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◎ 玛丽•奥立弗诗12首 (阅读4255次)



   玛丽•奥立弗Mary Oliver诗12首


  玛莉•奥立佛Mary Oliver生于1935年,被认为是美国当代最优秀的大自然诗人,有人称之为当代诗歌中的Thoreau梭罗。十几岁的时候,曾经住在另一个女诗人埃德娜•圣•文森•米莱Edna St. Vincent Millay旧居中帮助整理诗人的遗稿,她也曾短期上过大学,但从没有获得过大学文凭。她的第五部诗集American Primitive《美国始貌》(1983年)获得1984年普利策诗歌奖,1992年的New and Selected Poems《诗选与新作》获得当年的全国图书奖,而New and Selected Poems (Vol. 2)《诗选与新作(二)》出版于2004年。她的最新诗集Thirst《渴》出版于2006年,收入较多有关她伴侣Molly Cook莫莉•库克的诗篇。莫莉是艺术家,不仅是她的爱情生活伴侣,而且也是她的经纪人,死于2005年。

   八月
当黑莓臃肿地挂在
林中,挂在矮树丛,
不属于任何人,我便

整日徜徉于高高的
树枝下,伸出
粗悍的手臂,不想着

任何事情,只是
向嘴里塞着这夏日的
黑蜜;整日里,我的身体

来者不拒。从附近流走的
阴暗小溪中,留下了
我生命厚实的爪子在黑钟形浆果

与树叶间的舞动;还留下了
这幸福的舌头。
      选自《美国始貌》

   August
When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.
        From American Primitive (1983)


  猫崽

 我感受最深的是惊叹,
 这猫崽死胎,
 黑得完美,
 一只大眼睛
 长在小脑袋的正前方,
 我从室内的猫床上将它
 提起,埋葬在
 房子后的田野。

 我想我本可以将它
 送给博物馆,
 或者打电话
 给当地的报馆。

 然而我却将它提到野外,
 挖开大地,
 将它送回去,
 说,这才真实,
 说,生命便是无尽的创造,
 说,更有多少惊奇
 存在于大地黑暗的种子,是啊,

 我想我做得很对,独自走出,
 将它平静地送回,掩埋,
 以勃发的花作为服丧的纱带。
        选自《美国始貌》

  The Kitten

More amazed than anything
I took the perfectly black
stillborn kitten
with the one large eye
in the center of its small forehead
from the house cat's bed
and buried it in a field
behind the house.

I suppose I could have given it
to a museum,
I could have called the local
newspaper.

But instead I took it out into the field
and opened the earth
and put it back
saying, it was real,
saying, life is infinitely inventive,
saying, what other amazements
lie in the dark seed of the earth, yes,

I think I did right to go out alone
and give it back peacefully, and cover the place
with the reckless blossoms of weeds.
        From American Primitive (1983)


    秋歌

 又是一年过去了,到处是它
 气味浓烈的残余:藤蔓、树叶、
 
 没被吃掉的水果在树荫下
 潮湿地腐烂成渣,还原成为

 非物质,脱离了夏季这个
 孤立之岛,这个此刻,于是此刻

 只存在于脚下,腐烂着,
 在各种不可观测的神秘所形成的

 黑色地下城堡里——根茎、带壳的种籽
 以及水的徜徉。这一切

 我都试图记住,而时间刻度
 在表皮留下痛苦,譬如当秋季

 终于勃发,喧腾,犹如我们渴望着
 永驻——看万物生机盎然,风采
 
 鲜艳,景象更迭,永远
 居住在这些短暂的草场。
        选自《美国始貌》

   Fall Song

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this Now, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries—roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time''''s measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn


flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay—how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.
        from American Primitive (1983)

  初雪

下雪了,
这儿;从早晨
开始,一整天
没停;它那弥漫的
白色修辞
唤起我们追问
如此之美的原因、方式、来源
以及含义。犹如
神谕者的迷狂!飘过
窗户,一种精力
似乎永不退潮,永不会为安居
而牺牲些许可爱!只是在此刻,
夜深时分,
它终于止歇。
沉寂
如此巨大,
而天宇依然点着
万支蜡烛;无处可寻
熟悉之物:
星星、月亮、
以及我们可期看到
且夜夜背对的黑暗。树木
闪光犹如丝带
城堡,平阔的田野
冒着亮光如烟,一条溪床
躺着,有善良的
小丘堆积其上;
虽说整天来各种问题
侵扰我们——还没有
找到一个答案——
此刻走出去,
走进沉寂,走进
树下的光,
穿过田野,
也算是一个答案。
        选自《美国始貌》

   First Snow

The snow
began here
this morning and all day
continued, its white
rhetoric everywhere
calling us back to why, how,
whence such beauty and what
the meaning; such
an oracular fever! flowing
past windows, an energy it seemed
would never ebb, never settle
less than lovely! and only now,
deep into night,
it has finally ended.
The silence
is immense,
and the heavens still hold
a million candles; nowhere
the familiar things:
stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect
and nightly turn from. Trees
glitter like castles
of ribbons, the broad fields
smolder with light, a passing
creekbed lies
heaped with shining hills;
and though the questions
that have assailed us all day
remain—not a single
answer has been found—
walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.
        From American Primitive (1983)


