Kể về Ajax theo đề nghị của em Hoacuctay

Kể về Ajax theo đề nghị của em Hoacuctay

(Source lấy từ mạng nên bằng tiếng Anh vì vậy chịu khó mà dịch nhé hoacuctay, tui đang bận nên không có thời gian dịch, thông cảm, nên free thì dịch luôn cho ai không biết tiếng Anh đọc luôn.)

Ajax
In the tragic fate of Ajax, the bravest of all the Greeks, save only Achilles, the poet teaches that men, though excelling in strength and riches, should never boast or utter impious words against the gods.

All human things
A day lays low, a day lifts up again;
But still the gods love those of ordered soul,
And hate the evil.
In bitter wrath that the Atridæ have decided the contest for the arms of Achilles in favor of Odysseus, Ajax determines to slay all the Argive leaders. One night, when about to enter the tent of Agamemnon for this purpose, Athena afflicts him with madness, and he falls upon the flocks, slaying bulls and rams in the belief that he is taking vengeance on his enemies.

The play opens in the interior of his tent, where he calls on his friends to slay him:

"Never yet has such shame fallen on me, that I, who ever faced the foe fearless in fight, should now have shown my prowess on these poor, harmless beasts. Well may my enemies laugh at me in their delight! Would that I might slay them, then die myself! For I, like to whom Troy has found no other hero, am stricken with dishonor! Can I go home? How can I look Telamon, my father, in the face, if I return without the victor's spoil, when he himself came back with glory's noblest crown? Shall I go alone against the Trojan walls, and there seek death in noble combat? That would but gladden the Atridæ. No; I must seek some perilous enterprise, that my show my father that I am no degenerate scion of his stock. Either noble life or death becomes the brave."

In the following chorus Salaminian sailors sing of the misery that the news of Ajax insanity will cause when related in their island home:

Fair Salamis, the billows' roar
Wanders around thee yet;
And sailors gaze upon thy shore
Firm in the Ocean set.
Thy son is in a foreign clime,
Where Ida feeds her countless flocks,
Far from thy dear remembered rocks,
Worn by the waste of time--
Comfortless, nameless, hopeless--save
In the dark prospect of the yawning grave.

And Ajax, in his deep distress
Allied to our disgrace,
Hath cherished in his loneliness
The bosom friend's embrace.
Frenzy hath seized thy dearest son,
Who from thy shores in glory came
The first in valor and in fame.
The deeds that he hath done
Seem hostile all to hostile eyes;
The sons of Atreus see them and despise.

Woe to the mother, in her close of day,
Woe to her desolate heart, and temples gray,
When she shall hear
Her loved one's story whispered in her ear!
"Woe, woe!" will be the cry--
No quiet murmur like the tremulous wail
Of the lone bird, the querulous nightingale--
But shrieks that fly
Piercing, and wild, and loud, shall mourn the tale;
And she will beat her breast, and rend her hair,
Scattering the silver locks that Time hath left her there.
Oh! when the pride of Græcia's noblest race
Wanders, as now, in darkness and disgrace,
When Reason's day
Sets rayless--joyless--quenched in cold decay,
Better to die, and sleep
The never-waking sleep, than linger on
And dare to live, when the soul's life is gone;
But thou shalt weep,
Thou wretched father, for thy dearest son,
The best beloved, by inward Furies torn,
The deepest, bitterest curse, thine ancient house hath borne!
Tecmessa, his wife, begs Ajax not to leave her unprotected: "With my little son I should be made serve, and must bear the bitter taunt that I--once consort of the bravest--should fall so low. Have some thought for thy poor aged parents, who pray the gods that they may see thee home again. Pity the child, who, if he lose his father, must find unkindly guardians. And, lastly, think of me; for I have nothing but thy love."

Ajax asks for his son, whom, he says, his uncle, Teucer, with his comrades in arms, shall lead back home, to comfort his father and mother in their declining years. He also leaves to him his unconquered shield, desiring that his other arms be buried with him.
(to be continued..)

















