安德鲁·巴顿·帕特森(《班卓琴》)

在这里你会发现长诗在行驶的日子里诗人安德鲁·巴顿·帕特森(《班卓琴》)

在行驶的日子里

“只有一英镑,”拍卖师说,“只有一英镑;而我却站在这里卖这匹马,无论得失——车夫的马只卖一英镑?一个从不害怕的人,一个老大队的孩子;我敢发誓,完全是诚实和勇敢的,只是有点破旧;城里有很多坏家伙,给我个出价,我就把他打倒;他现在就卖了,没有追索权,请给我出个价,买下车夫的马。”不知怎的,我注意到了那个可怜的老头,他当然是疲惫不堪,饱经风霜,浑身是伤;然而,当我注意到那匹灰色的老马,粗糙的灌木马鞍,缠在它的鬃毛上的缰绳时,人群和拍卖商似乎突然消失了,融化在一种朦胧之中——因为我的心又回到了驾车的日子。回到大路上,我又穿越了几英里的盐丛平原——那片闪闪发光的平原据说是内陆海干涸的河床。那里的空气干燥、清新、明亮,把太阳折射出奇妙的光芒,在朦胧的地平线上,幽灵般的湖泊发出深蓝色的微光。 At dawn of day we could feel the breeze That stirred the boughs of the sleeping trees, And brought a breath of the fragrance rare That comes and goes in that scented air; For the trees and grass and the shrubs contain A dry sweet scent on the saltbush plain. for those that love it and understand The saltbush plain is a wonderland, A wondrous country, were Nature's ways Were revealed to me in the droving days. We saw the fleet wild horses pass, And kangaroos through the Mitchell grass; The emu ran with her frightened brood All unmolested and unpursued. But there rose a shout and a wild hubbub When the dingo raced for his native scrub, And he paid right dear for his stolen meals With the drovers'dogs at his wretched heels. For we ran him down at a rattling pace, While the pack-horse joined in the stirring chase. And a wild halloo at the kill we'd raise -- We were light of heart in the droving days. 'Twas a drover's horse, and my hand again Made a move to close on a fancied rein. For I felt a swing and the easy stride Of the grand old horse that I used to ride. In drought or plenty, in good or ill, The same old steed was my comrade still; The old grey horse with his honest ways Was a mate to me in the droving days. When we kept our watch in the cold and damp, If the cattle broke from the sleeping camp, Over the flats and across the plain, With my head bent down on his waving mane, Through the boughs above and the stumps below, On the darkest night I could let him go At a racing speed; he would choose his course, And my life was safe with the old grey horse. But man and horse had a favourite job, When an outlaw broke from the station mob; With a right good will was the stockwhip plied, As the old horse raced at the straggler's side, And the greenhide whip such a weal would raise -- We could use the whip in the droving days. ----------------- "Only a pound!" and was this the end -- Only a pound for the drover's friend. The drover's friend that has seen his day, And now was worthless and cast away With a broken knee and a broken heart To be flogged and starved in a hawker's cart. Well, I made a bid for a sense of shame And the memories of the good old game. "Thank you? Guinea! and cheap at that! Against you there in the curly hat! Only a guinea, and one more chance, Down he goes if there's no advance, Third, and last time, one! two! three!" And the old grey horse was knocked down to me. And now he's wandering, fat and sleek, On the lucerne flats by the Homestead Creek; I dare not ride him for fear he's fall, But he does a journey to beat them all, For though he scarcely a trot can raise, He can take me back to the droving days. A.B. (Banjo) Paterson