《狄兰·托马斯诗选》（Do not go gentle into that good night）

<Do not go gentle into that good night>在《星际穿越》里的这首诗一下子火起来了，我也非常的喜欢。

这首诗作者狄兰托马斯（Dylan Thomas），这首诗写于他父亲病重晚期，他用这首诗激励父亲彪悍的面对人生，不向生命妥协。

狄兰托马斯本人也很彪悍，热烈，简直就是诗人版的杰克伦敦，他以强烈的本能拥抱生命，在一种神秘的经验中将生与死、人与自然合为一体。他的诗中往往洋溢着一种神秘原始的力量。

这哥们一生热烈，最后在39岁的时候，连喝18杯威士忌暴毙。。。

amazon.cn上面有kindle的电子版，10块钱，很不错：

http://www.amazon.cn/%E5%9B%BE%E4%B9%A6/dp/B00HRZLEHE/ref=pd_rhf_se_p_img_7

诗的给力程度，简直可以直接用来做硬核摇滚的歌词了。

恩，虽然有一些翻译的不错，但是真的难以还原英文原版的力量感：

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

还有一个很喜欢，简直是《星游人》的诗版：

先中文吧：

I dreamed my genesis in sweat of sleep， breaking


Through the rotating shell， strong


As motor muscle on the drill， driving


　　Through vision and the girdered nerve.


　　From limbs that had the measure of the worm， shuffled


　　Off from the creasing flesh， filed


　　Through all the irons in the grass， metal


　　Of suns in the man-melting night.


　　Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop， costly


　　A creature in my bones I


　　Rounded my globe of heritage， journey


　　In bottom gear through night-geared man.


　　I dreamed my genesis and died again， shrapnel


　　Rammed in the marching heart， hole


　　In the stitched wound and clotted wind， muzzled


　　Death on the mouth that ate the gas.


　　Sharp in my second death I marked the hills， harvest


　　Of hemlock and the blades， rust


　　My blood upon the tempered dead， forcing


　　My second struggling from the grass.


　　And power was contagious in my birth， second


　　Rise of the skeleton and


　　Rerobing of the naked ghost. Manhood


　　Spat up from the resuffered pain.


　　I dreamed my genesis in sweat of death， fallen


　　Twice in the feeding sea， grown


　　Stale of Adam's brine until， vision


　　Of new man strength， I seek the sun.