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◎ 卡明斯诗七首 (阅读3493次)



卡明斯(E. E. Cummings,1894~1962),20世纪美国诗坛的一个异数,兼画家。著有《郁金香和烟囱》、《41首诗》、《&》、《1×1》等12部诗集及小说《大房间》等。词语、语法、书写、语体和标点符号等,无不成为他语义表达和视觉形式创造两路出击的着眼点。随着时间的推移,这个“诗坛顽童”(余光中语)给诗和译学注入的意义,应会得到更多发掘。他是独特诗语的立法者,但他的诗写却始终围绕着若干母题,比如爱情。       ─—译者

●死亡押上全世界

死亡(输了)押上全世界
打个呵欠:看来要下雨了
(他们用时间的碎片
来赌永恒)
全归你了;我想
你得借我痛苦
搭上灵车,
再会。

爱情(得到了)给如此可爱的玩具上了发条
它们自己不会知道:
地球徐徐旋转;
与此同时,雏菊在生长
(男孩和女孩如此这般
私语了一番)
女孩将偕男孩
一起上床,

●当上帝放任我的身躯

当上帝放任我的身躯

每只勇敢的眼里就会抽出一棵树
果实悬荡树头

紫色的世界将在上面跳舞
在我会唱歌的嘴唇间

一朵玫瑰将引发春天
激情空耗的少女们

把它放在小小的乳房间
我强健的手在白雪下面

摸进紧张的鸟群
我的爱人走在草地上

鸟儿的翅膀碰到她的脸庞
自始至终我的心伴随

大海的鼓胀和抚爱

●当上帝决定创造一切

当上帝决定创造
一切,他吸了口
比马戏团帐篷还大的气
于是一切开始

当人类决意毁灭
自己,他从将来中剔出
过去,发现只有疑问
便把它砸成理由

●当生命完全结束

当生命完全结束
叶子唉声叹息时,
对结束了蓝天里
一次飞行的燕子来说,
还有许多事要做;

当情人流完他的眼泪,
可能就将穿越
百万年光阴。
(与此同时,一只蜜蜂在打盹
在罂粟花,亲爱的人儿身上;

一切都已做完、说完,
青草下面
躺着她的脑袋
在她深思过的
橡树和玫瑰一旁。)

●爱的效用在于创造未知

爱的效用在于创造未知

(了悟即无愿;而爱,皆是冀愿)
尽管生活表里错置,单调扼杀同一
真相与事实混淆,鱼以渔自炫

人被蠕虫捕获(爱既不会在乎
倘若时光踉跄、阳光凋萎、一切尺度弯折
也不会讶异,倘若思想能将星球之重掂出
─—恐惧毫厘不减;否则死亡便会了结)

情人何等幸运(自我之身
在随意发现的屋宇下栖居):
无知的呼吸敢于一一掩隐
超凡的智慧却生怕看出

(又哭又笑)他们梦想、创造、消磨
世界浩荡不息,而其部分悉皆静默:

●我喜欢我的身体

我喜欢我的身体,当它和你的
在一起。它是如此全新的事物。
肌肉更好,神经更多。
我喜欢你的身体。喜欢它做的一切,
喜欢它的种种方式。我喜欢触摸你身体的脊柱
及骨骼,喜欢触摸那种
战栗结实柔滑,以及我要
一而再再而三亲吻的
地方,我喜欢吻各种各样的你,
我喜欢,缓慢抚摩,你带电的毛皮上
令人震颤的茸毛,还有开裂的肉体上
出现的东西……眼睛是大片的爱情面包屑,

或许我就喜欢我下面你的颤栗

如此全新的你

●有谁知道月亮是不是一只气球

有谁知道月亮是不是
一只气球,来自天上一座
热心城市─—里面住满可爱的人?
(你我可不可以

进去,他们会不会
带我、带你上他们的气球,
哎呀如果那样
我们就可以和这些可爱的人高飞

越过房子、尖塔和云朵:
乘风飞啊飞
飞进一座无人造访过的
热心城市,那里

永远
    都是
        春天)人人都在
恋爱,花儿顾自开败



******

death(having lost)put on his universe
and yawned:it looks like rain
(they've played for timelessness
with chips of when)
that's yours;i guess
you'll have to loan me pain
to take the hearse,
see you again.

Love(having found)wound up such pretty toys
as themselves could not know:
the earth tinily whirls;
while daisies grow
(and boys and girls
have whispered thus and so)
and girls with boys
to bed will go,

******

when god lets my body be

From each brave eye shall sprout a tree
fruit that dangles therefrom

the purpled world will dance upon
Between my lips which did sing

a rose shall beget the spring
that maidens whom passion wastes

will lay between their little breasts
My strong fingers beneath the snow

Into strenuous birds shall go
my love walking in the grass

their wings will touch with her face
and all the while shall my heart be

With the bulge and nuzzle of the sea

******

when god decided to invent
everything he took one
breath bigger than a circustent
and everything began

when man determined to destroy
himself he picked the was
of shall and finding only why
smashed it into because

******

When life is quite through with
and leaves say alas,
Much is to do
for the swallow, that closes
a flight in the blue;

When love’s had his tears out,
Perhaps shall pass
a million years.
(While a bee dozes
on the poppies, the dears;

When all’s done and said, and
under the grass
lies her head
by oaks and roses
deliberated.)

******

love's function is to fabricate unknownness

(known being wishless;but love,all of wishing)
though life's lived wrongsideout,sameness chokes oneness
truth is confused with fact,fish boast of fishing

and men are caught by worms(love may not care
if time totters,light droops,all measures bend
nor marvel if a thought should weigh a star
—dreads dying least;and less,that death should end)

how lucky lovers are(whose selves abide
under whatever shall discovered be)
whose ignorant each breathing dares to hide
more than most fabulous wisdom fears to see

(who laugh and cry)who dream,create and kill
while the world moves;and every part stands still:

******

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

******

who knows if the moon's
a balloon, coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it, if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people


than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited, where

always
      it's
          Spring) and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves





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