鲜血、红色、色情、死亡、诗歌,都是我热爱的主题。
Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias
1. Cogida and death
At five in the afternoon.
It was exactly five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A frail of lime ready prepared
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death, and death alone.
The wind carried away the cottonwool
at five in the afternoon.
And the oxide scattered crystal and nickel
at five in the afternoon.
Now the dove and the leopard wrestle
at five in the afternoon.
And a thigh with a desolated horn
at five in the afternoon.
The bass-string struck up
at five in the afternoon.
Arsenic bells and smoke
at five in the afternoon.
Groups of silence in the corners
at five in the afternoon.
And the bull alone with a high heart!
At five in the afternoon.
When the sweat of snow was coming
at five in the afternoon,
when the bull ring was covered with iodine
at five in the afternoon.
Death laid eggs in the wound
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
At five o'clock in the afternoon.
A coffin on wheels is his bed
at five in the afternoon.
Bones and flutes resound in his ears
at five in the afternoon.
Now the bull was bellowing through his forehead
at five in the afternoon.
The room was iridiscent with agony
at five in the afternoon.
In the distance the gangrene now comes
at five in the afternoon.
Horn of the lily through green groins
at five in the afternoon.
The wounds were burning like suns
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon!
It was five by all the clocks!
It was five in the shade of the afternoon!
2. The Spilled Blood
I will not see it!
Tell the moon to come,
for I do not want to see the blood
of Ignacio on the sand.
I will not see it!
The moon wide open.
Horse of still clouds,
and the grey bull ring of dreams
with willows in the barreras.
I will not see it!
Let my memory kindle!
Warm the jasmines
of such minute whiteness!
I will not see it!
The cow of the ancient world
passed har sad tongue
over a snout of blood
spilled on the sand,
and the bulls of Guisando,
partly death and partly stone,
bellowed like two centuries
sated with threading the earth.
No.
I will not see it!
Ignacio goes up the tiers
with all his death on his shoulders.
He sought for the dawn
but the dawn was no more.
He seeks for his confident profile
and the dream bewilders him
He sought for his beautiful body
and encountered his opened blood
Do not ask me to see it!
I do not want to hear it spurt
each time with less strength:
that spurt that illuminates
the tiers of seats, and spills
over the cordury and the leather
of a thirsty multiude.
Who shouts that I should come near!
Do not ask me to see it!
His eyes did not close
when he saw the horns near,
but the terrible mothers
lifted their heads.
And across the ranches,
an air of secret voices rose,
shouting to celestial bulls,
herdsmen of pale mist.
There was no prince in Sevilla
who could compare to him,
nor sword like his sword
nor heart so true.
Like a river of lions
was his marvellous strength,
and like a marble toroso
his firm drawn moderation.
The air of Andalusian Rome
gilded his head
where his smile was a spikenard
of wit and intelligence.
What a great torero in the ring!
What a good peasant in the sierra!
How gentle with the sheaves!
How hard with the spurs!
How tender with the dew!
How dazzling the fiesta!
How tremendous with the final
banderillas of darkness!
But now he sleeps without end.
Now the moss and the grass
open with sure fingers
the flower of his skull.
And now his blood comes out singing;
singing along marshes and meadows,
sliden on frozen horns,
faltering soulles in the mist
stoumbling over a thousand hoofs
like a long, dark, sad tongue,
to form a pool of agony
close to the starry Guadalquivir.
Oh, white wall of Spain!
Oh, black bull of sorrow!
Oh, hard blood of Ignacio!
Oh, nightingale of his veins!
No.
I will not see it!
No chalice can contain it,
no swallows can drink it,
no frost of light can cool it,
nor song nor deluge og white lilies,
no glass can cover mit with silver.
No.
I will not see it!
3. The Laid Out Body
Stone is a forehead where dreames grieve
without curving waters and frozen cypresses.
Stone is a shoulder on which to bear Time
with trees formed of tears and ribbons and planets.
I have seen grey showers move towards the waves
raising their tender riddle arms,
to avoid being caught by lying stone
which loosens their limbs without soaking their blood.
For stone gathers seed and clouds,
skeleton larks and wolves of penumbra:
but yields not sounds nor crystals nor fire,
only bull rings and bull rings and more bull rings without walls.
Now, Ignacio the well born lies on the stone.