 在黑水树林
看,树木
正在改变
它们自己的身体
成为光的

廊柱,
散发着浓郁的
肉桂香味
与充实;

香蒲的叶子呈示
长长的锥形,
生机勃发,从池塘
蓝色的肩头上

飘去;
而每个池塘,
无论叫什么
名字,现在都

已无名。
每年,
我一生所学的
每件事

都会回到
这里:火焰,
与丧失之黑河,
它的彼岸

便是救赎,
它们的意义
我们都无从得知。
活在这个世界

你必须能够
做到三件事:
爱那必死之物;
将它攥紧

贴着你的身骨,因为你懂得
你生命对它的依赖;
还有,到了该放手的时侯
放手。

  In Blackwater Woods
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
Everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
        From American Primitive (1983)


  夜宿森林

我以为大地
记得我,她
如此温情地接纳我,理顺
她深色的裙裾,口袋
装满苔藓和种籽。我
睡得从未如此酣甜,
河床上的一块石头,
我与星斗的白火之间毫无阻隔,
惟有我的思绪,而星星轻盈地
飘曳,宛若飞蛾穿梭于枝丫,
树木如此完美。整夜
都能听到小小的王国在我周围
呼吸,那些虫子、那些鸟儿
在黑暗中各自劳作。整夜
我坐起又躺下,犹如没在水中,紧抓着
那明亮的宿命。当晨曦绽露,
我至少已幻化消泯了十几回,进入的
境界更为美好。

   Sleeping in the Forest  

I thought the earth
remembered me, she
took me back so tenderly, arranging
her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds. I slept
as never before, a stone
on the riverbed, nothing
between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated
light as moths among the branches
of the perfect trees. All night
I heard the small kingdoms breathing
around me, the insects, and the birds
who do their work in the darkness. All night
I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling
with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
                               from Sleeping in the Forest (1979)

  太阳

你可曾见过
生活中
有何物
奇妙得胜似

太阳的仪态,
每个黄昏
雍容而随和地
向地平线漂浮

投身云朵或群山
或涟漪如皱的海洋,
然后消失——
而它又会再次闪现

冲出黑暗,
在每个清晨,
出现在世界的另一面,
像一朵红花

带着天堂般的油彩小溪向上流淌,
譬如在这初夏的清晨,
有着帝王式威严的完美距离——
你可曾体味到任何事物

像这狂放的爱——
你觉得任何地方任何语言中
会有一个字具有如此翻江倒海的容量
像太阳这么

足以涵纳
令你充盈的愉悦么?
当它喷薄而出,
温暖着你,

而你就站在那儿,
两手空空——
抑或你也
转身背对这世界——

抑或你也
疯狂追逐
权力、
物质?
       选自《诗选与新作(一)》

  The Sun

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything

such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
                          from New and Selected Poems (1992)

  野鹅

你不必非得善良。
你不必非得跪行
百里,穿过沙漠,忏悔。
你只需要听凭你身体的柔软动物爱它的所爱。
告诉我何谓绝望,你的,你也将听到我的。
与此同时世界继续运转。
与此同时太阳和雨滴清晰的小石砾
还在运行,穿过片片景物,
越过草原和深深的树林,
跨过山脉与江河。
与此同时野天鹅高高地在明洁蔚蓝的天空
再次朝着家的方向。
无论你是谁,不管你多么孤独,
世界向你的想象敞开,
像野天鹅一样呼唤你,尖锐而激越
一次又一次向你宣示你
在万物大家庭中的位置。


  Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
                 love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting Ñ
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
          from Sleeping in the Forest (1979)


  反舌鸟

今天清晨
两只反舌鸟
在苍翠的田野中
袅袅地放飞

它们歌声的
白色丝带
到空中。
我没有

更好的事情可做,
于是倾听。
我这样说
决非虚言。

很久以前,
在希腊
有一对夫妇
打开家门

接纳两个生人,
很快就发现,
他们原本
并非凡人,

而是上帝。
我很喜欢这个故事——
尽管老夫妻
几乎无物可以奉送,

除了他们奉献爱心
这种意愿——
只因为这一点
上帝垂爱他们

也祝福他们——
当上帝飞离
凡尘之躯时,
有如千万颗水珠

自喷泉升腾,
那道光
扫亮了那茅屋的
每个角落,

那对老夫妻
因为领会而颤抖,
俯首叩拜——
但他们依然一无所求,

只要他们一直过着的
艰辛生活。
上帝消失时面带微笑,
拍闪着巨大的翅膀。

不管这发生在哪里,
我总认为那该是
今天早晨——
不管我所说的是什么

我将会去做——
我当时正站在
这田野的边缘——
我当时正匆忙地

穿过我自己的心灵,
打开它暗黑的门扉——
我当时正倚身向外;
我正在倾听。


  Mockingbirds

This morning
two mockingbirds
in the green field
were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons
of their songs
into the air.
I had nothing

better to do
than listen.
I mean this
seriously.

