今日も暑いよ〜
　館林は、なんと　29度だって！！
　　（勿論　日本一！　
　　　　がんばれ、館林、日本一！……(＾＾；)）


・・・

さて
　4月といえば

”４月は残酷な月で…”に始まる
T. S. エリオットの長詩　『荒地』の月で
毎年、完読に挑戦しては敗れる（！）んだが

　　こう暑いと、
正直、この　やっかいな詩に挑戦する気力も
失せちゃいそう。。

しかし、　がんばろう！

有名な第一章だけでも、
　観賞しませうね。。
（西脇センセイの訳を少しだけ付けました）


＞T.S. Eliot (1888–1965).
The Waste Land. 1922.

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering 　　　　
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie, 　　　　
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 　　　　20
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only


＞
荒地　　　西脇順三郎

１埋葬

4月は残酷極まる月だ
リラの花を死んだ土から生み出し
追憶に欲情をかきまぜたり
春の雨で鈍重な草根をふるい起こすのだ。
冬は人を温かくかくまってくれた。
地面を雪で忘却の中に被い
ひからびた球根で短い生命を養い。
シュタルンベルガー・ゼー湖の向こうから
夏が夕立をつれて急に襲って来た。
僕たちは廻廊で雨宿りをして
日がでてから公園に行ってコーヒーを
飲んで一時間ほど話した。
「あたしはロシア人ではありません
　リトゥニア出の立派なドイツ人です」
子供の時、いとこになる大公の家に
滞在っていた頃大公はあたしを橇に
のせて遊びに出かけたが怖かった。
マリーア、マリーア、しっかりつかまって
と彼は言った。そして滑っておりた。
あの山の中にいるとのんびりした気分になれます、
夜は大がい本を読み冬になると南へ行きます

このしがみつく根は一体何んだ
このじゃりの多い塵から、どんな枝が生えるというのだ。
人間の子よ、君には何もいえない、何にも
　　　《後略》


A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock, 　　　　　
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 　　30
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu.
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; 　　　
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations. 　　　　　　　50
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.

Unreal City, 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　60
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson!
'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70
'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!'　　

＊注釈付きのサイトがあります（英語だけど…）
　　　　↓
http://eliotswasteland.tripod.com/

もうちゃ箱主人