All is finished. What is happening! Contemplate his face:
death has covered him with pale sulphur
and has place on him the head of dark minotaur.
All is finished. The rain penetrates his mouth.
The air, as if mad, leaves his sunken chest,
and Love, soaked through with tears of snow,
warms itself on the peak of the herd.
What is they saying? A stenching silence settles down.
We are here with a body laid out which fades away,
with a pure shape which had nightingales
and we see it being filled with depthless holes.
Who creases the shroud? What he says is not true!
Nobody sings here, nobody weeps in the corner,
nobody pricks the spurs, nor terrifies the serpent.
Here I want nothing else but the round eyes
to see his body without a chance of rest.
Here I want to see those men of hard voice.
Those that break horses and dominate rivers;
those men of sonorous skeleton who sing
with a mouth full of sun and flint.
Here I want to see them. Before the stone.
Before this body with broken reins.
I want to know from them the way out
for this captain stripped down by death.
I want them to show me a lament like a river
wich will have sweet mists and deep shores,
to take the body of Ignacio where it looses itself
without hearing the double planting of the bulls.
Loses itself in the round bull ring of the moon
which feigns in its youth a sad quiet bull,
loses itself in the night without song of fishes
and in the white thicket of frozen smoke.
I don't want to cover his face with handkerchiefs
that he may get used to the death he carries.
Go, Ignacio, feel not the hot bellowing
Sleep, fly, rest: even the sea dies!
4. Absent Soul
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,
nor the horses, nor the ants in your own house.
The child and the afternoon do not know you
because you have dead forever.
The shoulder of the stone does not know you
nor the black silk, where you are shuttered.
Your silent memory does not know you
because you have died forever
The autumn will come with small white snails,
misty grapes and clustered hills,
but no one will look into your eyes
because you have died forever.
Because you have died for ever,
like all the dead of the earth,
like all the dead who are forgotten
in a heap of lifeless dogs.
Nobady knows you. No. But I sing of you.
For posterity I sing of your profile and grace.
Of the signal maturity of your understanding.
Of your appetite for death and the taste of its mouth.
Of the sadness of your once valiant gaiety.
It will be a long time, if ever, before there is born
an Andalusian so true, so rich in adventure.
I sing of his elegance with words that groan,
and I remember a sad breeze through the olive trees.
- posted on 07/05/2005
The Gypsy and the Wind
Playing her parchment moon
Precosia comes
along a watery path of laurels and crystal lights.
The starless silence, fleeing
from her rhythmic tambourine,
falls where the sea whips and sings,
his night filled with silvery swarms.
High atop the mountain peaks
the sentinels are weeping;
they guard the tall white towers
of the English consulate.
And gypsies of the water
for their pleasure erect
little castles of conch shells
and arbors of greening pine.
Playing her parchment moon
Precosia comes.
The wind sees her and rises,
the wind that never slumbers.
Naked Saint Christopher swells,
watching the girl as he plays
with tongues of celestial bells
on an invisible bagpipe.
Gypsy, let me lift your skirt
and have a look at you.
Open in my ancient fingers
the blue rose of your womb.
Precosia throws the tambourine
and runs away in terror.
But the virile wind pursues her
with his breathing and burning sword.
The sea darkens and roars,
while the olive trees turn pale.
The flutes of darkness sound,
and a muted gong of the snow.
Precosia, run, Precosia!
Or the green wind will catch you!
Precosia, run, Precosia!
And look how fast he comes!
A satyr of low-born stars
with their long and glistening tongues.
Precosia, filled with fear,
now makes her way to that house
beyond the tall green pines
where the English consul lives.
Alarmed by the anguished cries,
three riflemen come running,
their black capes tightly drawn,
and berets down over their brow.
The Englishman gives the gypsy
a glass of tepid milk
and a shot of Holland gin
which Precosia does not drink.
