奇累的大道上
吴仲湛 译
微风吹来又拂去飘飘荡荡，
在奇累的大道上。
昏然入睡的河流低声细语，
太遥远了你无法看得清晰。
在绵延的茂密树林的外面，
在昏黄暗褐色的山麓外面，
它的轮廓模糊阳光下昏睡，
在奇累的大道上。
许多岁月已过去打我头次，
来到奇累大道上。
更多岁月过去我也会记得，
当我还年轻时常常骑着马，
几百哩路跟奇累身旁奔驰。
听他以兴奋的口气讲述着，
古老岁月发生的古老故事，
在奇累的大道上。
我现在看见老灌木丛农场
在奇累的大道上。
它紧贴着悬崖边下面建造，
一条小山脊在曲折车道上。
河边湿地柳树哗啦啦歌唱，
茉莉花玫瑰花也争相绽放，
沉甸甸的空气装载着芬芳，
在奇累的大道上。
我们过定居生活古老美好，
在奇累的大道上,
几乎没有忧虑也无须争斗。
老奇累很不习惯到处游荡，
他爱把大道当做自己家产。
过路流浪汉不会转身离去，
带着空空背囊在一天之末，
启程在奇累大道。
我们时常举行赛马竞技会，
在奇累大道上，
邻近居民点带来他们的人，
来这开的运动会都是免费，
连可爱的夫人们也来观看，
冠军们乘驾起步又笑又唱，
老房子的吵杂声彻夜不停，
在奇累的大道上。
选手们都是朋友我也知道，
在奇累的大道上。
一帮粗鲁而快活的乡巴佬，
个个是出色骑手他们知道，
老板绝对绝对是仁慈宽怀。
奇累总站在他的朋友一边,
所以他们甘愿服务到终老，
在奇累的大道上。
但是旱灾和损失迅速来到，
奇累的大道。
他终究要面对这满目苍痍，
尽管在阳光下他不断劳作，
夜里他梦想可以银行透支。
因不管多久他都无法偿还，
银行商把他的牲口拿走了，
从奇累的大道上。
老奇累站在门口看他们走，
从奇累的大道上。
那些良种牲口缓慢地前进。
他的放牧人, 多年老伙计，
他们临走前同他紧紧握手。
唉太老了从头再来不容易，
老奇累死了，他伤心过头，
在奇累的大道上。
拥有者现在生活在大英国，
远离奇累的大道。
他能辨别出哪是赛马母牛，
是他所有关于牲口的知识。
他最关心的问题怎样减少
费用。他从镇里派人过去，
把剪羊毛工人的薪水降低，
在奇累的大道上。
任何地方再也没左邻右里，
在奇累的大道旁。
曾经好客的家院空空荡荡，
花园不见了因为削减费用，
牧场管理免除了多余虚饰。
我们曾经热恋的那片宅地，
现在住着一位半价的监工，
在奇累的大道上。
生活、体育和希望已逝去，
在奇累的大道上。
再也没有牧马人在此驰骋，
只有乖戾的牧场骑士慢跑，
骑杂种马跟在绵羊屁股后。
而过去老奇累响鞭打头羊，
在奇累的大道上。
一条小径蜿蜒三十英哩长，
穿过奇累的大道旁
在路边有迎风微笑的牧草。
孤独跋涉的绵羊必须通过，
没有饮水也没草叶的旷野，
穿过长长的死亡羞辱车道:
疲倦的牧人诅咒这个名字，
奇累的大道。
最近连名字本身也被更改，
奇累的大道。
他们叫它钱多斯花园物业。
孤独流浪汉通过一片黑暗，
驮着赃物穿过钱多斯花园。
名字是英语，您一定看到，
老名字的声音对我更美好。
奇累的大道。
我无法猜测什么命运带给，
奇累的大道__
因为机会到来变化就循环。
我认为它不会是一成不变，
闭锁起来以适合驻外主人。
要是他胆敢把它卖给农场，
他的佃户将马上拿起武器，
在奇累的大道上！
澳洲塑料纸币上的帕特森．班卓像
On Kiley’s Run
Banjo Paterson
(Australia)
The roving breezes come and go
On Kiley’s Run,
The sleepy river murmurs low,
And far away one dimly sees
Beyond the stretch of forest trees __
Beyond the foothills dusk and dun __
The ranges sleeping in the sun
On Kiley’s Run.
‘Tis many years since first I came
To Kiley’s Run,
More years than I would care to name
Since I, a stripling, used to ride
For miles and miles at Kley’s side,
The while in stirring tones he told
The stories of the days of old
On kiley’s Run.
I see the old bush homestead now
On Kiley’s Run,
Just nestled down beneath he brow
Of river flat, where willows weep
And jasmine flowers and roses bloom,
The air was laden with perfume
On Kiley’s Run
We lived the good old station life
On Kiley’s Run,
With little thought of care or strife.
Old Kiley seldom used to roam,
He liked to make the Run his home,
The swagman never turned away
With empty hand at close of day
From Kiley’s Run.
We kept a race horse now and then
On Kiley’s Run,
And neighb’ring stations brought their men
To meetings where the sport was free,
And dainty ladies came to see
Their champions ride; with laugh and song
The old house rang the whole night long
On Kiley’s Run.
The station hands were friends I wot
On Kiley’s Run,
A reckless, merry-hearted lot __
All splendid riders, and they knew
The “boss”was kindness through and through.
Old Kiley always stood their friend,
And so they served him to the end
On Kiley’s Run
But droughts and losses came apace
To Kiley’s run,
Till ruin stared him in the face;
He toiled and toiled while lived the light,
He dreamed of overdraft at night:
At length, because he could not pay,
His bankers took the stock away
From Kiley’s Run.
Old Kley stood and saw them go
From Kiley’s Run.
The well-bred cattle marching slow;
His stockmen, mates for many a day,
They wrung his hand and went away.
Too old to make another start,
Old Kiley died __ of broken heart,
On Kiley’s Run.
The owner lives in England now
Of kiley’s Run.
He knows a racehorse from a cow;
But that is all he knows of stock;
His chiefest care is how to dock
Expenses, and he sends from town
To cut the shearers’ wages down
On Kiley’s Run.
There are no neighbours anywhere
Near Kiley’s Run.
The hospitable homes are bare,
The gardens gone; for no pretence
Must hinder cutting down expense:
The homestead that we held so dear
Contains a half-paid overseer
On Kiley’s Run.
The life and sport and hope have died
On Kiley’s Run.
No longer there the stockmen ride;
For sour-faced boundary riders creep
On mongrel horses after sheep,
Old Kiley used to “wheel the lead”
On Kiley’s Run.
There runs a lane for thirty miles
Through Kiley’s Run.
On either side the herbage smiles,
But wretched trav’lling sheep must pass
Without a drink or blade of grass
Thro’ that long lane of death and shame:
The weary drovers curse the name
Of Kiley’s Run.
The name itself is changed of late
Of Kiley’s Run.
They call it “Chandos Park Estate”.
The lonely swagman through the dark
Must hump his swag past Chandos Park.
The name is English, don’t you see,
The old name sweeter sounds to me
Of Kiley’s Run.
I cannot guess what fate will bring
To Kley’s Run __
For chances come and changes ring __
I scarcely think ‘twill always be
Locked up to suit an absentee;
And if he lets it out in farms
His tenants soon will carry arms
On Kiley’s Run