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雪河男子汉

原作：班卓·帕特森   翻译：沙滩过客 2008年9月

养马场起了风波，消息立刻在四周传遍。

老雷格雷特圈中的一匹小马驹，突然逃出了家园 。

这匹价值千金的良种马驹，追随着野马群逃入林间。

远近有名和无名的骑手闻讯赶来，

纷纷聚拢到马站。

农庄里连夜聚集起，

众多喜欢追逐野马的林区好汉。

就连他们的马儿都闻到了战斗的气味，而异常兴奋欣欢。

骑手中有个哈里森老人，年轻时曾在赛马中夺冠。

如今他已年老，头发像雪一样白，

但当他来了兴致飞马奔驰，没有几人能追到他的身边。

只要人或马能去到的地方，他都能去转转。

还有一位来自河口的骑手名叫克兰西， 

也热心前来助战。

只要马的肚带不断，就没有烈马能将他从背上甩下来，

他多年在草原骑放牧骑马，练就了高超的骑术和一身虎胆。

另有一位小伙子，他骑的马矮小毛长，

像是一匹不够体长的赛马，

它有至少四分之三的帝汶小型马血统，

山地骑师对这种马都会另眼相看。

此马长得瘦而结实，耐力非同一般， 

他急躁的步伐中充满勇气， 

骄傲而崇高地高昂着头，

有着明亮如灯，永不认输的双眼。

但是有人担心这么个小毛长的马，到底能跑多远。

哈里森老人说：“这样的马怎么行，”

小伙子，你还是别去了，长途的奔行很是辛苦，

山冈崎岖，行走艰难。”

小伙子好不沮丧，可还是满心期盼。

只有克兰西帮他讲情，

“我看还是让他跟我们一起去，

我保证他在最后关键时候会和我们在一起。

这小伙子和他的这匹马都生在本地，长在山间。

“他来自雪河，科修斯科山那边。

那里的山坡比这里陡峭两倍，

马蹄踏在山石上，每一步都会迸出火星，

能在这种地方骑马的人，想去哪里也不难。

这位雪河的骑手家住山中，

河水奔流在两山的峡谷间。

自从我开始游历各地，见过多少骑手，

但这样的高手从未遇见。”

马队出发了，不久就看到野马群在一大丛含羞草后面——

骑手们打马直追上去，转眼追到山前。

 “小伙子们，上去围住它们，现在不要乱跑。”

哈里森老人向众人发出召唤。

“克兰西，你必须包抄它们，包抄到右面。

伙计们，不要害怕摔倒，众人勇敢向前。

一旦它们跑进山里，

没有任何骑手能再把他们找见。”

克兰西带领着这些最娴熟最勇敢的骑手排开阵式， 

围堵马群侧面。

他打马飞奔超过野马群，从一旁包抄过去， 

手中长鞭舞成环型，跑到马群前面。

野马群停住了，鞭声响亮在耳边。

但野马看到自己喜爱的山林，近在眼前。

它们突然拼死逃窜，冲破了包围圈，

飞快地逃向山中的林间。

马群夺路逃进黝黑的山谷，骑手们在后面紧紧追赶。

马蹄踏地声像打雷，

鞭声震荡着头顶掠过的悬崖峭壁，

回响在山谷中间。

山上长满了花楸树和异叶瓶树，山路越来越高，越来越险，

野马跑到了山顶，定下了脚步。

哈里森老人对大家说：“说不定今天这群野马会跑掉。

因为一过了这道山岗，到那边再想追上它们实在万难。”

