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(美)约翰.阿什贝利诗歌草译

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 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-2 13:38:27 | 显示全部楼层


教学大纲
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   看,
   市中心的野蛮闪光,
   那些甘油墙
   被泪水浓缩---
   是的,为什么气味没有消失?
   亲爱的,多年了,脱下帽子和外套,
   让脚休息一会儿?现在,我们在哪里?
   
   一波又一波的新建筑
   (有些是劣质的),那么它们也深深地翻耕,
   当新浪潮露出牙齿的时候---
   它把我们带到哪里去?我说,你
   看起来有点邋遢---想梳洗一番吗?
   扮演医生?呃,我一会儿
   和你一起。是的,医生在里面。
   呃呃。现在,我们学着说什么?
   
   “改变价值体系。所有的炽热和恐惧
   起源于那里。在不好的夜晚
   一个人必须默默地脱去,快点。
   看到,取得了一些进展。”
   
   铲雪机的免责声明
   缓和了局面。很快主人双颊红润
   带着反射自己兴高采烈的神情。
   又到了该退后一步的时候,
   休息,在拱腹的庇护下,
   念出自己的字母表,鼻音清晰,向后
   好像一直以来都是这样。我们又
   抵达,似乎,虽然我们只是来寻开心的。
   
Syllabus
   
   Look,
   the savage glitter of downtown,
   those walls of glycerin
   inspissated by tears---
   yes, and why does the smell not go away?
   Honey, it’s been ages, take off your hat and coat,
   rest your feet awhile? Now, where were we?
   
   Wave upon wave of new construction
   (some of it shoddy), then that too plowed under
   as new waves bare their teeth---
   where’s it gotten us? I say, you
   look a little disheveled—want to freshen up?
   Play doctor? Uh, I’ll be with you
   in a moment. Yes, the doctor is in,
   yuk yuk. Now, what was it we were learning to say?
   
   “Change the value systems. All incandescence and fear
   have their origin there. In not nice night
   one must strip down silently, and quickly.
   See, a little headway has been made.”
   
   The snow shovel’s disclaimer
   defused the situation. Soon the host was ruddy
   with his own reflected good cheer.
   And it was again time to creep back a ways,
   to rest, sheltered by soffits,
   and pronounce one’s own alphabet, nasally and distinctly, backwards
   like it was supposed to be all along. We’ve arrived
   again, it seemed, though we only came along for the ride.

他不愿意取下圣诞装饰品
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   一个美好,正常的早晨:
   启程的脚似乎在昏睡,
   比昨天翻了一番,楼梯下有一个
   双倍的人,还有奇怪的超现实主义鱼
   从如此之多的消失,在邮件中受损。
   
   或者另一天活泼的剪刃。
   在这里,我们有这些
   大小和颜色---
   白昼颤抖着行走。
   
   像烟囱后面的常春藤
   它在绳索中生长,生长。
   老鼠队没杀它,
   但仆人听不见。
   
   一个影子咕噜咕噜,
   升上天空。
   在被破坏的通道保持沉默。
   你也能来真是太好了。被动性依托它的情况。
On His Reluctance to Take Down the Christmas Ornaments
   
   A nice, normal morning:
   feet setting out as though in a trance,
   doubling the yesterdays, a doubled man
   under the stairs, and strange surrealist fish
   from so much disappearance, damaged in the mail.
   
   Or the spry cutting edge of another day.
   Here, we have these in
   sizes and colors---
   day goes fluttering by.
   
   Like ivy behind a chimney
   it grows and grows in ropes.
   Mouse teams unslay it,
   yeomen can’t hear yet.
   
   A shadow purling,
   up into the sky.
   Silence in the vandalized vomitorium.
   It’s great that you can be here too. Passivity rests its case.

入睡的事
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   把这也放下:
   那人意识到了
   (相信一到三件事)
   终于转向轮盘赌桌
   她最后的喘息---否则,为什么不让这座大楼在倒塌时
   睡着呢,懦弱。很快
   与我生命一样巨大的信心被撕裂,
   边到边---
   告诉他们这个:
   如果我在懒惰中变老是徒然的
   在一条从读者下面发出的
   缓慢击打的流水旁,
   为什么我会受到批评?
   在寒冷的房间里
   你对铁砧的清香呼吸有反应吗?
   此外,然后,再过一段时间——但我们必须
   将注释调整到注释,
   毫不含糊地
   越过更多的领域,直到它
   从海湾顺利升起,
   一种纯粹的挑衅,
   一道无缝的能量弧。
   承重墙的碎片
   在主圣坛上方移动。
   所有的镶嵌砖飞散。
   苞片是新鲜的。
   
   在主客厅,统治者
   围着桌子坐着,微笑着同意
   任何提出的任务。
   狡猾,精明---你没有一个普通的船舷
   适合从旧港口
   和铁链圆盘的成群撤离(的人)——
   说他们来看你,
   现在很平静,任何剩下的通讯员都租了你的
   室内保险。
   令人惊奇,惊奇,
   落下光穿越且进入它自己不完美的
   恰当的感觉上,
   主要的论点出现:
   如何被务必理解,而不是用
   某人踪迹的一个大键琴---
   梦想只能再次汇集,那道路。
   在夏日的夜晚,其他坚固的磁铁
   吸引女孩们外出
   那里有一条苍白的凉廊回荡。邻居们沉默不语,
   或者这不是一个可以引人效仿政策风范的日子。
The Business of Falling Asleep   
   
   Set this down too:
   That one who was cognizant
   (belief in one to three things)
   turned at last to the roulette table
   and gasped her last---or else, why not let the building sleep
   while it collapses, spineless. In a second
   the faith that was as large as my life was split,
   edge to edge---
   And tell them this:
   If it was for nothing that I aged in a dawdle
   beside a slow-knocking stream
   out from under the reader,
   why am I being criticized?
   Do you react to fine breath of the anvil
   in a cold room?
   More, then, another time---but we will have to
   fit note to note,
   unclenchingly
   going over more territory until it all rises
   smooth from the gulf,
   a pure provocation,
   arc of seamless energy.
   The wall-bearing fragments move on over
   the main chancel.
   All the tesserae fly apart.
   Bracts are fresh and new.
   
   In the main parlor the governor
   seated around his table, smilingly assented
   to whatever assignment was raised.
   Pawky, canny---not one of your average sterns
   fitted against the exodus
   out of old harbors and disks in chains---
   Say they came to see you,
   now is calm, and whatever remaining communicants leased your
   indoor policy.
   Amazing, to amaze,
   falling light over and in on its own imperfect
   sense of the appropriate,
   the main argument emerges:
   how to be understand please, not with
   a harpsichord at one’s traces---
   the dreams only pool off again, that way.
   Other firm magnets enticed
   girls out in summer night
   where a pale loggia echoed. The neighbors fell silent,
   or it was not a day in which to have elicited model policy demeanors.

提示和片段
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   这套艺术品贴在
   被盗的人行道上。里面
   是果子露和“芭芭拉。”
   奇怪,怎么会有一天
   
   你顺便来访“完全奇怪”,
   然后第二天我们再争先恐后地把它淘汰掉。
   这是我们的启示:
   不平等价值的,一个人追求更好
   一个,直到他停止,忘记。那是
   我最喜欢的时刻,水箱的冷色调。
   价值观出现在邻里的房子;
   第二天它就被搬走。
   
   在我年轻时的宾夕法尼亚州,钨丝
   涂抹着荒谬的阴影,一个接一个。
   人群骑自行车远道而去,看你失败。
   别让他们失望
   
   在比赛中,他说
   三就是一切开始。七年的厄运
   在那之后,玫瑰色的透视
   给盛开的八度音阶装上花环。一直在她身边
   门关上了,亲切地。
   
   一切在我们身后,或者
   我们常说的。
   水壶在壁炉搁架上,今晚的
   鬼舞者很凶猛。但它聚集在
   我的手掌心,不知怎么,
   在一个令人开胃的等式中流泪。
   
   门关了,
   但还没锁。
   我们把这归功于我们儿时的狗,
   希望之树。明晰曾主宰
   梦想的地方仍然活跃,
   一支单簧管飘上岸,
   所有人都有一段好时光。
Hints and Fragments   
   
   The arty set adheres
   to the stolen pavement. Inside
   are sherbets and “Barbara.”
   Strange, how one day
   
   you’ll come over “all queer,”
   then next day we’re scrambling to stamp it out.
   Such are our inspirations:
   of unequal value, one chasing the better
   ones until he stops, forgetting. That’s
   the time I like best, cold color of cistern.
   Values show up in the neighborhood house;
   next day it’s moved on.
   
   In the Pennsylvania of my youth, tungsten filaments
   daubed hoardings ludicrous shades, one after another.
   The crowds have bicycled far out to see you fail.
   Don’t disappoint them
   
   Three on a match he said
   is how it all began. Seven years’ bad luck
   and after that, roseate perspectives garlanded
   with octaves of blooms. Keeping next to her
   and the door closes, kindly.
   
   All that’s behind us, or
   so we used to say.
   Kettle’s on the hob, ghost dancers
   are fierce tonight. Yet it collects
   in the hollow of my palm, somehow,
   tears in an appetizing equation.
   
   Door is shut,
   but hasn’t been locked yet.
   We owe this to our childhood dogs,
   sprig of hope. Where clarity once ruled
   dreams are still active,
   a clarinet floats ashore,
   a good time was had by all.

如果你问我
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   两端间整个都是停滞。
   概率是黑暗的微动,分裂,
   免责声明。是时候关上
   太空小屋。一根链子上的花瓣。
   
   因此,它是辛苦的豹子
   盗版不止一首自由赞美诗。
   水壶沸腾,不急。
   
   私下里有对被淹没在大海里的
   太阳的采访。在那张椅子上。在
   那边。
   
   当我最后一次收到他的信息时,我
   病得无法看到,进入洞里,一种
   魔法。私下里,然后是规模。
   在船上的萝卜,运动坦克
   部分被飞鱼入侵。一名
   青年重伤,还有两人
   伤势危重但病情稳定。
   
   我懂了。它飞到那里。你为什么
   不问,然后劝告我?现在
   无论我走到哪里,总会有一辆
   小三轮车在我身后,窒息的修剪,
   片刻的淫乱从放大镜里
   被看到。最好是把所有的东西都兑现,火车
   靠近狭窄的轨道,
   猛然侧向。一个邋遢哲学家
   把它像骨头一样扔到一边。然后
   水微微上升,
   在地下。我敢说地下水位吗?
   没有锐气,就像在桃子里,
   在几英里之外,僵硬。你可以说
   你多么喜欢它。马上就搞砸。
   迪克西加法器盛怒地编程。它
   喜欢停下来。你也是。你也在画布上
   忍受柔美的见证,灯笼
   在我们脸上认出恐怖,
   离开的条件,也许更进一步,比你
   知道的还要多。我给了他
   应该付出的东西。最后它是看不见的。
   它太多。
If You Ask Me   
   
   The whole is stasis between ends.
   Probability’s dark inching, sundered,
   disclaimer. Time for the space hut to
   close. Petal on a chain.
   
   Thus it was the laborious leopard
   pirated more than one freedom hymn.
   Kettle boils, not urgent.
   
   Privately there were interviews the sun
   of the sea drowned. In that chair. Over
   there.
   
   When I last got a message from him I
   was too ill to see, into the hole, an
   enchantment. Privately, then a scale.
   Turnips aboard, the sport tank is
   partially invaded by flying fish. One
   youth seriously injured, two more in
   critical but stable condition.
   
   I see. It flies down to that. Why couldn’t
   you have asked, then advised me? Now
   wherever I go it’ll always be a tiny
   tricycle behind me, stifled prunes,
   prurience of a moment seen through the
   loupe. Best to cash everything in, a train
   approaches on the narrowing rails,
   veering sideways. An untidy philosopher
   tosses it aside like bones. Then the
   water rose slightly,
   underground. Dare I say the water table?
   There will be no élan, as in a peach,
   miles away, stiffening. You can say it
   how you like it. Screws up in no time.
   The Dixie Adder is programmed livid. It
   likes to stop. You too. You too in canvas
   bearing supple testimony away, do the
   lanterns recognize terror in our faces,
   condition of gone, perhaps further, more
   than you know. I gave him what there
   was to give. At the end it was invisible.
   It was a lot.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-2 13:40:03 | 显示全部楼层



富人们
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   有很多人那样。
   有很多那样的人。
   很多人对什么东西那样做。
   很多人不对什么东西那样做。
   有很多人比那更糟。
   为消除那很多人那么做。
   这个的障碍比那大
   在那里即将向那来临的已经完成。
   未完成的完成了就是那个。
   他们对已经完成的事说
   没有留在炉子上。
   已经完成的朝向完成的那个。
   
   有许多人做这做那,
   同时也有许多人破坏了那个。
   没完成的破坏了那个。
   在打击者的帽子下的危机。
   
   你管理一个普通的如果吗?
   如果是,为什么是那个的危机?
   谁在那儿制造危机?
   为什么危机在我的时间之后。
   
   通常男人到处行走
   找楔子,角落在外面。
   他们这又为什么又在这蝙蝠中
   睫毛比那更好
   在那天。
   
   一切比有那的那日更好
   直到作为下到那里去的道路的比赛。
   他们用灰泥涂抹在一个男人的帽子下的路
   他想在一个账单下是那个。
   
   伦敦现在很冷。
   在伦敦刚才有只海鸥跃出
   在伦敦在蝙蝠的背上
   在伦敦在那个的背上。
   
   当他们和伦敦移走蝙蝠的背
   蝙蝠支持者就变成蝙蝠的背。
   烟蒂支持者成为背包之父
   以免噪音干扰后面击球的那些人。
   
   在背后真正的蝙蝠居住在
   裂缝下面的悬崖鼻子
   石榴石鼻子下面。
   峭壁尺寸的荆棘尺寸放大了尺寸,
   决定尺寸躺在荆棘的大腿下。
   
   很多那个和缺乏
   下楼梯的礼节
   也缺乏合理的储物箱
   在有稻草的仓库下。
   
   我喜欢我把过去的一切
   都想象成他所犯罪行的存在,
   看见的存在
   在绿篱下,当猫科动物
   反对被压迫的存在
   我们两个再也不会这样。
   
   谷仓爆炸。
   那家大商店分崩离析。
   草地上的碎石是它的标志
   是的,还有天空中沙砾的花彩
   当骑手骑马经过
   没有人被指定充满考试
   没有别人为什么没有别人曾经是
   为什么恼怒的天空
   我们永远不是苍蝇
   没有两块石板曾飞过
   
   不会再有商店,也不会再在商店里被苍蝇
   它们飞过,就像你爸爸一样
   站在胸前
   
   一定要到大腿
   爬过时钟的风暴而来。
The Haves
   
   Many there were that.
   There were many who that.
   Many did that to what.
   Many undid that to what.
   Many there were worse than that.
   To undo that many did that.
   More of an obstacle to this than that
   where the upcoming is done to that.
   
   The undone is done is that.
   They are speaking to what is done
   not left on the stove.
   The done is that to that done.
   
   There were many who did this and that,
   meanwhile were many who undid that.
   The undone undid the that.
   The crisis under the batter’s hat.
   
   Do you manage a common if?
   If so why is the crisis that?
   Who did the crisis there?
   Why is the crisis after my time that.
   
   Ordinarily men go around
   seeking wedgies the corner is out.
   They this and why and in this bat
   an eyelash to be better than that
   on the day that.
   
   And that was all a better than that day had that
   unto the jousting which was unto a way down that.
   They mortared the way under the man hat
   that wanted to under a bill be that that.
   
   In London just now is cold.
   In London just now a gull spring
   in London on the back of the bat
   in London on the back of that.
   
   When they and London remove the bat back
   the bat backer became the bat back.
   The butt packer begat the back pack
   under lest the noise disturb those that bat back.
   
   In the backing the true bat resides
   under a cleft the cliff nose
   garnets nosed underside.
   The cliff-size size briar sizes up size,
   Decides size is lies under briar thighs.
   
   That was a lot of that and lack
   come down the stair decorum
   and lack of reasonable store bin
   under the store the straw was been.
   Me like methink it all past being
   and beyond into the been that he sinned,
   the being that has seen
   under the hedgerow greens as feline
   is opposed to oppressed being been
   and never two of us no no more we’ll have been.
   
   The barn exploded.
   The big store ripped apart.
   Gravel on the lawn made its mark
   yes that and festoon of grit in the sky
   while the riders came riding by
   and nobody was appointed to fill the exam
   no others why no other have ever been
   why the irritated sky
   and we’ll never be the fly
   not two slates ever to fly by
   
   and no more store no more in store by the fly
   they fly by and take just as your daddy did
   and stand by the chest
   
   just make sure to be to the thigh
   came crawling across clock’s tempest.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-3 15:06:25 | 显示全部楼层


就像空气,差不多
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   归根结底
   就这么简单:
   一件事和另一件事
   薄纱似的语法;
   一顿愉快的晚餐
   和一列冰冻的火车驰进可耗尽的
   资源。
   
   我们差不多够了,
   先把帽子扔给第一个
   然后又扔给另一个,
   但还是不想
   放弃这趟旅程。
   它有这么多我们想要的!
   但除此之外,是
   变化无常的,多因素决定的。
   
   所以我传递它。
   它是值得的。
   午后,天使般的黄昏到达,
   一只蜂鸟扇动着询问的翅膀,
   这样我们就可以被带走,
   被晾晒。
   
   当后高潮发生
   在柔软的碎片里,下落
   踌躇不决,
   签走夜晚的绿宝石,
   我们把它当作是某种东西的迹象。
   “一定是某种东西的迹象。”
   然后风来了,冬天和它一起。
   “为什么,刚刚我们不在这儿,
   五分钟以前?”
   我以为我会再看一眼,
   但那条路都变了,而且,
   再也没有人去那里,
   太受欢迎了。
   
   只有一个碎片
   是我曾经想要的一切,
   但我可以拥有它,它太多了,
   但它的触碰是另一次,
   当我准备好。
   
   人群平静地退潮。
   嘿,没事的。
Like Air,Almost   
   
   It comes down to
   so little:
   the gauzy syntax
   of one thing and another;
   a pleasant dinner
   and a frozen train ride into the exhaustible
   resources.
   
   We’d had almost enough,
   tossing the cap to first one
   and then the other one,
   but still weren’t determined
   to give up the drive.
   It had so much we wanted!
   But besides that, was
   fickle, overdetermined.
   
   So I passed on that.
   It was worth it.
   Angelic eventide came along after afternoon,
   a colibri fluttered questioning wings,
   all so we might be taken out,
   aired.
   
   And when the post-climax happened
   in soft shards, falling
   this way and that,
   signing the night’s emeralds away,
   we took it to be a sign of something.
   “Must be a sign of something.”
   Then the wind came on, and winter with it.
   “Why, weren’t we just here,
   five minutes ago?”
   I thought I’d have another look,
   but that way is all changed, and besides,
   no one goes there anymore,
   it’s too popular.
   
   Just one fragment
   is all I ever wanted,
   but I can have it, it’s too much,
   but its touch is for another time,
   when I’m ready.
   
   Crowd ebbs peacefully.
   Hey it’s all right.
  
神圣的出口
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   来得最近的人没有接近。
   未知向他们倾斜,
   然后是午后。是的,杰瑞造的。
   在老城区有他们中的许多人。
   
   因为各种原因
   你给了我各种各样的毛皮礼物,你知道。
   回来真好。口香糖机提供了
   图书馆鲜明的生活方式。
   
   你不能和汽车告诉它主人的东西
   竞争。一个接一个的你都是凡人
   如果分水岭的想法流行起来
   如果我们的话语被认为是可信的。
   
   他们认为意外发现是世界上最美丽的事情。
   他们是对的。当方向盘被抓住,
   别的灵感掺入它。
   
   没有一年的税收像它。
   罗斯福裁定的一个大公共项目
   必须得到某处资金的支持。
   不可避免地,这些都采取了征税的形式。
   
   当一只知更鸟呼唤,总会有人听到。
   印花布粘在老鼠洞上。
   我们在戏院里干什么,不止一个人
   想知道。树叶像落下的股票一样飞走。
The Blessed Way Out   
   
   Those who came closest did not come close.
   The unknown leaned out to them,
   then it was post-afternoon. Yes, Jerry built it.
   There are many of them in Old Town.
   
   What with one thing and another
   you gave me all sorts of fur presents, you know.
   It was good to come back. Gumball machines furnish
   the library’s stark living style.
   
   You can’t compete with what the
   car tells its owner. One by one you are mortal
   if the watershed idea catches on
   and if we are credited for our utterance.
   
   They thought serendipity was the most beautiful thing in the world.
   They were right. As the wheel takes hold,
   other inspirations spike it.
   
   There was no year like it for taxation.
   FDR decreed a large public works program
   that had to be supported with funds from somewhere.
   Inevitably, these took the form of taxation.
   
   As when a redbreast calls, there is someone to hear it.
   Calico got pasted over the mouse hole.
   What are we doing in a theater more than one
   wondered. Leaves fled like falling stocks.
可注视的景象
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   这张专辑穿雾下沉,未被抓紧的页面
   事后渗出:“如果他不是这样一只牺牲的羔羊
   我们就已经更早发表了。事实上,他紧抓稻草
   或绒毛来维持自己良心,无论如何,这遍布在
   著作者的蜜蜂圣歌中。”
   
   别逼他跳过篮筐,我听到另一个人
   这样说我。嘿,我刚办正事。
   一辆计程车出现在门口,好像被传唤。
   它让我大吃一惊,不用告诉你。
   
   你知道当弧光灯熄灭的时候你就到了
   疯人院。街道另一侧的停车场已经暂停,
   当有停车场。除了洗碟盆的手
   我没有别的东西可以爱抚你。记忆的漩涡,
   下沉,又上下跳动,永远被带走。现在,
   我告诉你什么?你告诉我。超出黑暗
   以外,好公民是不会去的。它被植入
   他们的基因,一路开花。幸运的事
   它不是,老讨厌鬼
   
   像圣殿骑士,我们慢慢来,确保
   我们到达那里。证据迟早会溶解
   在甜食里。搞得看起来很不方便,我们又
   说了算,这都是盈亏,街上
   无处可去。我们过着像富豪一样的生活,堆得过多
   过度,直到晴朗的一天,没有什么东西可以唤醒。
   我想是因为我们被惩罚了,
   只是这种惩罚更像是一种刺激,
   一种过山车旅行的缓慢开始。
   然后受到劝告,但也不要
   把它太放在心上。它们的记录需要你和你的同类。
Sight to Behold  
   
   The album sinks through fog, its unclasped pages
   oozing afterthoughts: “If he weren’t such a sacrificial lamb
   we’d have been delivered sooner. As it is, he grasps at straws
   or fluff to keep his conscience afloat, which, in any case, seethes
   in the authorial chant of bees.”
   
   Don’t make him jump through hoops, I heard another one say
   of me. Hey, I was just getting down to business.
   A cab appeared at the door, as though summoned.
   That it gave me quite a turn I don’t have to tell you.
   You know you’ve arrived at bedlam when the arc lights
   expire. Alternate-side-of-the-street parking has been suspended,
   as has parking. Other than dishpan hands
   I have naught to fondle you with. The memory eddies,
   sinks, bobs up again, is carried away for good. Now,
   what was I telling you? You’re telling me. And beyond that point
   of darkness, good citizens don’t go. It’s implanted
   in their genes, to flower along the way.And a good job
   it’s not, old sod
   
   Like Knights Templar, we took our time, making sure
   we were getting there. Sooner or later the proof dissolves
   in the pudding. Made to look inconvenient, we had our say
   again, and it was all profit and loss; the streets
   had nowhere to go. We lived like nabobs, piling excess
   on excess, till one fine day there was nothing left to wake up to.
   I suppose it’s for that we’re being punished,
   only this punishment is more like a thrill,
   the slow beginning of a roller-coaster ride.
   Be admonished then, but don’t take
   it too much to heart either. Their records need you and your kind.
   
  
战俘基地
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   这可能会让
   辛迪的证词
   不太可信,
   现在似乎处于低谷。
   
   现在可能已经够冷。
   星星可能已经被污染。
   你继续你的勇气。
   不要战俘。
   好的。不管怎样,我不想要
   任何战俘,我想。
   被历史拉长,
   新的一天出牙,
   复杂的事情变得复杂,
   
   我们短暂的激情留下了伤疤,
   牢牢地,在黑暗中
   直到那另一天才好。
   
   弯曲巨蛇的父亲---
   
   当他们回顾21世纪
   我们将看到什么?
   现在他退休了,她也退休了,他们的孩子也退休了---
   我说,先生,我没有觉得
   
   虽然我从来没有觉得更好。
   最好是成为某人的舌尖
   新房间的材料开始到达。
Prisoner’s Base   
   
   It might have made
   Cindy’s testimony
   less credible,
   and now seems at low ebb.
   
   It may be just cold enough now.
   Stars may have become polluted.
   You go on your nerve.
   Take no prisoners.
   Fine. I don’t want any prisoners
   anyway I thought.
   Stretched by history,
   teething a new day,
   what is convoluted gets to be convoluted,
   
   and our brief passion left its scar,
   firmly, on murk
   which was OK until that other day.
   
   Father of the bending serpents---
   
   as they look back on the 21st century
   what will we see?
   Now he’s retiring and she’s retiring and their kids are retiring---
   I say sir I don’t feel
   
   though I have never felt better.
   Better to be the cusp of someone’s tongue
   and the materials of a new room begin arriving.
  
