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LESSON 19 The song of the shirt
第十九課 衣衫之歌
With fingers weary and worn, with eyelids heavy and red, a woman sat in unwomanly rags, plying her needle and thread—Stitch! stitch! stitch! in poverty, hunger, and dirt; and still with a voice of dolorous pitch she sang the "Song of the Shirt!"
一個衣衫襤褸的女人坐著，她的手指磨出了了厚厚的繭子、蒼老而無力；她的眼皮耷拉著，眼珠里布滿血絲；她正拿著針和線，不停地縫啊！縫啊！縫啊！她貧窮、饑餓、骯臟；卻仍舊哼著憂傷的高音小調兒——衣衫之歌。
"Work! work! work! while the cock is crowing aloof! and work! work! work! till the stars shine through the roof! It's oh, to be a slave along with the barbarous Turk, where woman has never a soul to save, if this is Christian work!
“工作！工作！工作！公雞在高處啼叫著！工作！工作！工作！直到星星透過屋頂閃爍！哦，成了奴隸，和野蠻的土耳其人一樣，如果耶穌能拯救世人，那么土耳其婦女的靈魂已無藥可救。
"Work! work! work! till the brain begins to swim; work! work! work! till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam, and gusset, and band; band, and gusset, and seam; till over the buttons I fall asleep, and sew them on in a dream. O men, with sisters dear! O men, with mothers and wives! it is not linen you're wearing out, but human creatures' lives. Stitch! stitch! stitch! in poverty, hunger, and dirt; sewing at once, with a double thread, a shroud as well as a shirt.
“工作！工作！工作！直到腦漿都開始融化；工作！工作！工作！直到眼皮沉重、眼神黯淡！縫合、襯料、衣帶；衣帶、襯料、縫合；直到我沉沉睡去好似在夢中縫上衣扣。哦，男人們，親愛的姐妹們！哦，男人們，母親和妻子們！你們穿破了的不是亞麻衣裳，而是人類的生命。縫啊！縫啊！縫啊！我貧窮、饑餓、骯臟；我用雙螺紋縫制了一件衣衫、和一方裹尸布。
"But why do I talk of Death? that phantom of grisly bone; I hardly fear his terrible shape, it seems so like my own. It seems so like my own, because of the fasts I keep; O God, that bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
“我怎會提起死亡？那可怕的尸骨幻化成鬼魂；而我并不畏懼那嚇人的東西，因為它的樣子像我。它的樣子像我，因為我一直保有齋戒的習慣；哦，上帝！怎會有如此昂貴的面包，又怎會有如此低廉的血肉！
"Work! work! work! My labour never flags; and what are its wages? A bed of straw, a crust of bread—and rags. That shattered roof and this naked floor, a table, a broken chair, and a wall so blank, my shadow I thank for sometimes falling there.
“工作！工作！工作！我從未停止過工作；但是，我的所得報酬呢？一席稻草床、一塊面包——和幾塊破布。破碎的屋頂、光禿的地板、一張桌子、一把爛椅子、一堵空蕩蕩的墻、多虧了墻面會時而投上我的影子。
"Work! work! work! from weary chime to chime; work! work! work! as prisoners work for crime. Band, and gusset, and seam; seam, and gusset, and band; till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, as well as the weary hand.
“工作！工作！工作！時間疲倦地流逝著；工作！工作！工作！如同犯人在自我贖罪。衣帶、襯料、縫合；縫合、襯料、衣帶；直到心臟衰竭、直到大腦僵硬、直到雙手疲憊不堪。
"Work! work! work! in the dull December light; and work! work! work! when the weather is warm and bright, while underneath the eaves the brooding swallows cling, as if to show their sunny backs, and twit me with the spring.
“工作！工作！工作！借著十二月昏暗的燈光；工作！工作！工作！當天氣變得溫暖、當天色變得明亮，屋檐下滯留著孵蛋的燕兒，春天將我包裹，一切又變得欣欣向榮起來。
"Oh, but to breathe the breath of the cowslip and primrose sweet, with the sky above my head, and the grass beneath my feet; for only one short hour to feel as I used to feel, before I knew the woes of want, and the walk that costs a meal! Oh, but for one short hour! a respite however brief! No blessed leisure for love or hope, but only time for grief ! A little weeping would ease my heart; but in their briny bed my tears must stop, for every drop hinders needle and thread."
“哦，呼吸著櫻草的芬芳和香甜，頭頂是蔚藍的天空，腳下是翠綠的草兒；在我體會到欲望之悲痛、嘗到食之艱辛之前，只有短短一個小時的時間來感受過去之感受！哦，只有短短的一個小時！多么短暫的喘息時間啊！沒有美妙的閑暇來感受愛和希望，只有大把的時間來感受悲痛！默默的哭泣一番讓內心稍感寬慰；然而工床早已被眼淚浸濕，我必須停止哭泣，因為每一滴淚水，都將成為一針一線的羈絆。“
With fingers weary and worn, with eyelids heavy and red, a woman sat in unwomanly rags, plying her needle and thread—Stitch! stitch! stitch! in poverty, hunger, and dirt; and still with a voice of dolorous pitch—would that its tone could reach the rich! —she sang this "Song of the Shirt!"
一個衣衫襤褸的女人坐著，她的手指磨出了了厚厚的繭子、蒼老而無力；她的眼皮耷拉著，眼珠里布滿血絲；她正拿著針和線，不停地縫啊！縫啊！縫啊！她貧窮、饑餓、骯臟；卻依舊哼著憂傷的高音小調兒——但愿這聲音能觸動富人！——她唱的這首“衣衫之歌！”
—Thomas Hood
—托馬斯·胡德