登上山顶，连克兰西这样的高手也不得不勒住马，

最勇敢的骑手也得屏息止步，不能向前。

前面的下山的陡坡被一层厚厚的蛇麻草荒覆盖着，连地面都看不见。

遍地都是袋熊的穴坑，一脚滑倒就会一命归天。

此时只有来自雪河的男子汉，单人独骑，纵马追赶。

他一边高高挥舞着手中的长鞭，一边高声呼啸，

他纵马追下山岗，犹如洪水冲入河床， 

众位骑手都惊恐地看着，呆立在崖边。

马踏乱石飞滚，少年冲下山涧。

雪河男儿人不离鞍，

山地骑手的身影犹如猛虎下山。

尽管脚下是长满杂草和灌木丛生的乱石岗和到处裂开的地面，

但他仍旧以赛马地速度冲下陡峭的山涧，

始终没有收一收缰绳，一口气冲下可怕的陡坡，

直落到谷底平川。

他跟在野马群中，跑上了前面的小山。

身后的山顶上，众人都无声无言，

远远望见他跑在野马群中，猛挥牧鞭。

他飞快地追逐着，又跑过一段平川。

然后跑过两山之间的峡谷，一瞬间身影不见。

很快穿过了那个地段，少年又在众人的视线中出现。

隐约还能望见野马在山坡上狂奔， 

雪河男儿仍在后面紧紧追赶。

他单人独骑追赶群马，直到身旁的野马白沫飞口边。

他纵马飞奔就像跑道上的赛狗，

马群被他追得无力再逃， 

雪河男儿单枪匹马把马群赶回头向来路返。

但他的山地小马也已经累得几乎走不动，

他浑身血汗淋漓，踢马刺上也是血迹斑斑。

但他勇气依然如故，威风丝毫不减。

山区良马从不胆怯，从不畏难。

带领着马群走下布满松林的科修斯科大山。

众骑手在高处挥泪高喊，

空气像水晶一样清透，繁星像火花一样闪耀，

此时已是午夜，地上结霜天空寒，

河口周围的芦苇在风中摇摆，

微风吹拂着丘陵起伏的草原。

骑手们把这个故事讲给人们，

雪河男子汉的美名在千家万户世代流传，直到今天。

原文：The Man From Snowy River

By Banjo Paterson (1864-1941)

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around

That the colt from old Regret had got away,

And had joined the wild bush horses — he was worth a thousand pound,

So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.

All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far

Had mustered at the homestead overnight,

For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,

And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,

The old man with his hair as white as snow;

But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up —

He would go wherever horse or man could go.

And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,

No better horseman ever held the reins;

For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,

He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,

He was something like a racehorse undersized,

With a touch of Timor pony — three parts thoroughbred at least —

And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.

He was hard and tough and wiry — just the sort that won’t say die —

There was courage in his quick impatient tread;

And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,

And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,

And the old man said, ‘That horse will never do

For a long and tiring gallop — lad, you’d better stop away,

Those hills are far too rough for such as you.’

So he waited sad and wistful — only Clancy stood his friend —

‘I think we ought to let him come,’ he said;

‘I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end,

For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

‘He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side,

Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,

Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,

The man that holds his own is good enough.

And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,

Where the river runs those giant hills between;

I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,

But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.’

So he went — they found the horses by the big mimosa clump —

They raced away towards the mountain’s brow,

And the old man gave his orders, ‘Boys, go at them from the jump,

No use to try for fancy riding now.

And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.

Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,

For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,

If once they gain the shelter of those hills.’

So Clancy rode to wheel them — he was racing on the wing

Where the best and boldest riders take their place,

And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring

With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.

Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,

But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,

And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,

And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black

Resounded to the thunder of their tread,

And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back

From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.

And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,

Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;

And the old man muttered fiercely, ‘We may bid the mob good day,

No man can hold them down the other side.’

When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,

It well might make the boldest hold their breath,

The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full

Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.

But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,

And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,

And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,

While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,

And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat —

It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.

Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,

Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;

And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,

At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,

And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,

Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,

As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met

In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals

On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,

With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.

He followed like a bloodhound on their track,

Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,

And alone and unassisted brought them back.

