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鷹翼如柱參差斷裂自血污的肩胛，
鷹翼曳地似敗北的旌旗，
再無以御虛長翔，只有忍著飢餓
與苦痛再活幾日：也沒山貓也沒土狼
來縮短待死的一周，沒了鷹爪就沒了獵物。
他站在橡樹葉下等待
救贖的跛足；夜間他想起自由，
振翅於夢裡，夢總教拂曉摧折。
他很剛強，偏對那剛強的，苦痛更加難受，傷殘無力更加難受。
白日的野犬來凌遲著他
從遠處，惟死亡那救主將讓他俯首，
一挫他的有備無畏和懾人雙眼。
造化之神狂野，時或向那尋求慈悲的
施捨慈悲，卻不常向那傲岸的。
你們不認識他，群居的人啊，又或者你們早忘了他；
那鷹，粗蠻無度，記得他；
群鷹，美而狂野，和垂死的人，記得他。

---第二十一屆梁實秋文學獎翻譯類譯詩組佳作
  刊於《中華日報》副刊 (2008.10.31)

好心而華髮的護衛
巡邏展廳穿輕軟的鞋子，
予藝術均等的看顧，雖
或有疑於土魯斯。

中一人倚牆打盹，
置身陪葬的座椅。
竇加的女伶踮足迴舞
於那人頭髮分際。

看她那迴旋！便得見高雅，
但肢體緊繃亦清晰可辨。
竇加就愛這兩項同列：
優美與力道並肩。

竇加買過葛雷科的畫，
好好一幅靠著床邊的牆，
充當竇加入睡時
懸掛長褲的地方。

---第二十一屆梁實秋文學獎翻譯類譯詩組佳作
  刊於《中華日報》副刊 (2008.10.31)

南飛烏鵲曰：
老貓部落格舉行翻譯協力活動，我也挑了一段試翻。

Help the man who is down today.
Give him a lift in his sorrow.
Life has a very strange way,
No one knows what will happen tomorrow.

見人路途坎坷，
援手撫慰悲傷。
浮生禍福難測，
誰知來日景況。

南飛烏鵲曰：
湊韻之譯。

Way Down South in Dixie
(Break the heart of me)
They hung my black young lover
To a cross roads tree.

Way Down South in Dixie
(Bruised body high in air)
I asked the white Lord Jesus
What was the use of prayer.

Way Down South in Dixie
(Break the heart of me)
Love is a naked shadow
On a gnarled and naked tree.

給黑人女孩的歌
原作：蘭斯頓‧休斯 (1902-1967)

遙遙南方之南唷
(總教我心傷)
我年輕的黑人戀人
給吊死在十字路口樹上。

遙遙南方之南唷
(軀體瘀紫高懸天際)
我問白人的主耶穌
祈禱有何助益。

遙遙南方之南唷
(總教我心傷)
吾愛赤裸身影
在錯節赤裸樹上。

南飛烏鵲曰：
試譯短詩一則，更知譯詩之難，有過於譯文者。

But there was another side to Frederick. He was a cultivated, sensitive gentleman. He was a good musician, he had read widely, and he had made a careful study of French. He even composed a number of French poems-they are not good, still they serve to show that to him German wasn't everything. He was, in this way, more civilised than Hitler. There was no Nordic purity nonsense about him. He did not think that Germany was destined to rule the world: he knew that the world is a very complicated place, and that we have to live and let live in it; he even believed in freedom of speech. "People can say what they like as long as I do what I like" was the way he put it. One day, as he went through Berlin he saw a caricature of himself on a wall, and all he said was: "Oh-hang it down lower so that it can be seen better."

The visit began in a whirl of compliments. Voltaire called Frederick "The Solomon of the North," Frederick declared that of all his victorious titles the most precious was Possessor of Voltaire. He made his guest a court official, housed him royally, gave him a handsome salary, and promised an extra salary to his niece, Madame Denis, if she would come to keep house for him. (We shall hear more of poor Madame Denis in a minute.) Witty conversation, philosophic discussion, delicious food-Frederick liked good food, though he was careful to get it cheap. Everything seemed perfect-but! Not long after his arrival, Voltaire wrote a letter to a friend in France in which the ominous little word "But" keeps occurring.

"The supper parties are delicious. The King is the life of the company. But, I have operas and comedies, reviews and concerts, my studies and books. But, but. Berlin is fine, the princesses charming, the maids of honour handsome. But."

E. M. Forster (1879-1970):
"Voltaire and Frederick the Great"

I have read many books on English prose, but have found it hard to profit by them; for the most part they are vague, unduly theoretical, and often scolding. But you cannot say this of Fowler's Dictionary of Modern English Usage. It is a valuable work. Fowler liked simplicity, straightforwardness and common sense. He had a sound feeling that idiom was the backbone of a language and he was all for the racy phrase. He was no slavish admirer of logic and was willing enough to give usage right of way through the exact demesnes of grammar. English grammar is very difficult and few writers have avoided making mistakes in it. It is necessary to know grammar, and it is better to write grammatically than not, but it is well to remember that grammar is common speech formulated. Usage is the only test. I would prefer a phrase that was easy and unaffected to a phrase that was grammatical. I have given the matter of style a great deal of thought and have taken great pains. I have written few pages that I feel I could not improve and far too many that I have left with dissatisfaction. I cannot say of myself what Johnson said of Pope: "He never passed a fault unamended by indifference, nor quitted it by despair." I do not write as I want to; I write as I can.

Anything is better than not to write clearly. There is nothing to be said against lucidity, and against simplicity only the possibility of dryness. This is a risk that is well worth taking when you reflect how much better it is to be bald than to wear a curly wig. But there is in euphony a danger that must be considered. It is very likely to be monotonous. I do not know how one can guard against this. I suppose the best chance is to have a more lively faculty of boredom than one's readers so that one is wearied before they are. One must always be on the watch for mannerisms and when certain cadences come too easily to the pen ask oneself whether they have not become mechanical.

W. S. Maugham (1874-1965):
"How to Write Perfectly"