And while she tells them, weeping,
of her strange adventure,
the wind furiously gnashes
against the slate roof tiles. - Re: Federico García Lorca 西班牙诗人洛尔伽posted on 07/05/2005
saura导演的《血婚》
- posted on 07/05/2005
左詩右劇的羅卡
只活了三十九年的西班牙作家羅卡,劇作非凡,詩作亦不遑多讓。青年時代的羅卡,其實已創作不輟,為爾後成就立下基石。
「為什麼要我簽名留念呢?」
「因為您是名詩人!」
「我叫什麼名字呢?」
「何拉多‧迪耶哥。」
(Gerardo Diego, 一八九六 ─ 一九八九,西班牙二七年代詩人之一)
這是一位讀者向羅卡(Federico García Lorca)索取簽名時發生的趣事。這一軼事背後傳達了「劇作家」羅卡的盛名超越了「詩人」羅卡。
羅卡在西班牙文藝史上大概是僅次於賽凡提斯被廣為熟知的作家。盛名之由來得之於他才華洋溢,散文、詩及劇作擅場當代;也得之名詩作《詩人在紐約》,讓美利堅人民不時歌頌稱揚,益增聲名;而他英年早逝,悲劇的死亡更增傳奇色彩。他的生與死是西班牙史上重要年代 ─ 一八九八殖民帝國結束,一九三六內戰爆發成為叛亂分子槍下亡魂。三十九年的歲月就生命而言太短,對一個作家的創作量而言,太多了!再過三年便是他百年冥誕,在二十世紀五花八門的文學世界中,他的作品仍屢被搬上舞台,不為瞬息萬變的時代淘汰。
羅卡詩與戲劇兩文類並行創作不輟持續十五年光陰,「詩中有劇,劇中有詩」,二十餘部作品遺留人間,著名詩集為《吉普賽之歌》《安達魯西亞之歌》及《詩人在紐約》;劇作則以《血婚》《葉瑪》及《白納德之屋》膾炙人口。去年馬德里羅卡基金會帶來另讀者雀躍的消息,將羅卡未曾出版的早期詩作與劇作結集出書《年輕羅卡詩作與劇作》(Poesía y teatro inéditos de juventud)。
詩作方面擷選一百五十五首,這些羅卡生前珍藏的手稿寫於一九一七 ─ 一九年間,抒發個人情感,歌頌大自然及生命的省思,憂鬱色彩若隱若現。詩風不遜於後來作品。劇作則不甚完整,十二部劇作悉數出版,有些僅有劇碼及人物架構,有些是未完成的劇本。因作者未標示年代,依其風格及題材考就,大約是一九一七 ─ 一九二一或二二年間的創作,其中《寡婦想結婚》一劇最引人入勝。
兩部作品的出版不在增加羅卡作品名單,亦不在市場上爭奇鬥艷,但讓我們窺見成名作家創作之初的心血,實為爾後成就之礎石。
一九九五年六月八日 文 / 張淑英 - Re: Federico García Lorca 西班牙诗人洛尔伽posted on 07/05/2005
瑪雅寫一篇“血婚”的文章吧﹖讀了洛爾伽這兩首長詩﹐尤其是第一
首﹐情真意致﹐功力非凡。
我們在中文世界中所了解的那一點洛爾伽太一點點了﹐還有聶魯達也
是一樣。戲劇對寫字的人很重要﹐當然抒情對一個時代很重要。 - posted on 07/06/2005
据说台湾杨牧翻译的比大陆的好。
………………
01)來自陳黎老師
[18] 佛萊明哥,愛與悲苦的歌舞。西班牙詩人羅爾卡說它是從第一
聲哭泣和第一個吻中產生的。羅爾卡的詩,幾十年來不斷被安達魯西
亞的歌者傳唱著,從佛萊明哥來,又回到佛萊明哥去。
佛萊明哥大致分為兩類:描寫死亡、痛苦、絕望或宗教信仰題材的「
深沈之歌」,以及描寫愛情、鄉村生活或歡樂的「輕鬆之歌」。「深
沈之歌」的歌詞簡單,旋律自由變化──或藉固定形式,或藉富變化
的複奏,伴隨眾多的裝飾音與多變的節奏──凡此種種皆需技藝圓熟
的歌者方能勝任。因此在充滿戲劇性與表現力的「深沈之歌﹂裡,歌
聲的重要性勝過吉他的伴奏。這點與基本上較簡單的「輕鬆之歌」不同。
聽歌手查諾羅巴多演唱「塞桂里亞舞曲」 (他從小就喜歡唱跟跳羅爾
卡的作品) ,簡單的歌詞,古老的節奏,反覆吟詠,一唱三嘆:
你毫無悔恨地離開我的身邊,
你如今為什麼又來到,為什麼又來到,
跪著請求原諒?
