董继平
路易·塞尔努达（Luis Cernuda，1902-1963），西班牙著名诗人。“二七年一代”的代表人物之一。生于塞维利亚，早年曾在塞维利亚大学攻读法律，西班牙内战爆发后，他于1938年踏上流亡的旅程，此后辗转英美两国，先后在一些大学里执教，50年代移居墨西哥，直至去世。塞尔努达的诗是法国超现实主义、荷尔德林的德国浪漫主义以及19世纪英国诗歌的融合，成为20世纪上半叶西班牙诗坛上少见的“欧洲诗人”。其诗集主要有《天空的侧影》《被禁止的快乐》《祈祷》《奥克诺斯》《像等候黎明的人》《献给躯体的诗》《幻想的悲哀》等。
古代的花园
起初，你沿着一条漫长、黑暗的走廊前行。最后，穿过一个拱门，那个花园的光芒就出现在眼前，那种光芒的金色光辉让树叶和池水染上绿色。随着你来到光芒之中，那个池塘被合围在一道铁栏杆后面，犹如一种翠绿色液体而闪闪烁烁，浓稠、平静而又神秘。
然后是那道楼梯，梯级旁边生长着两棵高大的木兰树，树枝中间隐藏着一尊古老的雕像，那雕像站在一根作为底座的圆柱顶端。花园的露台始于楼梯脚下。
沿着玫瑰色的砖石小径前行，穿过一道熟铁制成的栅门，往下面走几步，就有一系列孤寂的小天井，在那里，桃金娘和夹竹桃环绕着一座覆盖着青苔的喷泉，紧邻着喷泉，是一棵柏树的树干，其顶冠沉浸在明亮的空气中。
在环绕四周的沉寂中，所有的美景都随着隐匿的脉搏而悸动，仿佛所有欣赏过这个花园且业已消失的人的心，都隐藏在浓密的树枝后面跳动。流水声犹如他们渐渐消逝的脚步。
天空呈现出一派纯净而清澈的蓝，因为光和热而显得华丽灿烂。在棕榈树的顶端中间，在给这座花园加冕的屋顶和白色走廊那边，一座灰白和赭色的塔楼犹如花萼，纤细地直立而起。
有些人类的命运联系着一个地方或一片风景。在那里，在那个花园中，坐在喷泉边上，你曾经梦想生活是用之不竭的魅力。天空的无垠鞭策你行动;花朵、叶片、水的气息，鞭策你让自己无悔地投身于欢乐。
后来，你终究明白了，无论是行动还是欢乐，都没有你在喷泉边做梦时它们所显现的那种完美，因此你都无法跟它们生活在一起。在你明白了这个令人悲伤的真理的那一天，尽管你远在異域的土地上，你也渴望回到那个花园，在那座喷泉边再度坐下来，再度梦见你那业已失去的青春。
ANCIENT GARDEN
First you went down a long dark corridor. At the end， through an archway， the garden's light appeared， a light whose golden glow tinged the leaves and the water in a pond with green. And the pond， as you came out into the light， enclosed behind an iron railing， glimmered like an emerald liquid， dense， calm and mysterious.
Then there was the stairway， beside whose steps grew two tall magnolias， concealing among their branches an old statue atop a column that served as a pedestal. At the foot of the stairway the gardens terraces began.
Following the paths of rose-colored bricks， through a wrought-iron gate and down some steps， there was a series of little solitary patios， with myrtles and oleanders around a mossy fountain， and next to the fountain the trunk of a cypress whose crown was immersed in the luminous air.
In the surrounding silence， all that beauty throbbed with a hidden pulse，as if the hearts of all the vanished people who had once enjoyed the garden were beating concealed behind the thick branches. The sound of flowing water was like their footsteps running away.
The sky was a pure and limpid blue， resplendent with light and heat. Among the tops of the palms， beyond the roofs and white galleries crowning the garden， one gray and ochre tower stood slim and erect like the calyx of a flower.
There are human destinies that are linked to a place or a landscape. There in that garden， sitting at the edge of a fountain， you once dreamed of life as inexhaustible enchantment. The skys immensity spurred you to action; the breath of the flowers， the leaves， the water， to give yourself to pleasure without remorse.
Later you came to understand that neither action nor pleasure could be lived with the perfection they had in your dreams beside the fountain. And the day you understood this sad truth， though you were far away in a foreign land， you longed to return to that garden and sit down again on the edge of that fountain， to dream once more of your lost youth.
永 恒
他像孩子一樣，着迷于一种盲目的宗教信仰。他想做善事，不是因为他期待回报或者害怕惩罚，而是因为出于遵循上帝建立的一种美好秩序的本能，在那种秩序中，恶的侵入几乎就是像罪孽入侵那样的不和谐之事。但永恒的概念隐伏地混入了上帝的这个幼稚的概念。有时躺在床上，他比往常醒得要早，在清晨房子的沉寂中，对永恒的恐惧、对无休无止的时间的恐惧袭击了他。
这个适用于他内心精神存在的意识的词，永远用恐惧充满他，然后在一种溶解感中迷失，犹如一个消失在海洋洪水的波浪中的淹死的躯体。他感到自己的生活遭到两个敌人攻击，一个在他前面，一个在他后面，他不想前行，然而却无法转身回去。如果这是可能的，那么这就是他本来会更喜欢的东西：回去，回到那个想不起的朦胧区域，他最初就是从那里来到这个世界上的。
這些念头是从他内心的何种神秘的深处萌发出来的？他试图强行推动记忆，从而平静、无意识地恢复对某处的意识，在那里的一片片未知的云中，上帝的手把他拉进时间与生活。睡眠再度成为回答他的提问的唯一东西。而且，那个无声的、无可慰藉的回应高深莫测。
ETERNITY
As a child he possessed a blind religious faith. He wanted to do good works， not because he expected reward or feared punishment， but out of the instinct for following a beautiful order established by God， in which the irruption of evil was as much a matter of dissonance as of sin. But into this childish notion of God was mixed insidiously that of eternity. And sometimes in bed， awake earlier than usual， in the early morning silence of the house， he was assaulted by fear of eternity， of time without end.
The word forever， applied to the consciousness of the spiritual being inside him， filled him with terror， which then became lost in a sense of dissolution， like a drowning body vanishing in waves of an oceanic flood. He felt his life attacked by two enemies， one in front of him and one behind， not wanting to go forward yet unable to turn back. This， if it had been possible， is what he would have preferred： to go back， return to that hazy unremembered region from which he had first come into the world.
From what mysterious depth in him did those thoughts spring？ He tried to force his memory， to recover the consciousness of where， calm and unconscious， amid clouds of unknowing， he had been taken by Gods hand and pulled into time and life. Sleep was again the only thing that answered his questions. And then that voiceless， unconsoling response was incomprehensible.
