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◎ 洛尔娜·克罗奇诗选(7首) (阅读4551次)



洛尔娜·克罗奇诗选(七首)

[加] 洛尔娜·克罗奇Lorna Crozier
阿九译

一.符号词典

那女子在暗处脱下衣裳,
窗帘敞开着。很慢地
她把手臂绕到背后,
解开胸罩的扣子,再把内裤
褪到臀部,顺着腿脱下。
没有人看得见她。
外面的光比她的房间里的亮些。
但她赤条条地站在窗前,似乎
月亮是一面镜子,举在夜晚的手中。
它有着她的乳房
充满乳汁时的颜色,
像她的大腿,她劳累的肚子一样
带着微凹,并有着盈亏圆缺。
她试着把它拿在手上,
想着投入其中,
它圆满如宁静的大海。

楼下的街面上,一个男人
戴着农场帽沿着行道走过,
拉着一辆轮子吱嘎作响的小货车,
装了一车的空瓶子。她想给他看
月亮,它在夏夜中平静的冷淡,
那时她的孩子已经全都
入睡,她的丈夫跪在另一个房间的
一张床上,从一个女人的背后
进入,这样他就能看着自己
消失在肉中,
他的手搭在她的双臀上,
它们圆润并带着汗滴的闪光。

那个在暗处脱衣的女子
站在窗前,打开灯光。
原来是这样,她说,
这苍白的天体,隐逸的
像月亮一样隐逸,幽幽地发光。
你可以一直注视它
而不会灼伤眼睛。


DICTIONARY OF SYMBOLS
Lorna Crozier

The woman who undresses in the dark
with the curtains open. Slowly
she twists her hands around her back,
unhooks her bra, slides her panties
over her hips and down her legs.
No one can see her.
There is more light outside than in her room.
But she stands at the window naked as if
the moon were a mirror held in night’s hands.
It is the colour of her breasts
when they are full of milk,
it is dimpled like her thighs,
her tired belly, it waxes and wanes.
She tries to hold it in her arms,
imagines wading into it,
all its roundness one tranquil sea.

On the street below her a man
in a red farmer’s cap pulls a rusty wagon
full of empty bottles down the sidewalk,
the wheels rattling. She wants to show him
the moon, its calm indifference
on a summer evening when all her children
are asleep, when her husband kneels on a bed
in another house, entering a woman
from behind, so he can watch himself
disappear into the flesh,
his hands on her buttocks,
round and glistening with sweat.

The woman who undresses in the dark,
stands at the window, turns on the light.
This is what it looks like, she says,
this pale celestial body, faceless
as the moon is faceless, coldly luminescent.
You can stare at it forever
and never burn your eyes.

From Inventing the Hawk (1992)


二.怀孕

你不会怀孕的,
如果那是你的第一次。

你不会怀孕的
如果你是站着做,
如果你不先来一次深吻,
如果你假装
不想给他,
只是不能自己。

你不会怀孕的,
如果你事后马上
就去浴室,
如果你像是骑着
无鞍的马,如果你单腿
跳上跳下,
如果你是躺在雪地里
直到大腿麻木,
如果你一边淋浴一边做,
如果你吃过大蒜,
如果你穿着紧身内衣,
如果那只是你的第二次。

你不会怀孕的
如果他还穿着袜子,
如果他像是橄榄球队的队长,
如果他说他爱你,
如果他来的太快,
如果你根本就没有来,
如果这只是你的第三次。

你不会怀孕的,
如果他告诉你
你不会的。


GETTING PREGNANT
Lorna Crozier

You can't get pregnant
if it's your first time.

You can't get pregnant
if you do it standing up,
if you don't French kiss,
if you pretend
you won't let him
but just can't stop.

You can't get pregnant
if you go to the bathroom
right after,
if you ride a horse
bareback, if you bump
up and down on one leg,
if you lie in the snow
till your bum feels numb,
if you do it in the shower,
if you eat garlic,
if you wear a girdle,
if it's only your second time.

