“短蛇”(landay)是阿富汗民间的一种双行体诗，通常以口头形式流传，因此也是押韵的，尤其在阿富汗和巴基斯坦的两千万普什图不太识字的妇女间私下流传。我的翻译是，如果不影响口语风格的流畅和自然，会尽量押韵。这种诗歌格式具有很长的历史传统，过去可能是用手鼓伴奏伴舞唱出来的。后来被塔利班禁止，就转入地下，也成为一种新的传统。
我们现在知道这种诗歌的存在，好像是塔利班再次占领阿富汗之后，网络上出现的译介。根据美国2014年出版的一本“调查”诗集《我是世界的乞丐：当代阿富汗短蛇诗》(I Am the Beggar of the World: Landays from Contemporary Afghanistan)译介的，这本书获得了2015年美国笔会诗歌翻译奖。这本书除了详细介绍收集诗歌的过程，而且几乎对每一首诗都做了注释，这本书将所收集到的诗歌分为“爱情”、“悲伤/分离”和“战争/家园”三部分。
我这里的译文就不加任何注释了，但我对个别诗歌的翻译稍有修改，以便不看注释也能读得更透彻些。插图也来自这本书中的摄影图片，我读的是电子版，因此都是黑白的。有兴趣了解更多背景的，可以到网上找一找有关阿富汗民间诗歌短蛇这样的译介。
【本帖最早是2021年10月1日贴出来了，现在重贴，未做修改。】
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What have you done to me, God?Others have blossomed. I stay tight as a bud.I’ll make a tattoo of my lover’s bloodand shame each rose in the green garden.Unlucky you who didn’t come last night,I took the hardwood bedpost for a man.My love is a suicide bomber who stalksThe home of my heart and waits to attack.Embrace me in your suicide vestbut don’t say I won’t give you a kiss.Is there not one man here brave enough toseehow my untouched thighs burn the trousersoff me?I’ll kiss you in the pomegranate garden. Hush!People will think there’s a goat in theunderbrush.Become a beggar, then come to me.No one stops beggars from going where theyplease.Girl: Slide your hand inside my bra. Strokea red and ripening pomegranate of Kandahar.Boy: I’d slide my hand inside your bra, But who’ll drop coins in the attendant’s jar?Come, let’s lie here thigh to thigh.If you climb on, I won’t cry.You’ll understand why I wear bangleswhen you choose the wrong bed in the darkand mine jangle.Climb to the brow of the hill and sightwhere my darling’s caravan will tenttonight.May God make you into a riverbank flowerso I may smell you when I go to gatherwater.God, turn my lover into a chocolate barand may my rival be stricken by sugar.God, turn my lover into a foxand make my rival into a chicken.Come, let’s leave these village idiotsand marry Kabul men with Bollywoodhaircuts.I could have tasted death for a taste ofyour tonguewatching you eat ice cream when we wereyoung.My body is fresh as henna leaf:green outside; inside, raw meat.When sisters sit together, they alwayspraise their brothers.When brothers sit together, they sell theirsisters to others.Listen, friends, and share my despair.My cruel father is selling me to an oldgoat.You sold me to an old man, father.May God destroy your home; I was yourdaughter.You wound a thick turban around your baldheadto hide your age. Why, you’re nearly dead!When my husband took another wife, Iburned.I don’t care about the flames of hell sinceI’ve been spurned.Don’t shout, my love, my father isn’tgiving me to you.Don’t shame me in the busy street by cryingout, “I’ll die for you.”Widows take sweets to a saint’s shrine.I’ll bring God popcorn and beg him to killmine.If you hide me from the Taliban,I’ll become a tassel on your drum.May God bring death to all village gossipsso the bravest girls will be free of theirwagging lips.My lover is fair as an American soldier canbe.To him I looked dark as a talib, so hemartyred me.Separation brought this kind of grief:it made itself a mullah and me the villagethief.My love gave his life for our homeland.I’ll sew his shroud with a strand of myhair.Who will you be but a brave warrior,you who’ve drunk the milk of a Pashtunmother?If our husbands fight Afghans, our husbandswill die.Afghanistan would be London.Send my salaams to the mullah. Tell himto let my beloved put down his gun and comehome.Wormwood grows on the one-eyed mullah’sgrave.The talib boys fight blindly on, believinghe’s alive.The talib’s body lies under the dirt.His orphans grieve at the head of hisgrave.May God destroy the Taliban and end theirwars.They’ve made Afghan women into widows andwhores.Leave your sword and fetch your gun.Away to the mountains, Americans have come.I’m tired of praising exotic flowers.I miss Sangin’s gardens; they were poor butours.Making love to an old man
is like fucking a shriveled cornstalk black with mold.In my dream, I am the president.When I awake, I am the beggar of the world.![]()
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