詹姆斯.惠特康姆.赖利
(JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY)

霜降南瓜
When the Frost is on the Pumpkin

詹姆斯。惠特康姆.赖利(1849─1916)生长在印地安那州的格林菲尔德。他在那里上完几所公学后成了一名“马夏菲六级讲师”(这是当时人们可以得到的最高学衔)。他周游印地安那各地,爲广告商标作画,参加专卖药的巡回表演。他在一路上收集民间文学,观察研究各地方言,后来成了印地安那几家报社的新闻记者。l 877年,他因说笑行诈,写了一首据称是爱德华.艾伦.波所作的诗而被解聘。接着,他在《印地安那波利斯日报》上首次用印地安那方言创作了许多描写日常生活的诗歌,其中的一部分诗歌曾经于1883年在一本书名叫《古老的深湾.外十一首》的诗集中发表。他成了文学界的著名人物。由于他的诗歌中具有喜悦欢快、感情质朴和引发怀旧思绪的情调,所以许多人竞相模仿起他的诗作。赖利最著名的诗歌就是《霜降南瓜》。


霜降南瓜草成垛,
火鸡阔步叫咯咯,
珠鸡母鸡声声唤,
雄鸡篱上唱赞歌;
哦,此刻心情真舒畅,
迎着旭日步快活,
没戴帽子去喂牲口,
霜降南瓜草成垛。

炎夏已去秋送爽,
清新空气陶醉我;
只恨蜂鸟不歌唱,
又怨枝头欠花朵。
我今却有秋色美,
景色怡神晨雾薄,
秀丽山河胜似画,
霜降南瓜草成垛。

玉米穗干响沙沙,
风吹叶黄横斜错;
地里残株孤零零,
仓上五谷神赐多;
草堆地头人歇屋,
马下棚厩料上垛!
哦,我心似钟呼呼跳,
霜降南瓜草成垛!

挽回苹果堆满地,
有红有黄实在多;
切碎打浆做成糊,
干完这些女人活。
此情此景写不尽,
天使下凡来见我──
我留他们全住下──
霜降南瓜草成垛!

 

When the frost is on the punkin and the
       fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the
       struttin' turkey-cock

And the clackin' of the guineys, and the
       cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on
        the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his
        best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of
        peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes
        out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the
        fodder's in the shock.
They's something kindo' harty-like about the
       atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the
       coolin' fall is here
Of course we miss the flowers, and the
       blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and
       buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape
       through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly
       autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to
       mock
When the frost is on the punkin and the
       fodder's in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the
       corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden
       as the morn;
The stubble in the furrieskindo' lonesome-
       like, but still
A-preachin' sermons to us of the barns they
       growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper
        in the shed;
The bosses in theyr stalls belowthe clover
        overhead!
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a
        clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the
        fodder's in the shock!
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a
       feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and
       yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin' 's over, and your
       wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr
       souse and saussage, too!
I don't know how to tell itbut ef sich a thing
       could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call
       around on me
I'd want to 'commodate 'emall the whole-
       indurin' flock
When the frost is on the punkin and the
       fodder's in the shock!