瓦尔特．惠特曼
(WALT WHITMAN)

《我听见美洲在歌唱》和《啊，船长！我的船长！》
I Hear America Singing and O Captain! My Captain！

作者修改《啊，船长！我的船长！》
(American Memory Collection, Library of Congress)
　

瓦尔特．惠特曼(1819─1892)生于纽约长岛，在纽约市布鲁克林区长大。他当过印刷工、记者、教师和政府职员，主编过好几份报纸，其中包括《布鲁克林鹰报》。

1855年，惠特曼自费出版《草叶集》，只印了九百本左右，其中大部分都送给他的朋友。这本薄薄的诗集共收了十二首无题诗另加一篇前言，起初并没引起多少人注意。然而它终究述是影响了几代美国诗人。惠特曼创新的自由诗──不押韵脚，不拘音步──以及他现实主义的形象和个人风格都表明他与因循守旧的诗歌断然决裂。惠特曼一生中都定期扩充和修订《草叶集》。

《我听见美洲在歌唱》发表于1860年。《啊，船长!我的船长》写于林肯被刺后不久；发表在惠特曼 的《桴鼓集续篇》(1865─66)里。

我听见美洲在歌唱

我听见美洲在砍唱，我听见各种不问的颂歌，
技工在歌唱，歌唱他们愉快而强健的歌，
木匠在歌唱，同时量着他的木板或衍木，
泥瓦匠在歌唱，唱在准备上工或下工的时候，
船工在歌唱，唱他船里的一切，水手也站在汽艇的甲板上歌唱、
鞋匠坐在登上歌唱，帽匠站着歌唱，
伐木工在歌唱，犁田青年也在歌唱，
他们唱在早晨的路上，或唱在午间休息时，或唱在日落时分，
我还听见母亲的美妙歌声，或者年轻的妻子一边工
作一边歌唱，或者姑娘们一边缝一边歌唱或一边洗一边歌唱，
人人都在唱属于他或她而不属于别人的歌，
白天唱属于白天的歌──晚间，年轻人聚在一起，他们强壮而友好，
放声歌唱他们强健而和谐的歌。

啊，船长！我的船长！

啊，船长！我的船长！我们可怕的航程已经终了，
我们的船已安然渡过所有的难关，我们所追求的锦标也已经得到，
港口就在前面，我已听见钟声，听到了人们的欢呼，
千万只眼睛都在望着我们的船安稳前进，它是那样威严和勇敢；
可是，啊，心哟!心哟！心哟!
啊，鲜红的血滴，
就在那甲板上，我的船长躺下了，
他已浑身冰冷，心脏停止了跳动。

啊，船长！我的船长！起来听听这钟声，
起来吧，──旌旗爲你招展，──号角爲你长鸣，
爲你，岸上挤满了人群──爲你，人们准备了无数的花束和花环，
爲你。这雀跃的人群在欢呼，他们殷切的脸正对着你看；
这里，船长，亲爱的父亲！
让你的头枕着我的手臂！
真像是梦，躺在甲板上，
你已浑身冰冷，心脏停止了跳动。

我的船长没有回答，他的嘴唇惨白，”一动不动，
我的父亲没有感觉到我的手臂，他已经没有脉搏，也没有意志，
我们的船已安全地下锚了，它的航程已经终了，
从可怕的航程归来，这胜利的船，目的已经达到；
啊，海岸欢呼，钟声长鸣！
可我却以悲痛的步履，
漫步在甲板上，那里躺着我的船长
他已浑身冰冷，心脏停止了跳动。

I Hear America Singing
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day－at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
    But O heart! heart! heart!
        O the bleeding drops of red,
           Where on the deck my Captain lies,
               Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up－for you the flag is flung－for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths－for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
    Flere Captain! dear father!
       This arm beneath your head!
            It is some dream that on the deck,
               You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
     Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
         But I with mournful tread,
            Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                Fallen cold and dead.