《读〈安娜·卡列尼娜〉的女人》
月台上，令人心烦的结局和开始
拖着各自的行李，飘过一件黑外套，
安娜的脸正从玻璃上挤进她的脸，
她合着书，等火车奔驰起来，
圣彼得堡也只是身后的一站——
托尔斯泰需要女主角赴死，
并非所有的约会都钉进那截枕木。
她害怕像一只草帽被吹出窗外，
越来越小，一个小白点，边缘悸动着，
固定在某处，草丛或石缝就足以淹没它。
而在火车提供的速度中，风景
就像成群的渥伦斯基，不停地追逐，
它们当中最雄伟的：横跨峡谷的
铁桥，也不过在她的视线里坚持了几秒。
The Woman Reading Anna Karenina
On the platform, distressing endings and beginnings,
Each dragging their luggage—a black coat drifting past,
Anna's face pressed into the glass, merging with hers.
She closed the book, waiting for the train to speed away;
St. Petersburg was just a stop behind her—
Tolstoy needed the heroine to die;
Not all trysts were nailed into railroad ties.
She feared being blown out the window like a straw hat,
Growing smaller and smaller… a tiny white dot, fixed—its edge
Throbbing, grass patches or stone cracks could swallow it.
And with the speed of the train, the scenery flashed by
Like an array of Vronskys, chasing relentlessly,
And the most majestic of them: the iron bridge over the canyon
Lingered only a few seconds before vanishing from her sight.
《那天我被布罗茨基打击……》
那天布罗茨基打击我——
这个人，死亡令他变得完整，
就像铁砧将轰响的喷泉
锻打成一株古铜色的植物，
他全部的流动有了边缘，
就连那些芜杂的枝影
也开始变得确凿、清晰，
恍若古希腊大理石上的碑铭。
传言说他傲慢如暴君，但
雄辩的空寂赠予他的文字
以我们阅读时的虔信，因为
每一行都已经成为遗嘱，伴随
喷泉关闭时那一声金丝雀般的颤音，
那湿漉漉的环形底座，就像
守护他一生的抑扬格家园——
如今他变成了瀉湖躺在海边。
The Day I Was Struck by Brodsky…
The day Brodsky struck me—
This man, made whole by death,
Was like an anvil forging a roaring fountain
Into a copper-hued plant.
Hence, he possessed an edge that contained his flow,
Even the mottled shadows of branches
Began to sharpen, becoming clear and definite,
Like inscriptions on Greek marble stele.
They say he was as arrogant as a tyrant,
But the eloquent emptiness in his words
Gave them a piety as we read—
Each line a testament, accompanied by
The canary-like trill when the fountain ceased;
The damp circular base, like the iambic home
That had sheltered him all his life—
Now he lies, a lagoon on the seashore.