唱片裡舞者頓足、擊掌、搖動響板,熱烈悲情的氣氛,歷歷在目。
深沈之歌,發自生命深淵,內心深處的愛,死亡與痛苦之歌。
原載:
--詠嘆調Ⅰ夏夜微笑
聯合文學1994
出自:
陳黎文學倉庫東華站
引用網址:
http://dcc.ndhu.edu.tw/chenli/ http://dcc.ndhu.edu.tw/chenli/prose5.htm
02)阿爾罕布拉宮的回憶/過客
(按,羅爾卡跟法雅這兩位「同志」曾在此舉辦全國性民歌大賽,
此文乃咱讀過書寫此宮的少數好文之1。至今未瞭『過客』身分)
神秘悠遠的音樂流瀉於屋內,迴盪於梁間,一串串顫音斷斷續續撥出
,悠悠地訴說阿爾罕布拉的回憶。反覆聆聽這首西班牙吉他大師泰雷
加的名作「阿爾罕布拉宮的回憶」,隨著旋律的起伏,阿宮美麗的倩
影,不時浮現腦海;摩爾人淒美絕倫的宮廷故事,不時縈繞心際。啊
!我也陷入了阿爾罕布拉宮的回憶。
西班牙詩人洛爾加曾讚嘆:「在世界上沒有一件比生在格拉那達當瞎
子還要悲哀的事。」如果你到過格拉那達,如果你看過在吉普賽人穴
居的洞穴中上演的佛朗明哥舞,如果你走訪過風華絕代的阿爾罕布拉
宮,如果你曾在星光熠熠下守候過阿宮的身影,相信你一定深有同感
。格拉那達的美完全在阿宮。這個建於十三世紀的宮殿是伊斯蘭教徒
在伊比利半島的最後據點,摩爾人在此度過了兩百多年的偏安絢麗的
歲月。阿宮是摩爾人無窮想像力的發揮及藝術極致的表現。
阿宮彷彿是風情萬種的美麗少婦,隱藏在面紗下的她,有幾分神秘,
但幽怨的眼神又透露出無限的心事。阿宮最令人驚艷的是鬼斧神工的
雕飾。花草、幾何圖案爬上石柱、拱門、牆面,交織纏繞;牆面以古
阿拉伯文刻滿可蘭經文及讚美統治者的詞句,不只有視覺上令人屏息
的美感,也彷彿聽到數百年前摩爾人虔辗锤驳淖擁灒钢挥邪⒗
才是勝利者」。女性房間特有的鏤空木雕窗(稱為「加路吉」),從
室內可以清楚看到室外景物,從室外則無法看清室內人物。你可以想
像當年處在深閨寂寞難耐的後宮仕女,怦怦然地由此眺望在中庭舉辦
的各種儀式,撩撥起紅塵心事。
曲折有致的小徑,優美靜謐的庭園,精雕細琢的迴形長廊,置身阿宮
如進入天方夜譚的童話之宮。陽光透過鏤空的精美雕刻灑落一地,輝
映著牆上馬賽克富麗的色彩,一室光影迷離,憑添幾許神秘的風韻。
你可以想像當年滿地鋪著優美花紋的地毯,到處掛著織染或刺繡的垂
幕,昔日那些偏安一隅的王公貴族的奢華生活可見一斑!隱蔽在宮殿
一角的摩爾王浴室沙龍,傳說著一個淒涼的故事:當年國王就在熱氣
繚繞中邊享受按摩,邊欣賞裸女舞蹈,二樓則有樂師演奏音樂,為了
不讓春光外洩,這些樂師的眼睛全被弄瞎了!--「小憐玉體橫陳夜
,已報周師入晉陽。」令人不勝唏噓!