入睡的事(之二)
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   出于礼貌,我失去了我的生命。
   --兰波
   
   日子,事情,白昼时间。大东西像看不见的钟。听不见的时刻。郊区是苍白的橙色和蓝绿色,我联想到消防通道和学校。学校现在隐约可见:一个背后有五个问题的人。他们不能呆在那里,目前。他们会回来。
   
   审讯就像个问号。一旦你停下来听,你就入迷。不,请回到石头。石头上说什么?别说我不记得了,你什么都记得。这是真的,但我记得石头
   
   像只有我曾见过的第三个死者的脸。好它发生了,他似乎在说。眼睛是闭着的(我想它们一直都是这样)。你现在打算怎么办?我们不必这样停留。我们也许可以在外面见面。像以前一样喝茶。
   
   他们把酒店的船移到了一个不太招摇的地方,但穿过树木和其他生机勃勃的生命,你还是感觉很难。“它的音乐没形成胶体。”是的,但是有种超自然的恐惧感通过我,你可能知道这一切,不想告诉我,只是知道而已。令人惊讶的是,过去是如何缩小到你的手掌大小,现在被迫持有所有这些。从马尔伯勒街的台阶上摔下来。那只是一回事,但其他我不知道,永远不会知道,也在手上呈杯状。勇敢面对一天像耳朵一样向外转,太有礼貌以至于听不见。
   
   兰波说得好,尽管他的演讲可能吵闹。一个人也可以在更广阔的接受花园内接受这一点,大量阳光造假房子,以缓和谨慎的绝望,交织在某人站起来准备走的外衣上,注意到时间,好像还有一段时间要走。一个人宁可留下少量的话,由此产生不安情绪,也从不离开那派对。
   
   像勃拉姆斯,一个带手机的阳台的景象应该刻在等待的头骨上。在谓语中的焦虑,但熟练的社交,迫使音乐在某个地方出现,如果需要,可以在那里放弃。怎么样?我太在乎了,不想把一切都抛在脑后。把这个也放下…
The Business of Falling Asleep (2)
   
   Par delicatesse j ’ai perdu ma vie.
   ---Rimbaud
   
   Days, things, times of day. Big things like unseen bells. Unheard moments. Suburbs are pale orange and a greenish blue I associate with fire escapes and school. The school looms now: a person with five questions at its back. They can’t stay there, for now. They’ll be back.
   
   The interrogation was like a question mark. Once you stop to listen you’re hooked. No, go back to the stone please. What did it say over the stone? Don’t say I can’t remember, you remember everything. That is true but I’ll remember the stone
   
   like the face of only the third dead person I’d ever seen. Well it’s happened, he seemed to be saying. The eyes were closed (I suppose they always are).What are you going to do now? We don’t have to stay like this. We could meet perhaps outside. Have a tea like we used to.
   
   They moved the hotel boat to a less ostentatious location, still it felt hard coming to you through trees and other animated life. “Its music doesn’t gel.” Yes, but a weird creepy feeling came over me that you might know about all this, not wanted to tell me but just know. It’s amazing how the past shrinks to the size of your palm, forced to hold all that now. Falling down the steps in Marlborough Street. That was just one thing, but others I don’t know, never will know, are cupped in the hand as well. To brave the day turning outward like an ear, too polite to hear.
   
   Rimbaud said it well, though his speech could be clamorous. One accepts that too within a broader parterre of accepting, a load of sun coining over the house to dampen discreet despair, woven into the togs of somebody standing up to go having remarked on the time as though there were a time to go. One would rather be left with few words and the resulting remainder of unease than never to have left the party.
   
   Visions of a terrace with a cell phone ought to be engraved on the waiting skull, like Brahms. Anxious in the predicate but adept socially, pressure to have the music come out in a certain place, where it can be abandoned if desired. How about it? I care too much not to leave it all. Set this down too ...
  
实时
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   旋转木马让人想起苍蝇本身,
   在其元素中危险地列表。
   几千年来全神贯注于它沉闷的尺寸。
   
   穿着煮过的羊毛和羊毛蕾丝,顺时针
   我们的长辈们用冰的超生在腰间系住一个四合院
   就像旋转木马思考苍蝇本身。
   
   在破烂的晨曦中,我们瞥见了一眼旧的特权
   为我们创造了它们几乎没有的意义。
   几千年来全神贯注于它沉闷的尺寸
   
   恶魔家佣赶紧让其无效。
   就像旧时代的闪烁、欢笑和色彩混合
   在旋转木马中,像苍蝇一样毁灭它们自己---
   
   虽然它并不紧急,但还有时间进行昆虫学研究。
   我们只需要打个哈欠,跟着讲解员的
   足迹,几千年来全神贯注于我们沉闷的尺寸。
   
   岁月流逝,剩下很少用来作哀歌。
   从华尔兹之梦中醒来,有时间来忏悔
   我们的旋转木马激励自己,然后飞走。
   成千上万的眼泪侵蚀着它阴沉的一面。
Real Time
   
   A merry-go-round reminds itself of flies,
   listing dangerously in its element.
   Thousands of years engrossed its sullen size.
   
   In boiled wool and woolen lace, clockwise
   our elders cinched a quad with ice o’ersprent
   as merry-go-rounds bethought themselves of flies.
   
   Glimpsed sharp in ragged dawn the old franchise
   builds for us what they could have hardly meant.
   Thousands of years engross its sullen size
   
   that demon domestics haste to neutralize.
   As in old flickers, laughs and colors blent
   in a merry-go-round, doom themselves like flies---
   
   though it’s not urgent; there’s time to entomologize.
   We need only yawn, following the docent’s
   trail, and thousands of years engross our sullen size.
   
   Age sags; little’s left to elegize.
   Waking from waltz-dream with time to repent
   our merry-go-round bestirs itself, then flies.
   Thousands of tears erode its sullen sides.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-4 17:59:53 | 显示全部楼层


天堂的日子
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   1
   
   哲学家走到我跟前,用铅笔轻拍
   我的额头。现在这让你想起什么?
   你以前曾见过这样的东西?
   是的,如果它与成长中世界的精髓同步的话。
   我能理解那个床垫。我理解了。我是说我理解了,有时候。
   今天是星期几?
   我来胡乱猜测一下---今天是星期四。你错了,
   虽然看起来像星期四。他们送我泰晤士报
   一路去上游,它到了,开始微笑,我
   吓了一跳,我总是在这样的时候。但这一次
   不同,更多的事情岌岌可危,尽管我不知道
   什么。更多加班,也许。
   继续,我们没有整晚干。你以为
   我喜欢看蜡烛的阴沟?嗯,是吗?
   是的,我想你更愿意这么做,但这不是重点。
   嘿,什么是该死的重点?它就是你在这里,
   更早,而且花了太长时间来这里。到那时
   就太晚,但你早就来了,希望早点
   投射它,把自己放在有利的光中。
   那灯光从吊灯上摇曳,就像一只猩猩
   等待进一步指令,在恶作剧中,想知道
   这一切到底是不是粥。哲学家是你的男朋友。
   记得你以前很火热。现在它看起来像一块不合季节的外壳,
   还有呼吸参与其中,怪味,
   其方式和烟囱上的格子架完全吻合。
   你,另一方面,从这个国家离开,或者像你说的那样,
   所以不可能亲眼目睹事实上
   没有人看到的耀斑,并且能够继续。我
   良心清白。我饿了,午饭,或晚饭,等待。
   
   2
   
   在睡眠和垃圾之间是回忆,
   对一个能闻的人的嗅觉。多么轻松,虽然---如果大雪纷飞
   他们决定走回到它,那将制造又一场游戏。
   
   是的,我亲爱的,它的道路已经决定。当他们同时上来
   喘气的时候,停战宣告了,
   楼梯上装饰着鲨革。除了
   他们之外的其他人当然可能做出决定,但这只是
   在我们所关心的无限方式。我们昏厥了一会儿。
   
   还有一些人避开泻药和牛肉。我们不能从逻辑上宽恕
   在这件事上取得进展。我说你把1924年6月23日到期的
   图书馆的书还给了我,你欠我
   四万亿八十万二十三美分。幸运的是,在过去的十年里
   一项暂停令被提出,宽恕被发明了,
   你可以自由地在梯子旁边生闷气。
   
   当我乘电梯到顶部,
   四处走走,什么也没看到,然后又下来了。
   然后,凭直觉,我上升,比第一次
   快得多,看见两个恋人在地平线上缠绵,
   但让他们走,把大花边宽领(1)训练成一只
   跛着脚走过圣地的兔子,被解雇,提前退休,以
   避免四面楚歌,现在我就像你看见的那样:
   一个盲人厨师,给付钱的客人端上色情松饼
   在鸡尾酒上,在大海打开并喝下我们,然后接近我们之前,
   像个白痴一样使劲碰嘴唇。
   
   3
   
   我从汤到坚果什么都可以。她的胸脯
   扣在父的马裤上,某个有麻烦的人。
   减半和拥有新事物是一回事。
   我一直比较喜欢他,他是个受到严重损伤的人,比普通人优越,
   但是,哦,如此离群索居。如果他有酒窝,
   每个人都有。如果他和某人上床
   其他任何人也得上。那是他快乐的夏天。
   那时时尚“支配”很多事情,我们对此
   很冷静。你们中的一些人可能会认为生活是蜜月的
   一种上铺。高跷上的婚姻。绝对的事实是,
   一旦完成就没人看着你。
   我们不妨自我更新---追逐很快就会达到顶点,
   尽管时间不长,正如伽利略的橘子所教导的那样。
   事实总会更进步一点,而且坐在那里。
   没有人能读懂它
   被取代的脸上的表情。
   第三个怪物似乎认为该轮到他说一些话。“好吧…”
   “伙计们,我不能这样继续下去,也就是说,你们不能。
   无论谁遭受命运的顽皮棍棒,都应该坦白。
   否则就没有解释,我们也知道
   这是不可能的。在另一个生命中,用我们可以亲吻我们主人的管子
   抽取这一个,因为那一天一切都是游戏。
   转移能源疲倦的报春花对我们有既得利益。
   这个团队部分拥有我们每个人一份。猜猜看。问海神。
   据我所知,我降下今天商品的
   铁百叶窗。如果他来了,上帝保佑我们。但如果他没来
   我们还是姐妹,在刺绣中温顺,但在
   最不经意的地方反抗。我的狗说出证明。我也会舀海浪,
   我以前是浴室服务员。我数学成绩很好。
   没有进入我选择的大学。哦,好吧。悲哀,
   下水道里风滚草让人窒息,云朵上的睫毛膏,我们小市中心的
   木制假面,只是我们没有离开这里,不应该预先聚集
   当夜幕降临,现实飞行。你晚上出来会被抓。”
   画中的女孩说了这些,让我偶然碰到,
   然后转过身。
   
   恒星的联系是一个超级大脑
   它可以接纳你和我,而不是斑驳或扰乱,
   而我们却过着安静、阴暗的生活。微不足道是我们的所有。
   颜色,黑色的海洋褐红色,我们属于地球属于我们的意义,
   更放心,当白昼倒塌,是一回事---一个困境
   是一个解决办法。这就是为什么我永远不能回到哲学中去---
   它的大厅和房间是一个空虚的范例,不是真实的东西,
   因为只有在石头下才是
   对底层的知识,而我的欲望巨大。
   所以决定了。我去收拾行李
   或是什么的,我们有票。
   
   总有一天我会带你去那儿,我知道,虽然燃烧着的动脉阻塞着,
   但没有那么多,栗子仍然在火中沐浴。
   但当取样其他精华的时间来到时
   她已经潜逃,不在门柱后面。
   就这样,根茎状的,生命被添加到生命中,直到没有退却,
   并再次处理它今天不记得我们名字,
   只有脸的迟钝意识。
   
   但毫无疑问,他们的意图
   是导弹锁定了猎物,房屋为婚礼
   扫荡,他们喊叫,无法改变任何东西。
   我们每人吃开胃菜,学生们走了。
   我的四面体向夜晚敞开。
   
   (“但这是否暗示了大脑是倾斜的?
   一张狡猾的草图会把你带进集市,
   在那里,只要你保持安静,你就能拥有巨大的,颤抖的野兽?
   一个人在护城河上的呼吸忽略了长矛的肩膀,
   而教士又一次渴望它所吞下的东西,
   让它再次苏醒?我们曾经是德卢斯的表亲?
   在那里,秃鹰犁地,节衣缩食
   草木和侍者插嘴?我要做我自己广阔的安慰剂。
   暮色伴随潮湿的管道匆忙出现。
   我们的故事还有更多,更多的是讲述---”)
   
   未建成的需求增加关注。我们被卷走,
   而你从没学会杰伊的姓。也许是杰伊。
   傍晚准时衰退。
   报纸由信鸽邮递送来,
   就像可能那样。我们喜欢热食。你和我
   还有别的事。叹息着有视力者。他们想知道为什么
   味道不正好。用死牛奶。但那肯定
   是一局,它必须是。我们都努力工作。它在我这里出现,
   所有这些损失,然后是时间。加到你的时间。颤抖的几分钟
   她来了,坐在我们旁边。“现在,没事了。孩子们会希望
   你这样的方式,快乐。但年纪越大,我越难
   爬上那根巨大的树根,
   它超出一切事物的延伸,知道吗?你确实知道。
   我会把钥匙留给你,最后。不要犹豫使用它。
   别给我打电话。或者看到这个不对劲。就像一条迷人的
   蛇,她领她走了,我们一半人悬而不决,
   另一半结束辩论。但结果是这种方式。我知道
   一切,在你家的走廊里。你不应该发出这样的声音
   不应该意指它们。总有一天我们可以靠噪音生活,
   但现在广场前院过度生长。在我的日子我曾经爱过一些东西,
   抛开其他的,让别的在一旁落下。我们现在
   收获的盛宴是沉重的,模糊不的。他们的声音模糊不清。他们可以低声吟唱。
   彼此都在想:都走了。但腐烂。日子会
   继续为我们彻底旋转,树木也会为我们啭鸣,
   但不是经常,也不是很好。
Heavenly Days
   
   I
   
   The philosopher walked over to me and tapped me on the brow
   with his pencil. Now does this remind you of anything?
   Have you ever seen anything like this before?
   Yes, if it’s in sync with the marrow of the growing world.
   I can relate to that mattress. I do. I mean I do, sometimes.
   And what day of the week might this be?
   I’ll make a wild guess---it’s Thursday. You’re wrong,
   though it seems like a Thursday. They sent me the Times
   upstream all the way, it arrived and began to smile, I
   was startled, I always am when it’s like that. But this
   time it was different, more was at stake, though I don’t known
   what, exactly. More overtime, perhaps. Get
   on with it, we don’t have all night. You think
   I like watching the candles gutter? Well, do you?
   Yes, I think you do rather, but that’s not the point.
   Well what is the fucking point? It’s that you were here,
   earlier, and took too long to get here. By then
   it was too late, but you’d been here earlier, hoping to cast
   it as earlier, and yourself in a favorable light.
   That light is now swaying from the chandelier, like an orangutan
   awaiting further instructions, in mid-mischief, wondering if
   all this is porridge after all. The philosopher is your boyfriend.
   Remember you were hot before. Now it seems like an unseasonable crust,
   with breath still to be counted, the weird smell,
   and the way it all tallies with the trellis up the chimney.
   You, on the other hand, were out of the country, or so you say,
   and so couldn’t possibly have witnessed the flare
   that in fact no one saw, and can get on with it. My
   conscience is clear. I’m hungry, and lunch, or supper, is waiting.
   
   II
   
   Between sleep and rubbish is the remembrance,
   scent to one who can smell. What a relief, though---if snow flies
   and they decide to walk back into it, that will make one more game.
   Yes, mon chou, the way it is has been decided. When they come up for air
   at the same moment, a truce is called,
   and the staircase draped with shagreen. Others
   than they may of course make decisions, but only in the infinity
   of ways which concern us. We blacked out for a moment.
   
   Still others avoid laxatives and beef. We cannot logically condone
   headway in the matter. I said you brought back library books
   that were due on June 23, 1924, and you owe me four trillion eight hundred
   thousand twenty-three cents. Luckily a moratorium
   was introduced in the last decade, forgiveness was invented,
   and you are free to sulk by the ladder.
   
   As it was I took the elevator to the top,
   walked around and didn’t see anything and came back down.
   Then, acting on a hunch, I went up much faster
   than the first time, and spotted two lovers entwined on the horizon,
   but let them go, training the big bertha instead on a rabbit
   limping across hallowed ground, was dismissed, took early retirement instead
   to avoid embarrassment all round, and now am as you see me:
   a blind cook serving pornographic muffins to paying guests
   over cocktails before the sea opens and drinks us, then closes over us,
   smacking its lips like an idiot.
   
   III
   
   Everything from soup to nuts is OK with me. Her bust came
   buckled to Dad’s breeches, someone in trouble.
   Halving and having a new thing are the same.
   I always preferred him, he was a wreck, superior to the common man,
   but oh so separate. If he had dimples,
   everybody had to have them. If he went to bed with someone
   everybody else had to too. It was his summer of fun.
   The fashions “dictated” a lot of things just then, we were cool
   with that. Some of you might think of life as some kind of upper berth
   on a honeymoon. Marriage on stilts. The absolute truth is,
   no one’s going to look at you once it’s done.
   We may as well refresh ourselves---the chase soon comes to a head,
   though not for long, as Galileo’s orange teaches.
   The truth is always a bit further on, and sits there.
   No one can read the expression
   on its supplanted face.
   The third monster seemed to think it was his turn to say something. “Well...”
   “Folks I can’t go on like this, that is, you can’t.
   Whoever suffers fate’s naughty cudgel ought to come clean.
   Otherwise there’s no explanation, and that cannot be,
   as we know. In some other life siphoned out of this one with a tube we can all
   kiss our masters, for that day anything is play.
   The raddled cowslips of diverted energy have a vested interest in us.
   The team partly owns a share of each one of us. Go figure. Ask Neptune.
   And insofar as I count, I’m lowering the iron shutter
   on today’s wares. God help us if he comes along. But if he doesn’t
   we shall be sisters all the same, tame in embroidery, yet resistant
   where least expected. My dog speaks proof. I can ladle surf too,
   I used to be a bathhouse attendant. I got good grades in math.
   Didn’t get into the college of my choosing. Oh well. It’s triste,
   the drain choked with tumbleweed, mascara on the clouds, the wooden false fronts
   of our little downtown, only we hadn’t left it this way, and ought not to foregather
   as darkness falls and the real for flies. You get caught out at night.”
   The girl in the drawing said it and made it happen to me,
   then turned over.
   
   The nexus of the star is a superbrain
   that can take in you and me and not be mottled or disturbed,
   while we lead quiet, shadowed lives.Insignificance is all we have.
   The colors, dark ocean maroon, we belong to in the sense that earth belongs to us,
   more reassurance, and when day collapses it’s the same---a plight
   that is a solution. That’s why I can never go back to philosophy---
   its halls and chambers are a paradigm of emptiness, not the real thing,
   for only under stones is the knowledge
   of underneath, and my desire is mammoth.
   So it’s decided. I’ll pack my suitcase
   or something, we have the tickets.
   
   Someday I’ll get you there, I know this, the flaming artery obstructs
   but not that much, chestnuts still bask in the fire.
   But when it came time to sample other essences
   she had absconded, wasn’t behind the goalpost.
   In this way, rhizome-like, life gets added to life until there is no backing down,
   and again tackles its dull awareness of today’s
   not remembering our names, only faces.
   
   But there’s no mistaking their intent
   The missile had locked on its prey, houses are swept
   for weddings, they cry and can’t alter anything.
   We each had an appetizer, the pupils left.
   My tetrahedron is open to the night.
   
   (“But was it hinted that brains slant otherwise?
   That a draft of cunning will get you into the fair,
   where, as long as you keep quiet, you can own great, quivering beasts?
   That one’s breath on the moat ignores the shoulders of pike,
   and once more the canon desires what it devours,
   made to come round again? That we were cousins once in Duluth?
   That there is scrimping out there where buzzards plow
   the greenery and bellboys interrupt? I’ll be my own vast placebo.
   Twilight comes with a rush and wet plumbing.
   There is more to our story, more to the telling of it---”)
   
   The unbuilt demands added attention. We got swept along,
   and you never learned Jay’s last name. Perhaps it was Jay.
   Evening ebbed on the hour.
   The newspaper arrived by pigeon post,
   as might be. We loved hot food. There is something else
   for you and me. Sighed the voyante. And they wonder why it didn’t
   taste just right. With dead milk. But surely that
   was an inning, it had to be. We had all worked so hard. It comes over me,
   all this loss, and then the time. Added to your hours. For a few thrilling minutes
   she came and sat by us. “For now, it’s all right. The children would have wanted
   you to be this way, happy. But the older I get the harder
   it is for me to climb the giant root,
   beyond which is an extension of everything, see? You do see.
   I’ll leave you the latchkey, at last. Don’t hesitate to use it.
   Don’t call me. Or see anything wrong with this.Like a charming
   serpent, she took her leave, with one half of us in suspense,
   the other clotured. But it was turning out this way. I knew it all
   along, in the hallway of your dwelling.You shouldn’t make such noises
   and not mean them. There’ll come a day when we’ll live off noise,
   but for now the square forecourt is overgrown. I’ve loved some things in my time,
   cast others aside, let others fall by the wayside. The feast such
   as we now reap it is heavy, indistinct.Their voices blur. They could croon.
   Each to the other thinks: It’s gone. But rotten. Days will
   go on turning themselves inside out for us, and trees warble for us,
   but not often and not very well.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-4 18:01:00 | 显示全部楼层



甘默.万斯先生
   
   (选自 Chinese Whispers )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   上星期天早上六点,晚上我坐着我的小船
   在山顶上航行,一个平头陌生人
   向我敬礼,于是我问他,他能告诉我是否那个小老
   妇人死了,她
   
   上星期六被处以绞刑,因为她在一场羽毛雨中淹没了自己?
   “问修道士刘易斯,他认为‘在那儿干那些’意味着在所谓的
   生命之夜。他有机会用下棋取悦你。我
   要的一切是我那该死的处方。”“先生,你会拿到的,”他用
   平和的声音回答。所以他给了我一份啤酒和一杯冷牛肉,
   然后就有了这只小狗。
   
   我看不出有什么比这更礼貌,当太阳已经过了它的顶峰,
   然而火腿无线电操作员却在每一个海湾出没,用他们的忙乱弄脏墙壁。
   当两只天鹅来到那里,一只昏厥被减轻。
   另一只在墙里迷失。
   他似乎认为我知道一些秘密或其他适合于
   壁炉里的拙劣木头。我想这让他躲了我
   12个月。
   在那之后,我们开始作买卖,实际上签了合同。
   他很伤心。那小子让他付出了代价。有两个妻子和另一个
   在路上,他不会把自己交给一辆二手雪佛兰。这是
   可以理解的,我想我说它是可以理解的。这个人
   没有心情考虑这些区别。至少我想他说
   带上重炮则梦想就会实现否则
   就不会发生,不在我的日记里。好吧为什么我也
   这么想,我祝福他风中的赛尔斯。吸食者会
   在我们的新模板上到处都是,用葡萄蜂蜜弄脏,我要
   挑战你的围攻权。他心不在焉地
   同意,然后在画眉中结束。不是为了…好吧,
   对不起。诅咒我已经签约,
   没必要为之跳脚,给它一个好脸。温和的眼睛
   表达孩子的尊严。好吧,让它腐烂,它
   一开始就华而不实。
   
   “不,别吊他,”他说,因为他昨天杀了一只野兔。如果你
   不相信我,我就给你看篮子里活着的野兔。
   
   于是他们建造了一座浮桥,当他们越过那条鱼时,喝彩。
   我吓坏了,在海峡群岛血的赌桌上
   瘦了40磅,我说。于是我放火烧弓,镇定我的箭,
   射向他们。我一边折断了十七根肋骨,
   另一边二十一根半;但我的箭干净利落地通过
   没有碰到它,最糟糕的是我把箭弄丢了;
   但是我在树洞里又发现了它。我感觉到了
   它;它觉得潮湿。我闻到了它;它闻到了蜂蜜的味道。
Sir Gammer Vans   
   
   Last Sunday morning at six o’clock in the evening as I was sailing
   over the tops of the mountains in my little boat a crew-cut stranger
   saluted me, so I asked him, could he tell me whether the little old
   woman was dead yet who
   
   was hanged last Saturday week for drowning herself in a shower of feathers?
   “Ask Monk Lewis what he thinks ‘been there done that’ means in the so-called
   evening of life. Chances are he’ll regale you with chess moves. All I
   want is my damn prescription.” “And you shall have it, sir,” he answered
   in a level voice. So he gave me a slice of beer and a cup of cold veal
   and there was this little dog.
   
   I see no reason to be more polite when the sun has passed its zenith,
   yet ham radio operators infest every cove, defacing walls with their palaver.
   And when two swans come to that, one swoons and is soothed.
   The other lost inside a wall.
   He seemed to think I knew some secret or other pertaining to the botched
   logs in the fireplace. This caused him to avoid me I think
   for a twelvemonth.
   After which we got down to business and actually signed the contract.
   He was inconsolable. The brat had cost him. With two wives and another
   on the way wouldn’t commit himself to a used Chevy. Which is
   understandable I think I said it’s understandable. The man
   was in no mood to entertain these distinctions. At least I thought he said
   bring on the heavy artillery the dream is now or
   it won’t happen, not in my diary. Well why that’s just what
   I think too, I blessed him Cells in the wind. The sucker’ll be all
   over our new templates, smearing them with grape honey, I’ll
   challenge you for the right to beleaguer.To which he assented
   abstractedly and it was over in a thrush.Not to ... well excuse me
   too. Curses I’d already signed on,
   there was no need to jump for it, put a good face on it. Mild eyes
   expressing a child’s dignity. OK for it to rot, it
   was pompous to begin with.
   