You can't get pregnant
if he keeps his socks on,
if he's captain of the football team,
if he says he loves you,
if he comes quickly,
if you don't come at all,
if it's only your third time.

You can't get pregnant
if he tells you
you won't.


三.暴风雪

钻进母亲的那件麝鼠大衣,我们走进风里;
她的腕骨已将袖口的绒毛磨尽。

只要一停下脚步,我们就会立刻消失。一马平川,
也没有亮着窗户的房屋。只有风,还有我们体内的

声响。等我们到家的时候,父亲
也许在,也许不在。从来没有谁来找过我们。

我真想躺下,就在这里静静地躺着,周围只有雪
在下。沉默倒并不怎么孤单,只是不说话

就觉得冷。母亲用力拉着我,不肯松手。但后来
连她也停下来,给自己找了块地方。在星星做成的

屋顶下,我们并不知道,是否有人听得出
我们说了些什么,在离家这么远的地方。


BLIZZARD
Lorna Crozier

Walking into wind, I lean into my mother’s muskrat coat;
around the cuffs her wristbones have worn away the fur.

If we stood still we’d disappear. There’s no up or down,
no houses with their windows lit. The only noise is wind

and what’s inside us. When we get home my father
will be there or not. No one ever looks for us.

I could lie down and stay right here where snow is all
that happens, and silence isn’t loneliness just cold

not talking. My mother tugs at me and won’t let go.
Then stops to find her bearings. In our hoods of stars

we don’t know if anyone will understand
the tongue we speak, so far we are from home.


四.夜深了

风把田野的被单揭开。
凡是需要睡下的,都在那里睡下。
凡是该休息的也都已经歇息。

门从月亮上掉下来,
带着把手和铰链,浮在沼泽地里。

此时的月亮是这样开放,
不管是什么都能从正面穿过去。

只有狐狸在四下行走。
它一会儿是只猫,一会儿又像是郊狼。

光线足够用来看清身边的事情,
可是嘴巴却躺在黑暗里。
凡是需要睡下的,都在那里睡下。
凡是该休息的也都已经歇息。

在我的心外,风还在盘算着。
总像是有什么心事
一定要合计出来。


IT IS NIGHT
Lorna Crozier

Wind turns back the sheets of the field.
What needs to sleep, sleeps there.
What needs to rest.

The door has fallen from the moon.
It floats in the slough, all knob and hinges.

Now the moon’s so open
anything could walk right through.

Only the fox is traveling.
One minute he’s a cat, the next a coyote.

Enough light to see by
yet my mouth lies in darkness.
What needs to sleep, sleeps there.
What needs to rest.

Outside my mind, the wind is reckoning.
Always there is something
to figure out.


五.世纪末

大桥下面,死者们正聚在一起。
那个渡口的船夫出了什么事了,
他的钱袋呢?可怜啊。这么多过往的船只,
不知他们是怎么穿过这交错的铁梁
和星光的。有人听到嘎吱一声。
那是你坐在父亲刚刚漆过的
手划船里。你的午饭就搁在一边的
座位上。这船头曾经坐着一个歌手,
年纪很轻就死了。是他在这次行程中
对你念了咒语,但他现在开始
用中国话唱起了《红河谷》,
那是他在离开北京亡命天涯时
学会的一首歌。在大桥下面,
听他唱着,死者们也跟着唱了起来。
我们会想念你的,你的大眼睛
还有甜甜的微笑,至少
要用十几种不同的语言。


THE END OF THE CENTURY
Lorna Crozier

Under the bridge the dead are gathering.
What happened to the ferryman,
his bag of coins, his pity? In all this traffic
how can they cross these girders of steel
and starlight? One of them hears a creaking.
It is you in your father’s rowboat,
newly painted. Your lunch beside you
on the seat, in the bow that singer
who died young. He has spelled you
on this journey but now he begins
in Mandarin the version of Red River
he learned in exile in the fields
far from Beijing. Under the bridge,
hearing him, the dead, too, start singing
We will miss your bright eyes
and sweet smile, in at least
a dozen different tongues.