「水」是阿宮的性靈。伊斯蘭教興起於缺水的乾燥地帶,因此視水為
生命的泉源。可蘭經上記載著「天國就是一個有清澈小河潺潺而流之
處。」所以阿宮這個人間天堂的最大特色是處處可見水的芳蹤。或在
綠牆紅花掩映處出現水渠,並噴灑出慢妙的舞姿;或在深宮中出現水
流噴泉,滿室涼意;或在庭院中出現一畝方塘,四周種滿散發淡淡清
香的桃金孃樹,天光樹影共徘徊,微波瀲灩,嫵媚多姿。最著名的是
「獅子中庭」,在一百二十四根如珠玉綴飾的柱廊環拱下,十二隻獅
子托住大型水盤噴出清泉,不管從那個角度審視她,都和諧絕美,真
是此景只應天上有啊!你可以想像當年王公貴族徜徉在綠意盎然,水
聲潺潺處,享受陽光,是多愜意啊!但據說爭權奪勢的屠殺也未曾停
歇過,血流成河,至今「姊妹廳」水盤的石頭上,仍留下斑斑血痕!
一串串顫音斷斷續續流出,悠悠地訴說阿爾罕布拉宮的回憶。而我也
有我難忘的阿爾罕布拉宮的回憶,阿宮也有屬於她浪漫淒迷的阿爾罕
布拉宮的回憶。--你聽!當年摩爾人揮淚倉皇出宮,至今你是否仍
可聽到摩爾人的嘆息呢?(Mike Olfield Version)
引用網址(頁庫存檔‧快取文字﹞:
http://netcity6.web.hinet.net/UserData/sangomi/otherswork_compotition2.htm
03)羅卡Federico Garcia Lorca
《血婚》 (Bodas de sangre);
《白納德之屋》 (La casa de Bernarda Alba)
顏元叔等譯,台北:驚聲文物,1965。
《葉瑪》 (Yerma),游淳傑譯,台北:中央圖書出版,1991。
《西班牙浪人吟》Romancero gitano,楊牧譯
,《世界文學大師選》,輯四,台北:洪範,1999。
《蒙塔萊/洛爾卡》 (Eugenio Montale /Federico García Lorca)
歐洲經典詩選,李魁賢譯,桂冠,2001年。
引用自張淑英西書中譯
(西語文學譯作與叢書)
網址:
http://ccms.ntu.edu.tw/~luisa/
04)哭泣的月亮Zorongo Gitano
[…西班牙詩人羅卡 Federico Garcia Lorca採擷的民謠之一。帶有詩人
筆下一貫的安達魯西亞深沉感情:強烈的愛恨、失落的激情。這首歌
一向受佛拉明哥歌手喜愛,世紀以來不斷地翻唱,在舞者的肢體律動
與旋身擺手中,彷彿愛慾受到永恆的詛咒,羈押不得掙脫。…]
引用自迷火佛拉明哥舞坊
演出舞碼
網址:http://www.flamenco.com.tw/about/about_mm.htm
05)讀詩時間:《西班牙憲警謠》
致詩神總領事——胡安•蓋雷羅
黑色的馬。
黑色的鐵蹄。
斗篷上閃著
墨汁和蠟油的痕跡。
鉛水鑄成的頭顱
從來不會哭泣。
他們從公路上來臨
帶著漆黑的靈魂。
夜間出動,駝背躬身。
哪里有活躍的氣氛
他們就到那裏布下
細沙般的恐懼,
黑色橡膠的沉悶。
他們要去哪里就去哪里
頭腦中藏著手槍的天體
風雲莫測,撲朔迷離。
啊,吉普賽人的城市!
街頭彩旗飄飄。
月亮和南瓜
還有罐裝的櫻桃。
啊,吉普賽人的城市!
誰能不記在心頭?
痛苦和麝香的城市
還有桂皮的塔樓。
當夜幕降臨
黑夜,黑夜沉沉,
吉普賽人在爐中
鍛造箭和太陽。
一匹身負重傷的馬
呼喚各家的門。
邊境的雪利酒城
玻璃的雄雞在啼鳴。
赤裸的風
在嚇人的街頭轉身,
沉沉夜.沉沉黑夜,
夜沉沉,黑夜沉沉。
聖母與聖何塞
丟失了他們的響板,
去問吉普賽人
聖母來的時候身穿
巧克力紙
做成的市長大大的衣衫,
脖子上戴著杏子串成的項鏈。
聖何塞的雙臂
在絲綢的斗篷下動彈。
佩德羅•多梅克跟著他們,
三位波斯王緊隨後邊。
半圓形的月亮,在夢想
白鸛的快樂陶然,
旗幟和燈盞
在屋頂上迷漫。
在許多鏡子上面 .
失去胯骨的舞女們
泣啼漣漣。
在雪利酒城,
黑暗與水,水與黑暗。
啊,吉普賽人的城市!