   “No, don’t hang him,” says he, for he killed a hare yesterday. And if you
   don’t believe me I’ll show you the hare alive in a basket.
   
   So they built a pontoon bridge, and when they had crossed over the fish applauded.
   I was aghast, lost forty pounds at the gaming tables of the
   Channel Islands, ’sblood(1) I said. So I set fire to my bow, poised my arrow,
   and shot amongst them. I broke seventeen ribs on one side,
   and twenty-one and a half on the other;but my arrow passed clean through
   without ever touching it, and the worst was I lost my arrow;
   however I found it again in the hollow of a tree. I felt
   it; it felt clammy. I smelt it; it smelt honey.
   
   (1)原文如此。不知道是不是印刷错误。

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-5 13:16:30 | 显示全部楼层

这个房间
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我走进的房间是这个房间的梦
   沙发上所有的脚都是我的。
   一只狗的椭圆形肖像
   是早年的我。
   有东西闪闪发光,有东西沉寂。
   
   我们每天午餐都吃通心粉
   除了星期天,一只小鹌鹑被诱导
   为我们服务。我为什么要告诉你这些事?
   你甚至不在这里。
This Room   
   
   The room I entered was a dream of this room
   Surely all those feet on the sofa were mine.
   The oval portrait
   of a dog was me at an early age.
   Something shimmers, something is hushed up.
   
   We had macaroni for lunch every day
   except Sunday, when a small quail was induced
   to be served to us. Why do I tell you these things?
   You are not even here.

如果你说你会和我一起来
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   在城里,它是非常城市化的,但在乡下,牛覆盖了小山。云很近,很潮湿。我和安娜沿着人行道散步,欣赏着零散的风景。突然,从我们身后传来了一个像低沉钟声一样的声音。我们都转身去看。 “这是你过去说的那些话,现在又萦绕在你脑际,”安娜解释说,“他们总是这样干,你知道。”
   我确实做了。多次,这种深沉钟声般的语调闯入我的思绪,起初把它们打乱,然后又把它们重新排列成苹果馅饼的顺序。“两只乌鸦,”那声音似乎在说,“坐在一个日晷上,在上帝赐予的阳光下。然后一个飞走了。”
   “是的…然后?”我想问,但我保持沉默。我们拐进一个院子,走上几段楼梯到屋顶,那里正在举行一个聚会。“这是我的朋友汉斯,”安娜以介绍的方式说。没有人多加注意,几个客人走到栏杆前欣赏果园和葡萄园的景色,接近它们秋天的辉煌。然而,其中一个女人友好地来迎接我们。我想知道这是不是一个“收获之家”,一个我经常听到但从未理解的短语。
   “欢迎到我家...好,到我们家,”女人高兴地说。“正如你所见,葡萄正在收获。”她似乎能读懂我的心思。“他们说今年的葡萄酒将是一个平凡的年份,但景观是可爱的,尽管如此。你不同意吗,先生…”
   “汉斯,”我简短地回答。前景确实很可爱,但我想离开。我找了个借口,用胳膊肘把安娜引向楼梯,然后我们离开了。
   “你太不礼貌了,”她冷淡地说。
   “亲爱的,我受够了能读懂你心思的人。当我想读懂的时候,我会去找心读者。”
   
   “我正好是其中之一,我可以告诉你,你的想法是错误的。听大钟说:‘在我们自己的地盘上,在我们自己的时间里,我们都是陌生人。’你应该注意到。现在必须做出调整。”
If You Said You Would Come with Me   
   
   In town it was very urban but in the country cows were covering the hills. The clouds were near and very moist. I was walking along the pavement with Anna, enjoying the scattered scenery. Suddenly a sound like a deep bell came from behind us. We both turned to look.“It’s the words you spoke in the past, coming back to haunt you,” Anna explained. “They always do, you know.”
   Indeed I did. Many times this deep bell-like tone had intruded itself on my thoughts, scrambling them at first, then rearranging them in apple-pie order. “Two crows,” the voice seemed to say, “were sitting on a sundial in the God-given sunlight. Then one flew away.”
   “Yes ... and then?” I wanted to ask, but I kept silent. We turned into a courtyard and walked up several flights of stairs to the roof, where a party was in progress. “This is my friend Hans,” Anna said by way of introduction. No one paid much attention and several guests moved away to the balustrade to admire the view of orchards and vineyards, approaching their autumn glory. One of the women however came to greet us in a friendly manner. I was wondering if this was a “harvest home,” a phrase I had often heard but never understood.
   “Welcome to my home ... well, to our home,” the woman said gaily. “As you can see, the grapes are being harvested.” It seemed she could read my mind. “They say this year’s vintage will be a mediocre one, but the sight is lovely, nonetheless. Don’t you agree,Mr.…”
   “Hans,” I replied curtly. The prospect was indeed a lovely one, but I wanted to leave. Making some excuse I guided Anna by the elbow toward the stairs and we left.
   “That wasn’t polite of you,” she said dryly.
   “Honey, I’ve had enough of people who can read your mind. When I want it done I’ll go to a mind reader.”
   “I happen to be one and I can tell you what you’re thinking is false. Listen to what the big bell says: ‘We are all strangers on our own turf, in our own time.’ You should have paid attention. Now adjustments will have to be made.”

一只红雀
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   它横穿马路以避免与我打招呼。“可怜的东西,除了我自己的,”我说,“没有一首歌,日子永远不会结束。”那东西小心翼翼地走近。我非常同情它的愚蠢,以至于巨大的泪水开始涌出我的眼睛,扑通一声掉到坚硬的地面上。“我不需要那样的欢迎,”它说。“我已经为你准备好。所有的瓢虫、嗡嗡作响的苍蝇和鳄鱼都知道你和你的把戏。可怜的,便宜的东西。走开,把你的歌带走吧。”
   夜幕降临,我没有意识到。几个小时过去了,我站在那里,沉思着草地和对这个不幸的生物可能的回答。一个泥瓦匠仍站在梯子顶上修理屋顶的瓦片,在月光照耀下。但是没有月亮。但我能看到他的腋下,头发从腋下喷涌而出,以及他决心想加固那堵墙的交易技巧。
A Linnet   
   
   It crossed the road so as to avoid having to greet me. “Poor thing but mine own,” I said, “without a song the day would never end.”Warily the thing approached. I pitied its stupidity so much that huge tears began to well up in my eyes, falling to the hard ground with a plop. “I don’t need a welcome like that,” it said. “I was ready for you. All the ladybugs and the buzzing flies and the alligators know about you and your tricks. Poor, cheap thing. Go away, and take your song with you.”
   Night had fallen without my realizing it. Several hours must have passed while I stood there, mulling the grass and possible replies to the hapless creature. A mason still stood at the top of a ladder repairing the tiles in a roof, by the light of the moon. But there was no moon. Yet I could see his armpits, hair gushing from them, and the tricks of the trade with which he was so bent on fixing that wall.
   

波宾斯基兄弟
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   “她的名字叫丽兹,我的生意需要她,”我放肆地哼着。一束云彩都向同一个方向倾斜,飘过发际线的地平线,像成人和孩子的宗族,都匆匆朝着未知的目的地加速。清脆的敲击声。对你妈妈做了什么?现在是...所以你明白了,她...我。 一旦你通过了说教,一个新的冬天的暮色爬进住所。
   很多朋友刚挺过来?僵化的汤,牢固相接的单桅帆船。伍迪让员工无所事事。你永远不知道什么。这就是我想的。就像两个音符,我们滑开,远离彼此保护性的嫉妒。这只老猫,自己晒太阳,对此没有困难。从天上垂下的透明仙女列车也没有,这表明他们从来不在任何地方,尤其是在那里。那时候我们笑得很开心。但确实很痛。现在仍然如此。这就是我想的,他拍击。
The Bobinski Brothers   
   
   “Her name is Liz, and I need her in my biz,” I hummed wantonly. A band of clouds all slanted in the same direction drifted across the hairline horizon like a tribe of adults and children, all hastening toward some unknown destination. A crisp pounding. Done to your mother what? Are now the ... And so you understand it, she ... I. Once you get past the moralizing a new winter twilight creeps into place. And a lot of guys just kind of live through it? Ossified soup,mortised sloop. Woody has the staff to do nothing. You never know what. That’s what I think. Like two notes of music we slid apart, far from one another’s protective jealousy. The old cat, sunning herself, had no problem with that. Nor did the diaphanous trains of fairies that sagged down from a sky that suggested they had never been anywhere, least of all there. At the time we had a good laugh over it. But it did hurt. It still does. That’s what I think, he slapped.

再一次不是你
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   以为我给你写这首诗是“是”,
   我知道你不需要它是“不”,
   你不必为此感谢我。只是
   有点想把它从我的胸口甩掉
   扔到花生尘土里。
   
   你抵达我,这是某些事。
   我不只是你的对手,你
   是我的对手,我们解开衬衫上的
   扣子,这是一个满意的外观。
   
   然后不合时宜的缪斯风闻到它。
   捡起它,拖到那里。
   那个罗圈腿男人一直
   在看。“...让贝蒂回到船上。”
   
   现在是二十岁恋情的时间。
   设想洗牌板上你的位置。
   你,山姆,必须用折纸
   做一个紫色的祈祷文,然后塞满它。如果你
   呕吐,那就已经太晚了。
   
   我看到我身后的小峡谷,漂流,
   充满漂流的空间。
   阁楼里的椅子不怀好意。
   
   然后你带着我抱着我,就像我是个孩子
   或是一个奖品。有那么一会儿我以为我认识你,
   可你却退后,擦了擦眼镜,“哦,
   不好意思?”好吧,
   下次来
   
   当巨大的海鸟在大西洋上空敲钟,
   充电的消防车调整它橙色的衬裙
   在撞倒女孩抱起的老人后。
   
   现在已经太晚了,书关闭,鲑鱼
   不再喷吐。如你所知。
Not You Again
   
   Thought I’d write you this poem Yes,
   I know you don’t need it No,
   you don’t have to thank me for it. Just
   want to kind of get it off my chest
   and drop it in the peanut dust.
   
   You came at me and that was something.
   I was more than a match for you, you
   were a match for me, we undid the clasps
   in our shirtings, it was a semblance of all right.
   
   Then the untimely muse got wind of it.
   Picked it up, hauled it over there.
   The bandy-legged man was watching
   all this time.“... to have Betty back on board.”
   
   Now it’s time for love-twenty.
   Assume your places on the shuffleboard.
   You, Sam, must make a purple prayer
   out of origami and stuff it. If you’ve
   puked it’s already too late.
   
   I see all behind me small canyons, drifting,
   filling up with the space of drifting.
   The chair in the attic is up to no good.
   
   Then you took me and held me like I was a child
   or a prize. For a moment there I thought I knew you,
   but you backed away, wiping your specs, “Oh,
   excuse…” It’s okay,
   will come another time
   
   when stupendous seabirds are carilloning out over the Atlantic,
   when the charging fire engine adjusts its orange petticoats
   after knocking down the old man the girl picks up.
   Now it’s too late, the books are closed, the salmon
   no longer spewing. Just so you know.

终点站
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   你没收到我的名片?
   你看,我们谁也不知道我们要来
   直到公共汽车真正驶出终点站。
   我有点悲伤地凝视着我鞋底的
   橡胶,发现它不够用。
   
   我有点疯狂,在等待
   停止后,但现在我像某些迷失的城市的
   郊区花园一样冷静。当然,到了我演讲的时候
   我什么都想不起来。
   我就洋葱做了一个小小的讨论---其味道如何
   启发我们,它的形状如何影响我们的建筑。
   还有很多其他的事情我也想说,
   但是,打扮得时髦,我不能昂首阔步,
   不能坐下来,为所有的口水和润色。
   现在轮到你谈谈
   花园里的墙。它可以是任何东西。
Terminal
   
   Didn’t you get my card?
   We none of us, you see, knew we were coming
   until the bus was actually pulling out of the terminal.
   I gazed a little sadly at the rubber of my shoes’
   soles, finding it wanting.
   
   I got kind of frenzied after the waiting
   had stopped, but now am cool as a suburban garden
   in some lost city. When it came time for my speech
   I could think of nothing, of course.
   I gave a little talk about the onion---how its flavor
   inspires us, its shape informs our architecture.
   There were so many other things I wanted to say, too,
   but, dandified, I couldn’t strut,
   couldn’t sit down for all the spit and polish.
   Now it’s your turn to say something about the wall
   in the garden. It can be anything.

品牌忠诚度
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   “父亲,你在破坏收藏品!”
   
   “你错了。我在欣赏它们!这件作品完成的绿洋红使我想起了我们在哈尔滨的公寓里的钢琴披肩---只不过更绿,好像光线的裂缝从它的缝隙中穿过。”
   
   “至少我们有紫丁香。”
   
   他如何变得有点太有创意,上帝和我都知道。他花了一个上午的时间指责水龙卷,当水龙卷越来越近时,他明显惊奇。“我受够了自然现象。它们从不知道什么时候该划清界限。至少我们有点理智,我们也是自然现象,看在上帝的份上。”
   
   我不会让它接触我。另一方面,水龙卷或者你拜访的任何东西都会接近我们。它降落在那里,就在刚才,它就在我们面前。我建议我们沿着沙滩侧身走。
   
   见鬼你说!另一方面,如果你真的这么想的话。
   
   我们可以为它提供茶和饼干,但一会儿一切就太晚了,除了对疲惫的报应主题的瘫痪沉思之外。就像我说的,他们让它们变得越来越强大,直到它把它们编码。他们会情不自禁地把他们最好的一只脚放在前面,而这把我们留在哪里!毕竟,我们所追求的一切是一点和平。
   
   如果你能像你说的那样将要仔细阅读这个主题就好了。
   
   是的,我们周围的环境也不能让我们太惊慌。正如它们歪曲我们。那样我们只能从痛苦中溜走,而看不到令人兴奋的结局。多么温和的一个早晨。抛开我们无畏的观念,宇宙正在给我们一个礼节性的召唤,上帝让我们暂缓,我们没有太多可做,除了像托钵僧一样旋转,人类的顶端。头发向上爬到一个点,一种尖顶,我所做的一切只是刷下边。
   
   我们现在能那样做吗?
   
   不准确。村庄正朝我们走来,我们正变成它的墙壁和涂鸦的水泥浴室,它的杂货店,微醉的出租车司机。如果我告诉你我们要去哪里,那就不再是一个惊喜,但它会…
   
   听起来像我的朋友卡斯帕,女孩说。
Brand Loyalty
   
   “Father, you’re destroying the collectibles!”
   
   “You are mistaken. I’m enjoying them! The green magenta finish on this one reminds me of the piano shawl in our flat in Harbin---only greener, as though slits of light were coming through its slits.”
   
   “At least we have the lilacs.”
   
   How he would get a little too creative,God and I both know. He’s spent the morning chiding the waterspout, clearly amazed as it drew increasingly closer. “I’ve had it with natural phenomena. They never know when to draw the line. At least we have some sense, and we’re natural phenomena too, for goodness sakes.”
   
   I wouldn’t let it get to me. On the other hand, the waterspout or whatever you call it is getting to us. It touched down, back there, and only a moment ago it was in front of us. I suggest we sidle along the sand.
   
   The deuce you say! On the other hand, if you really think so.
   
   We could offer it tea and cookies, but in a moment it’11 be too late for anything but palsied brooding on the tired theme of retribution. Like I said, they build them stronger and stronger until it’s encoded in them. They can’t help putting their best foot forward, and where does that leave us! After all, a little peace was all we were after.
   
   If only you’d read up on the subject like you said you were going to.
   
   Yes, well we can’t alarm our surroundings too much, even as they torture us. That way we’d only slip out of pain and not see the exciting denouement. And what a sweet-tempered morning it was. Put aside our notions of the intrepid, the universe is paying a courtesy call, God has us on hold, and there’s not much we can do except spin like dervishes, human tops. Hair climbing upward to a point, a kind of spire, and all I’d done was brush down the sides.
   
   Can we do it that way now?
   
   Not exactly. The village is walking toward us, we are becoming its walls and graffiti-sprayed cement bathrooms, its general store, the tipsy taxi driver. If I told you where we were going it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, and yet it would...
   
   Sounds like my friend Casper, the girl said.

  


 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-6 12:12:44 | 显示全部楼层


汤里的雨
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   雨滴落在树梢上。一个雨天。
   是的,就是那样的一天。一些人类的痛苦。
   许多不满者。如果汤先生
   呆在碗里,我就会吹他。其他地方的袜子正在补。
   蛋形织补衬托架和房子一样大。
   
   所有这不太幸福
   可能对其他地方的生活有好处,
   在海湾。也许。但是我们
   从顶部看到它,就像一个三角形穹顶,
   因此对我们,它看起来还不错。
   
   骑独轮车的人大规模出动,
   导致下一个有趣的事情
   它肯定会在你和我到达那里的时候消失。
   我不把常春藤计算在内,它爬上烟囱,
   它已经到达顶部,在周围挥手,毫无知觉。
   
   我很想把木筏推下海滩,
   涉入齐腰深的水中,然后登上它。
   但很明显,这个世界上没有什么为我而造。
   乱七八糟,钟声出现
   进入城市,完成一些有效的事情。
   我可以坚持站在这里,站着,这就是一切。
   日安,史密斯太太。你女儿和一切一样可爱。
Rain in the Soup
   
   Raindrops fall on the treetops. A rainy day.
   Yes, it’s that kind of a day. Some human suffering.
   A number of malcontents. If Mr. Soup
   will stay in his bowl, I’ll blow on him.
   Elsewhere stockings are being darned.
   The darning egg is as big as a house.
   
   All this less-than-great happiness
   may be doing good to life somewhere else,
   off in the bayou. Maybe. But we see it
   from the top, like a triangular dome,
   so it looks okay to us.
   
   Unicyclists are out in force,
   leading to the Next Interesting Thing
   that’s sure to be gone by the time you and I get there.
   I don’t count ivy climbing a chimney,
   that’s reached the top and is waving around, senselessly.
   
   I’d like to push a raft down the beach,
   wade into the water waist-deep, and get on it.
   But clearly, nothing in this world was made for me.
   It’s sixes and sevens, the chimes go out
   into the city and accomplish something valid.
   I can stand to stand here, standing it, that’s all.
   Good day Mrs. Smith. Your daughter is as cute as anything.

血型匹配
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   就像狗吠一样不可避免,二手音乐
   从五层楼梯飘下,进入街道,
   调整接缝,在口袋镜子里检查妆容。
   
   在暗箱里,依旧快活,
   牙医尽情赚钱。我当时不知道。
   孩子们出来告诉我,用慎重的语调,
   海边多便宜,咸咸的空气如何使脸颊变红。
   
   被暴风雨猛烈冲击,新轮廓
   只能持续几次洗刷。
   戴上眼镜看标签。拿着球棒。
   他宁肯更快打乱队形,也不想纠缠。
   他给自己买了一件山姆雷伯恩湖颜色的衬衫,
   被树桩和土地实践混进了赭色。野炊的囚犯
   一定会享受麝香,从它身上飘散出
   不断增厚的波浪,
   触发了血腥怀旧
   对永远不在的斜边。
Bloodfits
   
   As inevitable as a barking dog, secondhand music
   drifts down five flights of stairs and out into the street,
   adjusting seams,checking makeup in pocket mirror.
   
   Inside the camera obscura, jovial as ever,
   dentists make all the money. I didn’t know that then.
   Children came out to tell me, in measured tones,
   how cheap the seaside is, how the salt air reddens cheeks.
   
   Violently dented by storms, the new silhouettes
   last only a few washings.
   Put your glasses on and read the label. Hold that bat.
   He’d sooner break rank than wind.
   He’s bought himself a shirt the color of Sam Rayburn Lake,
   muddled ocher by stumps and land practices. Picnicking prisoners
   never fail to enjoy the musk that drifts off it
   in ever-thickening waves,
   triggering bloody nostalgia
   for a hypotenuse that never was.
含蓄的雾
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我们也开始奉承
   我们盯着的
   东西:
   
   我沿着音乐的轨迹前进。
   不妨把自己拍干
   在毒菌下。
   
   冬天和春天
   并驾齐驱,莫名其妙。
   二者纠结的原因
   它们自己最清楚。
   在它结束时
   夏天已经结束
   
   安静地,被驱使的白昼
   在外面树下
   折叠椅中:
   军队从当地一家酒吧被驱逐。
   
   它变得可爱,然后有点多毛。
Implicit Fog   
   
   We began adulating
   what we were staring at
   too:
   
   I was following the paths in the music.
   Might as well have been patting myself dry
   under a toadstool.
   
   Winter came on neck and neck
   with spring, somehow.
   The two got tangled up for reasons
   best known to themselves.
   By the time it was over
   summer had ended
   
   with a quiet, driven day
   out under the trees
   in folding chairs:
   troops ejected from a local bar.
   
   It got lovely and then a little hirsute.

梦境序列(无标题)
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   是的,她砍倒了一棵大树。
   我们又都可以呼吸更轻松。
   
   让我们高兴的不是风景中的
   那个洞,而是邀请天气
   随时顺道拜访。
   
   它做的,与我们对它不增加兴趣成比例。
   经历了第三次不幸之后,我们决定
   随口说意义。没有骰子。
   
   我们的挂毯仍然横跨
   可怕的海岸不断复苏。你们可以往里面看
   看到已经死了好几年的雾。
   几个世纪前发出的欢快的问候。
   更糟的是,我们要去某个地方;
   这已经不是丛林联盟,而是大自然
   从天上的宴会承办人订购的一首大合唱,
   现在正在交付。
   
   只有几张假票据,它们不比
   教堂里的猫重要。突然,我们都在唱
   复仇日记,或是谄媚的感谢信,或是诸如此类。
   旅馆按小时计费
   但由于某种原因,电报线路没有包括
   在最后的计算中。水塔也消失了
   仿佛被一个孩子的蓝色橡皮擦删除。
   
   就在那时,钟鸣的网
   解释我们多年前需要知道的:
   在错误方向上的一步是通往
   今天忙碌地平线的钥匙孔,就像干草,它似乎知道移动时在哪里移动。
Dream Sequence (Untitled)
   
   Yes, she chopped down a big tree.
   We could all breathe easier again.
   
   It wasn’t the hole in the landscape
   that gladdened us, it was the invitation to the weather
   to drop in anytime.
   
   Which it did, in proportion to our not growing interested in it.
   After a third mishap we decided
   to throw in meaning. No dice.
   Our tapestry still kept on reviving itself
   athwart the scary shore. You could look into it
   and see fog that had been dead for years,
   cheerful hellos uttered centuries ago.
   Worse, we were going somewhere;
   this was no longer the bush leagues, but a cantata
   nature had ordered from the celestial caterer,
   and now it was being delivered.
   
   There were only a few false notes; these mattered less
   than a cat in a cathedral. Suddenly we were all singing
   our diaries of vengeance, or fawning thank-you notes, or whatever.
   The hotel billed us by the hour
   but for some reason the telegraph wires weren’t included
   in the final reckoning. Too, the water-tower had disappeared
   as though deleted by a child’s blue eraser.
   
   It was then that the nets of chiming
   explained what we had needed to know years ago:
   that a step in the wrong direction is the keyhole
   to today’s busy horizon, like hay, that seems to know where it’s moving when it’s moving.

写的什么
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   床边桌子上的纸
   写着什么?有什么东西
   或来自昨晚的另一个?
   
   为什么那只鸟忽略我们,
   在中途停下,转向另一个方向?
   是关于线轴内疚的感觉
   它落在溪边,
   最终卷进它?黑暗的线轴,
   现在向海移动---还有什么别的命运是你的?
   你本可以在抽屉里
   住很多年,被囚禁,关在国家的病房。现在你几乎可以自由
   作最后的决定,在它们到来的时候。
   可怜的,赤裸的东西。
What Is Written
   
   
   What is written on the paper
   on the table by the bed? Is there something there
   or was that from another last night?
   
   Why is that bird ignoring us,
   pausing in mid-flight, to take another direction?
   Is it feelings of guilt about the spool
   it dropped on the bank of a stream,
   into which it eventually rolled? Dark spool,
   moving oceanward now---what other fate could have been yours?
   You could have lived in a drawer
   for many years, imprisoned, a ward of the state. Now you are free
   to call the shots pretty much as they come.
   Poor, bald thing.