Sniper

Part II

Yielding, as he pretends, to the prayers of his wife and the chorus, Ajax departs for the seashore, pretending that he is bound only on a peaceful mission: "And now I go to bathe where the meadows edge the sea; there to cleanse my hand from stain and avert the goddess' wrath. There I will bury deep in the earth my sword, deadly gift which once I had from Hector's hands. Thus I yield to those above, and learn to reverence the AtridƯ, and loyally to help my friends."
While the chorus is rejoicing at this turn in affairs a messenger brings news of Teucer: "Just now came Teucer, back from Mysia, and as he passed through the middle of the camp the host insulted him, reproaching him for his brother's murderous attempt. They hurled stones at him, and threatening drew their swords forth from their scabbards, so that the counsel of the aged men could scarce restrain them. Therefore have I hastened hither that Ajax may know of this."
On hearing that Ajax has gone Teucer breaks into lament, "for Calchas urged him to keep Ajax in his tent for this one day; since for this day only would Pallas' wrath pursue him. The gods are angry on account of the proud words he spoke when, departing from home, his father warned him ever to seek victory with the gods' help. To this he had replied:
My father, with gods' help a man of naught
Might victory win; but I, I trust, shall grasp
Without their aid that glory for myself.
At another time, when Athena urged him to the fight, he would not be obedient. Yet if he but survive this day he may gain deliverance.
The chorus calls Tecmessa, who hears the messenger's tidings. She hurries forth in great distress to seek her husband, and bids her friends with all haste search every bay of the coast, if so they may save a man who has gone out to seek his death.
The scene changes to a deserted place on the seashore. Ajax enters alone. He sharpens anew his sword, Hector's gift, on a stone, and fixes the hilt in the ground; then, when all is ready for his death, he calls on Zeus:
"To Teucer send swift message, that a brother's hands may raise my corpse, and that my enemies my not find me and cast me forth a prey to dogs and birds. I call on thee, Hermes, to grant me peaceful end; and you, Erinyes, to avenge my death on the AtridƯ, that they may fall slain by their dearest kindred; and, lastly, thee I call, bright Heloise, to tell my aged parents of my sorrow and my doom. Bitter cries will my mother raise through all the city. But now is not the time for vain lament, but for speedy act."
Come, and look on me,
O Death, O Death! and yet in yonder world
I shall dwell with thee, speak enough with thee.
And thee I call, thou light of golden day,
Thou sun, who drivest on thy glorious car,
Thee, for this last time, never more again.
O light, O sacred land that was my home;
O Salamis, where stands my father's hearth,
That glorious Athens, with thy kindred race;
Ye streams and rivers here, and Troia's plains,
To you that fed my life I bid farewell;
This last, last word does Ajax speak to you,
All else I speak in Hades to the dead.
He then hurls himself upon his sword.
The chorus enters, seeking him; Tecmessa, too, comes and sees her husband's corpse. Both raise a dirge over the dead. Then Teucer arrives, having heard rumors of his brother's death. He bids them bring the son of Ajax, and laments the ill fate of son and father.
"When I go home our father will upbraid me, that I in coward fashion did abandon thee, my brother, seeking the dead man's heritage and power; and then will he drive me from my native land."
Menelaus then enters, and forbids them to give the body funeral rite or burial: "Let him lie stretched out upon the white sand, a prey to the birds of heaven." In vain the chorus tell him to show some reverence for the dead, and Teucer threatens to give his brother burial in spite of his command. After a fierce argument Menelaus retires.
Tecmessa enters with her son. Teucer bids him as a suppliant embrace his father's body, and then hold in his hand locks of hair cut from the child, his mother and Teucer himself, as offerings to the dead:
"And should one in all that host dare to tear thee from the dead, may he lie unburied, cut off with all his race, just as now I cut off this lock of hair. I go to make a grave for my brother, and none shall hinder me."
The chorus lament:
