs.Weialala leiaWallala leialalaElizabeth and LeicesterBeating oars 280The stern was formedA gilded shellRed and goldThe brisk swellRippled both shores 285Southwest windCarried down streamThe peal of bellsWhite towersWeialala leia 290Wallala leialala'Trams and dusty trees.Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.' 295'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart Under my feet. After the eventHe wept. He promised "a new start".I made no comment. What should I resent?''On Margate Sands. 300I can connectNothing with nothing.The broken fingernails of dirty hands.My people humble people who expect Nothing.' 305la laTo Carthage then I cameBurning burning burning burningO Lord Thou pluckest me outO Lord Thou pluckest 310burningIV. DEATH BY WATERPHLEBAS the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell And the profit and loss.A current under sea 315Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fellHe passed the stages of his age and youthEntering the whirlpool.Gentile or JewO you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320 Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAIDAFTER the torchlight red on sweaty facesAfter the frosty silence in the gardensAfter the agony in stony placesThe shouting and the crying 325Prison and place and reverberationOf thunder of spring over distant mountainsHe who was living is now deadWe who were living are now dyingWith a little patience 330Here is no water but only rockRock and no water and the sandy roadThe road winding above among the mountainsWhich are mountains of rock without waterIf there were water we should stop and drink 335 Amongst the rock one cannot stop or thinkSweat is dry and feet are in the sandIf there were only water amongst the rockDead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340There is not even silence in the mountainsBut dry sterile thunder without rainThere is not even solitude in the mountainsBut red sullen faces sneer and snarlFrom doors of mudcracked housesIf there were water 345And no rockIf there were rockAnd also waterAnd waterA spring 350A pool among the rockIf there were the sound of water onlyNot the cicadaAnd dry grass singingBut sound of water over a rock 355Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop dropBut there is no waterWho is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together 360 But when I look ahead up the white roadThere is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hoodedI do not know whether a man or a woman—But who is that on the other side of you? 365 What is that sound high in the airMurmur of maternal lamentationWho are those hooded hordes swarmingOver endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth Ringed by the flat horizon only 370What is the city over the mountainsCracks and reforms and bursts in the violet airFalling towersJerusalem Athens AlexandriaVienna London 375UnrealA woman drew her long black hair out tightAnd fiddled whisper music on those stringsAnd bats with baby faces in the violet lightWhistled, and beat their wings 380And crawled head downward down a blackened wallAnd upside down in air were towersTolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hoursAnd voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells. In this decayed hole among the mountains 385In the faint moonlight, the grass is singingOver the tumbled graves, about the chapelThere is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.It has no windows, and the door swings,Dry bones can harm no one. 390Only a cock stood on the rooftreeCo co rico co co ricoIn a flash of lightning. Then a damp gustBringing