| 来自: 舶良指玄 (秦皇岛)
晨歌
爱令你走来如一只胖乎乎的金表。
助产士拍拍你的脚底，你赤裸的哭喊
就来到万物中间。
我们的声音回荡，使你的到来显得不同寻常。新的雕像。
在通风的博物馆，你的赤裸
荫蔽著我们的安全。我们立在你四周，墙一般茫然。
说我是你的母亲
不如说是一朵云，馏出一面镜子只为映照出自己
在风的摆布中缓缓的消隐。
整夜你小飞蛾般的呼吸
在淡粉色的玫瑰间扑闪。我醒来倾听：
辽远的海在我耳中翻涌
一声哭闹，我就从床上滚下，像笨重的母牛
维多利亚睡衣上满绣著花丛。
你张开的小嘴像猫儿般洁净。窗子四四方方
漂白又吞下它黯淡的星星，现在你就来试著
开始你自己的咿呀；
清澈的元音气球般上升。
（1961）
Morning Song
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
(1961)
事件
万物怎样凝固！——
那月光，那白垩的峭壁
我们躺倒在谁的裂痕里
背靠著背。我听到枭的哭嚎
从它寒冷的靛青色中传来。
难忍的元音钻进我的心。
孩子在白色的婴床中绕著圈叹气，
正张著嘴，要著什么。
他的小脸用痛苦的红木雕就。
还有那些星星——根深而牢固。
轻轻一触：它燃烧又染病。
我看不到你的双眸
在那里苹果花令夜晚结冰
我绕圈而行，
旧日错误的沟壑，幽深而苦涩。
爱不会到来。
黑色的缺口显露。
在对面的唇上。
弱小苍白的灵魂飘摇，弱小苍白的妄想。
我的四肢，同样地，离我远去
谁将我们肢解？
黑暗在融化，我们摸索如跛行。
Event
How the elements solidify! ---
The moonlight, that chalk cliff
In whose rift we lie
Back to back. I here an owl cry
From its cold indigo.
Intolerable vowels enter my heart.
The child in the white crib revolves and sighs,
Opens its mouth now, demanding.
His little face is carved in pained, red wood.
Then there are the stars - ineradicable, hard.
One touch : it burns and sickens.
I cannot see your eyes.
Where apple bloom ices the night
I walk in a ring,
A groove of old faults, deep and bitter.
Love cannot come here.
A black gap discloses itself.
On the opposite lip
A small white soul is waving, a small white maggot.
My limbs, also, have left me.
Who has dismembered us?
The dark is melting. We touch like cripples.
冬日的树
湿漉漉的拂晓墨水进行著它蓝色的溶解。
在雾的吸墨纸上，那些树
好似植物学的素描——
记忆在滋长，环环相叠，
一连串的婚礼。
不懂堕胎也不懂淫荡，
比女人真实 ，
她们多么轻易地播种！
品尝著无定的风，
半截身躯——深入历史—— 饱满的翅膀，超然世外 。
在其中，她们就是勒达。
哦，枝叶与甜蜜之母
谁是这些圣母哀悼基督的塑像？
斑鸠的暗影在吟唱，却不使谁安心舒畅。
Winter Trees
The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing--
Memories growning, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.
Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,
Truer than women,
They seed so effortlessly!
Tasting the winds, that are footless,
Waisting-deep in history--
Full of wings, otherworldliness.
In this, they are Ledas.
O mother of leaves and sweetness
Who are these peitas?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but easing nothing.
note:
12 Ledas: Leda, the maiden who was raped by Zeus in the guise of a swan
爸爸
你不能，你不能
再也不能，黑漆漆的鞋子
我像一只脚在里面
憋了三十年，苍白又可怜
几乎不敢喘气甚至咳嗽一声
爸爸，我早该杀了你
你却死在我有机会下手的前头
大理石般沉重，塞满神灵的皮囊
鬼样的雕像长著一个
旧金山海豹那么大的灰色脚指头
一个脑袋在奇异的大西洋中
倾倒豆子的鲜绿
在美丽的瑙塞以外的蓝色水域。
我曾祈祷再次将你找到。
Ach, du（*德语：啊，你）
满口德国腔，在那个被战争
战争，战争的碾子
碾平的波兰小镇上
可那个小镇的名字太过平常。
我的波兰佬朋友
说这样的名字有一两打。
所以我从来不清楚
你到过哪里，住过何处
我从来无法与你交谈
舌头卡在我的下颚中
它卡在有钩子和丝网的圈套中
Ich, ich, ich, ich, （*德语：我，我，我，我）
我的话难以成句。
我觉得每个德国人都是你
而这语言好下流
一架引擎，一架引擎
把我像个犹太人那样发落。
一个去达考，奥茨威兹和贝尔森的犹太人
我开始像个犹太人那样谈吐
我想我是个犹太人的好材料
蒂罗尔的雪，维也纳的淡啤酒
都不那么纯正。
随我的吉普赛祖先，我诡异的命运
还有我的塔罗牌我的塔罗牌
我有几分犹太人的意思
我一直对你感到害怕
因你的纳粹空军，你的官腔
还有你整齐的胡子
你的雅利安眼眸，明亮的蓝
装甲兵，装甲兵，哦，你啊——
不是上帝而是一个纳粹的卍字
如此黑暗连天空都无法穿透
所有女人都爱慕法西斯分子
长筒靴在脸上，那畜生的残忍的
残忍的心脏和你的一个样
你站在那黑板的前面，爸爸
在我留著的你那张照片里
有条裂痕在你的下巴上而不是脚上
但这样你也仍不比一个恶魔好一点儿
也不比那个黑色的家伙好，那家伙
把我那可爱的红心一咬两瓣
我十岁那年他们埋了你
二十那年我曾试图去死
回到，回到，回到你的身旁
我想哪怕你已成为一堆骸骨
可是他们把我从袋子里拽出
他们把我用胶水粘在一块儿
而之后我明白了该做什么
我做了一个你的模型
一个黑衣男人，看上去像《我的奋斗》
拷问台和指头钉的狂爱
我说我招供，我招供
所以，爸爸，我终于完蛋
黑色的电话给连根切断
那些声音再也蠕动不进来
如果我杀了一个人，也就等于杀了两个
那吸血鬼说他就是你
一年一年吸我的血
整整七年，如果你还想知道
爸爸，现在你可以躺回去安息
你肥胖的黑心里长著一个树桩
乡亲们从来就不喜欢你
他们在你身上跺脚跳舞
他们总清楚那就是你
爸爸，爸爸，你个混蛋，我写完
(1962)
Daddy
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time---
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been sacred of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You----
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two---
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
(1962)
05-09-02舶良指玄 试译 |