In Greece,
a long time ago,
an old couple
opened their door

to two strangers
who were,
it soon appeared,
not men at all,

but gods.
It is my favorite story--
how the old couple
had almost nothing to give

but their willingness
to be attentive--
but for this alone
the gods loved them

and blessed them--
when they rose
out of their mortal bodies,
like a million particles of water

from a fountain,
the light
swept into all the corners
of the cottage,

and the old couple,
shaken with understanding,
bowed down--
but still they asked for nothing

but the difficult life
which they had already.
And the gods smiled, as they vanished,
clapping their great wings.

Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
this morning--
whatever it was I said

I would be doing--
I was standing
at the edge of the field--
I was hurrying

through my own soul,
opening its dark doors--
I was leaning out;
I was listening.


    牡丹

今天早晨牡丹翠绿的拳头正准备
  要击碎我的心,
    在太阳东升时,
      在太阳以他古老油润的手指触摸它们时,

它们绽放了——
  丝带的花簇,
    雪白映着粉红——
      整日里有黑蚂蚁上上下下地爬动,

在花蕊的卷心里钻出一眼眼深深的
  神秘小洞,
    肆饮那甜汁,
      把它运走

送到它们黑暗的地下城市——
  一整天,
    在风向不定的和风下,
      像参加一场盛大婚礼的舞会,

花朵们弯曲着明丽的身体,
  将芳香暗暗散给空气,
    升腾,
      它们红色的茎干聚敛着

所有的湿润与张扬
  喜滋滋、飘飘然,
    它又是依然故我——
      美得勇敢、令人效仿,

灼灼绽放。
  你爱这个世界吗?
    你珍惜你低微而宛若丝绸的生活吗?
      你欣慕葱郁的野草以及它身下的惧怕吗?

你是否也匆匆地半裹着衣服赤脚走进花园,
  那样轻捷地,
    一边惊呼它们的娇贵可爱,
      一边拥满雪白的粉红的花朵入怀,

拥着它们多汁的沉重,雍容华贵的颤动,
  拥着它们想拥有
    一刻狂放与完美的急切,在它们还没有化作
      尘泥之前,永远拥有?

            Peonies
This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
  to break my heart
    as the sun rises,
      as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
  pools of lace,
    white and pink ---
      and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
  into the curls,
    craving the sweet sap,
      taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
  and all day
    under the shifty wind,
      as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
  and tip their fragrance to the air,
    and rise,
      their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
  gladly and lightly,
    and there it is again ---
      beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
  Do you love this world?
    Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
      Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
  and softly,
    and exclaiming of their dearness,
      fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
  their eagerness
    to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
      nothing, forever?
          


  太阳

你可曾见过
生活中
有何物
奇妙得胜似

太阳的仪态,
每个黄昏
雍容而随和地
向地平线漂浮

投身云朵或群山
或涟漪如皱的海洋,
然后消失——
而它又会再次闪现

冲出黑暗,
在每个清晨,
出现在世界的另一面,
像一朵红花

带着天堂般的油彩小溪向上流淌,
譬如在这初夏的清晨,
有着帝王式威严的完美距离——
你可曾体味到任何事物

像这狂放的爱——
你觉得任何地方任何语言中
会有一个字具有如此翻江倒海的容量
像太阳这么

足以涵纳
令你充盈的愉悦么?
当它喷薄而出,
温暖着你,

而你就站在那儿,
两手空空——
抑或你也
转身背对这世界——

抑或你也
疯狂追逐
权力、
物质?
       选自《诗选与新作(一)》

  The Sun

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything

such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
                          from New and Selected Poems (1992)


  残损

我走下去,到了海水边上。
晨光中的一切如此闪亮!
海螺的尾壳,
蛤蜊残缺的食物柜,
开口的蓝色贻贝,
暗粉色的月螺被藤壶叮出了缺口,
没有一只完整或紧闭,残破了,裂开了,
被海鸥丢在汇市的岩石上,没有一丝潮气。
这一切犹如一间校舍,
写满小字,
数以千计的字。
你首先得琢磨出每一个字是什么意思,
洒满月光的脆响、螺蔓纹、扇贝纹。
然后你慢慢开始读出完整的故事。
       2003年

   Breakage

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It''''''''s like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop full of moonlight.
Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.
                                          2003

最初阅读Mary Oliver是在1990年代中,当年有一个美国女诗人来我校交流,她后来送给我的诗集中就有American Primitive《美国始貌》。半年后,她回国了,给她写过这样的一首诗,回忆当时她在我校的情景。因为她不懂汉语,因此我只能写成英文,自那之后,才开始偶尔尝试英文写作。以上译文都是从04年开始的旧译中拿出来的,分别贴在博客上了。


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