rainGanga was sunken, and the limp leaves 395Waited for rain, while the black cloudsGathered far distant, over Himavant.The jungle crouched, humped in silence.Then spoke the thunderD A 400Datta: what have we given?My friend, blood shaking my heartThe awful daring of a moment's surrenderWhich an age of prudence can never retractBy this, and this only, we have existed 405Which is not to be found in our obituariesOr in memories draped by the beneficent spiderOr under seals broken by the lean solicitorIn our empty roomsD A 410Dayadhvam: I have heard the keyTurn in the door once and turn once onlyWe think of the key, each in his prisonThinking of the key, each confirms a prisonOnly at nightfall, aetherial rumours 415Revive for a moment a broken CoriolanusD ADamyata: The boat respondedGaily, to the hand expert with sail and oarThe sea was calm, your heart would have responded 420 Gaily, when invited, beating obedientTo controlling handsI sat upon the shoreFishing, with the arid plain behind meShall I at least set my lands in order? 425London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affinaQuando fiam ceu chelidon—O swallow swallowLe Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolieThese fragments I have shored against my ruins 430Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.Shantih shantih shantih。
外国文学经典作品解读——艾略特:《荒原》

外国文学经典作品解读——艾略特:《荒原》内容梗概全诗由5章构成。
第1章《死者葬仪》,标题出自英国教会出葬仪式。
死亡是这一章的主题。
诗歌在含混的意识中开场。
四月是残酷的季节,以记忆和欲望折磨着人们。
在玛丽的回忆中浮现出往昔的静好岁月,而如今面目全非:树已枯死,偶像已破碎,焦石间没有流水的声音,大地一片荒凉。
女相士也为此感到困惑,她用纸牌给人算命,得到了死亡的预言,因为她找不到那被绞死的人耶稣,于是人注定无法获得救赎。
在冬日破晓的黄雾下,人群涌过伦敦桥,死亡已经毁坏了他们。
我想知道,复活是否为时不远?第2章《对弈》,标题出自英国剧作家托马斯密德尔顿的同名剧作,本是一个淫乱故事,诗人取其意喻指现代人的道德堕落。
此章分两个场景。
在富丽堂皇的卧室里,一位上流社会的无聊贵妇正在胡思乱想,她渴望所谓的传奇爱情,以为传说中的翡绿眉拉就是一个典型,而这却是一个因淫乱而复仇的悲剧。
下一场景,在低等酒馆里,丽儿和女伴谈着私情、堕胎,如何对付退伍归来的丈夫。
两个地位不同的女性代表了社会普遍的堕落风气。
第3章《火戒》,标题出自佛教教义。
火有双重含义:是情欲之火,也是使人再生的净化之火。
这章以神话中具有穿透人内心力量的双性人帖瑞西士的视角来观察,发现可爱的泰晤士河畔已经不见了仙女的踪影,只看见公寓里一个女打字员和一个长疙瘩的青年有欲无爱的交合。
不可救药的精神颓败。
再生似乎已无希望。
第4章《水里的死亡》,水亦指泛滥的情欲。
女相士预言的腓尼基人之死在此章获得应验。
他是在欲望和金钱的漩涡中丧生的现代人的象征。
第5章《雷霆的话》充分展开了探索的主题。
诗人再次描绘了一幅荒原的景象:大地荒废,布满岩石,找不到一滴水。
水在这里被赋予再生的含义。
荒原通过三个意象展现:耶稣复活后去埃摩司的途中,而门徒看不见他的身影;寻找圣杯的武士走向空无一人的教堂;鱼王坐在岸上垂钓,背后是那干旱的荒原。
荒原是否能恢复生机?人能否获得拯救?一切都未知。
在雷霆同情,克制,平安的告诫中,诗歌结束。
荒原诗句赏析

荒原诗句赏析
艾略特的《荒原》是一首长诗,以现代西方社会为背景,描绘了现代人在荒芜的精神世界中苦苦寻找圣杯神力的故事。
以下是其中一些诗句的赏析:
1.“荒原:这个词语来自渔王传说。
渔王身体由于年迈日渐萎缩,土地荒芜,这代表的是
现代人所面临的精神上的荒芜。
”这句诗以渔王的传说为象征,暗示了现代人的精神世界如同荒芜的土地,缺乏生机和活力。
这种精神上的荒芜与现代社会的物质丰富形成了鲜明的对比,表达了诗人对现代社会中人们精神状态的深刻关注。
2.“四月是最残忍的一个月,荒地上长着丁香,把回忆和欲望参合在一起,又让春雨
催促那些迟钝的根芽。
”这句诗描绘了四月这个季节的矛盾和冲突。
尽管春雨催促着根芽生长,但荒地的存在却让丁香与回忆和欲望参合在一起,表达了人们在希望与失望之间挣扎的矛盾心理。
3.“冬天使我们温暖,大地给助人遗忘的雪覆盖着,又叫枯干的球根提供少许生命。
”
这句诗以冬天的雪为象征,描绘了大地的冷漠和遗忘。
雪覆盖着大地,使万物失去了生命力,人们在寒冷中寻找温暖,却难以找到真正的生命之源。
4.“叹息,短促而稀少,吐了出来,人人的眼睛都盯住在自己的脚前。
”这句诗描绘了人
们在面对困境时的无奈和迷茫。
他们无法找到出路,只能在自己的脚前寻找安慰和希望。
这种无助和迷茫是现代人在面对精神困境时的一种写照。
总的来说,《荒原》通过象征、隐喻等手法,深刻揭示了现代社会的精神危机和人类面临的生存困境。
诗人艾略特以独特的视角和深刻的思考为我们在现代社会的探索中指明了方向。
读书笔记-英国诗人托马斯-斯特恩斯-艾略特名作《荒原》赏析

英国诗人托马斯•斯特恩斯▪艾略特名作《荒原》赏析托马斯•斯特恩斯▪艾略特,英国诗人、剧作家、文学评论家,诗歌现代派运动领袖。
他出生于美国密苏里州的圣路易斯,父亲经商,母亲在师范学院任教,家境富足而文化气息浓厚。
1914年,从哈佛大学毕业的艾略特与诗人庞德相识并且结为好友。
1922年,艾略特发表《荒原》,该作被评论界看作是20世纪最有影响力的一部诗作。
读诗,本来就没有标准答案。
同一首诗,不同的读者往往能够读出不同的感觉和味道。
读到《荒原》时,许多人都深受震撼。
《荒原》这首诗共计433行,由“死者的葬礼、弈棋、火诫、死在水里、雷霆说的话”5部分组成,为读者展现了一幅充斥着混乱与虚无、生存与毁灭、希望与绝望的世界图景。
在笔者看来,该诗仅仅是个人的、完全无足轻重的、对生活不满的发泄。
全作涉及大量神话、宗教传说和文学典故,艾略特将一个个意象、场面、对话片断、自然风光等叠加在一起,有意打破原有的秩序,使各种元素发生新的化学反应,从而形成一种疏离感、新奇感和生涩感。
通过《荒原》,我们得以感受艾略特诗作的特点和风格。
艾略特的诗歌,通过无拘无束的想象、令人眼花缭乱的意象以及跳跃飞腾的节律,昭示了时代和世界的荒诞无序。
如果读者力求找到诗行之间的确定性联系,往往会无功而返,且会在作者选取的随机性意象面前晕头转向。
在看似繁华光鲜、朝气蓬勃的时代里,艾略特凭借着诗人独有的敏锐气息,捕捉到光明背后的混乱、无序和腐坏。
有人认为艾略特的诗歌太过跳跃、繁杂、不拘一格、令人摸不着头脑,但他恰恰是以诗歌的独特节奏来昭示现代世界中的琐屑与阴晦。
大概每个人这一生都至少有那么一次,猛然意识到自己生活在空无一物的荒原之上,有种无所凭依的恐慌和无助。
