春天来了！
门前草坪边的常青树下，忽然冒出了几株黄水仙。
黄水仙不同于漳州水仙，它没有妩媚婀娜的姿态，却挺拔坚韧，即使在早春寒冷的室外，它也成片地开放，随风起舞，展示着绚丽的姿采。那晶莹闪亮的鹅黄色，又让我想起了故国的腊梅……
我对于黄水仙，有着特殊的情感。那是刚进大学不久，系里举办翻译比赛，拿到手的是一篇日记，题目叫“Daffodil”，当时只知道是一种花，究竟长得怎么样，中国没有，所以一无所知。
大概是美丽的黄水仙显灵，我的译文竟得了第一名。其实当时那篇短文对我来说非常陌生，作者和背景都一无所知。但是那优美的文笔和清新的语境深深打动了我，所以“黄水仙”就一直扎根在我脑子里了。
由于自己的粗心加上几次搬家、出国，《黄水仙》的原文和我的原始翻译都遗失了，之后每每想起不禁叹息：黄水仙，你在哪里？
终于有一天在加拿大见到了那随风跳跃舞动的黄色小花了，一问花匠，果然是”Daffodil”!
感谢互联网，让我再一次读到了《黄水仙》的原文。
提到《黄水仙》， 对英国文学比较熟悉的朋友一定会想起著名浪漫派诗人威廉·华兹华斯（William Wordsworth）最有名的同名诗，可我翻译的短文和这首诗有什么关系呢？
原来，这篇短文是诗人的妹妹Dorothy Wordsworth的一篇日记。Dorothy是一位日记作家、书信作家和诗人。她生前默默无闻，一方面是由于长期被哥哥的光环所遮盖，另一方面她自己对成名毫无兴趣。她说自己写作只是给哥哥一点乐趣“give Wm Pleasure by it”。而威廉在一首诗里形容妹妹：“她不为人知地活着，也几乎无人知她何时死去”。
Dorothy1855年去世，几十年之后，当文学批评家开始研究女性在文学中的地位时，Dorothy才受到重视。1886年，Dorothy的传记出版，而直到1897年Dorothy的作品集才出版，从此在文学史上，Dorothy终于获得了独立的地位。
《格拉斯米尔》是华兹华斯兄妹在湖边“隐居”时Dorothy对日常生活的记录和描述，而四月“15日”这天的记录，正是哥哥创作《黄水仙》的灵感源泉。饮水不忘挖井人，今天我有机会重译《格拉斯米尔日记》（30年过去了，今天的心境恐怕缺少了当年那一份水仙花搬的清纯），并再次欣赏《黄水仙》， 让我们一起领略诗人兄妹的文采：
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(节选）十五号星期四。
今天早上雾气弥漫，有些令人害怕——但气温却还温和。早餐后我们离开尤斯米尔。
克拉克森太太和我们走了一小段就回去了。风刮得很猛，我们觉得非回去不可了。我们先在一个大船坞里休息，然后又在克拉克森先生家对面的荆豆丛下躲着。看见有人在田里犁地，风吹得我们喘不过气来，湖面波浪翻滚。一只孤零零的小船在瓦特米勒村旁的湖湾中央漂浮着。我们又在瓦特米勒小道上休息了一会儿。树上的山楂青一片紫一片，白桦树远远近近一片葱绿，但树梢上却有不少紫色。我们侧身转入一块田野中以避开几头牛——人们在劳动。路边有几簇报春花和秋海棠，银莲花，紫罗兰，草莓和星星般的小黄花——C太太称作为毛绒草。
当我们走进戈巴罗公园旁的小树林时，我们看见水边开着几朵黄水仙。我们猜想是湖水把花籽带到岸上，这花儿就像雨后春笋一样冒了出来。我们走了几步就发现黄水仙越来越多，最后在那些大树枝下，沿着湖边形成一长条的花带，足足有乡村大道那样宽。我从来没有见过这么漂亮的水仙花，在长满青苔的石头周围到处都是。一些花儿把头靠在石头上就像枕着枕头在休息，其余的则前后左右跳跃舞动着，好像是伴随着湖面上吹来的微风开怀大笑。这些花儿在不停地顾盼，不停地变换，看上去那样的欢快。
风从湖上朝花儿迎面吹来。它们这儿一群，那儿一簇地蔓延开来，还有几朵孤零零地生长在高处，但这并不足以打扰那条繁忙的公路上的单调和一致。我们休息了好久。湖湾里风浪还是很大，远远近近都能听到浪涛声，湖的中央却像大海一样。
下雨了，我们都淋湿了……
华兹华斯的《黄水仙》有许多不同的翻译版本，但我总以为，诗歌是文学翻译中最难以驾驭的顶峰，尤其是英译中，一旦用中诗的格律来限制，原始的风味就完全丧失了，19世纪的英国诗歌最好用散文诗的形式来表现，不过郭沫若这样的大师都订了调调，我就不班门弄斧了。请欣赏：
黄水仙花
独行徐徐如浮云，
横绝太空渡山谷。
忽然在我一瞥中，
金色水仙花成簇。
开在湖边乔木下，
微风之中频摇曳。
有如群星在银河，
形影绵绵光灼灼。
湖畔蜿蜒花径长，
连成一线无断续。
一瞥之中万朵花，
起舞翩跹头点啄。
湖中碧水起涟漪，
湖波踊跃无花乐--
诗人对此殊激昂，
独在花中事幽躅！
凝眼看花又看花，
当时未解伊何福。
晚上枕上意悠然，
无虑无忧殊恍惚。
情景闪烁心眼中，
黄水仙花赋禅悦；
我心乃得溢欢愉，
同花共舞天上曲。
Excerpt from Dorothy Wordsworth's
Grasmere Journal, 15 April 1802
This excerpt taken from Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth: The Alfoxden Journal 1798, The Grasmere Journals 1800-1803, ed. Mary Moorman (New York: Oxford UP, 1971), 109-110.
Thursday 15th. It was a threatening misty morning—but mild. We set off after dinner from Eusemere.
Mrs Clarkson went a short way with us but turned back. The wind was furious and we thought we must have returned.
We first rested in the large Boat-house, then under a furze Bush opposite Mr Clarkson's. Saw the plough going in the field. The wind seized our breath the Lake was rough. There was a Boat by itself floating in the middle of the Bay below Water Millock. We rested again in the Water Millock Lane. The hawthorns are black and green, the birches here and there greenish but there is yet more of purple to be seen on the Twigs. We got over into a field to avoid some cows—people working, a few primroses by the roadside, woodsorrel flower, the anemone, scentless violets, strawberries, and that starry yellow flower which Mrs C. calls pile wort.
When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow park we saw a few daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the lake had floated the seeds ashore and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as we went along there were more and yet more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever glancing ever changing. This wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little knot and a few stragglers a few yards higher up but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity and unity and life of that one busy highway. We rested again and again. The Bays were stormy, and we heard the waves at different distances and in the middle of the water like the sea.
Rain came on—we were wet ……
The Daffodils
William Wordsworth
I wander’d lonely as a cloud
When all at once I saw a crowd,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
A poet could not but be gay,
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
They flash upon that inward eye
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
