发布网友 发布时间:2022-05-01 23:18
共3个回答
热心网友 时间:2022-06-30 21:30
Hamlet:热心网友 时间:2022-06-30 21:31
生存还是毁灭,这是一个值得考虑的问题;
默然忍受命运的暴虐的毒箭,或是挺身反抗人世的无涯的苦难,通过斗争把它们扫清,这两种行为,哪一种更高贵?
死了;睡着了;什么都完了;要是在这一种睡眠之中,我们心头的创痛,以及其他无数血肉之躯所不能避免的打击,都可以从此消失,那正是我们求之不得的结局。
死了;睡着了;睡着了也许还会做梦;嗯,阻碍就在这儿:因为当我们摆脱了这一具朽腐的皮囊以后,在那死的睡眠里,究竟将要做些什么梦,那不能不使我们踌躇顾虑。
人们甘心久困于患难之中,也就是为了这个缘故;谁愿意忍受人世的鞭挞和讥嘲、压迫者的*、傲慢者的冷眼、被轻蔑的爱情的惨痛、法律的迁延、官吏的横暴和费尽辛勤所换来的小人的鄙视,要是他只要用一柄小小的刀子,就可以清算他自己的一生?
谁愿意负着这样的重担,在烦劳的生命的压迫下*流汗,倘不是因为惧怕不可知的死后,惧怕那从来不曾有一个旅人回来过的神秘之国,是它迷惑了我们的意志,使我们宁愿忍受目前的磨折,不敢向我们所不知道的痛苦飞去?
这样,重重的顾虑使我们全变成了懦夫,决心的赤热的光彩,被审慎的思维盖上了一层灰色,伟大的事业在这一种考虑之下,也会逆流而退,失去了行动的意义。
且慢!美丽的奥菲利娅!——女神,在你的祈祷之中,不要忘记替我忏悔我的罪孽。
参考资料
威廉·莎士比亚.《哈姆雷特》.上海:上海译文出版社, 2012-08-01
热心网友 时间:2022-06-30 21:31
翻译:
哈姆雷特:生存还是毁灭?这是个问题。
究竟哪样更高贵,去忍受那狂暴的命运无情的摧残 还是挺身去反抗那无边的烦恼,把它扫一个干净。
去死,去睡就结束了,如果睡眠能结束我们心灵的创伤和肉体所承受的千百种痛苦,那真是生存求之不得的天大的好事。去死,去睡,去睡,也许会做梦!
唉,这就麻烦了,即使摆脱了这尘世 可在这死的睡眠里又会做些什么梦呢?真得想一想,就这点顾虑使人受着终身的折磨,谁甘心忍受那鞭打和嘲弄,受人压迫,受尽侮蔑和轻视,忍受那失恋的痛苦,法庭的拖延,衙门的横征暴敛,默默无闻的劳碌却只换来多少*。但他自己只要用把尖刀就能解脱了。
谁也不甘心,*、流汗拖着这残生,可是对死后又感觉到恐惧,又从来没有任何人从死亡的国土里回来,因此动摇了,宁愿忍受着目前的苦难 而不愿投奔向另一种苦难。
顾虑就使我们都变成了懦夫,使得那果断的本色蒙上了一层思虑的惨白的容颜,本来可以做出伟大的事业,由于思虑就化为乌有了,丧失了行动的能力。
原文:
Hamlet:
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer;
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to; 'Tis a consumation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to dream; Aye, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardles bear
To grunt and sweat under a weary life --
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action..