绝望过、孤独过、期待过,甚至直面过死亡,感到不论做什么事情都无比空虚、毫无生气。
但是,冥冥之中似乎又有什么在这片荒原之下蠢蠢欲动,从天空中传来雷鸣,在大地深处暗自积蓄着某种力量。
清醒的认知和敏锐的洞察力,让艾略特感悟到了身处荒原一般的冷酷和无力,而他也将这种感受记录了下来,直击人们柔软的内心。
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这山间甚至没有安静 只有干打的雷而没有雨 这山间甚至没有闲适 只有怒得发紫的脸嘲笑 和詈骂 从干裂的泥土房子的门 口 如果有水 而没有岩石 如果有岩石 也有水
And water A spring 350 A pool among the rock If there were the sound of water only Not the cicada And dry grass singing But sound of water over a rock 355 Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop But there is no water
那水是 一条泉 山石间的清潭 要是只有水的声音 不是知了 和枯草的歌唱 而是水流石上的清响 还有画眉鸟隐在松林里 作歌 淅沥淅沥沥沥沥 可是没有水
353 to 355 are an echo of lines 23 to 25.
“And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock” 25
WHAT THE THUNDER SAID -----------雷霆的话
AFTER the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places The shouting and the crying 325 Prison and place and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience 330的面孔被火把照亮 后 在花园经过寒霜的死寂后 在岩石间的受难后 还有呐喊和哭号 监狱、宫殿和春雷 在远山的回音振荡以后 那一度活着的如今死了 我们曾活过而今却垂死 多少带一点耐心
Eliot says in his notes: "In the first part of Part V three themes are employed: the journey to Emmaus, the approach to the Chapel Perilous, and the present decay of eastern Europe.“ 322 to 330 refer to the events from the betrayal and arrest of Jesus until his death, as described in John 18.
一个女人拉直她的黑长的 头发 就在那丝弦上弹出低诉的 乐音 蝙蝠带着婴儿脸在紫光里 呼啸着,拍着翅膀 头朝下,爬一面烟熏的墙 钟楼倒挂在半空中 敲着回忆的钟,报告时刻 还有歌声发自空水槽和枯 井。
In this decayed hole among the mountains 385 In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home. It has no windows, and the door swings, Dry bones can harm no one. 390 Only a cock stood on the rooftree Co co rico co co rico In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust Bringing rain
这里没有水只有岩石 有石而无水,只有砂石路 砂石路迂回在山岭中 山岭是石头的全没有水 要是有水我们会停下来啜 饮 在岩石间怎能停下和思想 汗是干的,脚埋在沙子里 要是岩石间有水多么好 死山的嘴长着蛀牙,吐不 出水来 人在这里不能站,不能躺, 不能坐
331 Here is no water, but only rock: The God, as represented here by Jesus has been killed,and this is followed by spiritual death, the image of which is a barren, mountainous world of rock and sand. This is a place of physical and emotional purgatory. The search in WHAT THE THUNDER SAID is for water, for the sacred river and its wisdom. But there is no water.
那高空中响着什么声音 好似慈母悲伤的低诉 那一群蒙面人是谁 涌过莽莽的平原,跌进干 裂的土地 四周只是平坦的地平线 那山中是什么城 破裂,修好,又在紫红的 空中崩毁 倒下的楼阁呵 耶路撒冷、雅典、亚历山 大、 维也纳、伦敦 呵,不真实的
A woman drew her long black hair out tight And fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings 380 And crawled head downward down a blackened wall And upside down in air were towers Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
那总是在你身边走的第三 者是谁? 我算数时,只有你我两个 人 可是我沿着白色的路朝前 看 总看见有另一个人在你的 身旁 裹着棕色的斗篷蒙着头巾 走着 我不知道那是男人还是女 人 ——但在你身旁走的人是 谁?
What is that sound high in the air Murmur of maternal lamentation Who are those hooded hordes swarming Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth Ringed by the flat horizon only 370 What is the city over the mountains Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air Falling towers Jerusalem Athens Alexandria Vienna London 375 Unreal
Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road The road winding above among the mountains Which are mountains of rock without water If there were water we should stop and drink 335 Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand If there were only water amongst the rock Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340
Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together 360 But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman —But who is that on the other side of you? 365
在山上这个倾坍的洞里 在淡淡的月光下,在教堂 附近的 起伏的墓上,草在歌唱 那是空的教堂,只是风的 家。 它没有窗户,门在摇晃, 干骨头伤害不了任何人。 只有一只公鸡站在屋脊上 咯咯叽咯,咯咯叽咯 在电闪中叫。随着一阵湿 风 带来了雨。