街頭彩旗飄揚。
“有功之臣””來了
快熄滅你綠色的燈光。
啊,吉普賽人的城市!
見了你誰會遺忘?
你們將她撇在大海的遠方,
沒有梳子將發綹梳妝。
奔向狂歡的城市
他們排成兩行。
在蠟菊叢中
子彈盒窸窣作響
他們成兩路前進,
夜色雙倍地漆黑
天空來放馬刺
他們為所欲為。
無所畏懼的城市,
打開所有的門廊。
四十個憲兵員警
一齊往裏闖。
時鐘停止了走動,
白蘭地的酒瓶
為了不引起懷疑
裝成十一月的面容。
一片嘈雜的喊聲
在風標上飛行。
馬刀劈著清風,
鐵蹄也將它欺淩。
街上一片漆黑,
老婦們四處逃命。
熟睡的馬匹牽在手裏,
裝錢的陶罐抱在懷中。
沿著街道的陡坡
漆黑的斗篷在衝鋒,
他們在身後留下
剪刀飛快的旋風。
在伯利恒的門廳
吉普賽人在集中。
聖何塞遍體鱗傷
在裝裹一位姑娘。
頑固、尖利的槍響
將整個黑夜震盪。
聖母用星星的唾液
為兒童醫治創傷。
然而憲警隊
邊走邊把火放,
青春和天真的想像
通通在那裏燒光。
坎坡裏奧家的蘿莎
坐在門口呻吟,
被割下的乳房
放在託盤上。
其他姑娘在奔跑
辮子在身後搖盪,
黑色火藥的玫瑰
在空氣中怒放。
當所有的屋頂
變成地上的田壟,
在岩石長長的側影中
升起晃著肩膀的黎明。
啊,吉普賽人的城市!
當烈火在你身邊燃燒,
憲警們越走越遠
沿著寂靜的地道。
啊,吉普賽人的城市!
見了你誰會忘記,
讓他們在我的前額上尋找你。
月亮和黃沙的遊戲。
--趙振江譯
(陰按,此詩另有台灣詩人楊牧的漢譯,優很多。)
出自 05)洛爾迦詩選
網址:
http://www.cnpoet.com/waiguo/spain/lorca.htm
06)映畫:The Disappearance of Garcia Lorca(1997,142Min)
或流氓帝國
Marcos Zurinaga 導演
07)《Romancero Gitano》
Vicente Pradal《Romancero Gitano》2004
全碟試聽
Virgin Classics 7243 5 45638
‧詩作 : Federico Garcia Lorca
‧作曲 : Vicente Pradal
‧Singers : Cristo Cortes , Vicente Pradal , Concha Tavora , Luis De Almeria
‧Dancer-singer: Manuel Gutierrez , Sabrina Romero
‧Musicians : Jean-Luc Amestoy (accordeon) ,
Antonio Cortes (guitar) , Emmanuel Joussemet (violoncelle)
, Laurent Paris (percussions)
08)Fashion:詩意的包
[「穿過橄欖叢林,看見一班富有夢想及勇氣的吉普賽人。他們頭仰
青天,眼睛緊合。」——取自西班牙劇作家洛卡爾Lorca之《Romancero
Gitano吉普賽歌譜》。---以上是Loewe今年春夏皮件「Gitano吉普賽
人」系列的靈感來源,以「吉普賽」來呼應這款包包創新、自由的造型。]
全文閱讀↘
ELLE流行時尚
網址:http://www.elle.com.tw/fashion/focus/0,2284,7910,00.html
[En El Cafe De Chinitas]
12:59 AM | 補陰 (22)
回應
久仰大名wiwienen,
您的網佔用"炫"來形容可能有點沒力
不過目前才疏學湹陌持幌氲贸鲞@個形容詞><
白天晃來,意料之外的樂音和溫柔推介...
