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◎ 六个年轻人 (阅读4811次)



-特德 休斯

照片的赛璐珞将他们保存完好-
六个年轻人,相互知己。
四十个年头让照片褪色泛黄
却没让皱纹爬上他们的脸和手。
三角帽并不时髦,
而他们的鞋子锃亮。一个透着亲密的微笑,
一个嚼着一根草,一个低着双眼,有些害羞,
一个骄傲自大得有点可笑-
在这张照片后的六个月,他们都死了。

为一趟周日郊游大伙穿戴齐整。我知道
覆盆子的河岸,粗壮的树,黑色的墙,
都依然如故。从它们座落之处
你听到七条小溪流淌而下
聚成河底的咆哮,无头无绪的
风穿过所有浓荫的山谷。
在此处照相,他们的表情还在倾听,
山谷也从未改变自己的声响
虽然他们的脸在地下已然四十个年头。

一个在攻击中饮弹
倒下时正在通电话,另一个,他最好的朋友,
出去想带他回来也中弹了;
一个,那一刻被警告
发觉有人朝着无人区的罐头射击,
后仰倒毙,手中的来复瞄准器被打飞。
剩下的,没人知道他们怎么了,
但必定遭遇他们一生中做得最糟的事,而且紧紧握住了
胜过握住自己的希望;全都死了。

这儿是一帧男子的像片,
藏着微笑的盒式项链坠,一夜间
变成医院里面目全非的
最后苦痛和弥留。包裹其间的
是比男人更强有力的一具没生命的体块和份量:
在这块让他(在他周日最佳状态下)活着看到秋天战争
所能想到的最糟糕的闪烁和撕裂的土地上,在他的脸上,
四十年的岁月烂成泥土。

没有一个你遇见的男子,
握着他的手,看着他健康,听着他说话宏亮
会比这六个赛璐珞的微笑更鲜活,
也没有史前或神话的野兽会比它更死沉;
没有一种思想如他们热腾腾的鲜血一般生动:
如此看待这张照片很容易发狂,
把它看成矛盾的永远保持着的惨剧
在这里从一次曝光中发出微笑,将一个人的肉体
从那一刹那以及它的体温中挤走。

Six Young Men
-Ted Hughes

The celluloid of a photograph holds them well -
Six young men, familiar to their friends.
Four decades that have faded and ochre-tinged
This photograph have not wrinkled the faces or the hands.
Though their cocked hats are not now fashionable,
Their shoes shine. One imparts an intimate smile,
One chews a grass, one lowers his eyes, bashful,
One is ridiculous with cocky pride -
Six months after this picture they were all dead.

All are trimmed for a Sunday jaunt. I know
That bilberried bank, that thick tree, that black wall,
Which are there yet and not changed. From where these sit
You hear the water of seven streams fall
To the roarer in the bottom, and through all
The leafy valley a rumouring of air go.
Pictured here, their expressions listen yet,
And still that valley has not changed its sound
Though their faces are four decades under the ground.

This one was shot in an attack and lay
Calling in the wire, then this one, his best friend,
Went out to bring him in and was shot too;
And this one, the very moment he was warned
From potting at tin-cans in no man's land,
Fell back dead with his rifle-sights shot away.
The rest, nobody knows what they came to,
But come to the worst they must have done, and held it
Closer than their hope; all were killed.

Here see a man's photograph,
The locket of a smile, turned overnight
Into the hospital of his mangled last
Agony and hours; see bundled in it
His mightier-than-a-man dead bulk and weight:
And on this one place which keeps him alive
(In his Sunday best) see fall war's worst
Thinkable flash and rending, onto his smile
Forty years rotting into soil.

That man's not more alive whom you confront
And shake by the hand, see hale, hear speak loud,
Than any of these six celluloid smiles are,
Nor prehistoric or fabulous beast more dead;
No thought so vivid as their smoking-blood:
To regard this photograph might well dement,
Such contradictory permanent horrors here
Smile from the single exposure and shoulder out
One's own body from its instant and heat.


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