"Unending is woe in Trojan land! Would that he had vanished in air or sunk into Hades who first taught man the use of arms and war! For he that lays men low gives no garlands, no joy of flowing cup at banquet, no sounds of flute, nor kindly rest at night. Till now has Ajax aye been our shield; but now a hateful doom has taken him, and with him goes all joy. Would that we could flee *****nium's sea-washed cliffs, and once more greet our holy Athens!"
Teucer returns, and soon after Agamemnon enters. Their dispute about the burial of Ajax is interrupted by Odysseus. He blames Agamemnon for refusing burial *****ch a man, who, if their enemy, was yet one of the best and bravest of the Grecian host. "Most wrong would it be that he should suffer outrage at our hands."
At last Agamemnon unwillingly consents, and Odysseus offers Teucer his aid in burying the hero. Teucer declines his help, as perchance unwelcome to the dead; but he will ever esteem Odysseus for his generous spirit.
The funeral procession starts. Brother and son together bear the dead. "Let all," says Teucer, "who count themselves his friends show it in laboring for him, who in all was good, and none better than he."
The chorus follow, saying:
"Men may know many things on seeing them,
But, ere they come in sight,
No man is prophet of the things that come,
To tell how he shall fare."
Fault has been frequently found with the concluding scenes of the Ajax, and the prolongation of the play after the death of the hero; and it has even been aserted that these scenes destroy the "unity" of the action. But we may compare with this the close of the Iliad, which does not end with the death of Hector, but goes on to describe the funeral rites of Patroclus, the banquets, the dirges and the burial. So in the same way the tragedian could not break off with the death of Ajax; the hero himself expresses a fear that, unless Teucer sets to work at once, his burial will be prevented. In reference to this point Bernhardy well remarks: "The poet could not end the play with the death of the hero. Although he renounces life to escape his shame, yet the feeling of impiety in his act still challenges opposition. The punishing hand can reach beyond the grave; his human judge may still exact vengeance by forbidding burial. This very fact is utilized to mark a turning-point in the drama. The dispute about the burial, which resolves itself into a question of what is just, shows us that the goddess is appeased; from the mouth of her favorite captain the fallen hero receives a eulogy, which brings his services to mind, and affords satisfaction to all."
Self-destruction is of frequent occurrence in the tragic interpretation of mythology, though due for the most part to insanity or to some dire misfortune too heavy for the sufferer to bear; but the self-murder of Ajax is a free act, a deliberate resolve, and deserving of special treatment. It is not the fatal culmination of melancholy, as is often the case in modern times; nor is it the mere disgust of life, grounded on the conviction of its worthlessness, which induced many of the Romans to shorten their days. No unmanly faint-heartedness makes Ajax unfaithful to his rude heroism. His delirium is gone, and it is not till after the most complete return to himself, when he has measured the depth of the abyss into which his pride has plunged him; when he surveys his situation, and finds it to be one of irretrievable ruin; his honor wounded by the loss of the arms of Achilles; the unhappy issue of his vengeful anger missing its aim, and the falling on defenseless herds; himself, after a long and blameless career of heroism, become a diversion to his enemies, to the Greeks an object of scorn and detestation, and of shame to his honored father should he thus return to him; it is only after all this that he resolves to put in practice his favorite maxim, "Live with glory or die with glory," for he feels that only the last resource is left him. Even the deceit, the first perhaps in his life, by which he quits his companions, that he may be able to execute his resolution undisturbed, must be reckoned in him an act of magnanimity. His infant son, the future comfort of his forlorn parents, he commits to the guardianship of Teucer, and dies, like Cato, not before he has set in order the affairs of all who belong to him. Like Antigone in her womanly tenderness, he, too, in his wild fashion seems in his last speech to feel the glory of the sun-light, from which he is departing. His rude courage disdains compassion, and so only excites it the more forcibly. What an awaking from the tumult of madness, when the tent opens, and we see him sitting on the ground wailing in the midst of the slaughtered herds!
Sniper