驚喜+動心!!! :D
看過"1"次佛拉明哥的舞音演出
好ㄝ 充滿了力量
那時我仰慕的男子是個詩人也是畫家且熱愛歌唱
真是值得驕傲的過往 :p
歡迎蒞臨寒舍
柿子 於 2004-08-26 20:41 回應
會有這麼一天
直到我可以完全釐清愛情的本質時
買一本陳黎的詠嘆調
循著指南一首一首的聽下去
直到把記憶封存冷凍
背叛者與被背叛者
皆公平的得到救贖
- Re: Federico García Lorca 西班牙诗人洛尔伽posted on 07/07/2005
他在被杀死前说的一句话是:"I am a poet and nobody shoots poets" - posted on 07/08/2005
Federico García Lorca in flamenco
Alicia R. Mediavilla
Translated by: Yasha Maccanico
Federico García Lorca, the Granadan poet from the Generation of 27 (1927), who was neither a gypsy nor a flamenco, has had and continues to have an important presence on the flamenco scene. Many flamenco artists have approached his oeuvre and have attempted to re-create the strength, passion and tragedy contained in his verses.
There have been many flamenco cantaores who have chosen to sing poems by the great poet from Granada: Camarón, Carmen Linares, Enrique Montoya, Enrique Morente, Juanito Valderrama, Lola Flores, Lole y Manuel, Manzanita, Pata Negra, Pepe Marchena…
However, it was Lorca himself, a long time earlier, who was one of the first to understand that culture needed to come closer to popular tradition and, consequently, he approached flamenco. In the first place, the poet himself collected popular songs, among which gypsy and flamenco lyrics were to be found, and brought them together in his Colección de Canciones Populares Antiguas (Collection of Early Popular Songs).
Among these traditional songs, there were some tonadillas, bulerías, jaleos, seguidillas… that Lorca himself recorded in 1931, as he accompanied La Argentinita on the piano.
This record, which was recovered and re-mastered in 1995, represents the most personal audio document involving the poet from Granada.
In 1965, an extremely young Paco de Lucía offered his own version of those very pieces with his guitar in the record Doce Canciones de García Lorca para guitarra (Twelve songs by García Lorca for guitar). They were twelve themes which featured the guitarist from Algeciras, accompanied by Ricardo Modrego, also a guitarist.
The great castanet master Lucero Tena also performed some of these songs that were brought together by Lorca in Lucero Tena y el mundo de García Lorca" (Lucero Tena and the world of García Lorca).
"The great artists of southern Spain, gypsies or flamencos, regardless of whether they sing, dance or play instruments, know that no kind of emotion is possible unless the duende arrives". Juego y teoría del duende. Lorca.
García Lorca's efforts to prevent popular traditions from disappearing, particularly the tradition of gypsy 'cante jondo' (lit. 'deep singing', an expression used to refer to flamenco), led him to organise the I Concurso de Cante Jondo (1st Cante Jondo Contest), which was held in Granada in June 1922, alongside Manuel de Falla. The great Antonio Chacón acted as the president of the jury, and artists like Manuel Torres, Tomás Pavón, Niña de los Peines and Diego Bermúdez took part.
Lorca has been paid some important tributes by flamenco artists. One of the first was by Enrique Morente in the record En la Casa Museo Federico García Lorca de Fuentevaqueros (In the Federico García Lorca House Museum in Fuentevaqueros), in which the cantaor (flamenco singer) used the oeuvre by the Granadan poet as a starting point. Recorded in 1990, it soon became a sought after collectors' item, and has now been re-released.
Moreover, Morente has also used verses by Lorca in other recording works such as Lorca, alongside Juan Manuel Cañizares, Pepe Habichuela, Paquete and Carles Benavent; or like Omega, with the rock band Lagartija Nick.
Manolo Sanlúcar, one of the great innovators of 20th-century flamenco guitar playing, also paid a heart-felt tribute to Federico García Lorca in the record Locura de brisa y trino, accompanied by the flamenco voice of Carmen Linares. It is a veritable display of pure flamenco, both in terms of the guitar playing and the singing featured in the record.
In several of his records Camarón sang verses by García Lorca: Nana del Caballo Grande, La leyenda del tiempo and Romance del Amargo, all of which appear in the record La leyenda del tiempo, as well as Casida de las Palomas Oscuras and El Romance de Thamar y Amnon, from the record Soy gitano.
Finally, there was a collective tribute, Los gitanos cantan a Federico García Lorca" (The gypsies sing to Federico García Lorca). In this record, Camarón, Manzanita, Diego Carrasco, Ricardo Pachón, Lole y Manuel, Pata Negra and Tino di Geraldo introduce flamenco music into Lorca's poems.
