美国诗人马克·斯特兰德诗五首
《2002年》
我没想着死神，可死神想着我。
祂坐在椅子里，向后倚，搓着手，
抚摩着胡须说：“我想着斯特兰德，我想
这几天会去后院，挥挥我的镰刀，或者
对着月亮举起沙漏，斯特兰德就会
穿夹克打领带出现，然后我们一道漫步
在林荫道光秃秃的树下，走进灵魂之城。
我们来到宏豪广场，大理石的宅邸坐落四周，
迎接的人群等候已久，他们癫狂地欢呼，
泪水盈眶，因为忍了那么久而又冷又硬，
像玻璃，落到下面的石头上玎玲作响。
哦，但愿这一天早日到来。早日到来。”
2002
I am not thinking of Death, but Death is thinking of me.
He leans back in his chair, rubs his hands, strokes
his beard, and says, “I’m thinking of Strand, I’m thinking
that one of these days I’ll be out back, swinging my scythe
or holding my hourglass up to the moon, and Strand will appear
in a jacket and tie, and together under the boulevards’
leafless trees we’ll stroll into the city of souls. And when
we get to the Great Piazza with its marble mansions, the crowd
that had been waiting there will welcome us with delirious cries,
and their tears, turned hard and cold as glass from having been
held back so long, will fall and clatter on the stones below.
O let it be soon. Let it be soon.”
《2032年》
那是黄昏时分，在某个小镇，
死神，曾经爱我的那位，此刻
坐在豪华轿车里，膝上盖着毯子，
等着司机开动。祂头发花白，
眼睛越发细小，脸颊也失去了
往日的光泽。祂已有多年没挥动
他的镰刀，没触碰沙漏。祂正等待
被送往蓝色宾馆，极致的度假胜地，
那里有无尽的沉默弥漫于丁香味的空气，
大理石的鱼静止地游动于大理石的海水，
而哪里有……司机在哪里？啊，她来了，
走下花园台阶，脚踩高跟鞋，身着天鹅绒晚礼服，
披着金艳的围巾，送着飞吻，走向树木。
2032
It is evening in the town of X
where Death, who used to love me, sits
in a limo with a blanket spread across his thighs,
waiting for his driver to appear. His hair
is white, his eyes have gotten small, his cheeks
have lost their luster. He has not swung his scythe
in years, or touched his hourglass. He is waiting
to be driven to the Blue Hotel, the ultimate resort,
where an endless silence fills the lilac-scented air,
and marble fish swim motionless in marble seas,
and where . . . Where is his driver? Ah, there she is,
coming down the garden steps, in heels, velvet evening gown,
and golden boa, blowing kisses to the trees.
《男人与骆驼》
四十岁生日前夜，
我坐在门廊上抽烟，
无来由地，一个男人和一头骆驼
经过。开始时，两者都没发出
任何声音，可当他们游荡到街尾，
出了小镇，他们开始放声唱歌。
当然，唱的什么，于我还是个谜——
歌词含混不清，旋律过于花哨，
很难记住。他们走进了沙漠，
边走边唱，嗓音和融合一，扶摇
在被风吹起的沙土之上，应和着
筛沙的声响。那歌声之妙，妙在
人声与骆驼声难以捕捉的混成，好似
所有门户不对的情侣的理想形象。
这就是我期待这么久的夜晚吗？
我多么愿意相信这就是那个夜晚，
可就在他们即将消失之时，那男人
和那头骆驼停止了歌唱，飞奔
回到镇上。他们站在我的门廊前，
用他们珠子似的眼睛盯着我，说：
“是你毁了它。你永远地把它毁了。”
Man and Camel
On the eve of my fortieth birthday
I sat on the porch having a smoke
when out of the blue a man and a camel
happened by. Neither uttered a sound
at first, but as they drifted up the street
and out of town the two of them began to sing.
Yet what they sang is still a mystery to me—
the words were indistinct and the tune
too ornamental to recall. Into the desert
they went and as they went their voices
rose as one above the sifting sound
of windblown sand. The wonder of their singing,
its elusive blend of man and camel, seemed
an ideal image for all uncommon couples.
Was this the night that I had waited for
so long? I wanted to believe it was,
but just as they were vanishing, the man
and camel ceased to sing, and galloped
back to town. They stood before my porch,
staring up at me with beady eyes, and said:
“You ruined it. You ruined it forever.”
《错误》
我们顺流而下，顶着星光点点，
一直睡到太阳升起。我们抵达首都时，
都城已是一片废墟，我们用能找到的
桌椅生起一大堆火。热气如此猛烈，
头顶的飞鸟都着了火，燃烧着坠地。
我们吃了这些鸟，然后继续步行，
我们到达的地区，海水结冰、地面
布满月亮般的巨石。如果我们当时
停了下来，转身，回到我们始发的花园，
回到那里破碎的瓮，腐烂的树叶堆，
坐在那里，仰望那栋房子，只看阳光
从窗户上掠过，仅仅如此就已足够，
哪怕狂风呼啸，云朵向着大海疾驰，
像一本空白的书页，没有一丝墨痕。
Error
We drifted downstream under a scattering of stars
and slept until the sun rose. When we got to the capital,
which lay in ruins, we built a large fire out of what chairs
and tables we could find. The heat was so fierce that birds
overhead caught fire and fell flaming to earth.
These we ate, then continued on foot into regions
where the sea is frozen and the ground is strewn
with moonlike boulders. If only we had stopped,
turned, and gone back to the garden we started from,
with its broken urn, its pile of rotting leaves, and sat
gazing up at the house and seen only the passing
of sunlight over its windows, that would have been
enough, even if the wind cried and clouds scudded seaward
like the pages of a book on which nothing was written.
《火》
有时会有一场火，而我会走进去，
然后走出来，毫发无伤，继续前行，
这于我而言不过是又做完了一件事。
至于扑灭火焰这事，我留给他人，
他们会冲入滚滚浓烟，拿着扫帚
和毯子，试图闷灭火焰。他们完事后，
会挤在一起，讨论他们的所见所闻——
他们多么幸运，得以目睹热浪的辉光，
灰烬的静默效用，而更幸运的是，闻到了
纸张燃烧的芳香，听到文字最后的呼吸声。
Fire
Sometimes there would be a fire and I would walk into it
and come out unharmed and continue on my way,
and for me it was just another thing to have done.
As for putting out the fire, I left that to others
who would rush into the billowing smoke with brooms
and blankets to smother the flames. When they were through
they would huddle together to talk of what they had seen—
how lucky they were to have witnessed the lusters of heat,
the hushing effect of ashes, but even more to have known the fragrance
of burning paper, the sound of words breathing their last.