卡拉瓦乔和他的追随者
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   你是我最喜欢的艺术家。虽然我对你的工作
   知之甚少。我认识一些你的追随者:
   马蒂亚.普雷蒂,辛苦劳作却收效
   甚微(尽管这已经足够)。卢卡.佐达诺涉及到
   曾画过的一些深红色,和亮绿色,
   以为他发现了毛地黄的秘密。
   但是已经太迟了。它们已经消失
   因为它们被种在其他地方。
   有人送了一些面包
   连同一瓶酒,想让他高兴,
   可是那古老,古老的毛地黄的秘密,永远
   猜不透,永不消失。
   
   我说,如果你背着干草到它一堆的
   一边,可能是意大利人。或者又,不是。
   在爱荷华州我们也有这些
   东西,在未经训练的眼睑达到的地方
   闲逛,晚上,在上面几乎什么都没有。它是什么她说,
   后面,首先?“隔壁
   那位女士的花开始飞行,
   那么可怜的罗宾该做什么?”这是真的,它们每两秒钟
   爆炸,就像从发射台发射的导弹,没有人哭,甚至关心。
   看看窗外,偶尔,尽管你就会看见
   变化发生在哪里。灌木的歌
   不能淹没我们的神秘,关于我们的组成,
   关于我们如何进展,首先感兴趣的一件事,然后另一个,
   直到我们走到一个宽阔的大道,其中位数
   挤满树木,它疯狂剥去的树皮是红棕色的颜色,
   也许,或一只爱尔兰毛猎犬。一个人可以等在路边
   在其余生,任何人关心的一切,或者你可以
   在绿灯亮时穿过,就像在路加佐丹奴
   可能会烦恼的一件闪光丝绸紧身胸衣上的蓝宝石皱褶中一样。
   现在这就是生活。但是,正如亨妮.佩妮对土耳其的洛基说的,有东西
   在我们上方盘旋,想要摧毁我们,但是等待
   尽管为了什么,没有人知道。
   
   在博物馆的夜晚,尽管,一些像星星一样的窃窃私语
   当守卫们回家,自由地相互交谈。
   “为什么那个人注视,再注视?整个下午他似乎都在
   注视我,尽管显然什么也没看见。
   只有一段失去的
   爱的幻象片段,在水池旁。我无法忍受
   太久,但幸运的是,我不必。这种经历
   即将结束。站在一边的时间近了
   现在,非常近。
Caravaggio and His Followers   
   
   You are my most favorite artist. Though I know
   very little about your work. Some of your followers I know:
   Mattia Preti, who toiled so hard to so little
   effect (though it was enough). Luca Giordano, involved
   with some of the darkest reds ever painted, and lucent greens,
   thought he had discovered the secret of the foxgloves.
   But it was too late. They had already disappeared
   because they had been planted in some other place.
   Someone sent some bread up
   along with a flask of wine, to cheer him up,
   but the old, old secret of the foxgloves, never
   to be divined, won’t ever go away.
   
   I say, if you were toting hay up the side of a stack
   of it, that might be Italian. Or then again, not.
   We have these things in Iowa,
   too, and in the untrained reaches of the eyelid
   hung out, at evening, over next to nothing. What was it she had said,
   back there, at the beginning? “The flowers
   of the lady next door are beginning to take flight,
   and what will poor Robin do then?” It’s true, they were blasting off
   every two seconds like missiles from a launching pad, and nobody wept, or even cared.
   Look out of the window, sometime, though and you’ll see
   where the difference has been made. The song of the shrubbery
   can’t drown out the mystery of what we are made of,
   of how we go along, first interested by one thing and then another
   until we come to a wide avenue whose median
   is crowded with trees whose madly peeling bark is the color of a roan,
   perhaps, or an Irish setter. One can wait on the curb for the rest
   of one’s life, for all anyone cares, or one can cross
   when the light changes to green, as in the sapphire folds
   of a shot-silk bodice Luca Giordano might have bothered with.
   Now it’s life. But, as Henny Penny said to Turkey Lurkey, something
   is hovering over us, wanting to destroy us, but waiting,
   though for what, nobody knows.
   
   In the night of the museum, though, some whisper like stars
   when the guards have gone home, talking freely to one another.
   “Why did that man stare, and stare? All afternoon it seemed he stared
   at me, though he obviously saw nothing.
   Only a fragment of a vision
   of a lost love, next to a pool. I couldn’t deal with it
   much longer, but luckily I didn’t have to. The experience
   is ending. The time for standing to one side is near
   now, very near.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-7 17:37:18 | 显示全部楼层


  工业拼贴画
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我们不断检查。
   你看,数量控制是我们这里关注的。
   任何一批货物都不允许离开现场
   没有至少表面扫视板条箱的
   顶部。因为谁知道那里会有多少魔法
   被囚禁?
   
   同样,当产品到达市场
   我们也会有几分密切关注那里的情况。
   近年来,人们对魔法的抱怨
   已经减少到了涓涓细流。
   
   你还是永远不知道是否有些家伙会胡闹
   并篡改方程式,引起
   街上爆发的末日叹息,
   狗叫声,车辆打滑,以及所有残酷后果的
   投递。这就是为什么我们有一个专家团队
   在手,永远清醒,警惕某些人裤子上的
   一点点混乱的路线。春天,这些事件可以翻一番,翻两番,甚至。
   所有的东西都想在四月或五月被从箱子里释放出来
   我们必须试驾最终结果,在它被粘进
   专辑黑暗闹剧调节之前。 有人,那么,必须时刻
   值勤,还要有救援队伍,为此星光熠熠的弥撒
   继续旋转。
   
   就像地上的苹果
   它看着你。邻里的警察很和善,
   逮捕了一个恶棍,尽管他从未被带到审讯,
   这在这类事件中它是正常的。
   与此同时,春天无情地逼近夏季,
   在那里,矛盾的是,那里的活动更多,但表现出来的更少。
   旋转木马在八月狂欢节开始转动。
   最好离开监狱直到冬天,一旦荣誉体系崩溃。
   僵局可能会污染新的开端。
   十一月说得最好,几乎是窃窃私语,
   因此有令人惊讶的小小失望,
   只有这新的背景,一根更精细的针连着线。
Industrial Collage   
   
   We are constantly running checks.
   Quantity control is our concern here, you see.
   No batch is allowed to leave the premises
   without at least a superficial glance along the tops
   of the crates. For who knows how much magic
   may be imprisoned there?
   
   Likewise, when the product reaches the market
   we like to kind of keep an eye on things there too.
   Complaints about the magic
   have dwindled to a mere trickle in recent years.
   Still you never know if some guy’s going to get funny
   and tamper with the equation, causing
   apocalyptic sighs to break out in the streets,
   barking dogs, skidding vehicles, and the whole consignment
   of ruthless consequences. That is why we keep a team of experts
   on hand, always awake, alert for the slightest thread of disorder
   on someone’s pants. In spring these incidents can double, quadruple, even.
   Everything wants to be let out of its box come April or May
   and we have to test-drive the final result before it’s been gummed
   into the album dark farces regulate.Someone, then, must be constantly
   on duty, as well as a relief contingent, for this starry mass
   to continue revolving.
   
   Like an apple on the ground
   it looks at you. The neighborhood police were kind,
   arrested a miscreant, though he was never brought to trial,
   which is normal for this type of event.
   Meanwhile spring edges inexorably into summer,
   where, paradoxically, there is more activity but less to show for it.
   The merry-go-rounds begin turning in the carnivals of August.
   Best to leave prison till winter, once the honor system has broken down.
   A stalemate could pollute new beginnings.
   November tells it best, in a whisper almost,
   so that there is surprisingly little letdown,
   only this new background, a finer needle to thread.

青蛙和福音书
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   一个人如何解释,在这个迟来的分支上,那
   意料之外的事?
   ---詹姆斯.泰特,“马蹄铁”
   
   一个偶然的气球拉近这些定居者。
   那是绿色蜂蜜年,它
   在坐着的上帝的脚趾之间发芽。“没人
   能进一步解释。”没有解释,
   我也没有。
   
   我坐在面包房,满是皱纹,没刮胡子,
   思考着一个定理,你说的酒店是什么。
   在洗衣房里,别人的毛巾接近我。
   “哎哟,我是这么说的。”这比我所知道的更多,
   注满冷漠,欧洲的一些美国人。
   
   他让我在某个陌生国家的拐角下车。
   标志是用英语写的。没人在乎
   你是否知道垃圾是肮脏的。
   他把我从有人坐的房间里背出来。
   他们总是认为自己更了解,即使他们承认
   他们盲目的无知,向他们认识的第一个陌生人。
   我明白了,它是市场花园,或者是
   几年前的事。在这黑暗的胡子茬里我住着。
   
   一个信使带来了消息。对不起,
   我已经得到足够的消息。
   惊得头晕目眩,他向上爬
   到我给自己敬酒的地方。
   一个男性缪斯女神我想。我以前也
   听过。我只想出去在碎石上旅行。你还是
   不明白,这是个座位。好吧,我要我的座位,
   我说。
   
   那不是轻松的方式。金发的月亮解开,
   飘进某处一捆
   深蓝的木头堆。我也要跟着她吗?
   
   我也要跟着她吗?
   
   不管它说你必须做什么。
   你曾经有过储藏的平静日子,但现在已经不完美。
   烦恼在你面前延伸到远方。
   也许距离就是你曾经
   拥有的,现在必须喝。就在四十年前
   早期的摩天大楼拱起了背,等待着食物的供给。
   这种感觉依然存在。
Frogs and Gospels
   
   How does one interpret, on this late branch, the
   unexpected?
   ---James Tate,“The Horseshoe”
   
   A chance balloon drew these settlers nigh.
   It was the year of green honey that sprouts
   between the toes of the seated god. “None
   can explain it further.” No explanations,
   not from me.
   
   I sat in the bakery, rumpled, unshaved,
   pondering a theorem What you said the hotel was.
   Someone else’s towel approached me in the laundry.
   “Ouch was what I said.” This has been more than I know of,
   brimming with indifference, some American in Europe.
   
   He let me off at the corner of some strange country.
   The signs were in English. No one cared if
   you knew the rubbish was filth.
   He carried me from the room in which people were sitting.
   They always think they know better,even as they confess
   their ignorance blindly, to the first stranger they know.
   I see, it’s a market garden, or was
   some seasons ago. In this dark stubble I abide.
   
   A messenger came with tidings. I’m sorry,
   I’ve had enough tidings.
   Giddy with surprise, he crawled upward
   toward where I was toasting myself.
   A male muse I suppose. I’ve listened to that
   before, too. All I want is to be let out
   to travel on the gravel. You still don’t
   get it, this is a seat. All right, I want my seat,
   I said.
   
   That’s no easy manner. The blond moon came untied,
   drifted through blue-black wisps
   of a woodpile somewhere. Must I follow her too?
   
   Must I follow her too?
   
   Whatever it says you must do.
   You had calm days in store, now they have come undone.
   Worries stretch before you into the distance.
   Perhaps distance is what you had,
   once, and must now drink. Only forty years ago
   early skyscrapers arched their backs,waiting to be fed.
   And still the feeling comes on.

周末
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   天鹅鱼片和麦秸酒,
   一个重点注意的车道
   其高尔夫球杆感人地散落。
   
   你可以脱下衣服,坐下
   在灯芯绒门垫上吹气
   当命运三姐妹来呼喊
   假装和你自己说话。
   
   问题是她们不来呼喊,
   就像她们患上晚期广场恐惧症。
   一只青蛙从松果伸出。
   我的天啊,你在后面?
   你确实知道
   怎么好好吓唬一个伙计。
   
   我以为是蝙蝠
   把焦油滴在客人和仆人头上。
   在这个镇上你看不到现场表演
   然后每个人都想合作
   或庆祝,某种程度。我也能做到。
   一直。玩得愉快。
   在集体治疗中可能会出一些事:
   你天鹅绒般的灵魂我刚意识到。
   请回来。我太喜欢你了。
   
   蓟,蒲公英,我们关心什么?
Weekend   
   
   Swan filets and straw wine,
   an emphatic look to the driveway
   whose golf clubs are scattered feelingly.
   
   You can undress and sit down
   on the corduroy doormat blowing
   and when the Weird Sisters come calling
   pretend to be talking to yourself.
   
   Trouble is they don’t come calling,
   suffering as they do from terminal agoraphobia.
   A frog juts from a pinecone.
   My goodness was that you back there?
   You sure know
   how to give a feller a good scare.
   I’d thought it was just bats
   dripping tar on the heads of the guests and the footmen.
   You see so little live action in this town
   and then everybody wants to cooperate
   or celebrate, sort of. I can do that too.
   Always. Have a good time.
   Something might come out in group therapy:
   your velvet soul as I just realized it.
   Please come back. I liked you so much.
   
   Thistles, dandelions, what do we care?

得到我的重写
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   这个
   食尸鬼似的
   共振
   属于
   一把
   大提琴
   在邻居的小屋里共振。
   我对这个了解什么?我
   正
   坐
   在邻居后院的一堆垃圾上。
   还有别的事要做吗?
   
   很久以前,我们偷糖果
   从邻居家的排水沟
   但只发现糖果包装纸
   属于一种未知物种:“梧桐树,”
   “巧克力唾液,”“石板灰液体,”
   “高老头的变形肖像。”
   
   一块糖果的样子似乎飘动
   在晾衣绳上方的棱镜光中,停,
   脱掉它所有的衣服。
   有一桶
   水
   洗进去,
   指尖指向下一个现象的方式:
   糖轻轻落在草莓上,雪在一堆红鸡蛋上。
   
   我们都不太满意,
   但我们没有人想离开,而且。
   我们下面隐约可见一个工业园区的影子,
   头顶是黄铜色的天空。
   “不惩罚你的屁股,”鲁埃尔命令道。
   (他是我们的指挥官。)
   “你像诗人伦茨,他从家跑到森林,
   到玫瑰色的苍穹,又回来
   没有人曾看见他的腿在动。”
   
   啊,
   真好
   回到
   泥潭里。
Get Me Rewrite
   
   The
   ghoulish
   resonance
   of
   a
   cello
   resonates in a neighbor’s cabana.
   What do I know of this? I
   am
   sitting
   on a pile of dirt in a neighbor’s back yard.
   Was there something else to do?
   
   Long ago we crept for candy
   through the neighbor’s gutter
   but found only candy wrappers
   of an unknown species: “Sycamores,”
   “Chocolate Spit,” “Slate-Gray Fluids,”
   “Anamorphic Portraits of Old Goriot.”
   
   The way a piece of candy seems to flutter
   in the prismatic light above a clothesline, stops,
   removes all its clothes.
   There was a bucket
   of wat
   to wash in,
   fingerposts pointing the way to the next phenomenon:
   sugar falling gently on strawberries, snow on a pile of red eggs.
   
   None of us was really satisfied,
   but none of us wanted to go away, either.
   The shadows of an industrial park loomed below us,
   the brass sky above.
   “Get off your duff,” Reuel commanded.
   (He was our commander.)
   “You are like the poet Lenz, who ran from house to forest
   to rosy firmament and back
   and nobody ever saw his legs move.”
   
   Ah,
   it is good
   to be back
   in the muck.


 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-7 17:38:48 | 显示全部楼层


入侵性程序
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我逃避那些有天赋理解力的人,
   害怕他们对我存在的所有伟大而富有启发性的入侵
   仍然不能使我满意。
   ---罗伯特.沃尔瑟,“一则童话”
   
   麻萨诸塞州
   在罗德岛歇脚,
   当乌鸦在樱草里休息
   牛在乌鸦屎里溜。
   
   我可能被要求写
   一首与这首不同的诗。
   好吧,我们走。我想取悦所有人
   这是我的歌:
   
   在贝多芬大街,我递给你一个甜瓜。
   它又圆又尖,充满秘密的汁液。
   你,反过来,把我交给了警察
   他认为(正确地)我是他们
   过去七个月来一直在寻找的间谍。
   
   他们把我带到他们的驻地,你要知道
   在那里他们连续数日审问我。
   但我的回答总是问题,所以他们让我走,
   因为他们没能力回答而恼怒。
   我是个自由人!
   我走在里尔克街
   对我自己唠叨赞美诗。
   事情差不多像这样:
   
   “小心那些怪物,但要注意
   你不是你自己。
   时代对他们很好,
   会照顾你,
   睡在你祖母的沙发上,啜饮樱桃汁。”
   
   晚上猪怎么穿过窗户的屏幕?
   到早上一切都结束了。
   我从来没有给你唱歌,你从来没有哄过我
   从你的阳台,所有的火车撞上夜晚
   它像纸带收集它们,放进抽屉。
   
   不能离不开你的视线
   我在我的笔记本上画小乌鸦的腿,在阳光下
   突然的一天最后来到的泪水
   等待与黑暗迷人的疯狂和解。
   
   我女主人的手不像这些,
   收集白昼的丝线,当潮湿的风骤降
   穿过巨大的缝隙。
   
   突然间我失去了希望。我爬到壁架上。
   那儿的空气直率而纯粹,
   不像受磨损的十二月夜晚。
  Invasive Procedures   
   
   I flee from those who are gifted with understanding,
   fearing that all their great and illuminating invasions of
   my being still won’t satisfy me.
   ---Robert Walser,“The One of Fairy Tales”
   
   Massachusetts rests its feet
   in Rhode Island,
   as crows rest in cowslips
   and cows slip in crowshit.
   
   I may have been called upon to write
   a poem different from this one.
   OK, let’s go. I want to please everybody
   and this is my song:
   
   In Beethoven Street I handed you a melon.
   Round and pronged it was, and full of secret juice.
   You, in turn, handed me over to the police
   who thought (correctly) that I was the spy
   they had been looking for these past seven months.
   
   They led me down to their station, you need to know,
   where they questioned me for days on end.
   But my answers were always questions,and so they let me go,
   exasperated by their inability to answer.
   I was a free man!
   I walked up Rilke Street
   chattering a little hymn to myself.
   It went something like this:
   
   “Beware the monsters, but take care
   that you are not yourself one.
   Time is kind to them
   and will take care of you,
   asleep on your grandmother’s couch, sipping cherry juice.”
   
   How did the pigs get through the window screens at night?
   By morning it was all over.
   I had never sung to you, you never coaxed me to
   from your balcony, and all trains run into night
   that collects them like paper streamers, and lays them in a drawer.
   
   Unable to leave the sight of you
   I draw little crow’s feet in my notebook, in the sunlight
   that comes at the end of a sudden day of tears
   waiting to be reconciled to the fascinating madness of the dark.
   
   My mistress’ hands are nothing like these,
   collecting silken cords for a day when the wet wind plunges
   through colossal apertures.
   
   Suddenly I was out of hope. I crawled out on the ledge.
   The air there was frank and pure,
   not like the frayed December night.

文书工作
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   在这些谜语上浪费时间?
   因为然后我会讲什么?
   毕竟,大师紧随其后,
   把它们刷到一边,或烧它们。
   我因此不很强壮吗?
   我的拱门能建起来,沿着沙连接
   在橄榄树的映衬?不,
   我是用更平淡的布剪成,但它在晚上
   我被月光照晕。
   
   荣幸,他们给她打电话。
   她日复一日凝视蓝色的凝视着的地球
   在她阳光明媚的花园,什么也不说。
   注意这个,老树桩也没说什么。
   最后它再也受不了它:
   你不能是某物?你有必要的礼貌
   你的衣服是一个用海泡发射的豌豆绿镜头。”
   
   我知道有一天我会来找
   人的礼貌和交往的理由。
   所以我把帽子放在这个挂钩上。
   这里,有我们两个人。接受两个。
   
   在狂妄的天空中翻来覆去,
   糖厂向前涌出诗歌,更平庸的扭曲。
   它不能解释我们熔炉中的玫瑰。
   一只母黑猩猩带我们到
   一张充满银餐具和水晶的桌子,
   水晶污渍锅,这样老人就可以透过眼泪看到:
   
   他是你应该邀请的人。
Paperwork   
   
   Waste time on these riddles?
   Because what would I lecture on then?
   The master that comes after, after all,
   brushes them aside or burns them.
   Am I therefore not very strong?
   Will my arch be built, strung along the sand
   within sight of olive trees? No,
   I am cut of plainer cloth, but it dazzles me
   in the evening by the moonlight.
   
   L'heureuse, they called her.
   Day after day she gazed at the blue gazing globe
   in her sunlit garden, saying nothing.
   Noticing this, the old stump said nothing too.
   Finally it couldn’t stand it any longer:
   “Can’t you be something? You have the required manners
   and your dress is a shifting of pea-green shot with sea-foam.”
   
   I know I shall one day come to the reason
   for manners and intercourse with persons.
   Therefore I launch my hat on this peg.
   Here, there are two of us. Take two.
   
   Turning and turning in the demented sky,
   the sugar-mill gushes forth poems and plainer twists.
   It can’t account for the roses in our furnace.
   A motherly chimp leads us away
   to a table overflowing with silverware and crystal,
   crystal smudgepots so the old man could see through tears:
   
   He is the one you ought to have invited.


 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-8 17:55:33 | 显示全部楼层


我的生活史
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   从前有两个兄弟。
   然后只有一个:我自己。
   
   我很快长大,在学会开车前
   甚至。那是我:一个臭烘烘的成年人。
   
   我想培养一些人
   可能感兴趣的兴趣。没有肥皂。
   
   我为那些看上去
   很愉快的早年而哭泣。随着岁数的
   
   增长,我对自己的想法和观点
   也越来越宽容,
   
   认为它们至少和其他男人一样好。
   然后一朵巨大的毁灭的云彩
   
   在地平线上游荡,啜饮
   它,为了看起来像岁月的东西。
The History of My Life   
   
   Once upon a time there were two brothers.
   Then there was only one: myself.
   
   I grew up fast, before learning to drive,
   even. There was I: a stinking adult.
   
   I thought of developing interests
   someone might take an interest in. No soap.
   
   I became very weepy for what had seemed
   like the pleasant early years. As I aged
   
   increasingly, I also grew more charitable
   with regard to my thoughts and ideas,
   
   thinking them at least as good as the next man’s.
   Then a great devouring cloud
   
   came and loitered on the horizon, drinking
   it up, for what seemed like months or years.

玩具交响乐
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   棕榈树和炽热的植物在这不可辨认的山脉的
   壮丽层次上繁衍生息。
   ---瓦雷里,字母表
   
   外面露台上放映机开始
   发出陆地螃蟹般的穿梭声。
   
   每到星期四,马普尔小姐打嗝,又拿起她的
   编织物,总是波士顿黑人或圣徒---
   那个侦探
   从遥远的大洋彼岸来到这里
   把你我这类人
   从一群丑陋的勾引者手中解救。
   
   好吧,既然我们必须这么做,
   那就继续。工作,这是真正
   快乐的抽吸。秋天的密度在下降
   虽然没有一个头脑正常的人会盼望春天——
   冬天的比赛就足够。白昼之间
   扩大的空间。
   
   我啜饮傻瓜的汁液。
   另一次我在市中心发现
   一些漂亮的破布。他们会做很好的套衫
   我妻子想,如果能把它们清理干净。
   我不同意。
   为什么不暴露所有的东西,在外面的寒冷中
   直到这个世纪下一次大干旱?
   我说它碾碎了我,
   
   这里的一切都是手工挑选的:奶酪,
   橘子包裹在苍白的蓝色薄纸中
   带着橡树叶图案,让它们的颜色穿过
   就像它命中注定那样,而不是根据
   某个受伤的天才的计算,在他跛脚离开
   到树林之前。
   秋天的楼梯也许是向后爬,上出租车。
Toy Symphony
   
   Palms and fiery plants populate the glorious levels of
   the unrecognizable mountains.
   ---Valery, Alphabet
   
   Out on the terrace the projector had begun
   making a shuttling sound like that of land crabs.
   On Thursdays, Miss Marple burped, picking up her knitting
   again, it’s always Boston Blackie or the Saint---
   the one who was a detective
   who came from far across the sea
   to rescue the likes of you and me
   from a horde of ill-favored seducers.
   
   Well,let’s get on with it
   since we must. Work, it’s true
   suctions off the joy. Autumn’s density moves down
   though no one in his right mind would wish for spring---
   winter’s match is enough. The widening spaces
   between the days.
   
   I sip the sap of fools.
   Another time I found some pretty rags
   in the downtown district. They'd make nice slipcovers,
   my wife thought, if they could be cleaned up.
   I don’t hold with that.
   Why not leave everything exposed, out in the cold
   till the next great drought of this century?
   I say it mills me down,
   
   and everything is hand selected here: the cheeses,
   oranges wrapped in pale blue tissue paper
   with the oak-leaf pattern, letting their tint through
   as it was meant to be, not according to the calculations
   of some wounded genius, before he limped off
   to the woods.
   The stair of autumn is to climb backward perhaps, into a cab.
  
帝国主义的回忆
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   杜威取得马尼拉
   不久,发明了十进制系统
   使图书馆即使到今天也不会崩溃。
   很多母亲立刻开始给自己的雄性后代取名“杜威”,
   这让他反胃。他对帝国主义已经有第二个想法。
   在梦中,他看到图书馆藏书带着乳白色数字
   在它们的脊柱上漂浮在马尼拉湾
   很快甚至像“香草”或“头纱”这样的字眼也会让他呕吐。
   看到一个马尼拉信封,他就急忙走进
   书房,在那儿整天,拉着百叶窗,
   他用手指按着太阳穴,喃喃地说:“我做了什么?”
   一直以来。然后,渐渐地,他开始感觉好些了。
   世界还没有结束。他会去老街区散步,
   对那里的变化,或者他们的匮乏感到惊奇。“如果一个人
   要被载入史册,最好是做两件事
   而不是一件,”他会结巴着说,一点也没有意义。
   
   一天,他妻子在她闺房
   把他拉到一边,从她头上扯下黑色蕾丝头纱
   穿过她裸露的胸部,直到他的头被缠住。
   “亲爱的,我该怎么说?“什么都别说,你这个大笨蛋。
   很高兴你能逃过一劫,而且出名了。”“谈到
   笨蛋…”“现在你明白了。去把那边
   书架上的书归档。等你做完了再回来。”
   
   直到今天,学生们都在怀疑他后来的职业生涯
   作一个快乐的学究,对孩子们总是很友好,对父母
   体贴。他穿着一套灰色的陶瓷套装
   遛狗,“斗牛犬,”他会指出。
   人们会从百叶窗后面凝视他,警惕地,
   希望不会再爆发新的灾难,或的确
   不会发生什么事,永远,历史已经结束。
   但事实并非如此,因为海军上将本人
   会是承认的第一人。
Memories of Imperialism
   
   Dewey took Manila
   and soon after invented the decimal system
   that keeps libraries from collapsing even unto this day.
   A lot of mothers immediately started naming their male offspring “Dewey,”
   which made him queasy. He was already having second thoughts about imperialism.
   In his dreams he saw library books with milky numbers
   on their spines floating in Manila Bay
   Soon even words like “vanilla” or “mantilla” would cause him to vomit.
   The sight of a manila envelope precipitated him
   into his study, where all day, with the blinds drawn,
   he would press fingers against temples, muttering “What have I done?”
   all the while. Then, gradually, he began feeling a bit better.
   The world hadn’t ended. He’d go for walks in his old neighborhood,
   marveling at the changes there, or at the lack of them. “If one is
   to go down in history, it is better to do so for two things
   rather than one,” he would stammer, none too meaningfully.
   