But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,

He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;

But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,

For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise

Their torn and rugged battlements on high,

Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze

At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,

And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway

To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,

The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,

And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

一首很有澳洲代表性的音乐：雪河男子汉（《The Man from Snowy River》）

音乐下载（第27届悉尼奥运会上的交响乐演奏）

　　悉尼奥运会开幕式的设计可谓独具匠心。同亚特兰大的闭幕式不同，编导没有突出袋鼠和考拉熊这些为世人所知的动物，而是把澳洲独特的历史和不太为人知晓的澳洲植物和大自然展现给了世界。

　　开幕式开场是由一位澳洲偏远内地牛仔打扮的男子飞马驰骋在澳洲内陆那红色的土地上，这个场面立刻就扣住了观众的心。接着一百二十骑打扮相似手执奥运旗帜的牛仔奔腾出场，场面十分壮观。然而这个场景并非编导的杜撰，而是出自澳洲本土诗人班尼欧·彼德森（BanjoPaterson，1864-1941）的著名长诗《雪河男子汉》（The Man from Snowy River）。

　　《雪河男子汉》是一首澳大利亚最有名的土产诗歌。描写的是一个来自雪河的小伙子的传奇故事：一匹名贵的马匹逃掉了，马主悬巨赏要人寻回这匹骏马。于是周围所有的骑士都赶到了，试图从混在野马当中的这匹骏马分开。一个来自雪河的山中小伙子骑了一匹小马也来到了。可骑士们都在嘲笑他和他的马的瘦小。然而当野马群奔到一处陡峭的山崖的时侯，连最有经验的骑手也不得不勒住了马缰，眼睁睁看着马群遁入林中。可是这个被人嘲笑过的来自雪河的小伙子，却独自一人飞马向前，如激流流过河床那样冲下山崖。而嘲笑过他的骑手却只能站在那里惊恐地看着他远去。最后小伙子独自一人把马找了回来。于是雪河男子汉的这个传奇故事为人们所传诵。

　　后来，好莱坞根据该诗改编成了同名电影。虽然电影谈不上十分成功，但却使得澳大利亚骑士的形象得以留传世界，而影片中的音乐也为人喜爱。在悉尼奥运会开幕式上的骑士，显然是受了这个电影的影响，其配乐则直接采用了电影中的音乐。

　　这个长诗，把澳大利亚偏远内地的荒凉和美丽写得出神入化，给1880年代的城市人带来了真正的澳洲内地生活气息，使人焕然一新，为澳大利亚人找到了自我。也使得时年26岁的彼德森一举成名。因为在这之前，澳大利亚没有象征自己的独特文化。

　　这首诗歌描写的是跨越新南威尔士州和维多利亚洲的澳洲阿尔匹斯山地区雪河一带的故事。有人甚至认为，这个男子汉的形象就是依历史人物杰克·雷利（JackRiley）为原型的。虽然这个说法颇有争议，因为也有人认为诗中的人物是作者见过的许多人物的合成。但这却为雷利的家乡，维多利亚州的雪山入口克扬（Corryong）小镇带来了繁荣和名气。每年一度的雪河男子汉乡村节就在该镇举行，其中有雷利骑马赛，葡萄酒和食物节以及游行等，当然受了彼德森这首诗歌的影响，也有一个赛诗会。

　　彼德森是一位悉尼的律师，原名Andrew BartonPaterson。他生于新南威尔士州一个偏远小镇纳朗布拉（Narambla）。在他五岁那年，他家移到了靠近雪山的依拉朗（Illalong）。虽然后来他被送到悉尼读书，但他在节假日却回到家乡依拉朗。他喜欢同他的兄弟姐妹到雪河一带野营，在那里他开始喜欢乡村野景，还练成了一个熟练的骑手和射击手。他的这些经历为他的诗歌创作提供了无限的创作灵感。

　　班尼欧（TheBanjo）是他家在依拉朗的一匹他所喜欢的赛马的名字，被他后来用作笔名。他1890年写的《雪河男子汉》就是以这个笔名发表的。此诗后来被收录在他的诗集《雪河男子汉和其它诗歌》里，而成为澳洲最早的本土诗歌集之一，而且销量很好。于是彼德森也成为澳洲最有名的诗人。

(资料来源：http://q.sohu.com/forum/12/topic/836706)

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