本帖最后由 雨荷风 于 2015-10-7 14:05 编辑
奶牛
我想成为一头奶牛。
不再是妈妈的闺女儿。
我想成为一头奶牛
不再是迷恋上你的女人。
我想平静地感受自由。
我想成为一头奶牛无知着
令你“坠入情网”的爱情类型；
成为女王般高贵的奶牛，有着百货大楼
般的丰满无比的硕臀，
成为令牛农得屈膝挤奶的奶牛，
当她死时将能感到曙光
贴着她如草坪温润她的嘴唇。
我想成为一头奶牛，
用不着花哨——
一仓草料，
一担牛奶着实浓稠
浮动，逛荡，盈溢地镇定于
那赶往城里的蹄声；
噶咑噶咑的靴响；
以及靠在边上的拖车怀疑的神情；
还有没皮没脸的餐馆老板
跛着两脚，红着双眼，从霉烂的房事
踏进了笨蛋和八卦的社交圈；
以及日本货船带着优美线条
如熨斗熨烫过负载满碗
像甜美腻人果酱般欲望的夜晚。
藏族人有85种词汇来描述意识状态。
而没有一个为我这头昏蠢的奶牛。
她用不着交流。
家务一丢，再丑也无忧。
她从不闲蹓。
与她精光锃亮的白碗老朋友，
一同在她的港湾里享受，
除了它
她一无所求——
我也想在农场当这样一头奶牛。
别来将我招惹。
别带着黑手套，穿着黑袜子，裹着黑袖子
顶着黑帽子，
踏进这灿烂的阳光
来把我招惹。
别去问拖拉机手。
别去问邻居。
别为我回家拿特别的水果蛋糕欢庆。
我才不会回家，
我要成为一头奶牛，
你将永远不能猜透。Cow
I want to be a cow.
And not my mother’s daughter.
I want to be a cow
and not in love with you.
I want to feel free to feel calm.
I want to be a cow who never knows
the kind of love you ‘fall in love with’ with;
a queenly cow, with hips as big and sound
as a department store,
a cow the farmer milks on bended knee,
who when she dies will feel dawn
bending over her like lawn to wet her lips.
I want to be a cow,
nothing fancy-
a cargo of grass,
a hammock of soupy milk
whose floating and rocking and dribbling’s undisturbed
by the echo of hooves to the city;
of crunching boots;
of suspicious-looking trailers parked on verges;
of unscrupulous restaurant-owners
who stumble, pink-eyed, from stale beds
into a world of lobsters and warm telephones;
of streamlined Japanese freighters
ironing the night,
heavy with sweet desire like bowls of jam.
The Tibetans have 85 words for states of consciousness.
This dozy cow I want to be none.
She doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t do housework or worry about her appearance.
She doesn’t roam.
Safe in her fleet
of shorn-white-bowl-like friends,
she needs, and loves, and’s loved by,
only this-
the farm I want to be a cow on too.
Don’t come looking for me.
Don’t come walking out into the bright sunlight
black in your gloves and stocking and sleeves
and large hat.
Don’t call the tractorman.
Don’t call the neighbours.
Don’t make a special fruit-cake for when I come home;
I’m not coming home.
I’m going to be a cow
And you won’t know me.
失败的洞房夜
全都怨这软脚虾。
哦天，真是荒唐。
他咋就办不到——
他狂吠着，午夜里溜达，
他撕扯着毯衣用抓狂的方式——
但当她掩住她了小脸
埋进这小旅馆的枕头，
她却不能遏制自己想他
狠狠地。她幻想她和他
散步在那明媚的阳光
洒满的西高止山上；但很快
她转而开始呜咽，
拖着的鼻涕虫
淌在那棉泡泡的枕头上
像极了达.伽玛的蜗牛。
The Unsuccessful Wedding-Night
It’s all because of Buster.
Of course, it’s unreasonable,
he couldn’t possibly have come-
his barking ,his midnight walk,
the way he scratches at the blankets-
but as she presses her face
in to the pillow in the small hotel,
she can’t help missing him
terribly.She imagine the two of them
hiking in bright sunshine
over the Western Ghats; and soon
she begins to whimper to herself,
her runny nose trailing
over the foam pillows
like the Vasco da gama of snails.
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发表于 2010-3-3 22:32:00