   One day his wife took him aside
   in her boudoir, pulling the black lace mantilla from her head
   and across her bare breasts until his head was entangled in it.
   “Honey, what am I supposed to say?” “Say nothing, you big boob.
   Just be glad you got away with it and are famous.” “Speaking of
   Boobs…” “Now you’re getting the idea. Go file those books
   on those shelves over there. Come back only when you’re finished.”
   
   To this day schoolchildren wonder about his latter career
   as a happy pedant, always nice with children, thoughtful
   toward their parents. He wore a gray ceramic suit
   walking his dog, a “bouledogue,” he would point out.
   People would peer at him from behind shutters, watchfully,
   hoping no new calamities would break out, or indeed
   that nothing more would happen, ever, that history had ended.
   Yet it hadn’t, as the admiral himself
   would have been the first to acknowledge.
  

奇怪的职业
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   有一次放学后,蹒跚着从一个地方到另一个地方,
   我记得你喜欢那种干饼干
   只加一点糖调味。
   
   我记得你喜欢惠特娜。
   你是我认识的唯一一个这样的人。
   你不记得我们以前是怎么寻找海带的吗?
   来到带着一个轻松的、郊区的名字的小镇,
   想起那里的树木是多么的绿,
   比四月突然尴尬的草坪还要绿。
   我们想要如何生活在那里,
   不是一个不同的生活,而且。我们酷热难受
   穿着我们工会服装,过去的标语写着“回答”
   和“忏悔”,尝试二者,以及别的事情。
   
   然后---惊奇!天鹅绒般的阳光
   为我们提供后盾,给我们提供
   永远属于我们的勇气,如果我们
   知道如何在楼下访问它。
   我们过去常常一起爬到这么多活动:一首丁香树中的
   猪的交响乐,别的,可能更精彩,
   直到眼皮收回。
   
   现在我可以体验你的短裤。
   现在有更多为我们---
   跑到威胁淹死那个无动于衷的
   在他们身上平整脚趾的人。
   更多,更多光。
   
   明天我们去谁的办公室?
   我想听键盘变奏曲的
   新录音。哦,帮帮我们!
   扑灭黑夜和火,其反向气流
   甚至现在还在哼着她那首不相容的老歌。
  
Strange Occupations

   Once after school, hobbling from place to place,
   I remember you liked the dry kind of cookies
   with only a little sugar to flavor them.
   
   I remember that you liked Wheatena.
   You were the only person I knew who did.
   Don’t you remember how we used to fish for kelp?
   Got to the town with the relaxed,suburban name,
   remembering how trees were green there,
   greener than a sudden embarrassed lawn in April.
   How we would like to live there,
   and not in a different life, either. We sweltered
   along in our union suits, past signs marked “Answer”
   and “Repent,” and tried both, and other things.
   
   Then---surprise! Velvet daylight
   came along to back us up, providing the courage
   that was always ours, had we but
   known how to access it downstairs.
   We used to crawl to so many events together: a symphony
   of hogs in a lilac tree, and other, possibly more splendid,
   things until the eyelid withdrew.

   Now I can sample your shorts.
   So much more is there for us now---
   runnels that threaten to drown the indifferent one
   who slicks his toe in them.
   Much, much more light.

I’d like to hear the new recording of clavier
   variations. Oh, help us someone !
   Put out the night and the fire, whose backdraft
   is even now humming her old song of antipathies.
缺一行,硬是贴不上去:明天我们去谁的办公室?  
 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-8 17:57:16 | 显示全部楼层
满倾斜

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   令人不安的消息从风隧道散发:
   他走了,他从不缺少冠军,
   被夏令时杀害,或是一场可怕的教学大纲事故。

   枯叶,枫树或白杨,都是生命的象征。
   让我们让一切保持原样,
   在阳光下弄干,浸泡在
   每件事物的甜蜜。
   这就是关于冒险的一切,看看它把我们带到了哪里!
   从根本上说,它似乎是人类的苦难。
   痛苦,起来,坐下。你的头发乱糟糟
   衣服也恐怖。但你那凝固的腋窝
   跟我们说话。有时候,当你讲述今天发生的事
   最好什么都不说。
   这么多,毕竟,那个病态的议程。

   现在,为什么不调查这一切
   最终变得美好的方式?不只那个
   在街角等最后一辆出租车薄片走了的妓女,
   第二天晚上在百货商店的橱窗里被重新包装
   这样你就可以假装你买了它?我在这里,露易丝,
   我们都在这里,等着你到本垒
   给我们打一个漂亮的。哦,但我
   一小时前就该到车站。
   这就是它的表现方式:
   你们四个在辛辛那提,在平原上向我们
   挥手,柠檬在紧追,导致学生骚乱。

   我们现在不担心那些---
   明天或以后一样好。
   友爱已经在等待永生。只有把星星
   诱出,你的袜子或短裤里才会产生你需要的果实。

   然后这一幕也像寓言一样消失。
Full Tilt



   Disturbing news emanates from the wind tunnel:
   He’s gone, who never lacked for champions,
   killed by daylight saving time, or a terrible syllabus accident.

   The dead leaves, maple or aspen, are a sign of life.
   Let’s leave things as they are,
   drying in the sun, soaking up the sweetness
   that’s in everything.
   This is what taking chances was all about, and look where it’s led us!
   To the root, it seems of human misery.
   Misery, get up, get down. Your hair is a mess
   and your dress a fright. Yet your curdled armpits
   speak to us. Sometimes it’s better to have nothing to say
   when you are telling about what happened today.
   It was so much, after all, that morbid agenda.

   Now, why not investigate the way
   all this can end up being pretty? Not just the whore
   who waits on the corner till the last sliver of taxi is gone,
   to be repackaged next night in a department store window
   so you can pretend you bought it? I’m up here, Louise,
   we’re all up here, waiting for you to step up to home plate
   and bat us a cool one. Oh, but
   I was supposed to be in the station an hour ago.
   That’s the way it gets illustrated:
   the four of you in Cincinnati, waving across the plain
   to us, the lemon in hot pursuit, leading to student unrest.

   We don’t have to worry about that now ---
   tomorrow or the day after will be just as good.
   The fraternity has already waited an eternity. Only coaxing the stars
   out could produce the fruit you need to have in your stocking or shorts.

   Then this scene too faded away like a fable.

塞尔玛.乔丹的档案

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   冷冷地,我们放好舱里的餐具。
   明天,运输罢工。结果是假期受损。
   他妈的,我们已经合为一体,总得开始赶上生活,你知道,
   体育和娱乐活动围绕着。也有虔诚的反应。
   那么现在关于苹果?你知道,它怎么样?
   到处是模糊的印花棉布,她的头发被门捕捉。

   似乎是大巴到维也纳去接雅克的时候
   别的波士顿梗犬似乎也要过一天,
   但没有这样的运气---一只蓝宝石眼睛,迷茫,
   差不多就是它。你也可以走了。

   一个装腔作势的人举起一卷卷轴,不出所料,它像瀑布一样落到地板上。
   关于年度慈善义卖。我们
   又忘了,在花园里,今年。为什么事情一定要
   在你说完关于它的俏皮话之前就浮出水面。这一切
   意味着什么?你在什么样的发情期中出生?我得
   修好孩子的东西。我在去阁楼的路上。别来。
   我向你保证一切都在控制之中。它不重要。
   住手。我说它没那么重要。什么不重要?
   什么不能在蓝帆下滴下
   当它们发展,发展它们关于我们的理论,
   粘土的记忆萦绕在乙醚里?我们没穿
   一针。鲁姆森的正在拍卖。我以为我能
   摆脱那一个。哦不?一辆车正跟她一起上路,
   载着我们去海滩,违背我们的意愿,好像施了魔法。
   林木工人合唱团举起他们的步枪,无声的
   姿势表示与逝者团结一致。在那里,我以为
   我会完成这个故事,在犯下另一个错误之前,现在它
   发生了。哦,亲爱的!格蕾丝,去拿点番茄酱,好吗?
   现在,一切都好。就像我说的…
   陌生人在街上向你致敬,
   勇敢的多年侯爵。你的愿望是什么?
   一顿海鲜餐会很不错,然后也许在船上
   我们可以品尝贻贝。我喜欢这样,
   让我想起一本下午读过的百科全书。
   哦是的,好吧,总是有很多
   关于你如何比赛和谁赢的故事。没有人对
   他们中的任何一个储存太多,但是现在你们两个就像
   烟囱里的砖头,没有人会把你们分开,或者把你们带走
   或者在你们身边站得更久,一旦办公室关门。
   是吗?现在五点,没有玫瑰……
   我以为我会沿着那条街走到尽头
   但那只是开始的结尾,其余的都是透明的
   针线一样纯净。“最好看看它。”太阳在这些地方
   啪的一声落下,就像一个鸡蛋落在柜台上,
   谁能数一数无尽的水禽、河鸟、
   背着水獭的海狸?我将拿着那个棋盘。

   我是说我现在要它回来。但是在城市里
   滚动的坦克暗示了另一种情况,
   另一种最坏的一个。听听美丽的雪花。
   哦,在这么短的时间里,我是多么爱你。
   我们还得继续生活似乎是耻辱。我是说,
   我们可以多点爱。我不会放弃。
   我是说,我是,但我不是一个轻举妄动的人。
   无论谁说你是?爬上大提琴休息一下。
   早上我必须见会计。

   就这么回事,在旧国家还是新国家。
   鹈鹕让我们惊奇,然后有一些理由为一座建筑
   墙上的活口,它有一家书店
   现在正在出售。最不可能的竞购者来来去去,
   迎合了下层社会的要求,我说
   还有那些使这一切成为可能的药膏。让我们帮助他们…

   嘿,你不觉得地平线上
   还有更多的事?如果有,我不确定我能忍受,
   我是说它们的脸。哦,他们将回家过圣诞节
   某时,我敢肯定。你为什么不去旅行一下
   去一个痛苦的村庄?你看起来很累。你没事吧?
   刚我哥哥从威奇托打来电话。他说市区着火了。
   唉如果我是你我就不会去那里。
   不,我无意这么做。
   现在,关于那些丢失的“鱼”牌,你的保姆
   在脑海把它们“藏”在她的工作篮里,
   还是希拉拐骗它们?

   我不是说孩子们不负责。

   在一个盒子里它们两个给我们一个。
   队伍欢呼后,冰箱就自己打开,猛烈地,
   就像一个春天的暴风雨撕碎树木的想法,
   不顾下面的高架桥。人们多戴猎犬牙。

   那是一种你可以感觉到
   普通人行为变化的方法。我正试图拆开
   这些毫无价值的德拉克马,好让这对双胞胎上学,
   嘿,结果其中有些会很值钱。
   说谁,除了下一条街和镇上到处都在下雨。
   鳍类动物蹒跚而过。我们下次一定要试着油炸
   菊苣。在此期间,我的酒杯会得意地戴上一顶红色的高尔夫球帽
   假使有人在附近看到,在这个时候不太可能,
   我承认,但我打算让那些旧铁杆随时准备好
   以防万一,这肯定会犯规。别摇动那个。
   它属于我。这是爱德加.爱伦.坡本人
   给我曾祖父的一只填充乌鸦。说他已经完成它。他花了一首诗,
   尽管,伟大的一首。想听见…
The File on Thelma Jordan

   Coldly, we put away the cabin flatware.
   Tomorrow, a transport strike. Damaged vacations will result.
   What the fuck, we’re already in one and have somehow
   got to make it what with the living, you know,
   the sport and recreation around. Pious reflexes too.
   So now about the apple? You know,what about it?
   Vague chintzes all around, her hair caught in the door.

   It seemed time when the bus came for Jacques in Vienna
   that the other Boston terriers would be having their day too,
   but no such luck---the sapphire eyes of one, confused,
   were just about it. You could go away, too.

   A poseur held up a scroll which, predictably, cascaded to the floor.
   Something about an annual charity bazaar. We’d forgotten
   it again, in the garden, this year. Why must things emerge
   before you’ve finished wisecracking about them. What
   does it all mean? In what rut were you born? I’ve got to
   fix the baby’s things. I’m on my way to the garret. Don’t come.
   I assure you everything is under control.It’s of no importance.
   stop it. I said it’s not that important.What’s not important?
   What couldn’t be under the blue sails dripping
   as they develop, develop their theories about us,
   haunting the ether with memories of clay? We haven’t a stitch
   to wear. Rumson’s is having a sale. I thought I’d
   got out of that one. Oh no? A car is having its way with her,
   carrying us down to the beach, against our will, as if by magic.
   The chorus of foresters raises their muskets in a silent
   gesture of solidarity with the departed. There, I thought
   I’d finish this story before making another mistake and now it’s
   happening. Oh, dear! Grace, fetch some ketchup, will you?
   Now, there it’s all better. As I was saying...
   Strangers salute you in the street,
   brave marquis of many years. What are thy wishes?
   A shore dinner would be nice, perhaps on the boat launch
   where we could feel for mussels afterwards. I like that,
   reminds me of an encyclopedia I once read in an afternoon.
   Oh yes, well, there were always a lot of stories
   about how you played and who won. Nobody set much
   store by any of them, but now you two men are like bricks
   in a chimney, nobody is going to separate you or carry you off
   or stand by you much longer, once the office closes.
   Did it? It’s five o’clock and there are no roses ...
   I thought I’d followed that street to the end
   but it was only the end of the beginning, the rest was transparent
   and needle-pure. “Best have a look at it.” The sun goes down
   with a plop in these parts, like an egg falling on a counter,
   and who is there to count the endless waterfowl, water ouzels,
   beavers with otters on their backs?I’ll take that chessboard.
   I mean I want it back now. But the tanks
   rolling in the city hinted at another scenario,
   another worst-case one. Listen to the pretty snowflakes.
   Oh, I love you so much in such a little time.
   It seems a shame we have to go on living. I mean,
   we could get more loving into it. I’m not quitting.
   I mean, I am but I’m not a quitter.
   Whoever said you were? Climb up that cello and try to get some rest.
   In the morning I’ve got to see the accountant.

   So it goes, in the old country as well as in the new.
   Pelicans startle us, then some reason for living gapes
   in the wall of a building that once housed a bookstore
   and is now for sale. The unlikeliest bidders come and go,
   pandering to the lower orders shall I say
   and the unguents who made all this possible. Let’s give them a hand ...

   Hey, you don’t think there’s any more
   over the horizon? I’m not sure I could stand it if there was,
   I mean their faces. Oh, they’11 all be home for Christmas
   sometime, I’m sure. Why don’t you take a little trip
   to an aching village? You look tired. Are you OK?
   It was just my brother calling from Wichita. He says the downtown’s on fire.
   Well if I was you I wouldn’t go there.
   No, I have no intention of doing so.
   Now, about those missing “fish” cards, did your nanny
   take it into her head to “hide” them in her workbasket
   or did Sheila abscond with them?

   I’m not saying the boys isn’t responsible.

   It was two of them to one of us in one box.
   After the team finished cheering the fridge opened by itself, violently,
   as one thinks of spring tempests tearing into trees,
   mindless of viaducts below. People are wearing hound’s-tooth more.
   That’s one way you can sense the change
   in the average person’s deportment. I’m trying to unpack
   these worthless drachmas so as to get the twins off to school,
   Hey, some of those could turn out to be valuable.
   Says who, and besides it’s raining in the next street and all around town.
   Finny creatures lurch by. We must try frying the endive
   next time. In the meantime my noggin will sport a red golfing cap
   in case there’s anyone around to see, which at this hour is unlikely,
   I admit, but I intend to have the old niblicks at the ready
   just in case, and it’s sure foul out. Don’t jolt that.
   It pertains to me. It’s a stuffed raven given to my great-grandfather by
   Edgar Allan Poe himself. Said he was finished with it. It had cost him a poem,
   though, a great one. Want to hear ...


 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-9 20:05:43 | 显示全部楼层

  
途中两个

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符


   你要普通的还是磨砂的?(普通香草味还是爆香?)

   我敢打赌你又在写信。她到达裙子下面。你为什么不让人看?不,不好。只是一些冻疮卡在我的指尖。谁这么说的?我告诉你它好还是不好,如果你不再用手盖住它。

   看在彼得的份上---

   我们忘了那是中午,那时候乌鸦从门边出现,绕着旁边的大钟面走,然后回到屋里洗澡。哦,你打算在哪里说让我们表演?

   我认为我的酒精余味的钢很清晰。

   哦,好吧,你当然可以喝你的鸡尾酒,这是我的混合饮料,我的合理混合饮料。灰白色的绣球花从水罐里掉到院子里。该死,如果有人不喜欢这样,而且总是知道这样的话会发生这样的事。但让我从我平静的新故事中读给你们听:

   “后来,肉桂色老虎出现了,和平持续了大约四分之一个世纪。但你知道事情总是这样的。沙尘从法式大门滑进来。玛丽亚?上面写着。你介意过来站一会儿吗。接替我的位置。就一分钟。我得去看看旅鼠们在干什么。她就这样玷污了自己,给我们这个羞怯的小国家带来了永恒的夜晚。”
  
  

  
Two for the Road


   Did you want it plain or frosted? (Plain vanilla or busted?)

   I bet you’ve been writing again. She reached under her skirt. Why don’t you let a person see it? Naw, it’s no good. Just some chilblains that got lodged in my fingertips. Who said so? I’ll tell you if it’s any good or not, if you’ll stop covering it with your hand.

   For Pete’s sake---

   We had forgotten that it was noon, the hour when the ravens emerge from the door beside the huge clock face and march around it, then back inside to the showers. Oh, where were you going to say let’s perform it?

   I thought it was evident from my liquor finish steel.

   Oh right, you can certainly have your cocktail, it’s my shake, my fair shake. Dust-colored hydrangeas fell out of the pitcher onto the patio. Darned if someone doesn’t like it this way and always knows it’s going to happen like this when it does. But let me read to you from my peaceful new story:

   “Then the cinnamon tigers arose and there was peace for maybe a quarter of a century. But you know how things always turn out. The dust bowl slid in through the French doors. Maria? it said. Would you mind just coming over here and standing for a moment. Take my place. It’ll only be for a minute. I must go see how the lemmings are doing. And that is how she soiled herself and brought eternal night upon our shy little country.”
  
  


  
心痛

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   有时候,一个危险的生活片段
   比如从棋盘游戏中走出
   进入疯狂的泻湖

   从浴室拖着真相,它一直藏在那里。
   “做你想做的任何事改善现状,
   而且---好运,”它补充道,就像一个理发师额外加上扑通的泡沫
   在一个吓呆的顾客脸上。“当他们让你出去,
   我会等你。”自从一个梳着辫子的女孩
   嘲笑他太矮了,一直就是这样。是的,我敢打赌他们也有

   你这样的人的位置。问题是,我一点也不知道。
   岁月转瞬即逝,一个上升螺旋
   朝着什么恐怖的优势?他不知道。他喊叫.

   十一月的一天,警察局长打电话来了。
   他秘密地收集宇宙中所有
   聪明的孩子,把他们放进一个大袋子

   然后拖着回家。没人太确定那之后
   发生了什么。孩子们已经不在乎;他们毕竟掌管
   这所房子。外面好多了吗?

   雪猛击窗玻璃,好像在惩罚它们
   有被人看穿的特性。小镇
   变得更安静。没有人想念孩子们。他们一直太聪明

   以至于不可能发生这种事。黑夜从浓重的寒冷弹起
   就像一只被激怒的豹猫带着它的幼崽,有人一直在试图
   偷它,或者假装。受惊的镇民们疾驰而去。

   人行道上再也没有地方
   放任何东西,只有粉红色粉笔画的“v’s”,就像孩子
   画一只海鸥。在酒馆下面,霓虹灯发出令人欣慰的

   红色。“所有的啤酒都随时取用,”上面写着,
   “女士们的摊位。”
  
  

  
Heartache


   Sometimes a dangerous slice-of-life
   like stepping off a board-game
   into a frantic lagoon

   drags the truth from the bathroom, where it has been hiding.
   “Do whatever you like to improve the situation,
   And---good luck,” it added, like a barber adding an extra plop of lather

   to a stupefied customer’s face. “When they let you out
   I’ll be waiting for you.” It had been that way ever since a girl with braids
   teased him about getting too short. Yeah, and I’ll bet they have

   places for people like you too. Trouble is, I don’t know of any.
   The years whirled quickly by, an upward spiral
   toward what ghastly ascendency? He didn’t know.He cried.

   One November the police chief came calling.
   He had secretly been collecting all the bright kids
   in the universe, popping them into a big bag

   which he lugged home with him. No one was too sure what happened
   after that. The kids were past caring; they had the run
   of the house after all. Was it so much better outside?

   Snow lashed the windowpanes as though punishing them
   for having the property of being seen through. The little town
   grew quieter. No one missed the kids. They had been too bright

   for that to happen. Night sprang out of the dense cold
   like an infuriated ocelot with her cub that someone had been trying
   to steal, or so it pretended. The frightened townspeople sped away.

   There was no longer any room on the sidewalk
   for anything but “v’s” drawn in pink chalk, the way a child
   draws a seagull. Down at the tavern the neon glowed a comforting

   red. “All beer on tap,” it said, and
   “Booths for Ladies.”
  
  



  
幸运饼破碎

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   你有宽容,文雅的性情。过度的
   挑战不超过一次。这些“小东西”很重要
   一旦你把盘子放回架子
   并且非常有说服力地走向门。

   “只渴望注意,”你自己也
   几次在街区,付了账单
   和家具。你在过去的生命中
   是郁金香,它在这里说。你有“双唇”
   像你爸爸车库里的
   雪佛兰一样有酒味和甜美。

   在一个遗憾的照会,你的记者
   注意到,你有一种倾向,哪怕有轻微的挑衅
   就飞去欧洲。一定意味着你变老了,
   或者它说的是“没有魅力”。

   一个可行的出席很可能是可以促成的。
   现在你的过去都用光,无论如何。

   百合花似乎比以前更爱你。
   现在,似乎,我也爱你,但我的眉毛皱了。
   我是说,我该告诉我的鞋子什么?
  
  

  
The Fortune Cookie Crumbles

   You have a kind and gentle nature. Not overly
   challenged more than once. The “small things” matter
   once you’ve replaced the dish on the shelf
   and moved very convincingly toward the door.
   “Just dying for attention,” you’ve been around
   the block yourself a few times, paid the bills
   and furniture. You were a tulip
   in some past life, it says here. You have “two lips,”
   as winy and luscious as a Chevy
   in your dad’s garage.

   On a sorry note, your correspondent
   notes that you have a tendency to fly off to Europe
   at the slightest provocation. Must mean you’re getting old,
   or “devoid of charm” is maybe what it says.

   It is likely that a viable present can be brokered.
   Your past is all used up now, anyway.

   The lilies love you more than ever
   now, it seems. I love you too, but my brow is furrowed.
   I mean, what am I going to tell my shoe?
  
  



  
被赎回的地区

   (选自Your Name Here)
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   你知道你住在哪里?大概。
   押尼珥年纪太大,不能开车,但不承认。
   前几天他进他的车去买一些
   他们不再生产的止咳药。而这家药店
   已经并入约七英里外的一个购物中心
   只租了大约一半的商店。四英里范围内
   有三个别的购物中心。所有的房子
   都是同一个人所有的,他多年来
   一直把房子租给大学生,所以它们实际上不适合居住。
   一股硫酸和袜子的味道弥漫在街区
   像露天市场里的下水道。不管怎么说,止咳药水
   (一种新品牌)尝起来很不错---就像猫薄荷
   或是躺在女孩后面的橘子片。

   那是电工打来的电话---
   早上七点以前没人会打电话来。现在我们这里
   有电。我开始在圣诞树插灯。上次是它们让整件事
   火花四射。下一步,字典旁边的灯立着,这样我就可以查一些单词。
   那可能是烤面包机。一片不错的

   烤面包片现在真是恰到好处。
   不过,恐怕我们之间的一切都结束了;友好点,像你真关心那样,
   我要换衣服,我们可以像疯狗一样
   在房间里跳舞,渴望得到施舍,或者它们
   不知道什么。渐渐地,一切都会恢复正常,我
   向你保证,你会在日记里写一些东西,我的一件皮毛大衣,别人的一棵奢华的鞋树。

   做那两片。我只能透过一片
   与珊瑚无异的植物黑暗看到你,如果它是半液态的,或者是透明的奶昔。
   我调好了灯,
   早晨七点,
   污点从金属刺绣下落,墙壁落下,
   国家的脉搏在比赛。父母在哭泣,
   学校已经关门。

   这一切忙碌让我心情大好,啊伟大的太阳。
  
  

  
Redeemed Area

   Do you know where you live? Probably.
   Abner is getting too old to drive but won’t admit it.
   The other day he got in his car to go buy some cough drops
   of a kind they don’t make anymore. And the drugstore
   has been incorporated into a mall about seven miles away
   with only about half the stores rented. There are three
   other malls within a four-mile area. All the houses
   are owned by the same guy, who’s been renting
   them out to college students for years, so they are virtually uninhabitable.
   A smell of vitriol and socks pervades the area
   like an open sewer in a souk. Anyway the cough drops
   (a new brand) tasted pretty good---like catnip
   or an orange slice that has lain on a girl’s behind.