Last published news features in: "Features" - posted on 07/22/2005
LA LUNA ASOMA
Cuando sale la luna
se pierden las campanas
y aparecen las sendas
impenetrables.
Cuando sale la luna,
el mar cubre la tierra
y el corazón se siente
isla en el infinito.
Nadie come naranjas
bajo la luna llena.
Es preciso comer
fruta verde y helada.
Cuando sale la luna
de cien rostros iguales,
la moneda de plata
solloza en el bolsillo.
--
this is the first spanish poem i studied... - posted on 12/05/2005
在去格林纳达的路上,读了Lorca的几首诗,刻骨铭心:
Rider’s Song
Córdova
Far away and alone.
Black pony, big moon,
And olives in my saddlebag.
Although I know the roads
I’ll never reach Córdoba.
Through the plain, through the wind,
Black pony, red moon
Death is looking at me
From the towers of Córdoba.
Ay! How long the road!
Ay! My valiant pony!
Ay! That death should wait for me
Before I reach Córdoba
Córdoba
Far away and alone
Farewell
If I die,
Leave the balcony open.
The little boy is eating oranges.
(from my balcony I can hear him. )
If I die,
Leave the balcony open!
原本想着把这几首喜欢的诗翻译成中文歌词,但就是英文已经很动人了。
- posted on 12/13/2005
手头的一个译本。北岛在《时间的玫瑰》里有一章写洛尔迦,但我在网上找不到,反到找到另外几章写帕斯捷尔纳克、曼德尔施塔姆、艾基的:
http://www.blogcn.com/user26/qinglang1970/index.html?filelist=1#md
骑马人的歌
洛尔迦/王央乐
科尔多巴。
孤独而遥远。
黑色的马驹,浑圆的月亮,
橄榄装满了鞍囊。
虽然我认识路,
我却从未到过科尔多巴。
经过平原,经过一阵阵的风,
黑色的马驹,红色的月亮。
科尔多巴的高塔上
死亡在把我张望。
多么漫长的道路哟!
我勇敢的小马驹哟!
在到达科尔多巴之前
等待着我的死亡哟!
科尔多巴。
孤独而遥远。 - Re: Federico García Lorca 西班牙诗人洛尔伽posted on 12/13/2005
- posted on 12/19/2005
raingong wrote:
手头的一个译本。北岛在《时间的玫瑰》里有一章写洛尔迦,但我在网上找不到,反到找到另外几章写帕斯捷尔纳克、曼德尔施塔姆、艾基的:
http://www.blogcn.com/user26/qinglang1970/index.html?filelist=1#md 骑马人的歌
洛尔迦/王央乐
科尔多巴。
孤独而遥远。
谢raingong转来的翻译。还不够好,今晚我来试一试。
这个周末在Cordoba,朋友Jose是个摄影师,这是他的摄影作品。http://www.jpascual.net/ - posted on 12/20/2005
试着翻译了一下,根据在cordoba的感觉。请xw、廖康兄指正。
……………………
马背上的歌
科尔多瓦哟
长长的路哟,
孤孤又单单
小黑马,大月亮
还有我褡裢里的油橄榄
知道路怎么走啊
可总也走不到啊
科尔多瓦
穿过了平原,穿了过风
小黑马,红月亮
死神
从科尔多瓦的塔楼上
恶狠狠把我张望
哎,好长的路哦
哎,好勇敢的小黑马哟
哎,我还没到科尔多瓦
死神早早儿就在那儿等我了哟
科尔多瓦哟
长长的路哟,
孤孤又单单
×××××××
永别
如果我死了
请把阳台的窗打开
那个小男孩在剥桔子吃
(从阳台这边我能听到)
如果我死了
请把阳台的窗打开!
- Re: Federico García Lorca 西班牙诗人洛尔伽posted on 12/20/2005
玛雅译得很好,王央乐走文本,玛雅走民谣!
我想首尾连应的这句能否这样?(抛砖引玉)
科尔多瓦哟
路漫漫 孤茫茫
- Re: Federico García Lorca 西班牙诗人洛尔伽posted on 12/07/2009
Ding. - Re: Federico García Lorca 西班牙诗人洛尔伽posted on 12/08/2009
谢谢xw顶贴,原来洛尔迦是这个样子的,挺有诗人气质。
玛雅真有才!
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