六.阴影

到树的一边躺下,
然后换到另一边,不管地平地凹。

通体一片清凉,
无心地舒展,
也不带一丝的羁绊。

放弃一切意义。
永不磨灭或损坏。

像一道美丽的方程
依着细小的步长移动,像月亮
在金色城市的上空成熟。

去做一个幽灵,
翅膀上生着羽毛的下侧,
自一片雨云上滑落,并向麦子
允诺少许雨水的那一部分。

去消失。去变成蓝色,
仅仅因为下过雪,
又是一天中最忧伤的时刻。


SHADOW
Lorna Crozier

To lie on one side of a tree
then another, over rough or smooth.

To feel cool along one’s whole body
lengthening without intent,
nothing getting in the way.

To give up on meaning.
To never wear out or mar.

To move by increments like
a beautiful equation, like the moon
ripening above the golden city.

To be doppelganger,
the feathered underside of wings,
the part of cumulous that slides
thin promises of rain across the wheat.

To disappear. To be blue
simply because snow has fallen
and it’s the blue hour of the day.


七.戈壁沙尘

来自戈壁的沙尘吹过萨斯卡川,
对眼睛构成了刺激。那些科学家都这么说;
他们能把最小的花粉从飞沙中分离出来,
鉴定其来源和名目。你不禁会想,
这旷野的沙尘究竟会飞到何处:津巴布韦,斐济,
伊斯坦布尔某家清真寺门口堆着的一排鞋子上,
或是吴哥窟玉器博物馆的某个肚腹那玉色的隆起?
我们的呼吸,不必再梳的一头白发,还有深影边磨蚀的线条呢?
此时,有个女人泪水中的盐分将一个看不见的吻轻轻放在了
我的上唇。她一直在巴黎的一条意思是“正午”的大街上哭泣,
尽管那里其实还是夜晚,而她也不想让白天来临。
要是她知道,在世界的另一边还有另一个女子尝到她的苦涩,是否会感到安慰?
如果可以的话,那另一个她会给她捎来几朵珍奇的雪花,
在太阳升起前落在这里,稍稍掩盖一下这太过干涸而
难为麦田的荒野,在冬天即将离去的时候。雪花留在她的睫毛上。
而那些苹果花是不是我父亲的骨灰,一片片飘走
而无法握住的心碎?要是知道风从不空空吹去,
是否能让此心得慰?阿尔罕布拉宫墙上阿拉伯绘饰里的一只麻雀
乘着从厨房溅出的一片笑语飞走了,其中的蒜香
让它所沉落的每一粒尘土都带着迷人的滋味。


SAND FROM THE GOBI DESERT
Lorna Crozier

Sand from the Gobi Desert blows across Saskatchewan,
becomes the irritation in an eye. So say the scientists who
separate the smallest pollen from its wings of grit,
identify the origin and name. You have to wonder where
the dust from these fields ends up: Zimbabwe, Fiji,
on the row of shoes outside a mosque in Istanbul,
on the green rise of a belly in the Jade Museum in Angkor Vat?
And what of our breath, grey hair freed from a comb, the torn threads of shadows?
Just now the salt from a woman’s tears settles finely its invisible kiss
on my upper lip. She’s been crying in Paris on the street that means
Middle of the Day though it’s night there, and she doesn’t want the day to come.
Would it comfort her to know another, half way round the world, can taste her grief?
Another would send her, if she could, a few of the rare flakes of snow
falling here before the sunrise, snow that barely fleeces the brown back of what’s
too dry to be a field of wheat, and winter’s almost passed. Snow on her lashes.
What of apple blossoms, my father’s ashes, small scraps of sadness
that slip out of reach? Is it comforting to know the wind
never travels empty? A sparrow in the Alhambra’s arabesques
rides the laughter spilling from our kitchen, the smell of garlic
makes the dust delicious where and where it falls.




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