   That’s the electrician calling now---
   nobody else would call before 7 A.M. Now we’ll have some
   electricity in the place. I’ll start by plugging in
   the Christmas tree lights. They were what made the whole thing
   go up in sparks the last time. Next, the light by the dictionary stand, so I can look some words up.
   Then probably the toaster. A nice slice

   of toast would really hit the spot now.
   I’m afraid it’s all over between us, though; Make nice, like you really cared,
   I’ll change my chemise, and we can dance around the room
   like demented dogs, eager for a handout or they don’t
   know what. Gradually, everything will return to normal, I
   promise you that There’ll be things for you to write about
   in your diary, a fur coat for me, a lavish shoe tree for that other.

   Make that two slices. I can see you only through a vegetal murk
   not unlike coral, if it were semi-liquid, or a transparent milkshake.
   I have adjusted the lamp,
   morning’s at seven ,
   the tarnish has fallen from the metallic embroidery, the walls have fallen,
   the country’s pulse is racing. Parents are weeping,
   the schools have closed.
   All the fuss has put me in a good mood, O great sun.
  

  
洋葱皮

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   最后,是他们关于冲突的踩踏
   打垮了我们的故事。我们再也不能更好地去他们那里
   他们知道,把我们的头放在一枚邮票上。

   “然后我也应该有一些疼痛?”
  
  

  
Onion Skin


   In the end it was their tales of warring stampedes
   that finished us off. We could not go them one better
   and they knew it, and put our head on a stamp.

   “Then I should have some pain, too?”
  
  


 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-10 15:28:11 | 显示全部楼层
“福利亚”变奏曲
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   现在又有一个说它离去了,
   扼杀所有精彩的悬念,渴望与否。
   关上窗户。这里很冷。
   是的,我知道它只是打开了一条裂缝。
   
   又是“满月无星”
   我没有投下阴影。
   这不是好事。
   没有那么多座位。
   
   我记得克莱门特.艾德礼是世界首相。
   那时的财政紧缩更多,但要做的事更少。
   羊膜山谷仍然保留着那些
   摇摆孩子的记忆,有些蓝紫色,
   有些只是轮廓。我想这就是他所说的紧缩,
   我想。曾经有一个人名叫“轮廓”,
   以吝啬著称。
   
   当我想到它,它越变越亮。
   我要求它有花押字。
   一场飓风把三层泥的圣代冰淇淋
   吹进我有时喜欢在下午写作的房间。
   当时没有和歹徒打交道。
   他们都消失了。
   
   我的狗,绿猫,带着我的一碗葡萄仁来了。
   我发出一声奇怪的嚎叫,但没有监狱张嘴。
   我完全独自一人。
   
   蜀葵勒死风车的刀片
   直到它停下来要求更多,询问它
   要去的方向,显然不存在。
   鸬鹚劈开空气。人们在它们的卵上
   倒油,不让它们孵化
   以便不减少鱼的数量,
   尽管鱼从来没有要求这样。远
   没有。它们相信物种的平等的,
   一只讨厌的鸟不比一条哑鱼价值更多或更少。
   男人,又是,这里的闯入者。他从碟状生活
   提供的任何东西选择,然后在一两个世纪后,
   当世界失去控制时,他表现得很惊讶,
   醒来时挠着头,想知道发生了什么事。
   我们都应该庆幸一生中有一次
   被一个想法的流星击中。这将避免许多束手无策
   和海底大教堂敲响的钟声,
   一种让人发疯的噪音,越过人类尊严的边缘。
   请不要告诉我最后一切都加起来了。
   我厌恶那个。
Variations on “La Folia”
   
   Now another one who said it is gone,
   killing all the wonderful suspense, desired or not.
   Shut the window. It’s chilly in here.
   Yes, I know it’s only open a crack.
   
   It’s “all moon and no stars” again
   and I cast no shadow.
   It’s not a good thing.
   There aren’t that many seats.
   
   I remember when Clement Attlee was world premier.
   There was more austerity then but less things to get done.
   The amniotic valley still holds memories of those
   kids who have sway, some blue-violet,
   some only an outline. It was what he meant by austerity,
   I think. There was a man named Silhouette once,
   renowned for his stinginess.
   
   As I think about it the more it gets lighter and brighter.
   I had asked for it monogrammed.
   A hurricane blasted the triple-mud sundae
   into the room where I like to write sometimes in the afternoons.
   There was no dealing with the gangsters then.
   They all had disappeared.
   
   My dog, green pussy, came along with my bowl of grape-nuts.
   I let out an unaccustomed howl yet no hoosegow gaped.
   I was wholly on my own.
   
   Hollyhocks strangled the windmill’s blades
   till it stopped to ask for more, for directions
   where it was going, which obviously was nowhere.
   Cormorants clove the air. Men had poured oil
   on their eggs to prevent them from hatching
   so as not to reduce the fish population,
   though the fish had never asked for that. Far from
   it. They believed in the equality of the species,
   that a pesky bird was worth no more and no less than a dumb fish.
   Man, again, is the interloper here. He takes whatever he chooses
   from the dish life holds out, then acts surprised
   a century or two later when the world has spun out of control,
   and wakes up scratching his head, wondering what happened.
   We should all be so lucky as to get hit by the meteor
   of an idea once in our lives. It would save a lot of hand-wringing
   and bells tolling in the undersea cathedral,
   a noise to drive one mad, past the brink of human decency.
   Please don’t tell me it all adds up in the end.
   I’m sick of that one.
论老年
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   无论什么魅力都是外来的。
   把它扔回水里,没什么区别。
   我惊讶于你不在,孩子,
   
   教堂的圆窗。
   你忘了,你看。
   我也是,有时候。
   
   有真正的价值绑在那里。
   今天五十岁还年轻。八十也是。这取决于
   你从哪一边看
   她倾向于紫色可乐,
   回来时外衣边沾着盐
   发疯得哭不出来。她和我们
   
   都很像。我不想从中受益。
   我讨厌慈善。但这是三个中
   最伟大的。忍不住,我是条老蟒蛇
   
   括约肌。我对生活的感觉很多和你一样:
   就像多年前的日记。我们以为我们
   在三月份抓到了一些东西,某种流感,
   
   但它一直持续到现在,
   虽然没有人记得它。你会,
   你一打开车库门,就绊倒在
   邻居家狗最近的通道的一些令人不快的
   证据上。你能做些什么?
   没有。春天晚些时候,当知更鸟
   
   筑巢,有东西会溅到你汽车的挡风玻璃
   或风挡上。再说一次,在别人激起的愤怒泡沫中
   
   不寻找原因和结果
   是有益的。八月伴随着
   从软管冒出的凉爽阵雨,邀请我们休息一下。
   
   是的,一个呼吸者是我们渴望的,
   离雨桶
   再近不过,其灰尘和果蝇的
   
   表面。好,又回去
   工作。只有一件事是
   不可否认的,它救不了我们。沉思着,手表水晶
   
   警告我们离开,在下一个小时敲响前。
   哦,我是如此的爱你,在这么短的时间
   不得不继续生活似乎是耻辱。
   
   又一个小时过去。小淘气
   都变成孩子。好吧,但愿他们离开。
   
   金字塔的庄严
   永远不会在他们身边显现。
   狼拿起一把扫帚,把人行道
   扫到前门,似乎
   
   努力想被宠爱。
   让那见鬼。空畜栏
   正在形成的时候,一个“完美”的
   
   圆圈,你随意烙印新的。
   有人,某个权威人士,说这都是个玩笑,
   所以那天我们收拾行李回家了。
De Senectute
   
   Whatever charms is alien.
   Throw it back in the water, makes no difference.
   I was amazed at your absence, child,
   
   from the chapel’s round window.
   You forgot, you see.
   And me, sometimes.
   
   There is true worth strapped away in there.
   Fifty is young today. So’s eighty. Depends
   on which side you’re looking at it from
   And she leans toward purple colas,
   returns with salt on her tunic’s hem
   Too crazed to cry. In which she resembles
   
   all of us. I’m not going to the benefit.
   I hate charity. But it’s the greatest
   of the three. Can’t help it, I’m an old boa
   
   constrictor. I feel about life much as you do:
   as a diary from many years ago. We thought we’d caught
   something in March, some kind of flu,
   
   but it lasted even until now,
   though no one remembers it. You will,
   upon opening your garage door, stumble
   on some unpleasant evidence of the neighbor’s dog’s
   recent passage. Is there anything you can do?
   No. Later on in spring, when the robins
   
   are nesting, something will splat on your car’s windshield
   or windscreen. Again, it profits not
   to go looking for causes and effects
   
   in a froth of rage whipped up
   by someone else. August with its cooling showers
   from the hose invites us to take a breather.
   
   Yes, a breather is what we’ve longed for,
   can get no closer to
   than the rain barrel, its surface of dust and
   
   fruitflies. Well, back to work
   again. It is the one thing that won’t be
   denied that won’t save us. Pensively, the watch crystal’s
   
   warning us to be off, ere another hour strikes.
   Oh, I love you so much in such a little time
   it seems a shame to have to go on living.
   
   Yet another hour protrudes. The imps
   have all become children. Well, wish them away.
   The pyramid’s gravitas
   will never manifest itself with them around.
   The wolf took up a broom and swept the walk
   up to the front door, and seemed to
   
   want to be petted for its efforts.
   The hell with that. The empty corral
   is on the point of coming into being, a “perfect”
   
   circle, brand new as you please.
   Somebody, someone in authority, said it was all a joke,
   so we packed up and went home that day.
公平的诸神
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   看不见上帝不是一个难题
   上帝有一个难题。真的,他可以看到我们
   如果他渴望这么干,但这不是
   重点。重点是他对
   我们和饼干的关心。为了
   在斯德哥尔摩夜空中翻腾的一块面包。
   
   不在那里,在那边。我呼喊他们
   我之前告诉他们的。这件事不是任何人的事。
   那正在小便的男人似乎也没有注意。
   我们来到了岸边,带着
   从沉船里取出的红宝石和棋子。最后,过剩的嗡嗡声
   确实注意到了,这对我们的项目是致命的。
   我们只是放弃了当时和那里,我们有些人死了,其他人
   疲倦而心满意足地离开。上帝有他的小玩笑,
   但谁能说那不是我们的?没有人,显然,
   这可能就是为什么那主题从没提出
   在港口附近的老房子里的讨论小组里,
   其中一些人实际上已经陷入其中。
   但他们还是有点悲伤地唠叨:“我知道
   阁下的偏爱。”有时我
   甚至认为我能读懂他
   涂满珍珠籽和钻石的心灵。
   它们在那里,为了得到。把它们带走。
   把它们存到你选择的任何郊区银行。
   快点,在他改变主意之前---再次。
   
   但他们所做的一切都依赖铁锹,梦想
   春天的播种,和即将到来的丰收。
The Gods of Fairness
   
   The failure to see God is not a problem
   God has a problem with. Sure, he could see us
   if he had a hankering to do so, but that’s
   not the point. The point is his concern
   for us and for biscuits. For the loaf
   of bread that turns in the night sky over Stockholm.
   
   Not there, over there. And I yelled them
   what I had told them before. The affair is no one’s business.
   The peeing man seemed not to notice either.
   We came up the strand with carbuncles
   and chessmen fetched from the wreck.Finally the surplus buzz
   did notice, and it was fatal to our project.
   We just gave up then and there, some of us dying, others walking
   wearily but contentedly away. God had had his little joke,
   but who was to say it wasn’t ours?Nobody, apparently,
   which could be why the subject was never raised
   in discussion groups in old houses along the harbor,
   some of them practically falling into it.
   Yet still they chatter a little ruefully: “I know
   your grace’s preference.” There are times
   when I even think I can read his mind,
   coated with seed-pearls and diamonds.
   There they are, for the taking. Take them away.
   Deposit them in whatever suburban bank you choose.
   Hurry, before he changes his mind--- again.
   
   But all they did was lean on their shovels, dreaming
   of spring planting, and the marvelous harvests to come.
谁知道什么构成生命
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   真的?佩德罗叔叔要带着
   他的全部随行人员来吗?他们想
   接管整个顶层?
   
   他们说他们很快就到了?
   后天?一个世纪也不会,
   我打赌。这些东西就像是
   对真实事物的梦想。它们真的存在于
   有顶通道之外,从来没有人去过那里。
   
   那么,我们如何才能确信
   它们坚固而和平,像嵌合体?
   垃圾名单很长
   可以追溯到上个世纪。
   如果我们现在承认它们…
   
   我正站在楼梯平台上
   一股空气急流从我身边呼啸而过
   在到阁楼的通道上。我闻到了佩德罗叔叔谨慎的淡香水味
   (山谷百合花和野山核桃树皮的笔记)
   但得出的结论是,我参与了这件事,
   或者说它的任何事都是我的事,是,对,
   完全阴沉。我又独自一人走了,
   一小时后回来
   看看房子是不是被烧毁,
   或是小牛生了小牛犊。
Who Knows What Constitutes a Life
   
   Really? Uncle Pedro is coming
   with his entire entourage? They want
   to take over the whole top floor?
   They say they’ll be arriving soon? Day
   after tomorrow? Not in a century,
   I bet. These things are like dreams
   of things that are real. And they really exist
   beyond the breezeway, where no man has ever been.
   
   How, then, can we be confident
   they are solid and peaceful, like chimeras?
   The shit list is long
   and extends far back into the last century.
   If we admit them now...
   
   I was just standing on the landing
   and a rush of air whooshed by me
   on its way to the attic. I caught the scent
   of Uncle Pedro’s discreet eau de toilette
   (notes of lily-of-the-valley and wild hickory bark)
   but to conclude that I am involved in this,
   or that any of it is my affair, is, well,
   downright dour. I am off on my own again,
   will return in an hour
   to see if the house has burned down
   or the calf given birth to calflets.
神圣和亵渎的舞蹈
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   如果你想要的一切是小猫,
   晚点再来。黄昏。不能更晚。
   小猫们到时候就到了。
   
   “假如我说我不要小猫,
   只要一个大胖子你,如何?”高速公路城市,
   利兹,有更多,更多的种类。
   我说我只是不能。再快一点
   模仿对话。现在他们正在点名。
   
   带着撒拉班德舞曲全部自发性
   他一觉醒来,洗个澡,系上领带,
   躲闪一跳,开车去上班。
   这里还有其他的,秘密选择。
   他不能看着他们。他必须离开这个地方,
   办公室,随便什么。海狸看着他从它们
   锯棕榈覆盖的照片濒临灭绝。
   不管怎样,他开车去这个特别的房子。
   
   词语传出。他转了一个U形弯
   很快就在乡间某处的
   一条有编号的高速公路上超速行驶。“怎么会这么痒?
   这么晚?”他们把他绑在垃圾堆
   护送他上斜坡,到献祭的平板。
   哦?好吧,如果事情这样解决,
   给予他们更多的力量。存在只是一种存在的方式。
   当有疑问时,快速前进,我总是说。
   
   既然圣诞老人和母亲
   阴影一定有个解释,
   在那里的草丛的
   缝隙。“嘘。别想。”
   
   我完全赞成在我的潜水头盔里
   下降到一个搅动器。事情的解决很有趣。
   
   我说,事情的解决很有趣。
Sacred and Profane Dances   
   
   If all you want is kittens,
   come back later. At dusk. No later.
   The kittens will be in by then.
   
   “What if I said I want no kittens,
   just a big fat you?” The Motorway City,
   Leeds, has more of them, more varieties.
   And I said I just couldn’t. Mime the dialogue
   any faster. They’re taking rollcall now.
   With all the spontaneity of a sarabande
   he wakes up, showers, puts on a tie,
   jumps in his Dodge and drives to work.
   Here there are other, secret choices.
   He cannot look at them. He must needs leave this place,
   office, whatever. The beavers look at him endangered
   from their saw-palmetto-shrouded photomural.
   No matter, he’s driving to this special house.
   
   Word gets out. He makes a U-turn
   and is soon speeding along a numbered highway
   out in the country somewhere. “How did it get so itchy?
   So late?” They bind him to the trash
   and escort him up the ramp, to the sacrificial slab.
   Oh? Well, if that’s the way things work out,
   more power to ’em. Being is only a way of being.
   When in doubt, fast forward, I always say.
   
   Now that it’s Christmas and Mother
   there must be an explanation for the shadows,
   the gaps in the grass of the downs
   over there. “Ssh. Don’t think.”
   
   And I was all for a descent into a churn
   in my diving helmet. Funny the way things work out.
   
   I said, it’s funny the way things work out.
   
我们这就走笨蛋
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   那辆三轮车在哪,伙计?
   你知道我很看重它
   因为现在世界上没有别的东西。
   
   这是教堂,这里是尖塔
   和一座巨大的小山,从它们下面一直延伸
   到松鼠窝。他必须要一个,
   
   你知道。她写信把它们
   在枕头下压碎。几年后,他们出现
   在磨房步行道静静漂浮,秘密地,
   在岸边。我要
   
   起床去拿一个。不,
   你不会。这完全是州长的事,
   他和迈尔斯.斯坦迪什,或普里西拉手牵手---
   构造的不安变得不那么尴尬
   由于布莱叶盲文邮件的分发和餐桌
   残羹剩饭的处理。有时,人们会陷入一个桶,
   “桶装”,而装饰小垫剪刀会把你的脚趾弄成扇形
   就像原始人一直都是这样生活的
   只等着你出现,惊讶不已。
   
   真的先生,你是一只松鸦。
   但只要跟我们走,一切都会好起来的,
   我相信。哦,不,你不会,你上次就是这样抓我的,
   你这个混蛋,我让他们为此惩罚我。先生们,
   我们有麻烦了。一方面,我不想显得太严厉,
   但他的懒散实在是太不合理了——我——我
   只是不知道该怎么说
   现在我想让花女们在舞台左边出现。
   孔雀和我们的妈妈会照顾好其他的一切。
   我没有停留,被逐出,这是有用的事实,
   我一直反复述说的神圣竖琴。
   
   如果他们想要另一种方式,他们就会那样
   
   安排。如果在他们的集体记忆中停留更长时间,
   我准备洗澡,那将是残酷的。哦,只有一件事---
   那家伙有没有告诉过你我的三轮车在哪里,或者电灯开关在哪里?
   这就是画布上画的一切,你看。
   
   这样的方式不会有人受伤,我们一些人学到一些东西。
Here We Go Looby
   
   Where is that tricycle, man?
   You know I set much store by it
   since there is nothing else in the world right now.
   
   Here is the church and here is the steeple
   and the vast hill that recedes under them
   down to the squirrel’s nest. He has to have one,
   
   you know. She wrote letters and crushed them
   under her pillow. Years later they turned up
   in the mill race floating quietly, secretively,
   near the shore. I’ll
   
   get up and get one. No,
   you won’t. This is strictly the governor’s business,
   who held hands with Miles Standish, or Priscilla---
   a tectonic unrest made less awkward
   by the distribution of the braille mail and disposing
   of table scraps. Sometimes one gets caught in a pail,
   “in pailed.” And the doily scissors scallop your tootsies
   as though primitive man had lived this way all along,
   just waiting for you to show up and be astonished.
   
   In truth sir you are a jaybird.
   But just come with us and everything will work out fine,
   I’m sure. Oh no you don’t, that’s the way you got me the last time,
   you bastard and I let them punish me for it. Gentlemen,
   we’ve a problem here. On the one hand I don’t want to appear too harsh,
   but his lackadaisicalness is truly unconscionable—I—I
   just don’t have a word for it
   Now I want the flower girls to appear stage left.
   The peacocks and our mother will take care of everything else.
   I am unperched, dispossessed, and this is the helpful truth of it,
   the holy harp I keep harping on.
   If they had wanted it another way they would have arranged it
   
   that way. It would be cruel to dwell much longer in their collective memory
   and I’m ready for a shower. Oh, just one thing---
   did that guy ever tell you where my tricycle is, or the light switch?
   It was all a drawing on canvas, you see.
   
   This way no one gets hurt, and a few of us learn something.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-11 17:41:46 | 显示全部楼层
露易丝.格丽克(2020年诺奖获得者)诗歌试译

头生子(1968)(FIRSTBORN (1968)
献给我的老师(TO MY TEACHER)

一 卵(I THE EGG




芝加哥列车
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   
   在我对面,整个行驶
   几乎没有动静:只有不知姓名的先生把他那光秃秃的
   脑袋放在扶手上,那孩子
   把头夹在妈妈的双腿间睡着了。代替空气的
   毒药占了上风。
   他们坐着---好像死前的瘫痪
   把他们钉在那里。这条轨道向南弯曲。
   我看见她的胯部在跳动…虱子在那婴儿的头发里扎根。
The Chicago Train
   
   Across from me the whole ride
   Hardly stirred: just Mister with his barren
   Skull across the arm-rest while the kid
   Got his head between his mama's legs and slept. The poison
   That replaces air took over.
   And they sat---as though paralysis preceding death
   Had nailed them there. The track bent south.
   I saw her pulsing crotch ... the lice rooted in that baby's hair.


   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符  
   
   
   一
   
   一切都进入车里。
   睡在车里,像天使
   睡在成了沙丘的墓地里,
   不复存在。一周的肉
   变质了,豌豆
   在豆荚里咯咯笑着说:我们
   偷窃。然后在埃德加敦
   我听到我的内脏
   滚进婴儿床…
   在大西洋洗内衣
   触摸太阳之海
   当光照充分
   它能吞噬水。
   在埃德加敦后
   我们走了另一条路。
   
   二
   
   直到高处越过
   消毒柜,他那硕大的手
   涌向,肉食性的,
   猎物。在它下面,
   湿淋淋的白色,拆卸
   向魔杖打开,
   我看到灯
   在他的眼镜里汇聚。
   茶苯海明。你让他
   抢劫我。但是
   多久?多久?
   越过餐具,我看到
   我的身体像一滴泪珠拉伸
   沿着纸。
   
   三
   
   总有夜晚,我感到大海
   啮咬我的生命。从
   入口,在这个
   港湾,等等的网中。危险的。
   然后,麻木
   在你呼吸的波旁威士忌酒
   涟漪中
   我打结…
   穿过海滩,鱼
   正进入。没有皮肤,
   没有鳍,赤裸的
   家庭头骨
   仍然固定着,与
   其他废物堆在一起。
   壳,壳。月亮
   在它们嘴里呼啸,
   穿过喘息的贻贝。
   撬开的肉。像行星的
   苍蝇,夹紧的贝壳
   穿过波涛的维罗尼卡姐妹(1)
   盲目地叮当作响…
   这东西
   正在孵化。看。骨头
   弯曲着要让位。
   黑暗。黑暗。
   他带了一个碗抓住
   婴儿的碎片。
   
   (1)维罗尼卡姐妹: the Veronicas是来自于澳洲布里斯本的两个双胞胎姐妹(是同卵双胞胎)Lisa和Jessica。她们自己写歌,自己唱歌。两人拥有意大利的血统。两人在澳洲布里斯本出生长大,也在那完成高中学业。
   
   附记:本诗描绘的生命萌动太精彩了,受精卵顽强地在子宫里分裂,就像天地创生。
The Egg
   
   I
   
   Everything went in the car.
   Slept in the car, slept
   Like angels in the duned graveyards,
   Being gone. A week's meat
   Spoiled, peas
   Giggled in their pods: we
   Stole. And then in Edgartown
   I heard my insides
   Roll into a crib ...
   Washing underwear in the Atlantic
   Touched the sun’s sea
   As light welled
   That could devour water.
   After Edgartown
   We went the other way.
   
   II
   
   Until aloft beyond
   The sterilizer his enormous hands
   Swarmed, carnivorous,
   For prey. Beneath which,
   Dripping white, stripped
   Open to the wand,
   I saw the lamps
   Converging in his glasses.
   Dramamine. You let him
   Rob me. But
   How long? how long?
   Past cutlery I saw
   My body stretching like a tear
   Along the paper.
   
   III
   
   Always nights I feel the ocean
   Biting at my life. By
   Inlet, in this net
   Of bays, and on. Unsafe.
   And on, numb
   In the bourbon ripples
   Of your breath
   I knot...
   Across the beach the fish
   Are coming in. Without skins,
   Without fins, the bare
   Households of their skulls
   Still fixed, piling
   With the other waste.
   Husks, husks. Moons
   Whistle in their mouths,
   Through gasping mussels.
   Pried flesh. And flies
   Like planets, clamped shells
   Clink blindly through
   Veronicas of waves ...
   The thing
   Is hatching. Look. The bones
   Are bending to give way.
   It’s dark. It’s dark.
   He's brought a bowl to catch
   The pieces of the baby.
   
感恩节
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   在每个房间,被一个
   来自耶鲁的无名南方男孩包围,
   有我妹妹唱的费里尼主题曲
   并打电话
   而我们其他人则不停地移动她丢弃的靴子
   或坐着喝酒。外面,二十九度,一只流浪猫
   在我们的车道上吃草,
   寻找废物。它划破了桶。
   没有其他声音。
   然而,一直准备的那一顿丰盛的慰藉餐
   挪向炉子。我妈妈
   手里拿着叉子。
   我看着她打褶的皮肤
   好像她错过自己的幼崽,而少量洋葱片
   在分叉的死亡上模糊了雪。
Thanksgiving   
   
   In every room, encircled by a name-less Southern boy from Yale,
   There was my younger sister singing a Fellini theme
   And making phone calls
   While the rest of us kept moving her discarded boots
   Or sat and drank. Outside, in twenty-nine degrees, a stray cat
   Grazed in our driveway,
   Seeking waste. It scratched the pail.
   There were no other sounds.
   Yet on and on the preparation of that vast consoling meal
   Edged toward the stove. My mother
   Had the skewers in her hands.
   I watched her tucking skin
   As though she missed her young, while bits of onion
   Misted snow over the pronged death.

