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◎ 露易丝•格丽克诗集02《沼泽地上的房屋》选译 (阅读2815次)



以下选自诗集《沼泽地上的房屋》
The House on Marshland (The Ecco Press, 1975)


万圣节

甚至此刻,这片风景还在聚集组合。
山丘变暗。耕牛
在蓝色夹轭里沉睡,
田野
已收捡干净,禾束
捆扎整齐,码放路边
委陵菜丛中,当月牙升起:

这是收获或瘟疫
带来的贫瘠。
妻子正从窗口里探出身
伸着手,仿佛正在偿付,
而种籽
清晰,金黄,呼唤着
请到这儿来
请到这儿来,小家伙

灵魂从树丛中爬出。

All Hallows

Even now this landscape is assembling.
The hills darken. The oxen
sleep in their blue yoke,
the fields having been
picked clean, the sheaves
bound evenly and piled at the roadside
among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises:

This is the barrenness
of harvest or pestilence.
And the wife leaning out the window
with her hand extended, as in payment,
and the seeds
distinct, gold, calling
Come here
Come here, little one

And the soul creeps out of the tree.


黑暗中的格莱特1

这就是我们曾经渴望的世界。
所有想看我们死去的人
都已经死去。我听到女巫的叫喊
穿过一块糖果,在月光里
破碎:上帝的奖赏。
她的舌头渐渐枯萎,化为空气……

        如今,远离了女人们的控制
和关于她们的记忆,在父亲的小屋里
我们安然入睡,再没有饥饿。
可为什么我总是忘不了?
父亲把门闩上,把坏人
挡在屋外,这样已经许多年。

没有谁还记得。甚至你,哥哥,
好多个夏日的午后,你看着我,似乎
你想要离开,
似乎那些事从没有发生过。
但我曾经为救你而杀人。我看见手执武器的冷杉,
火光闪闪的窑房和它的尖顶——

好多个夜晚,我希望你抱着我,
但你却不在那儿。
我现在还孤单一人吗?许多密探
在寂静中咝咝作响,汉赛尔,
我们仍然在那儿,这是真的,真的,
那黑森林,那熊熊火光。

[译注]诗中人物源自格林童话《汉赛尔与格莱特》。故事讲述机智的小兄妹汉赛尔与格莱特被亲父和后母抛弃在森林里,遇到了用糖果屋骗人的巫婆。巫婆把汉赛尔关起来,准备吃掉,格莱特把巫婆骗到窑房里烧死,兄妹俩得以逃出森林,回到家中(后母已死),和父亲一起过起了幸福生活。

Gretel in Darkness

This is the world we wanted.
All who would have seen us dead
are dead. I hear the witch''s cry
break in the moonlight through a sheet
of sugar: God rewards.
Her tongue shrivels into gas....

         Now, far from women''s arms
and memory of women, in our father''s hut
we sleep, are never hungry.
Why do I not forget?
My father bars the door, bars harm
from this house, and it is years.

No one remembers. Even you, my brother,
summer afternoons you look at me as though
you meant to leave,
as though it never happened.
But I killed for you. I see armed firs,
the spires of that gleaming kiln—

Nights I turn to you to hold me
but you are not there.
Am I alone? Spies
hiss in the stillness, Hansel ,
we are there still and it is real, real,
That black forest, and the fire in earnest.


静物

爸爸用胳膊绕着特雷日。
她眯着眼。我的拇指
放在嘴巴里:我的第五个秋天。
挨着紫叶山毛榉
小狗在树荫里打盹。
我们没有一个人不躲着他的眼睛。

隔着草坪,在大阳光里,妈妈
站在她的照相机后面。

[评论选译]“格丽克创造了一个裂缝,在舞动镜头的妈妈与她想摄进画面的家人之间。[……]足以让我们意识到一种熟悉的类型(无声的家庭紧张)在场景中起作用。”(Paul Breslin: “Thanatos Turannos: The Poetry of Louise Gluck”)

Still Life

Father has his arm around Tereze.
She squints. My thumb
is in my mouth: my fifth autumn.
Near the copper beech
the spaniel dozes in shadows.
Not one of us does not avert his eyes.

