At home, in my flannel gown, like a bear to its floe,
在家中,穿着我的法兰绒袍子,像一只熊站在浮冰上,
I clambered to bed; up the globe's impossible sides
我爬上床;朝着这星球不真实的边界
I sailed all night—till at last, with my black beard,
我整夜航行——到最后,带着我的黑胡子,
My furs and my dogs, I stood at the northern pole.
我的毛皮和狗,我站在了北极。
There in the childish night my companions lay frozen,
在这纯粹的黑夜,我的同伴躺着已经冻僵,
The stiff furs knocked at my starveling throat,
硬梆梆的毛皮顶着我饥饿的喉咙,
And I gave my great sigh: the flakes came huddling,
我长叹一口气:大片的雪花纷拥而来,
Were they really my end? In the darkness I turned to my rest.
它们真是我的结局?在黑暗中我停下来休息。
—Here, the flag snaps in the glare and silence
——此刻,旗子在连绵不断的冰面
Of the unbroken ice. I stand here,
之眩光和寂静中啪啪作响。我站在此处,
The dogs bark, my beard is black, and I stare
狗在吠叫,我的胡子是黑色,而我
At the North Pole . . .
盯着那个北极点……
And now what? Why, go back.
接下来怎么办?嗨,回去。
Turn as I please, my step is to the south.
转过身按我的意愿,我的脚步踏向南方。
The world—my world spins on this final point
这世界——我的世界围绕这冷酷
Of cold and wretchedness: all lines, all winds
与悲惨之极点旋转:所有的航路,所有的风
End in this whirlpool I at last discover.
结束于这个我最终发现的漩涡。
And it is meaningless. In the child's bed
而它没有意义。在那张儿童床上
After the night's voyage, in that warm world
一夜的航行之后,在那人们辛劳受罪
Where people work and suffer for the end
为了那给痛苦加冕的终点的
That crowns the pain—in that Cloud-Cuckoo-Land
温暖世界——在那虚幻飘渺之境界
I reached my North and it had meaning.
我抵达我的北极,而它获得意义。
Here at the actual pole of my existence,
这里,在我所存在的真实的极点,
Where all that I have done is meaningless,
我所做的一切都没有意义,
Where I die or live by accident alone—
我死或者生不过是个意外——
Where, living or dying, I am still alone;
在这里,活着或是死去,我仍旧孤独;
Here where North, the night, the berg of death
这里,在这北极、黑夜、死亡之冰山
Crowd me out of the ignorant darkness,
将我挤出蒙昧的黑暗之所在,
I see at last that all the knowledge
我最终明白,所有我自
I wrung from the darkness—that the darkness flung me—
黑暗中索得的知识——黑暗扔给我的——
Is worthless as ignorance: nothing comes from nothing,
和愚昧一般毫无价值:虚无来自虚无,
The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness
黑暗来自黑暗。疼痛来自黑暗
And we call it wisdom. It is pain.
而我们称之为智慧。那是痛苦。