本帖最后由 阿九 于 2015-1-31 17:07 编辑
阿九译 [加] 加里•盖得斯 Gary Geddes 诗二首
第一首《公墓》是纪念智利首都圣地亚哥1970年代军政权统治期间“被失踪”的示威者。
第二首《战俘》中，作者以一个被日军关押在香港集中营的战俘的口吻，描写了一位同被关押的意大利飞行员战俘。
多谢各位指正！
1．公墓
在为失踪者而立的铁十字架之间
没有倦怠的狮子，成荫的桉树；
这里，没有人陷入腐朽，
那种墓室或寝陵里奢华封闭的腐朽，
那里，空虚的骷髅幻想着它们的重要，
白骨习惯于谈论特权。
在为失踪者而立的铁十字架之间，
你看不到一丝对知性的敬意，
没有镌刻的诗文，建筑里没有希腊
或埃及的痕迹。堆起那些被夺去一切的人们
破损的立柱，让清点一切的风
记下每一个信心的物证。
在为失踪者而立的铁十字架之间，
只有一条饿得半死的狗能够通过，
或一只蜂鸟，他的心悬在喉中。
他久久盘旋在被打开的墓穴上，
见证着这场嘲弄
连死都无法消停，在圣地亚哥。
一个妇人的一只方跟鞋在
一堆砖石和尸骨间突起，一个小小的色块
透过一团尘土显露出来。
在为失踪者而立的铁十字架之间，
她的塑料鞋跟便是不同政见的讲坛；
她的机智和坦率，是叛国之罪。
把你的这朵鲜花轻轻放在无名的死者之间，
让它的美褪色，让血从割断的喉管流干，
沁入沉默而不事张扬的大地。
*** 2015年1月30日根据下面讨论的要点修订，并向所有提出意见和建议的译友们致谢！
General Cemetery
Gary Geddes
Between the wrought-iron crosses of the disappeared
are no bored lions, avenues of eucalyptus;
here none go down to corruption
in the splendid isolation of crypt or mausoleum,
where empty skulls imagine their importance
and bones are wont to speak of privilege.
Between the wrought-iron crosses of the disappeared
you’ll find no tributes to the intellect,
no verse inscriptions, no trace of Greece or Egypt
in the architecture. Add up the ragged columns
of the dispossessed and let archival winds
record each article of faith.
Between the wrought-iron crosses of the disappeared
only a half-starved dog can pass,
or a humming-bird, his heart in his throat.
He hovers overlong above the opened grave,
bearing witness to travesties
that do not stop with death in Santiago.
A woman’s square-heeled shoe protrudes
from heaps of brick and bone, a patch of colour
showing through the skein of dust.
Between the wrought-iron crosses of the disappeared
her plastic heels are platforms of dissent;
her wit and candour, crimes against the state.
Place your flower gently now among the nameless dead
and let its beauty fade, its cut throat bleed,
into the silent, unassuming earth.
2．战俘
他越来越不合群，还学会了一种
我无法破解的语言。我的飞行员，抱负
极高之人，神秘，隐逸，比乙种线性文字
或德莱斯顿抄本还要复杂。
错乱而不通俗，又没有罗塞塔碑铭
可资利用。我无法破译他的密码、
字符及密文，这让我备受折磨的
爱的死海古卷。我退缩了，
那些游走的元音和丢失的辅音令我
彻底无语。我搔头，赌咒，
对着他用楔形文字写成的无解之谜叫骂。
当然，他还对人不理不睬，像我更年期的
肚皮上长出的疹子一样
顽固不化。而睡眠，这众所周知的
镇痛剂，终于在我的脸上爆发了。除此之外，
他的心里只有：战争，未做成的买卖，
在顿迪。也许是邓西嫩？我只是
那个多余的女巫，没有奥尔克尼丛林
可以用来束成伪装。我会毁了他珍贵的
休假；他计划中要写的诗
就这么没了。我真想在走进他的
飞机时，舔我的这位意大利园丁的
屁股，为了他照顾的一切。我真的那么干了，
还舔了其他部位。我能感觉到
我无言的细胞在一个接一个苏醒；那种痒
向南扩散。他真让人怎么喜欢
也不够，他咧嘴的坏笑，指甲缝里的
那点污垢。甚至他在铁皮屋顶的
波形板上涂画的那些古怪的
天主教圣徒也在做着甜蜜的事工
——用卷心菜般的音素，面团般的画符——
就连我这凡夫俗子也发了一对翅膀。
注
[1] 邓西嫩城堡(Dunsinane Castle)和女巫都是莎士比亚悲剧《麦克白》中的典故。奥尔克尼(Orkney Islands)苏格兰北部的一个群岛名。
P.O.W.
Gary Geddes
He grew remote, acquired a language
I could not decipher. My airman, my highflyer,
cryptic, hieratic, more complicated
than Linear B, or the Dresden Codex.
Demented not demotic, and no Rosetta Stone
to tap. I failed to crack his code,
its glyphs and glygers, the Dead Sea
Scroll of love I languished in. I regressed,
mute in the face of shifting vowels, lost
consonants. Tore my hair, mouthed vows,
cursed this vain enigma in his cuneiform.
Dismissed, of course, as menopause,
the rash that formed upon my belly
proof enough. And sleep, that famous
balm, exploded in my face. Other things
on his mind: war, unfinished business
in Dundee. Or was it Dunsinane? I was one
witch too many, no Orkney wood to order
wrapped as camouflage. I'd ruined his precious
furlough; the poems he'd planned to write
were out the window. I could kiss the ass
of my Italian gardener, for all he cared,
stepping into his plane. And so I did,
as well as all his other parts. One by one,
I felt my unvoiced cells rejuvenate; the itch
migrated south. I couldn't get enough
of him, his crazy grin, the ridge of dirt
beneath his nails. Even the quaint
Catholic saints he painted on his tin roof's
corrugations performed sweet ministries
— coleslaw phonemes, pasta pictographs —
till I too, earth-bound, human, got my wings.
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发表于 2015-1-19 12:11:10
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