-20世紀 英國詩-
(1) Thomas Hardy(1840-1928) : "The Darkling Thrush"
"The Darkling Thrush"
1 I leant upon a coppice gate
2 When Frost was spectre-gray,
3 And Winter's dregs made desolate
4 The weakening eye of day.
5 The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
6 Like strings of broken lyres,
7 And all mankind that haunted nigh
8 Ha
tongue,
3 Could scarcely cry weep, weep, weep.
4 So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
5 There little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
6 That curled like a lambs back, was shaved, so I said,
7 Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head's bare,
8 You know that the soot cannot spoil your while hair.
9 And so he was quiet, & that very night,
10 as T
ice. A weather-
beaten, wooden sign sticks up on the other side:
U.S. NATIONAL SCIENCE FOUNDATION -- OUTPOST #31
A rifle blast kicks up more snow.
EXT. COMPOUND OF U.S. OUTPOST #31
A large, almost snow-covered building. Not far from that
a tall, meteorological balloon tower.
A scattering of several small shacks at varying distances
from the main compound. The smaller hovels are connected
by woode
tongues hanging out.
Im fucking melting here.
Look at me.
Getting them their fucking drinks.
Shes driving me fucking mad, she is.
I was just telling him
about that Deborah.
-Remember Deborah?
-Deborah?
-That fucking sort. Right good-looking.
-Oh, the bank bird.
-So, anyway, I get to the door, right?
-Thats if its true.
I ring the bell, right?
Im standing there, Im waiting, right?
Theres a geezer
tongue:
Standing on the other side of the glass are now two dozen
patients. Likewise bandaged, staring silent and dead-eyed at
him.
Unnerved, the Nurses finger slowly stretches towards a
buzzer-button just below the desk-top. It never makes it.
Because --
A HAND - lashes into frame and grabs the Nurses fingers. The
Nurse looks up.
In addition to the mass of Patients outside the cubicle,
there are