犹豫于打电话
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   活着看到你把我
   扔到一边。我内心
   像网中鱼一样打架。看到你悸动
   在我的糖浆里。看见你睡着了。活着看到
   一切的一切冲进
   垃圾。完事了?
   它活在我心里。
   你活在我心里。恶性的。
   爱,你曾经要我,别。
Hesitate to Call
   
   Lived to see you throwing
   Me aside. That fought
   Like netted fish inside me. Saw you throbbing
   In my syrups. Saw you sleep. And lived to see
   That all that all flushed down
   The refuse. Done?
   It lives in me.
   You live in me. Malignant.
   Love, you ever want me, don't.

我的表姐在四月
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   在天蓝色下,在她后院多节的大黄中
   我的表姐蹲着,和她的孩子咯咯笑,拍拍
   他的秃顶。从一扇窗户,我可以捕捉到他们细软薄布罗勒,
   光滑的硅土,黄土,透过地上的龙蒿
   锦缎,或停在车库下的
   椭圆阴影。紧张的、祖母绿的
   一些根茎扇动着,掠过我表姐的膝盖
   当她向婴儿上下弯着腰。
   我在给她第二个孩子织毛衣。
   仿佛,沿着数英里的晚餐,没有听到她愤怒地
   摇动她的床,以为她躺在床上,困在愤怒中多年…
   啊,但是她身体里的这种激动不得不苏醒。在紫罗兰,
   杜鹃花中,围绕周围整个到达的花园
   现在她和她的儿子经过我停下来
   捕捉的东西,早期芽期,在涌动的草上。
My Cousin in April
   
   Under cerulean, amid her backyard’s knobby rhubarb squats
   My cousin to giggle with her baby, pat
   His bald top. From a window I can catch them mull basil,
   Glinty silica, sienna through the ground's brocade
   Of tarragon or pause under the oblong shade
   Of the garage. The nervous, emerald
   Fanning of some rhizome skims my cousin's knee
   As up and down she bends to the baby.
   I'm knitting sweaters for her second child.
   As though, down miles of dinners, had not heard her rock her bed
   In rage and thought it years she lay, locked in that tantrum ...
   Oh but such stir as in her body had to come round. Amid violet,
   Azalea, round around the whole arriving garden
   Now with her son she passes what I paused
   To catch, the early bud phases, on the springing grass.

失去的孩子回来了
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   什么都不动。在它的笼子里,一把扇子
   破碎的花无力地
   摇曳,它的金属丝滴答作响,当她纤细的
   胳膊,像苍蝇纸悬挂,缠绕男孩…
   后来,堵住了门口,舌头
   被钉在他爸爸的肥楔上,他看着
   当我发现另一个房间,父亲拄着
   拐杖,等着被唤醒…
   现在从对躺在我杯里女人的柠檬水的
   感谢中挤出。当她没完没了捡取
   她用过的面巾纸丢进尘土,总是
   盯着那个男人,听到咔嚓声,
   他脑中旋转的空纺锤的咔嚓声…
Returning a Lost Child   
   
   Nothing moves. In its cage, the broken
   Blossom of a fan sways
   Limply, trickling its wire, as her thin
   Arms, hung like flypaper, twist about the boy ...
   Later, blocking the doorway, tongue
   Pinned to the fat wedge of his pop, he watches
   As I find the other room, the father strung
   On crutches, waiting to be roused ...
   Now squeezed from thanks the woman's lemonade lies
   In my cup. As endlessly she picks
   Her spent kleenex into dust, always
   Staring at that man, hearing the click,
   Click of his brain's whirling empty spindle ...

劳动节
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   他胳膊上需要一些可爱的东西
   把我带到斯坦福,康涅狄格州,一个准农场,
   他家的;后来,我去接查理的
   一个猛犸女朋友,同时想把我押给
   第三个也要去度周末的男人。
   但是星期六我们仍然是一对;把时间消磨在
   蔓延的土地上四脚朝天,
   直到草地因潮湿变得
   软弱无力。像我一样。约翰斯顿宝贝,我仍然可以看到
   倾泻的三叶草,毛刺针刺般的皮和狼吞虎咽的
   牧场,它们喷出无限的小铃铛。你这个男妓。
Labor Day   
   
   Requiring something lovely on his arm
   Took me to Stamford, Connecticut, a quasi-farm,
   His family's; later picking up the mammoth
   Girlfriend of Charlie, meanwhile trying to pawn me off
   On some third guy also up for the weekend.
   But Saturday we still were paired; spent
   It sprawled across that sprawling acreage
   Until the grass grew limp
   With damp. Like me. Johnston-baby, I can still see
   The pelted clover, burrs' prickle fur and gorged
   Pastures spewing infinite tiny bells. You pimp.

(选自  Chinese Whispers )
作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
译者:剑郭琴符
(选自  Chinese Whispers )
作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
译者:剑郭琴符

伤口
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   空气硬成一个外壳。
   从床上,我注视
   苍蝇的血块,蟋蟀
   在搜身,在窃笑。现在
   天气是这样的油脂。
   我整天都闻到烤肉的味道
   如同幽灵。你
   扎根于书。
   你做你的事。
   在这里,我卧室的墙壁
   是佩斯利旋纹图案,就像胚胎的
   密谋。我躺在这里,
   等待它的踢腿。
   我的爱。我的房客。
   当灌木长得
   毛茸茸,开花并播种。
   树篱长满绒毛
   种子和月光
   透过纱布喋喋不休。
   粘糊糊的窗帘。假装
   和隔壁的一对玩拼字游戏
   我看着你抓紧你的空白。
   他们俩都在服用耐波他,
   一种致命的药丸。
   
   我被固定。小心离去,
   乞求点头,
   你忠诚地在我头上徘徊。我闭上
   眼睛。现在
   监狱下降到位:
   成熟的东西在阳光里摇曳,
   植物的部件,叶子
   碎片…
   你正在用床单
   盖住小床。我觉得
   没有尽头。没有尽头。它在我中
   抛锚。它还活着。
The Wound
   
   The air stiffens to a crust.
   From bed I watch
   Clots of flies, crickets
   Frisk and titter. Now
   The weather is such grease.
   All day I smell the roasts
   Like presences. You
   Root into your books.
   You do your stuff.
   In here my bedroom walls
   Are paisley, like a plot
   Of embryos. I lie here,
   Waiting for its kick.
   My love. My tenant.
   As the shrubs grow
   Downy, bloom and seed.
   The hedges grow downy
   And seed and moonlight
   Burbles through the gauze.
   Sticky curtains. Faking scrabble
   With the pair next door
   I watched you clutch your blank.
   They’re both on Nembutal,
   The killer pill.
   
   And I am fixed. Gone careful,
   Begging for the nod,
   You hover loyally above my head. I close
   My eyes. And now
   The prison falls in place:
   Ripe things sway in the light,
   Parts of plants, leaf
   Fragments ...
   You are covering the cot
   With sheets. I feel
   No end. No end. It stalls
   In me. It’s still alive.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-10-11 17:43:08 | 显示全部楼层


银尖
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我妹妹,在大西洋
   敲响的扭结旁,接受光。
   在她身后,海藻环绕着,碎浪花链条的
   连接相遇又断开,泡沫通过海鸟的
   手镯。风下沉。她立即感觉不到
   变化。这需要时间。我妹妹,
   短暂搅拌,安排
   毛巾,眉毛像一只小鸡,在火下。
Silverpoint
   
   
   My sister, by the chiming kinks
   Of the Atlantic Ocean, takes in light.
   Beyond her, wreathed in algae, links on links
   Of breakers meet and disconnect, foam through bracelets
   Of seabirds. The wind sinks. She does not feel the change
   At once. It will take time. My sister,
   Stirring briefly to arrange
   Her towel, browns like a chicken, under fire.

  

十二月初在哈德逊河畔的克罗顿
   
   (选自 FIRSTBORN (1968) )
   作者:(美)露易丝.格丽克(Louise Glück)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   尖刺的太阳。哈得逊河
   被冰削尖。
   我听到吹填砾石的
   骨骰子咔嗒作响。骨头般
   苍白,最近的雪
   像毛皮紧固在河里。
   停顿。去年,我们正要去送
   圣诞礼物的时候,轮胎
   爆了。在死气沉沉的阀门上方,被暴风雨
   削皮的松树站立着,四肢赤裸…
   我要你。
Early December in Croton-on-Hudson   
   
   Spiked sun. The Hudson's
   Whittled down by ice.
   I hear the bone dice
   Of blown gravel clicking. Bone-
   pale, the recent snow
   Fastens like fur to the river.
   Standstill. We were leaving to deliver
   Christmas presents when the tire blew
   Last year. Above the dead valves pines pared
   Down by a storm stood, limbs bared ...
   I want you.

 楼主| 发表于 2020-12-4 08:44:58 | 显示全部楼层

  
莫扎特大道

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   这些房子中有一些惊人地古老。
   其他的,新的似乎也老了。
   只有当树的线条在某物中结束时
   它才与曾经作为一个男孩在一只瓶子里瞥见的
   发展模式相似。我们的参照点都有点老化
   当我们看它们,但没有留心。
   现在有一些反常的东西,在每一片黄叶,
   每一只游荡的猫,甚至靠在门上的木棍。
   我想脱掉这些衣服……“稍后。”

   一轮矛盾的满月在带着烟囱的
   屋栋上摇摆。其光线足够借来阅读。
   但现在没人喜欢读书。
  
  

  
Avenue Mozart



   Some of these houses are startlingly old.
   Other, newer ones seem old too.
   Only when a line of trees ends in something
   Does it resemble the model of progress glimpsed once
   in a bottle as a boy. Our references have all aged a little
   as we were looking at them, not noticing.
   Now there’s something perverse in every yellow leaf,
   every cat loafing, even the stick leaning against the door.
   I’d like to get out of these clothes …“Later.”

   And a full moon of oxymorons swings up over the ridgepoles
   with their chimneys. It’s light enough to read by.
   But nobody feels like reading now.
  
  



  
生活是一场梦

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   一个自我实现的天赋
   只会把你带到
   伐木场旁边的空地上,那里他们有登记表。
   我的名字以一个A开头,
   所以是首先被念出来的人之一。
   我想知道站在哪里---那三四个人的队伍
   会是队伍的起点吗?

   我有机会发现之前,一个啮齿类动物的
   男人推着我的肩膀。“在‘那边’,”他发出嘘声。
   “学校里他们没教你‘什么’吗?‘任何东西’的照片
   都可能是真的,或者也许不是?炉子的一角,
   黄昏时分的一团蠓虫。”

   我知道我以后有机会学到
   更多。等待是我们所需要的,同时。
   真的,生活可以是任何东西,但某些东西
   肯定不是它。这只戴着手套的手,
   例如,如此精确地
   滑进我的,就好像它打算留下来一样。
  
  

  
Life Is a Dream


   A talent for self-realization
   will get you only as far as the vacant lot
   next to the lumber yard, where they have rollcall.
   My name begins with an A,
   so is one of the first to be read off.
   I am wondering where to stand---could that group of three
   or four others be the beginning of the line?

   Before I have the chance to find out, a rodent-like
   man pushes at my shoulders. “It’s that way,” he hisses.
   “Didn’t they teach you anything at school? That a photograph
   of anything can be real, or maybe not?The corner of the stove,
   a cloud of midges at dusk-time.”

   I know I’ll have a chance to learn more
   later on. Waiting is what’s called for, meanwhile.
   It’s true that life can be anything, but certain things
   definitely aren’t it. This gloved hand,
   for instance, that glides
   so securely into mine, as though it intends to stay.
  
  



  
元音

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   瞬间的供不应求可怕地侧向移动到我们的绿洲。
   在我们下面,敬畏的愤怒的艾尔代尔调整过。
   造船厂八个一组的物品结束于签字。
   透过复活节周的雨
   赤裸的手指,在冬天,山谷
   就像酵母。这么多我预言着,走着,
   然后背对着昨天那块巨大的碎片。
   所有事与所有人都很平静。一块黑石闪烁。
  
  

  
vowels


   Instant insufficiency edged eerily over our oasis.
   Under us, awed angry Airedales adjusted.
   The octet closes with a signing-on in shipyards.
   Through naked fingers of the rain
   Easter week, and during the winter the valleys
   are like yeast. This much I divined, walking,
   then turned my back on the mighty fragment of yesterday.
   Everything was at peace with everybody. A dark stone glistened.
  



  
格雷斯塔克的贝弗利

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   是风,是雨夹雪。
   是真正的冒险。还没有发生。
   到了停下吃午餐的时间---
   半个豆子三明治。你的还没到,
   你要的是熏肉黑面包。

   这个罪犯变得满口脏话,
   我想要一台冷水机,我裤子上的
   风,我的塔夫绸长袍,

   把我从任何地方带到任何地方
   在这疯狂的旅行结束之前。请---
   女裁缝在下面的内部。

   斯拉沃尼亚的总统接通了电话:
   我们不得不提前订购平板卡车
   现在已远远延伸到被冒犯的距离。
   停!也许会找到别的办法——
   你就是这么想的,妹妹。

   这一天,以一种限制宽松的方式,
   提炼出这些药片所代表的意义,
   以及它们在你的第二秒到来之前应该吸收的东西,
   现在把会议包括在内已经太晚。
   这只会让公司感到困惑。

   是的,但我听到的是广场上的哭声
   倾斜回它平淡的暴露,
   闲置的秘密。这又是一顿三明治的午餐,
   但真相会被贯穿。在你的视线里
   和我一样悲哀,威尼斯已经关闭,
   另一个浏览者侧身进入
   穿过狂喜跳蚤的雪,
   我想我曾经说过,关于我母校的一切。

   有一次,在春天的一天,成员们的照片
   命令我们穿过后座;绿草和厕所
   被一点点期待萦绕。

   “奈莉”---我只需要这些,我们又走了,沿着肮脏的小巷
   其尽头是一丝不苟的广场,我们谁也不知道结果。
   我们可以看到蓝色光滑的冰清理土耳其队服,
   保龄球馆在花园里结束,按正确和
   恰当的方式。

   可怜的贝弗利---他们从没给过她(他?)机会
   在东区的杂志上证明自己
   在被召唤到一个从未发布过公告的
   多岩石的公国之前---只有砖块
   和偶尔的红鲱鱼新闻稿发布:“崩溃的
   感觉内裤正在入侵这个季节,建议
   法尔斯堡的莱奥波尔迪娜,但现在
   还不敢掩饰那些垫肩。相反,为什么不
   想想今年腐烂的马肉呢?有些花花公子甚至更喜欢它
   而不喜欢脚下如此常见的喷洒的紫罗兰花
   这些日子里,人们走回起点的大门
   在那里一切都开始了,似乎不可思议的是,在光中---”
   一个火热的集市,没有人需要再谈论太多
   直到下一轮的访问发生。

   令人难以置信,尽管如此少的潜在的遗忘被取消---
   我们回到了轨道上,至少达到
   最近的回报涉及到的。他们中的大多数人都在其中。
   一些旅馆的鬼魂生硬地徘徊,想知道粘膜炎是否
   能起到通便的作用,是否还有来世,如果是的话,
   是否就在隔壁房间附近,或者甚至在壁橱,
   这可能比白天倾斜的日程安排、
   晚上的屋顶、房租和现在总是充斥着我们的紫罗兰色苍白更可取。
  
  

  
Beverly of Graustark



   It’s wind, it’s sleeting.
   It’s real adventure. It hasn’t happened yet.

   It’s time to break for lunch---
   half a bean sandwich. Yours isn’t here yet,
   you asked for black bread on bacon.

   The perp is becoming abusive,
   and I would like a chiller, wind
   in my pants, my long taffeta gown,

   to take me anywhere from any place
   before this insane excursion is finished. Please---
   the seamstress is inside down below.

   The president of Slavonia is on the wire:
   We’ll have to go ahead with the order for flatbed trucks
   now stretching far into the offended distance.
   Stop! Some other way may be found---
   That’s what you thinks,sister.

   The day extracts, in a loosely confining way,
   what these pills signified,
   and what they were supposed to absorb before your seconds arrived
   and now it’s too late to include the meeting.
   It would only baffle the establishment.

   Yes but what I am hearing is from plazas of wailing
   tilting back into the bland exposure of it,
   the idle secret. It was again a lunch of sandwiches,
   but truth will perforate. As sadly as I’m
   in your line of vision, Venice is closed,
   another browser sidles in
   through a snow of ecstatic fleas,
   what my alma mater is all about I think I once said.

   Photographs of members enjoin us through the back seat
   on a spring day once; green grass and toilets
   spooled on a little anticipation.

   “Nelly”---that’s all I needed and we’re off again, down foul alleys
   ending in meticulous squares, and none of us knew the outcome yet.
   We could see the blue ice-slick clear through the Turkish uniform,
   and the bowling alleys ended out in the garden as is right
   and proper.

   Poor Beverly---they never gave her (him?) a chance
   to prove herself in the journals of the East End
   before being summoned to that rocky principality
   from which no bulletins ever issue---only brickbats
   and the occasional red herring press release: “Collapsed
   felt underdrawers are invading the season, counsels
   Léopoldine from Phalsbourg, but don’t
   dare disguise those shoulder pads yet. Instead, why not
   think rotting horseflesh this year? Some beaux even prefer it
   to the spritzed violets so common underfoot
   these days of walking back to the starting gate
   where everything began, inconceivably it seems, in light---”
   a fiery bazaar no one needs to talk too much about anymore
   till the next in the round of visits happens.

   It’s incredible though how few latent oblivions have been canceled---
   we’re back on track at least as far as
   late returns are concerned. Most of them are in.
   A few hotel ghosts wander stiffly, wondering if catarrh
   can ever be cathartic, and if there’s any afterlife, and if so,
   whether it’s near as the next room, or the closet even,
   which might just be preferable to daytime’s sloping agendas,
   the roof at night, the rent, and the violet pallor flooding us now always.

  
  



  
采珠人

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   他会说,“你应该给他写信并感谢他,”我
   会说,“是的,我有时间就写。”当然,我本来打算
   这么做,但这个计划过时了。有点太干了。我再开始,我要
   谢谢他。我就这样做了,以我自己的方式。我忘了他和他的七次成功
   之旅。我们变成一个---高跷。单个高跷没什么大用,
   我就这样感谢他---不时提醒他,
   当盐球滚向冰川。

   它融化,没有。等等,你不能起来。有一个A.1。酱油

   在她的沙发套上。他说,该死的非正式。我每次来这里
   都喜欢吃两块而不是三块。不幸的是你也不能,
   我们越出了我说的每件事。太阳在西米里的景色上暗淡地微笑,
   它骚动着。似乎它终于对

   橡胶制品、
   成堆的脏东西、
   薄纱内衣、
   盆栽风信子、
   树都不肯承认的树桩、
   到凌晨三点还吵得团团转的赌场感兴趣。

   对不起,天鹅趾夫人,
   我们不想打扰,然后瀑布
   冲过岛上,就像我确信你注意到了一样。当它完全
   过去时,除了偶尔不可避免的小河,
   没有人记得怎么计数。

   这是一次“皇家事故”。
   你不能指望那些人,
   他们总是赢。
  
  

  
The Pearl Fishers


   And he would say, “You ought to write him and thank him for it, ”and I’d
   say, “Yes, I’m going to when I have the time.” Of course I had intended
   to, but the project aged. It was slightly too dry. I’ll begin again, I’ll
   thank him. And so I did, in my own way.I forgot him and his seven journeys
   to success. We became as one---a stilt. A single stilt isn’t of much use,
   and that’s how I thanked him---by reminding him from time to time,
   as the salt ball rolled toward the glacier.

   It melted and did not. Wait, you can’t get up. There’s A.1. Sauce

   on her slipcover. Informality be damned, he said. Whenever I come here I
   like to take two lumps instead of three.Unfortunately you can’t have either,
   we’re out of everything I said. The sun smiled wanly on the Cimmerian
   landscape,
   which stirred. It seemed as if it was at last about to take an interest

   in rubber goods,
   piles of filth,
   gossamer undies,
   potted hyacinths,
   stumps no tree would own up to,
   casinos rattling till three in the morning.

   I’m sorry, Mrs. Swan-toe,
   we meant not to disturb and then this waterfall
   rushed over the island, as I’m sure you noticed. By the time it had passed
   fully, except for the occasional unavoidable runnel,
   no one could remember how to count.

   It was a Royal Accident.
   You can’t rely on those,
   they always win.

  
  



  
他们不会这么离开。要么

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   在斯堪的纳维亚,冬天经常
   下雪,然后很长一段时间到处躺着,
   幸运的表亲们生活在各种各样时间的金库。
   在一楼没买东西,但通过一个漏斗形的排水沟
   人们可以瞥见,偶尔,桃色的
   天空。太棒了!它也比你想象的更纯洁,
   而且,不是说需要过度关注我们。
   父亲坐在主客厅旁边的
   起居室,在桌子旁工作。我们从来不知道
   他到底做了什么。我们这些孩子会玩
   作家和老处女之类的游戏来自娱自乐,直到妈妈突然
   把灯拿开,我们都坐在黑暗中哆嗦了片刻。
   很快该上床睡觉了。我们摸索着爬上
   不存在的楼梯到阁楼烟囱。
   这里的一切如此平静,我可以立即梦到
   更多的东西。但是如果梦是预言性的呢?
   跌跌撞撞地下到巷子里,尖叫着,额头沾满血
   或者僵化得像一根几乎不能说话的老树根,当它能说话时,
   会说这样的话:“你知道你的马着火了吗?”

   许多冬天都是这样度过的。
   我不能说我觉得更明智。
   相反,我的大脑感觉就像一张刚被理发师
   新剃光的脸。我很满意地擦着它,
   他走时给他很高的小费。
   更奇特的图案更深远地等着我们
   在我们的命运中,我告诉他,他同意了;任何东西
   都要把我扔掉,交给下一个顾客。
   在外面,在街上,有一段丝绸漂亮地绕出线轴,
   欣喜于它厄运的

   父亲,我再也走不远,灯把刺瞎了我
   我后面的人一直在我耳边低语
   我更喜欢不懂…
   可是你必须,我的孩子,为了在院子里
   等着我们的堂兄妹和兔子。
  
  

  
They Don't Just Go Away. Either


   In Scandinavia, where snow falls frequently
   in winter, then lies around for quite some time,
   lucky cousins were living in a time-vault of sorts.
   No purchase on the ground floor, but through a funnel-shaped drain
   one could catch glimpses, every so often, of the peach-colored
   firmament. It’s so terrific! It’s purer than you think,
   too, not that that need unduly concern us.
   Father sat in his living room
   off the main parlor, working at his table. We never knew
   exactly what he did. We kids would amuse ourselves
   with games like Authors and Old Maid, until Mamma abruptly
   withdrew the lamp, and we all sat shivering in the dark for a while.
   Soon it was time to go to bed. We groped our way up
   non-existent flights of stairs to the attic funnel.
   Everything is so peaceful in here I can dream of more kinds
   of things at once. But what if the dreams were prophetic?
   Stumbling down an alley, screaming, forehead bathed in blood
   or ossified like an old tree root that can barely speak, and when it can,
   says things like: “Do you know your horse is on fire?”

   Many winters were passed in this way.
   I cannot say I feel any wiser for it.
   Instead my brain feels like a face freshly shaved
   by the barber. I rub it with satisfaction,
   giving him a good tip on the way out.
   More fanciful patterns await us further along
   in our destiny, I tell him, and he agrees; anything
   to be rid of me and on to the next customer.
   Outside, in the street, a length of silk unspools beautifully,
   rejoicing in its doom

   Father, I can go no farther, the lamp blinds me
   and the man behind me keeps whispering things in my ear
   I’d prefer not to be able to understand ...
   Yet you must, my child, for the sake of the cousins
   and the rabbit who await us in the dooryard.
  
  



  
传统智慧

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   虽然我认识你很久了,但我们似乎根本不认识对方。
   这就像是树叶歪斜的那个时间
   到来的排练。再看看
   直到现在还藏在腋下的饼干,
   尖利的凝视。

   书包打开时,我正在拐角周围
   高兴地跑步,太像小巷里
   时钟的呼吸,挖掘着。天堂送来这个针头。
   又是一次乘车兜风。
   好吧,我说我可以照顾好自己。
   然后深度旋转它的轮子。我在某处的砾石上滑行。
   上这车前先看看周围你的
   个人物品。不是一个而是三个老太太来了。
   慌乱的球童和当地的粪池承包商说话,他说
   伙计,我以为我属于这里的拖车,但
   管它呢,据说战时的甜菜是太多的菠菜。
   现在我可以疏通你耐心点。
   一个坐在后殿的女孩想知道为什么钹
   都被抽干了元音,在这个令人费解的时期。
   你读过兰波的《元音》吗?不我没有我说。
   这里太像教室。现在如果我们用蜘蛛网
   代替空气它们会不会都按照三角形的曲调
   正确地行进?当然,少校一定会生气
   但重要的是我们的空调。马上
   码头被修复。上校
   抓住了马维斯和艾里斯。
   头上没声音。我知道这一点但请,
   让我们解决我们在绅士风尚上的分歧。不管它是
   什么,剑还是兵蚂甲虫。我的有区别吗?
   也许只有在梦中你才能把它装瓶出售。

   罐头从散热器上掉了下来。
   阿尔西亚上釉的表情变成了现实。在反抗的宫殿里
   它是深蓝色的。不寻常的事情一直在
   发生。预产期一直闪过
   渔网泵上的钻石槽,还有一个影子,
   那是桥上的弓箭步的,
   是镇上凝结的怪兽的,
   还是在岁月摇篮里有我名字的一张丢失的纸片的。
  
  

  
Conventional Wisdom


   Although I have known you for a long time
   it seems as though we hardly know each other at all.
   It was as a rehearsal for coming to be in time
   that leaves are aslant. Take another look
   for the cookie hoarded in armpits up till now,
   the pointed stare.

