本帖最后由 雨荷风 于 2015-10-7 15:10 编辑
My Heart For L.
America Afaa Michael Weever
If ever they trace the lines of my chest with ink as you traced them with your tongue, kiss me first. Hold my tongue to yours, pull it until it goes numb. Paste your lips to mine until I can taste your birth. If ever they open me and the bluebirds come rushing out, I want to hear you sing in the flutter of wings. This is the way tings are healed. This is how the tired travelers gaze into the eye to be sustained. And when the blood goes rushing away from me like children who have opened a forbidden spout, touch something of mine. Hold me that way to know that I want to hold you more than life itself, but a choice must be made. Some vinegar must go where agony cries out already, enough. I hang in the tiny crochet in feeble hands, as they give me a stranger’s heart If all of this is just a dream, and you fly away from me before the gray takes over, I will touch you everywhere I go. I will declare the world your body and christen our children in the air or names.
我的心 ——给L
美 国 蔚雅风
如果他们用墨水描我胸膛的线条 就像你用舌头描我的胸线一样，先吻我。 把我的舌头调控到你的舌头，搅它直到它变麻木。 把你的嘴唇贴到我嘴唇上直到我尝到你的诞生。 如果他们打开我知更鸟就会冲出来， 我想听你在翅膀的扇动中唱歌。 这是叮叮声复原的方法。 这就是疲惫的旅客怎样凝视眼睛来持续。 当血液像孩子们打开禁用的 喷管一样从我身上匆匆逃离， 触摸我的某个东西。 就那样抱着我以便了解我想抱你 超过生命本身，但必须做出选择。 一些醋一定要去烦恼已经呼喊的地方，够了。 我挂在软绵绵手中的小钩针上， 因为他们给我一颗陌生人的心。 如果这一切只是一个梦，而你在灰色 接管之前从我这里飞走的话， 无论去哪里我都会抚摸你。 我将对世界你的身体宣告将为 我们空中或姓名里的孩子们洗礼。
2014-2-20 上午11：54译于连山春寒中
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