SOPHOCLES AND HIS TRAGEDIES
Colonus, a village near Athens, was the place of Sophocles' birth, and the date, 495 B.C., thus making him thirty years younger than Aeschylus and fifteen years older than Euripides. His father, Sophilus, a man of wealth and excellent repute, gave him the benefit of all the literary accomplishment of the age. His powers were developed and refined by a careful instruction in the arts of music and poetry, and to the natural graces of his person further attractions were added through the exercises of the pal?Ưstra. That he was a comely and agile youth is shown by his selection, at the age of sixteen, to lead with dance and lyre the chorus which celebrated his country's triumph at Salamis.
In his younger days he appears to have been somewhat over fond of women and wine, and this he himself admits in one of his sayings recorded by Plato: "I thank old age for delivering me from the tyranny of my appetites." Yet, even in his later years, the charms of the gentler *** were at times too strong for the great dramatist. Aristophanes accused him of avarice, though there is nothing in what is known of Sophocles *****bstantiate the charge, and this is further disproved by the utter neglect of his affairs, which brought on him the imputation of lunacy, refuted by reading to his judges a passage from a newly-written play. The occasional excesses referred to appear to have been the only blemish on an otherwise blameless and contented life.
Dramatic Career
The commencement of his dramatic career was marked by a victory in competition with Aeschylus, under exceptional circumstances. The remains of the hero Theseus were being removed by Cimon from the isle of Scyros to Athens, at the time of a tragic contest which had excited unusual interest on account of the fame of the older and the popularity of the younger candidate. Instead of choosing judges by lot, as was the custom, the archon administered the oath to Cimon and his colleagues, asking them to decide between the rival tragedians. The first prize was awarded to Sophocles, greatly to the disgust of the veteran dramatist, who soon afterward departed for Sicily. Yet the decision does not imply want of appreciation for the plays which Aeschylus presented. The rivalry was not between two works, but between two styles of tragic art, and the subject chosen by the young poet, together with the desire to encourage his first attempt, was sufficient to outbalance the reputation of the great antagonist, whose verses lacked the air of freshness and youth that hung around the poetry of Sophocles.
For more than sixty years after this event Sophocles continued to compose and exhibit tragedies and satyric dramas. Of the one hundred and eighty plays ascribed to him, probably seventeen were spurious, and the number of his first prizes is variously stated at from eighteen to twenty-four, with many second prizes, so that in this respect he left both Aeschylus and Euripides far behind. So far from being dulled with age and toil, his powers seem only to have assumed a mellower tone, a more touching pathos, a sweeter and gentler mode of thought and expression.
To the improvements which Aeschylus made in tragic exhibition he added others, some of which the former adopted in his later works, before taking leave of the stage. He introduced a third actor, further curtailed the choral parts and gave the dialogue its full development. He caused the scenery to be carefully painted and properly arranged, thus greatly increasing the spectacular effect. His odes were distinguished by their close connection with the business of the play, the correctness of their sentiments, and the beauty of their lines. His language, though sometimes harsh and involved, was for the most part grand and majestic, avoiding the massive phraseology of Aeschylus and the commonplace diction of Euripides. In the management of his subjects he was unrivaled, no one understanding so well the artistic development of incident, the secret of working on the feelings, the gradual culmination of the interest when leading up to the final crisis, and the crushing blow of the catastrophe, overwhelming the spectators with terror or compassion.
"Sophocles," says one of his admirers, "is the summit of Greek art; but we must have scaled many a steep before we can appreciate his loftiness, for little of his beauty is perceptible to one who is not thoroughly imbued with the spirit of antiquity." The ancients fully appreciated him, but it is hard for the modern reader to divest himself completely of his associations and set a just value on productions so essentially Greek as were the Sophoclean tragedies. It must also be remembered that, as the successor of Aeschylus, he endeavored rather to follow and improve upon his works than to create a new species for himself.
Qualities as a Dramatist
Aeschylus felt what a Greek tragedy ought to be as a religious union of the two elements of the national poetry. Sophocles, with his just perception of the beautiful in art, effected an outward realization of the conceptions of the great master, exhibiting in perfect form before the eyes of Athens what the other had hewn out in rude masses from the mines of thought. His tragedy was not essentially different from that of Aeschylus, and when he chose subjects which the latter had treated, his completed drama bore the same relation to its forerunner that a finished statue bears to an unfinished group. It was, as he thought, his mission to improve on the tragic art, as Phidias had improved the work of his predecessors. None did he deem worthy of the cothurnus save those who had figured in the ancient legends or in the poems of the epic cycle, and if an inferior character appears, it is only as the instrument of irony, introduced like a streak of bright color into the picture in contrast with its tragic gloom. Moreover, notwithstanding his sensualism, he was of a strongly religious temperament, filled with reverence for his country's gods, by whom, it would seem, he believed himself inspired. In the words which Landor aptly puts into his mouth, he declares himself to be "only the interpreter of the heroes and divinities who are looking down upon him."
An associate of Pericles, though not one of his political disciples, Sophocles, in his full maturity stood, like the mighty ruler of the Greeks, amid a community to which both imparted the lustre of their genius on the sunny heights of noble and brilliant achievement, his perfect art typifying, as it were, the watchful and creative calm of his city's imperial epoch. Of a profoundly religious temperament, but without any vulgar superstition, he treats the sacred myths of his country in the spirit of a conscientious artist, contrasting, with many touches of irony, the struggles of humanity with the irresistible march of fate. After the retirement of Aeschylus, he was recognized as beyond dispute the greatest master of tragedy, and, as we have seen, during the lifetime of the former, wrested from him the tragic prize.
The days of Sophocles were not altogether devoted to the muses. At the age of fifty-six he was appointed one of ten generals for the conduct of the war against Samos, but does not appear to have distinguished himself. Later he became a priest, and in extreme old age was elected one of a committee ordered, during the revolution brought about by Pisander, to investigate the con***ion of affairs and report thereon to the people. In the easy, good-natured way that was natural to him he assented to the establishment of an oligarchy under the council of four hundred as "a bad thing, but the least pernicious measure which circumstances allowed." In his last years the reverses of the Peloponnesian war, with their attendant civil dissensions, fell heavily on one whose chief delight was in domestic tranquility, and who still remembered the part which he bore in the glorious triumph of Salamis. Yet he was spared the misery of witnessing the final overthrow of his country, dying, full of years and honors, a few months before the defeat of ??gospotami wrought the downfall of Athens.
Seven only of the dramas of Sophocles have come down to us, but these were, with one exception, composed in the full maturity of his tragic power, and each resplendent with its own peculiar excellencies. In the Antigone heroism is exhibited in a purely feminine character; in the Ajax, the manly sense of honor in all its strength. In the Trachini?Ư, or Women of Trachis, are described the sufferings of Hercules and the levity of D?ôianeira, atoned for by her death; the Electra is distinguished by energy and pathos, and in the Oedipus at Colonus are a mildness and gracefulness suggestive of the character of the author. While we cannot divide the plays of Sophocles into distinct groups indicating certain periods in his dramatic art, he himself recognized three epochs in his own style--first, the tumid grandeur borrowed from Aeschylus; second, a harshness of expression due to his own mannerism; third, the style that seemed to him best fitted for the portrayal of human character.
Sniper

