コールリッジ 孤悲 全文・再編集

孤悲　　　　　S.T.コールリッジ

まちうける　想いと欲とよろこびと
この不死ならぬ　身を揺する　ものすべて
ただみな恋の　つかいなり
その聖なる　炎をやしなうものなり

しばしばめざめた夢のうち
くりかえし　そのひとときを生きなおす
山路のなかばによこたわり
荒れはてた　塔のかたえにあるときを

月明かりひそかにしのびて
たそがれのひかりとまじり
そこにかのひとのある　わたしの歓び　わたしののぞみ
わたしのジュヌヴィエーヴ

かのひとは楯もつものにもたれる
楯もつ騎士の像に
そこに立ちわが歌をきく
消えのこるひかりのなかで

かなしみの少なきひとよ
わたしの歓び　わたしののぞみ　わたしのジュヌヴィエーヴ
それゆえにことに恋うのだ　そのこころ嘆かせる歌を
わたしが与えるときこそ

わたしはかなでた　やわらかく　愁いにみちたしらべを
そしてうたった　いにしえの　心ゆすぶるものがたりを
古くあらぶり　この朽ちた
荒れ地にふさわしい歌を

耳かたむけて　ほほ染めて
まみ伏せ　はにかむさまみせる
ひとは知るのだ　かんばせを
わたしが見つめるほかないと

かのひとに　わたしは語った　騎士のことを
その楯に　燃ゆるつるぎを彫りつけて
十とせの長きを　うぶすなの
姫にこがれたもののことを

そのものが　いかに心を痛めたか
深くひくく　切なるしらべに
ことよせる　孤悲は
おのれのものと似て

耳かたむけて　ほほ染めて
まみ伏せ　はにかむさまみせる
ひとは許すか　これほどに
わたしが愛しくみることを

けれどわたしは語りきかせた　心なき　あざけりに
ますらたけおは心狂い
野山をこえてさすらうと
日も夜も休むことはなく

ときには荒れたねぐらから
ときには暗い木陰から
ときにはふいに
あおあおと　日の射す森の空き地から

そこにきて　かんばせを　ながむは
天の御使いか　光りあかるみ　うるわしく
こやつは悪しきものなりと
あわれ楯もつものは知る

なにをなすのか知らぬまま
あらぶるものらのただなかに　とびこみ
騎士はすくい出す　死よりも悪しき恥辱から
かのうぶすなの姫君を

いかにか姫のすすり泣き　男のひざにとりすがり
いかにむなしく仕えたか
かつてこころを狂わせた
あざけりを　うめ合わせようとつとめて

姫はみとった　ほら穴で
こころ狂いが去るころは
森の木の葉も黄にかわり
うつほには　死にゆくものの横たわり

死にゆくもののことばとは―けれど　この
痛みきわまるひとふしに　かかるや
うたう声みだれ　琴は止まりて
かのひとの　こころになさけをかきたてて

むねをうつ　情けと思いとまごころに
いつわり知らぬかのひとは　ジュヌヴィエーヴはおののきぬ
楽とかなしい語り句と
においたつ　このかぐわしいたそがれに

おそれがのぞみをかきたてて
どちらがどちらとつかぬまま
甘い望みを長くただ
おしつけかくしてきたことか

かのひとは憐れみと歓びにむせび
愛とおとめのはじらいに　ほほ染め
夢のうちのごとく　息つき
わが名をささやきぬ

かのひとのむねのなみうち―あとずさり
わたしの見るのを知るように　
ふいに怯えの目とともに
とびつき　すすりなけり

うでまわし　なかばこの身にすがりつき
ひれ伏した　むねをおしつけ
あたまを曲げて　ふりあおぎ
わたしをみつめつくした

いくらかの　愛と怖れと
いくらかの　はにかみよそおう術策と
けれどわたしは見るよりも　感じた
むねの昂ぶりを

怖れなだまり　むねしずめ
きみはわたしに愛を告ぐ　おとめの誇りとともに
かくてわたしは手に入れり
ジュヌヴィエーヴを　晴れやかな　わがうるわしの花よめを


Love 　　　　S.T.Coleridge

All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I
live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruined tower.

The mooonshine, stealing o'er the scene,
Had blended with the lights of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy
My own dear Genevieve！

She leant against the armed man,
The statue of the armed knight;
She stood and listened to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope！ my joy！ my Genevieve！
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve.

I played a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story―
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.

She listened with a flitting brush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
For well she know, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he wooed
the Lady of the Land.

I told her how he poned: and ah
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own.

She listened with a fliting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face！

But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,―

There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight！

And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land！

And how she wept, and clasped his knees;
And how she tended him in vain―
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazeｄ his brain;―

And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay;―

His dying words－but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faultering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity！

All impulses and soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long！

She wept with pity and delight,
She blushed with love, and virgin-shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved―she stepped aside,
as conscious of my look she stepped―
Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.

'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.

I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.


　2009年8月26日～9月19日