Across the lawn, in full sun, my mother
stands behind her camera.




傍晚时分,正如现在,一个男人俯身
在写字桌前。
缓缓地他抬起头;一个女人
出现,捧着玫瑰花。
她的脸庞向镜子表面漂浮,
点缀着玫瑰花梗的绿色轮辐。

这是痛苦的
一种形式:后来,这清晰的一幕反复地
在窗口浮现,直到它的纹路也显露出来
就像词语最终被墨水充满。

而我应该去理解
是什么把他们结合在一起
或与暮色紧抱的灰色房屋结合在一起

因为我必须进入他们的生活:
这是春天,那棵梨树
披着一层薄薄的、娇弱的白花。


Poem

In the early evening, as now, a man is bending
over his writing table.
Slowly he lifts his head; a woman
appears, carrying roses.
Her face floats to the surface of the mirror,
marked with the green spokes of rose stems.

It is a form
of suffering: then always the transparent page
raised to the window until its veins emerge
as words finally filled with ink.

And I am meant to understand
what binds them together
or to the gray house held firmly in place by dusk

because I must enter their lives:
it is spring, the pear tree
filming with weak, white blossoms.


上学的孩子们

孩子们背着小书包,一直向前去。
整个上午,母亲们都在辛苦地
采摘晚熟的苹果,红的,黄的,
像另一种语言中的词语。

在另一边
是那些等在大课桌后面的人
准备接收这些奉献。

多么整齐啊——那些钉子
孩子们在上面挂着
他们或蓝或黄的羊毛外套。

老师们将在沉默中教导他们
母亲们将走遍果园,寻找出来的小路,
被他们自身吸引,这些果树灰暗的枝条
结出如此少的弹药。


[评论选译]苹果是全诗的核心。在第一节里,孩子们离去,苹果变得陌生:“像另一种语言中的词语”。第二节里,苹果是孩子们的同义词,即作为给老师的仪式性的“奉献”。到第四节,苹果的内涵又一次发生变化:苹果作为不在场(absence)的标志,也许暗示着母亲养大孩子而必须“奉献”出来;于是绝望的母亲通过将苹果想像成“弹药”——攻击的武器而试图从“丧失”的痛苦中解脱出来。(Daniel Morris. The Poetry of Louise Gluck: A Thematic Introduction)

The School Children

The children go forward with their little satchels.
And all morning the mothers have labored
to gather the late apples, red and gold,
like words of another language.

And on the other shore
are those who wait behind great desks
to receive these offerings.

How orderly they are—the nails
on which the children hang
their overcoats of blue or yellow wool.

And the teachers shall instruct them in silence
and the mothers shall scour the orchards for a way out,
drawing to themselves the gray limbs of the fruit trees
bearing so little ammunition.


离别

我爸爸正站在车站月台上。
泪水在眼睛里汇集,仿佛
车窗里闪现的那个面庞是他曾经所是的
某个人的面庞。但其他人已经忘记;
当我爸爸仔细看时,他转过去,
暗影覆上他的面庞,
继续看报纸。

而在深深的槽道里
火车呼着灰尘,等待。

DEPARTURE

My father is standing on a railroad platform.
Tears pool in his eyes, as though the face
glimmering in the window were the face of someone
he was once. But the other has forgotten;
as my father watches, he turns away,
drawing the shade over his face,
goes back to his reading.

And already in its deep groove
the train is waiting with its breath of ashes.


爱之诗

总有些东西要由痛苦制作而成。
你妈妈织毛线。
她织出各种色调的红围巾。
他们曾作为圣诞节礼物,他们曾让你暖和
当她一次次结婚,一直带着你
在她身边。这是怎么成的,
那些年她收藏起那颗寡居的心
仿佛死者还能回来。
并不奇怪你是现在这个样子,
害怕血,你的女人们
像一面又一面砖墙。

Love Poem

There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of blood, your women
like one brick wall after another.


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