Oda al vino / Ode to Wine / 葡萄酒颂 (羲和中文翻译作品)

Poet / 诗人: Pablo Neruda Chinese Translation / 中文翻译:晴格格

English Translation from poetryconnection.net

眼睛累了不想看屏幕?在路上不方便阅读?您可以来听作者们为您朗读的这个博客喔!Don’t feel like reading? You don’t have to! Tune in to listen to our authors read you this blog.

中文原声 – Chinese by 晴格格

英文原声 – English by Isabell

Pablo Neruda Photo credit @https://santiagotimes.cl/

Pablo Neruda as born Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto, throughout his life he was a Chilean poet, diplomat and politician. In 1971,  he won the nobel Prize for Literature. During his teenage years he published twenty love Poems, which raised a few eyebrows because of their erotic content.  His 1954 Ode to Wine, one such poem, has him comparing his lover’s breasts to a bunch of grapes.

Pablo Neruda出生于Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto,他的一生是智利诗人、外交家和政治家。1971年,他获得了诺贝尔文学奖。在他十几岁的时候,他发表了二十首爱情诗,这些诗因其充满色情色彩而引起争议。他1954年的《葡萄酒颂》就是这样一首诗,他把爱人的乳房比作一串葡萄。

Laguna Lejía, San Pedro de Atacama, Chile Photocredit: @x_vinicius

🇬🇧 Wine colour of day 

wine colour of night

wine with your feet of purple

or topaz blood,

wine,

starry child of the earth,

wine, smooth as a golden sword,

soft as ruffled velvet,

wine spiral-shelled and suspended,

loving, of the sea,

you’ve never been contained in one glass,

in one song, in one man,

choral, you are gregarious

and, at least, mutual.

🇨🇳 白天、葡萄酒的颜色

夜晚、葡萄酒的颜色

葡萄酒和你紫色的脚

或者黄玉色的血,

葡萄酒,

地球上的星空之子,

葡萄酒、像金剑一样的光滑,

褶边天鹅绒般的柔软,

螺旋壳悬浮的葡萄酒,

爱的海洋,

你从来没有被装在一个杯子里,

写在一首歌里,仅一个人单独享用,

唱诗班的,你很合群

至少、是相互的。

Photocredits by: @vincydre & @k_yasser

🇬🇧 memories on your wave

we go from tomb to tomb,

stonecutter of icy graves,

and we weep transitory tears,

but your beautiful spring suit is different,

the heart climbs to the branches,

the wind moves the day,

nothing remains in your motionless soul.

Wine stirs the spring,

joy grows like a plant,

walls, large rocks fall,

abysses close up, song is born.

Oh thou, jug of wine, in the desert

with the woman I love,

said the old poet.

Let the pitcher of wine and its kiss to the kiss of love.

🇨🇳 你波浪上的记忆

我们从一个坟墓走到另一个坟墓,

冰冷坟墓的石匠,

我们流下短暂的泪水,

但是你漂亮的春装不一样,

心爬到树枝上,

风改变了一天,

你静止的灵魂里什么也没有留下。

葡萄酒搅动春天,

快乐像植物一样生长,

墙壁,大石块落下,

深渊关闭,歌曲诞生。

哦,你,沙漠中的一壶酒

和我爱的女人在一起,

老诗人说。

让这壶酒先去润你的唇、再去吻你的爱人。

Photocredit: @bbakerr

🇬🇧 My love, suddenly,

your hip

is the curve of the wineglass

filled to the brim,

your breast is the cluster,

your hair the light of alcohol

your nipples, the grapes

your navel pure seal stamped on your belly of a barrel,

and your love the cascade of unquenchable wine,

the brightness that falls on my sense

the earthen splendor of life.

🇨🇳 我的爱,突然,

你的臀部

是酒杯的曲线

满溢到边缘,

你的乳房是葡萄果穗,

你的头发散发着酒精的光芒

你的乳头,葡萄

你的肚脐如同橡木桶上的桶塞,

你的爱是止不住倾泻出的如瀑布般的酒液,

落在我感觉上的光亮

生命的泥土辉煌。

Photocredit: @brunonw

🇬🇧 But not only love,

burning kiss,

of ignited heart-

vino de vida, you are also

fellowship, transparency,

chorus of discipline abundance of flowers.

I love the light of a bottle of intelligent wine

upon a table

when people are talking,

that they drink it,

that in each drop of gold

or ladle of purple,

they remember that autumn worked

until the barrels were filled with wine

and let the obscure man learn,

in the ceremony of his business,

to remember the earth and his duties,

to propagate the canticle of the fruit.

🇨🇳 但不仅仅是爱,

火辣辣的吻,

点燃的心 –

有生命的葡萄酒,你也是

友谊,透明,

合唱团的歌声、盛开的鲜花。

我喜欢一瓶有智慧葡萄酒的光

在桌子上

当人们交谈时,

他们喝了它,

每一滴金色中

或者每一勺紫色里,

他们记得秋天起作用了

直到桶里装满了酒

让默默无闻的人知道,

在他的开业典礼上,

为了纪念土壤和他的职责,

传播果实的颂歌。

Photocredit: @skysay

Original Spanish Version: Oda al vino

西班牙语原声 – Spanish by Isabell

🇪🇸 Vino color de día, 

vino color de noche, 

vino con pies de púrpura 

o sangre de topacio, 

vino, 

estrellado hijo 

de la tierra, 

vino, liso 

como una espada de oro, 

suave 

como un desordenado terciopelo, 

vino encaracolado 

y suspendido, 

amoroso, 

marino, 

nunca has cabido en una copa, 

en un canto, en un hombre, 

coral, gregario eres, 

y cuando menos, mutuo. 

Photocredits by: @krivitskiy & @alvaroserrano

🇪🇸 A veces 

te nutres de recuerdos 

mortales, 

en tu ola 

vamos de tumba en tumba,

picapedrero de sepulcro helado, 

y lloramos 

lágrimas transitorias, 

pero 

tu hermoso 

traje de primavera 

es diferente, 

el corazón sube a las ramas, 

el viento mueve el día, 

nada queda 

dentro de tu alma inmóvil. 

El vino

mueve la primavera, 

crece como una planta la alegría, 

caen muros, 

peñascos, 

se cierran los abismos, 

nace el canto.

Oh tú, jarra de vino, en el desierto 

con la sabrosa que amo, 

dijo el viejo poeta.

Que el cántaro de vino 

al beso del amor sume su beso.


Photo credit: @rayhennessy on unsplash

🇪🇸  Amor mio, de pronto 

tu cadera

es la curva colmada 

de la copa, 

tu pecho es el racimo, 

la luz del alcohol tu cabellera, 

las uvas tus pezones, 

tu ombligo sello puro 

estampado en tu vientre de vasija, 

y tu amor la cascada 

de vino inextinguible, 

la claridad que cae en mis sentidos, 

el esplendor terrestre de la vida.

Photocredit: @jan_huber

🇪🇸 Pero no sólo amor, 

beso quemante 

o corazón quemado 

eres, vino de vida, 

sino 

amistad de los seres, transparencia, 

coro de disciplina, 

abundancia de flores. 

Amo sobre una mesa, 

cuando se habla, 

la luz de una botella 

de inteligente vino. 

Que lo beban, 

que recuerden en cada 

gota de oro 

o copa de topacio 

o cuchara de púrpura 

que trabajó el otoño 

hasta llenar de vino las vasijas 

y aprenda el hombre oscuro, 

en el ceremonial de su negocio, 

a recordar la tierra y sus deberes, 

a propagar el cántico del fruto.

Girl walking on a road in Chile / 在智利、路上行走的女人

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