活泼枫情加拿大诗歌：The Cremation of Sam McGee

Derek Irwin（欧阳德礼）是宁波诺丁汉大学英语语言学与文学系主任。作为博士生导师的他，课上带领学生研究系统语言功能学、批判语境分析等学术课题，课余之时还喜爱组织学生一起畅谈诗词歌赋。因其骨子里天生自带的表演天赋，Derek副教授的课堂永远都是一场场大型学术喜剧。除了是学术界的一级大咖，Derek也是艺术届的老戏骨。无论是学校里的大型晚会还是校园外的活动演出，他都曾担任过戏剧的导演及编剧工作，甚至闲暇时间还会自己创作文学小说，简直堪称“宝藏男人”一枚。

Derek选择了他非常喜欢的诗人Robert Service写的一首加拿大叙事诗：

The Cremation of Sam McGee

by Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

 

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why heleft his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

 

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. 

Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;

It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

 

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;

And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

 

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

 

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

 

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn andbrains,

But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

 

Now apromise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

 

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

 

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

 

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

 

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

It wasicy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

 

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

 

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—

Since I left Plum tree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

 

There are strange things done in the midnightsun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

Copyright © Robert Service

« recited by courtesy of Robert W. Service estate »

Special gratefulness to Mr. Service’s descendants, Anne Longépé-Service, Charlotte Longépé-Service for granting UNNC VOICE to use Robert Service's poem.

在人人都追求去黄金富产但气候恶劣的加拿大北部发家致富的年代，在寒冷中濒死的挖金者Sam McGee乞求朋友在他死之后将他的尸体火化掉。他不想在冰冷的地下长眠，而是温暖地离开。其实，冻土的地质条件本身下尸体就无法埋葬，而木源和火源的稀缺使得火化也变得不现实。为了满足他的心愿，他的朋友只得拉着他的躯体走了长长一段路，终于发现了一只被冻在湖中的小木舟。朋友砍下这些木块，用船里的热锅最终制出一簇火团。而Sam MeGee竟然在火花的温暖中苏醒过来，可笑的是，他并没有选择逃离，却是甘愿快乐地在火海中死去。这种戏剧化的结局通常是具有讽刺含义的，但Derek告诉我们Robert是个平凡随性的作家，他的作品很多时候都仅是以娱乐为目的common poetry，就像‘The Cremation of Sam McGee’和它的姊妹篇‘The Shooting of Dan McGrew’都只是Robert在夜晚散步时的所见所遇激发出的创作灵感，无需刻意去探讨挖掘所谓的深层含义。正因如此Robert是个备受争议的作家，一些人批评他的作品缺乏诗歌的严谨，但Robert自己也始终将自己的作品定义为“verse（韵文）”而非“poem（诗）”。

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