Trời Sniper ơi bây giờ mà có đủ thời gian để ngồi dịch hết cái topic này chắc mình nghẻo mất hi hi. Thôi đã giúp em Hoacuctay thì giúp cho trót, dành ít thời gian dịch giúp bà con đi, mà Sniper sống ở bên đó nhiều nên văn phong cũng phong phú hơn anh em bên này. Nhiều lúc ngồi dịch thấy thế nào ý. Ơ mà cả nhà ta có ai còn nhiều thời gian và trình đội Anh ngữ kha kjá dịch hộ cái nhỉ. Cảm ơn trước nha.

Tulipsblack
​

Bác sniper_nguyen post bài thế này bằng đánh đố anh em rồi còn gì nữa ,nếu đã post lên rôi tiên thể bác dich luôn đê

Hồng nào mà chẳng có gai
Trai nào mà chẳng có 2 mối tình

ặ?, trong hỏằTi m?ơnh nhiỏằ?u ngặ?ỏằ?i giỏằ?i tiỏ??ng Anh lỏ??m mà, v?fn phong còn hay hặĂn em nhiỏằ?u nỏằ?a là ?'ỏ??ng kh?Ăc, v?ư dỏằƠ nhặ? hoacuctay (mỏằTt tay viỏ??t cỏằĂ bỏằ?), hay yinkamp hỏằ?c ngoỏ?Ăi thặ?ặĂng ra, tiỏ??ng Anh bỏ??n ỏ?** ỏ?**, hay bỏ?Êo hỏằ? dỏằ<ch hỏằT ?'i, chỏằâ em ?'ang bỏ?ưn qu?Ă, n?ên không thỏằf dỏằ<ch ?'ặ?ỏằÊc chỏằâ không th?ơ c?âng ?'?Ê dỏằ<ch rỏằ"i cho xong, nhặ?ng nỏ??u c?Ăc b?Ăc th?ưch th?ơ ?'ỏằf chỏằ? em vỏằ? Hà Lan ?'?Ê, ?'ang ỏằY b?ên này bỏ?ưn lỏ??m em không thỏằf dỏằ<ch ?'ặ?ỏằÊc, mong c?Ăc b?Ăc thông cỏ?Êm cho em...
Man proposes, God disposes!
Sniper

Hỡi thần đèn thân mến xờ ni pờ của ta xin hãy làm ơn chuyển dùm đám giá đỗ này ra chữ nước Đại Việt thân yêu của chúng ta đi....Mà thực sự bạn ơi thứ văn phong cổ này (nhất là mấy bài thơ trong đó) thì khó ai dịch được lắm...(món ing- níc của tui thì ẹ cực kỳ).Vậy bạn chỉ cần nói nội dung chính của nó thui..Chẳng hạn ajax trở thành anh hùng với những tố chất nào, ông chết như thế nào vv......Bạn ơi giúp đi mà...

Cúc tây là loài hoa thân thiện nhất thế giới.Nó tượng trưng cho một tình bạn trong sáng cởi mở mà chân thành nồng ấm..

Mấy cái này đã có ai dịch chi tiết chưa hả @hoacuctay ???

Chưa có ai dịch chi tiết đâu. Nó cũng khá dài mà. Nếu Pino máu thì .....hì hì.....mất thời gian nhiều đấy............nếu được thì còn gì bằng.....

Signé Vendredi 13
Ký tên thứ Sáu ngày 13
​

http://www.ttvnnet.com/forum/FORUM_ID=225

Mời bà con đ3ến 410 b10 thì sẽ có đầy đủ tư liệu dịch em thì không giỏi lắm nhưng ba cái dịch đó thì chuyện nhỏ thôi mà he..he..có phét lắm không nhỉ?

Suốt đời anh vẫn mãi là người đến sau....