   When the satchel came undone I was running around
   the corner please, sure as a clock’s breath
   in the allées, digging. Heaven sent this pinprick.
   It was another time to be riding around in.
   Alright I said I can take care of myself.
   Then depth spun its wheels. I was sliding on gravel somewhere.
   Take a look around you for your personal belongings
   before getting on this bus. Not one but three old ladies came along.
   The flustered caddy spoke for the local cesspool contractor when he said
   man the trailer I thought I belonged here but what
   the hey, said in wartime the beets were too much spinach.
   Now I can unclog you be patient.
   A girl in the apse wondered why the cymbals
   were drained of vowels in these perplexing times.
   Have you ever read Rimbaud’s Les Voyelles No I haven’t I said.
   It’s too much like the class room in here.Now if we replaced the air
   with cobwebs wouldn’t they all march in correctly
   to the triangle’s tune? Sure, the major is bound to be pissed off
   but all that counts is our air conditioner. In a jiffy
   the dock was rehabbed. The colonel grabbed Mavis and Iris.
   It’s dumb overhead. I know this but please,
   let’s resolve our differences in gentlemanly fashion. What’11 it
   be, swords or soldier beetles. My is there a difference?
   Mayhap only in dreams where you bottle it and sell it.

   And the can fell off the radiator.
   Althea’s glazed look came true. It was deep blue in the palaces
   of revolt. Something extraordinary was happening
   all the time. The due date kept flashing past
   the diamond slot in fishnet pumps and a shadow,
   the shadow of the lunge on the bridge,
   of monsters congealing above the town,
   and of a lost slip with my name on it in the cradle of the ages.
  
  



  
再次,三月几乎在此

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   如果我是一棵树,你会说
   我在高速公路上迷路了。
   死亡溢出了沟渠
   其中生命被束缚
   而且在一段时间还会如此。

   我看到炼金术士在七岁时
   淹死在他的绿松石里
   而在别的地方看到不那么精神的一面。
   天啊,这让我很沮丧。

   然后,一个法警悄悄来了
   好像要给我量
   一套新衣服的尺寸。“这里,我不需要这个…
   盐水。”我今天很凌乱。

   一位太太从她家里走出来
   当我在路上时,说
   找那棵欧石南,是
   路那头盐草的父亲。

   我想我只是混淆了
   我渴望理解
   被提供的差不多一切的渴望。
   唉,不多。

   很少有就业申请
   这些似乎又老又苍白
   好像是去年三月的一天由乌贼传真。
   现在,一年过去了。还不到

   一年不过,正如我
   要说的。
   他们给了我《蓝胡子》。
   太无法接受

   那一天和未来的森林。
   虽然沐浴在睡梦中,芳香的
   人们,但其他刺激也会帮助
   人们的颈部毛发:

   有一次,一个骑自行车的小伙子,
   美得像新月;
   快乐得像一长套书中的一本

   他又一次问你这个秘密。

  
  

  
And Again,March is Almost Here


   If I were a tree you’d say
   I was lost by a highway.
   Death overflows the ditches
   in which life confined it
   and will be that way for some time.

   I saw the alchemist drown
   in his turquoise at seven
   and elsewhere saw the less spiritual side.
   God, how it gets me down.

   Then furtively a bailiff came
   as though to take my measurements
   for a new suit. “Here, I don’t need this ...
   brine.”I was cluttered for the day.

   A Mrs. came out of her house
   being as I was on the road to say
   look for the heather that is father
   to the salt hay down the road.

   I guess I only confused
   my eager willingness to understand
   just about anything that was offered.
   Alas, it wasn’t much.

   There were few requests for employment
   and those seemed old and pallid
   as though faxed by a squid one day last March.
   Now, a year has gone by. Not quite

   a year though, as I
   was going to say.
   They offered me Bluebeard.
   So much that was unacceptable

   that day and all the forests to come.
   Though bathed in sleep and aromatic
   persons, other stimuli come to the aid
   of the hairs of one’s neck:

   a lad on a bicycle, once,
   beautiful as the crescent moon;
   enjoyable as a book in a long set of books

   who asks you this secret again.

  
  




 楼主| 发表于 2020-12-4 20:02:35 | 显示全部楼层
  
陷入大漩涡
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   绝不,创造者们没有极度痛苦,
   只是决定一直让你
   在大漩涡之上多悬几秒钟。
   然后要发生的一切好像
   发生了。来,走进我的客厅,
   穿上这双凉鞋,你一定累了。
   你已经取得进展,自从晚间新闻
   对我们俩演了一半尼尔森。来,
   喝这杯加糖的茶。
   
   就好像我的童年又开始了,
   付帐单,做有缺陷的作业,
   还有雨渗入,想玩,它似乎,
   像只猫。一只巨大的猫爱我,我想。
   我当时在湿地调中提琴,
   自然每个人那时都会来找你帮忙,
   或者,更难得,主动帮助你一次。
   我想他们认为没人会去户外。
   我,我不明白。是那些冒险的人
   做不到的,汽车打蜡工,独裁者。然后务必
   向他问好,尽管我保证他不会知道你在说什么。
  
  
  
A Descent into the Maelstrom
   
   
   
   Hell no, the creators weren’t anguished,
   just determined to keep you dangling
   above the maelstrom a few more seconds.
   Then it was as if everything that was going to happen
   had. Here, walk into my living room,
   put on these sandals, you must be tired.
   You’ve come a long way since the evening news
   put a half-nelson on both of us. Here,
   drink this sugared tea.
   
   It was as though my childhood were beginning again,
   with bills to pay, defective homework to be done,
   and the rain getting in, wanting to play, it seemed,
   like a cat. A great big cat loves me, I guess.
   I was down in the swamp tuning my viola,
   and naturally everybody comes by then to ask you for a favor,
   or, more rarely, to offer to do one for you.
   I guess they think nobody ever goes outdoors.
   Me, I can’t understand it. It’s the dicey ones
   can’t, the car waxers, the dictators. Then say hello to him
   by all means, though I guarantee he won’t know what you’re saying.
  
  
  
  
忧郁奏鸣曲
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   然后我走在路上。
   很明显,这次旅行(因为
   就是如此)远非不可避免。
   一根细枝刺穿了我的袜子
   我抬头望着橡树无肩带的树干,
   希望能从似乎是寓言的东西中逃脱,
   从逃脱永不可能的一切逃脱。
   
   我知道“那个”。不过,还是有惊喜的时间
   比如这样的时间,你看着我微笑
   正当雪橇拖着我们经过一个
   散发古老尿味的沙坑。简言之
   
   就是在这里,我将找到一个殖民地
   并称之为上帝。
   
   那晚的黄蜂从没更疯狂,
   使阅读变得不可能。我放下我那本
   《小杜丽》(2),小虫子们用命题
   把自己抛得更近。“嘿,你想如何摆脱那家伙
   和我们?你需要干的一切就是按一个按钮
   世界另一边某个地方的官话
   就会蹒跚片刻,看着他的生活在他之前
   发生:第一碗稀饭,国语学校的
   毕业日,后来的疑惑和悔恨
   一个错乱的现时渗入过去,
   让整个人生显得遗憾。”不,
   我不能原谅你的提议,明显的答案是迟些时候的事。
   与此同时,我要设法安抚我的眼球
   用天花板上漏出的雾气。
   充分证明,抚摸着门环,
   一张小妖精的脸,把我们带回到一百年前
   正如它惊奇地凝视着我们,说不出话
   像一片雏菊,来到我们也不合拍的时间
   整个知觉世界给我们提供沐浴---
   苍白的咆哮,一次又一次搞坏了今天。
   ---
   (1)原文如此。
   (2)《小杜丽》:狄更斯的小说。
  
  
  
Sonatine Melancolique
   
   
   
   Then I walked on a ways(1).
   It became apparent that the journey (for
   such it was) was far from unavoidable.
   A twig skewered my sock
   and I looked up at the oak tree’s strapless trunk,
   hoping to escape from what seemed a parable,
   from which escape is never possible.
   
   I know that. But there is still time for surprises
   like the time you looked at me and smiled
   just as the sledge was dragging us past a bunker
   scented with antique urine. In short
   it is here that I shall found a colony
   and call it God.
   
   The wasps that night had never been loonier,
   making reading impossible. I put down my volume
   of Little Dorrit, and gnats flung themselves even closer
   with propositions. “Hey, how’d you like to be rid of that guy
   and us too? All you need do is push a button
   and a mandarin somewhere on the other side of the world
   will stagger for a moment, seeing his life transpire
   before him: that first bowl of gruel, graduation day
   at mandarin school, and later on doubts and remorse,
   a flummoxed present that seeps into the past,
   making a whole life seem regrettable.” No,
   I cannot condone your offer, the thick answer is for later.
   Meanwhile I shall try to pacify my eyeballs
   with the mist leaking from the ceiling.
   That proved sufficient, caressing the knocker,
   a goblin’s face, that drew us back a hundred years
   even as it gazed at us in surprise, speechless
   as a field of daisies, to a time when we too were out of step
   and the whole sentient world offered to bathe us---
   pale bluster, flubbing today again and again.
  
  
  
  
先于时间的诗节
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   除此以外,好像它能
   静静地,海洋转身
   溜回了她的内裤。
   
   珊瑚礁一定知道这些,
   还有学校里那些漫不经心的红鱼
   在学校里小声漂浮,
   
   想知道哪个学校最好。
   我带你去兜风
   在我的小汽车上,海洋小姐,老实说,如果我可以的话。
  
  
  
Stanzas before Time
   
   
   Quietly as if it could be
   otherwise, the ocean turns
   and slinks back into her panties.
   
   Reefs must know something of this,
   and all the incurious red fish
   that float ditsily in schools,
   
   wondering which school is best.
   I’d take you for a drive
   in my flivver, Miss Ocean, honest, if I could.
  
  
  
  
来自庞特韦德拉的明信片
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   刚刚我如何感觉到
   我感觉今天(这种感觉)。
   
   女巫搅拌汤
   用一把魔法汤匙。
   
   她说,“我们能让这发生。
   我们永远不能让这发生?”
   
   原谅我?你看,我
   在梅森鸭店醒来。
   
   人们从我身边走过,
   越来越快---好像他们在朝什么东西跑。
   
   叫我迂腐吧。不,不要,
   重新考虑后。相反,我们要叫
   
   救护车。我醒来时耳边嗡嗡作响---
   大海的声音,荨麻篮子的声音。
   
   驾车,不出席都没问题。我不确定
   庞特维德拉在哪里。如果我确定,我还得问自己
   这么多其他的问题,那些在你白昼的明亮中
   你永远尝不到,
   
   尽管它们回答我
   就像上升的大海。
  
  
  
A Postcard from Pontevedra
   
   
   
   
   Just how I feel
   I feel today.
   
   The witch stirred the soup
   with a magic spoon.
   
   She said, “We can make this happen.
   We can never make this happen?”
   
   Excuse me? I was waking up
   at the Maison Duck you see.
   
   People are walking past me,
   faster and faster---it seems they are running toward something.
   
   Call me old-fashioned. No, don’t,
   on second thought. We’ll call an ambulance
   
   instead. I was waking up with this humming in my ears---
   sound of the sea, of a basket of nettles.
   
   It’s O.K. to ride, to not go along. I’m not sure
   where Pontevedra is. If I was I’d have to ask myself
   so many other questions, ones you never
   taste in the brightness of your day,
   
   though they answer me
   like the risen sea.
  
  
  
  
西服
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   观众们永远散去了,故事无言地留下
   ---摘自盖伊.马丁的电影《谨慎》
   
   也许它只是看起来脏兮兮的。
   让我们把它拿到五楼去看。
   从这个角度,人们可以看得更远,深入到
   我们从未意识到的经历的角落,也就是说,大多数经历。
   
   但这座城市是新的。新的公寓楼,现在空置,
   像一只飞蛾盘绕,还不知道
   它被困在蜘蛛网里,擦不掉的
   愿望很快就会出现。现在过一会儿
   我们可以喝茶,聊一聊著名的玩偶收藏
   在欧洲小温泉博物馆里。
   帐篷上的阴影提醒我们:呼吸并不像我们想象的
   那么舒适。奇泽沃思先生的计算
   总是那么正确,然而当人们相信他的时候,他在哪里?
   
   这是一种限制和延期的生活。
   但我们知道我们在正确的轨道上;我们涌动着某种东西,
   要不告诉我们,我们到达机场太早
   或是关于黄昏时出租车上的水滴的某些事。
   我们篡改一切,
   我想我对甘露有一个解释
   它像花粉一样轻轻落下,尝起来像椰子或其他一些
   无法解释的果子露。看来衣服总是不合身。
   
   是的,我早该告诉你这些。
  
  
  
A Suit
   
   
   
   The audience was scattered forever, and the story left untold.
   —from the film Careful, by Guy Maddin
   
   Maybe it only looks bedraggled.
   Let’s take it up to the fifth floor and see.
   One can look quite far in that light, into the corners
   of experiences we never knew we had, that is to say most of them.
   
   But the city is new. The new apartment building, now vacant,
   circles like a moth that as yet has no idea
   it’s trapped in a spider’s web, that the indelible
   will soon come to pass. For a few moments now
   we can drink tea and talk of the famous doll collection
   in the museum of a small European spa.
   Shadows on the tent alert us: Breathing isn’t going to be as easy
   as we’d thought once. Mr. Cheeseworth is always so right
   in his calculations, yet when one comes to believe him, where is he?
   
   It has been a life of qualification and delay.
   Yet we knew we were on the right track;something surged in us,
   telling us otherwise, that we’d arrive too early at the airport
   or something about the drips on the taxi in the dusk.
   We doctored it all up,
   and I think I have an explanation for the manna
   that falls softly as pollen, and tastes like coconut or some other
   unaccountable sherbet. It seems clothes never do fit.
   
   Yes, I could have told you that some time ago.
  
  
  
过去的十字路口
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   那天晚上,连翘丛里刮起了风,
   但它是个错的,在错误的方向吹。
   “真笨。怎么会有错误的方向?
   ‘在它听到的地方吹,’如你所知,就像我们所做的那样
   当我们做爱或做别的事,没有规则可循。”
   
   我告诉你,不久前那里出了点问题。
   别问我那是什么。假装我已放弃了话题。
   不,现在你让我感兴趣了,我想确切地知道
   对你来说有什么似乎不对,对你来说
   
   怎么不对。事情以什么方式出错?
   
   我坐在这里用一只手
   拨手机,另一只手用铲子挖一些不起眼的
   鹅卵石。然后像辫子这样的东西会在马鬃垫子上
   
   脱颖而出。那把扶手椅真是太凄凉了。
   
   我们得把所有的家具都换了,熏蒸房子,
   把我们的关系从头说起。说,你知道
   这可能是错误所在---开始概念,我是说。
   我敢说没有开始,虽然有时会
   有一些。我们停下,看看电影院
   在人行道上独立摆放的海报。大堂的卡片
   把我们吸引进来。那是下午,我们发现自己
   坐在一排包厢尽头;剧院出人意料
   拥挤。就在那天,我们第一次意识到我们完全
   不知道我们的名字,你的或我的,我们
   在灰蒙蒙的雪中静静离开。暮色已经降临。
  
  
  
Crossroads in the Past
   
   
   
   That night the wind stirred in the forsythia bushes,
   but it was a wrong one, blowing in the wrong direction.
   “That’s silly. How can there be a wrong direction?
   ‘It bloweth where it listeth,’ as you know, just as we do
   when we make love or do something else there are no rules for.”
   
   I tell you, something went wrong there a while back.
   Just don’t ask me what it was. Pretend I’ve dropped the subject.
   No, now you’ve got me interested, I want to know
   exactly what seems wrong to you, how something could
   
   seem wrong to you. In what way do things get to be wrong?
   I’m sitting here dialing my cellphone
   with one hand, digging at some obscure pebbles with my shovel
   with the other. And then something like braids will stand out,
   
   on horsehair cushions. That armchair is really too lugubrious.
   
   We’ve got to change all the furniture, fumigate the house,
   talk our relationship back to its beginnings. Say, you know
   that’s probably what’s wrong---the beginnings concept, I mean.
   I aver there are no beginnings, though there were perhaps some
   sometime. We’d stopped, to look at the poster the movie theater
   
   had placed freestanding on the sidewalk. The lobby cards
   drew us in. It was afternoon, we found ourselves
   sitting at the end of a row in the balcony;the theater was unexpectedly
   crowded. That was the day we first realized we didn’t fully
   know our names, yours or mine, and we left quietly
   amid the gray snow falling. Twilight had already set in.
  
  
  
水务检查员
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   争抢“信徒”按钮。让鸡安静。我们有更重要的东西,比如智力。我们一生中说了那么多残酷的话,然而。在一家妓院,年轻,我迷惑不解。这样那样的命运,不,是关于这个和那个。你明白我在说什么吗?没有人需要全部真相。
   
   即使如此,我们急需重复。节拍继续。对报告,对你父亲的死感到非常惊讶,但是这些事情发生了。通常第二天死者就被发现,活着但颤抖,想知道他们发生了什么,在地窖门下面颤抖。我们也想知道,当我们所知的天空裂成两半会发生什么。甲虫的声音为我们唱小夜曲。地球和它的喷泉为我们做的还不够多,然而我们记得,也颤抖,像过去一样。
   
   我们在看书,有人敲门。我们想,水务检查员,我们想,当然没有人在那里。刺痛,又刺痛。所以我们继续进行,一直在航线上,总是祈求星星告诉我们发生了什么,是否我们真的干净,如果我们在航线上。沉默总说是,你现在可以回家了,集合你的玩伴,去最近的树林里,如果你认为那会有帮助的话。
   
   我曾经很惊讶,但躺着沉思,我的生活现在在我的背上,我的话语就像远处湖边的杂草。它必须奔向我,它一直如此,我深奥事业的一部分。
   
   我想在智囊团里,在我的思维中总是优雅的,遥不可及。远不是我所想的。它曾经是在提升中的全部优雅。尴尬,是的,不是一点不安。
  
  
  
The Water Inspector
   
   
   
   Scramble the“Believer’’buttons.Silence the chickens. We have more important things, like intelligence. We say so many cruel things in a lifetime, and yet. In a whorehouse, young, I obfuscated. Destiny was this and that, no it was about this and that. Do you see what I’m saying? Nobody needs the whole truth.
   
   Even so we exact repetition. The beat goes on. Terribly surprised about the report, about your father’s death, but these things happen. Often the dead are found next day, alive but shaken, wondering what it was that happened to them, trembling beneath a cellar door. And we too wonder what happens when the sky as we know it cracks in two. Beetle voices serenade us. The earth and its fountains can’t do enough for us, yet we remember, shaken too, like in the old days.
   
   We were reading and there came a knock at the door. The water inspector, we thought, and of course no one was there. Stung, and stung again. So we proceed, always on course, always begging the stars to tell us what happened, whether we were clean really, were we on course. Always the silence says yes, you can go home now, round up your playmates, head for the nearest wooded area if you think that will help.
   
   I was once surprised but lay and brooded, my life at my back now, my discourse like weeds far out on a lake. It must have come to me, it always does, part of my profound business.
   
   I think in the think tank, always elegant in my thinking, far away. Far from what I consider. Once it was all grace in the lifting. Awkward, yes, and not a little disconcerting.
   
   
  
  
  
  
电影实录
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   善待你的蹼足朋友,我半焦虑地对自己低语,急忙去看电影。毕竟,一只鸭子“也许”是某人的叔叔。或侄女。我迷路了。我向一个马脸警察问路,他没有给我满意的答复。或者是吧?“在上面那里某个地方…你无疑将找到它,”他提议。我想擦掉他脸上得意的表情。要不然是一个和蔼而幸福的微笑?我继续沿着我认为是我的路走,来到一个长满青草的海滨度假胜地,几家锈迹斑斑的酒店在自鸣得意的新酒店中浏览。一个大的红黄相间的塑料标牌上写着,“电影院。”
   
   那些岩石有玄武岩的外貌。我以前来过这里。我能看出来,从微风急驰而过的道路,拍打着我的脸颊,就像它所做的那样。哦,庄严的微风!你是我唯一想发生在我身上的事,在这岁月有形的峡谷里唯一重要的事情,因此为什么我不能靠近你呢?你已经把我带去看电影,打算稍后作为晚餐的鸡抢走了。现在我要挨饿,为了你和他们,把我的奇遇告诉任何愿意听的人,在外面滑溜溜的雪花石膏楼梯上。
   
   要不然在满屋子的人里?
  
  
  
Cinema Verite
   
   
   Be kind to your web-footed friends, I murmur to myself half anxiously, hurrying to the movies. After all, a duck may be somebody’s uncle. Or niece. I am lost. I ask directions of a horse-faced policeman who gives no satisfying reply. Or is it? “Somewhere up there ... You’11 be sure to find it,” he offers. I’d like to wipe the smug expression off his cheeks. Or is it a kindly and beatific smile? I continue along what I think is my way and come to a grassy riviera, a few rusted hotels browsing among smug new ones. A large red and yellow plastic sign says, “Cinema.”
   
   Those rocks have a basalt look about them. I was here before once. I can tell by the way the breeze scurries by, patting my cheek as it does so. O solemn breeze! You are the one thing I wanted to have happen to me, the only thing that matters in this concrete canyon of years, so why can’t I get close to you? Already you have made off with the chickens I was taking to the cinema, planning to have them for dinner later. Now I shall go hungry, for you and for them, telling my adventures to anyone who will listen, outside on the slippery alabaster stairs.
   
   Or in the roomful of people?
  
  
  
  
乡下的老房子
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   墙壁发白。这里够冷吗?不,
   它是我来看的雕像。那些砂囊,你也想要这些
   砂囊?不,它是秃鹫
   我在介绍信中提到的,你似乎已经失去了它,
   但我也想起了古代暴风雪
   过去常骚扰这些地区。啊,但砂囊
   孕育智慧,不能有别的路。
   让我从你面前走过
   同时我一直让你
   在比它所玷污的房间更冷的草图中等待。
   
   现在我们可以达成共识,这是件好事。
   我不会认为触发烟雾警报是容易的
   如果我们互相更近。
   
   “现在是时候逃跑,你这笨蛋。”
   
   你没有从另一个角度看
   回到那些让你厌烦的山脊,那种为你编织的大自然?
   我不知道,但有些东西一直在妨碍
   我们对这些房间的有序巡逻。
   我猜我想回去,真的…
   
   所以你应该,在7点19分。
   同时检查这青铜。
   我去叫毕蒂开始摆茶点
   这样可以节省我们一些时间。
  
  
  
The Old House in the Country
   
   
   
   The walls are whitish. Is it cold enough in here? No,
   It’s the statuary I came to see. And the gizzards, you wanted the gizzards
   too? No, it was buzzards
   I’d mentioned in my letter of introduction, which you seem to have lost,
   but I was reminded too of ancient blizzards
   that used to infest these parts. Ah, but gizzards
   breed sapience, there can be no other way.
   Allow me to pass in front of you
   while I keep you waiting in the draft that is colder
   than the room it besmirches.
   
   Now we can see eye to eye, and it is a good thing.
   I would not have thought it easy to set off the smoke alarms
   had we been closer together.
   
   “Now is the time for escape, you fool.”
   
   Don’t you see it another way
   back in the ridges that bore you, that nature knitted for you?
   I don’t know, but something keeps getting in the way
   of our orderly patrolling of these rooms.
   I suppose it’s that I want to go back, really...
   And so you shall, on the 7:19.
   Meanwhile examine this bronze.
   I’ll get Biddy to set out the tea-things
   and that will save us some time.
   
   
  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2020-12-5 16:56:49 | 显示全部楼层

  
秋天的地下室

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   我的笔记丢了,或者没用。幸运的是
   我在行李认领处草草写下了这个号码
   伯爵夫人说,而且有理由说,只有
   当你看起来像蘸了肉冻时,他们才会把你
   扶起来。唉,我的情况就是这样。我会成功(到达)
   再往前的两个树篱。现在一个抹布主席搪塞我,
   以为我们曾经在防波堤上见过面---
   我说,一杯茶会与谜题的沉默
   相冲突,让你的喧哗声远离我,
   安全地远离我,也就是说。你介意吗?

   所以每个都被一个钻石领带夹固定在
   桶形穹窿下,这是差不多在那时发明的---
   注意它的腹股沟---晚餐又会有酸豆
   加兔肉。我不知道我还能忍受八月多久,
   尽管九月一直是他最喜欢的月份,在这里
   它伴随着一阵无味的微风到达。
   然而,似乎盐总应该是美味的,
   余烬更舒适。移动的图像灯,并已照亮
   完善了一个新的方式走出闪烁的迷宫。遗憾的是,我们不能
   在这里永远使用行话,但没有人能永远活下去,
   大概有人告诉过我。
  
  

  
Autumn Basement



   I lost my notes, or they were useless. Luckily
   I had scribbled down this number on the baggage claim
   The countess remarked, and with reason, that they
   only hold you up if you appear to have been dipped
   in aspic. Alas, such was my case. Two hedgerows

   further and I’d have made it. Now a rag chairperson gives me the runaround,
   thinks we met once on a breakwater---
   I say, a glass of tea would clash with the silence
   of the conundrums, keeping your clatter from me,
   safe from me, that is. Would you-er- mind?

   So each gets immobilized with a diamond stickpin
   under the barrel vault that was invented at just about that time---
   notice its groin---and there’ll be capers with rabbit for supper
   again. I don’t know how much longer I can stand August,
   though September was always his favorite month, and here
   it comes with a packet of unscented breeze.
   Yet it always seems that salt should be savory,
   the embers more at ease. The moving picture lights, and having lit
   perfects a new way out of the shimmering maze. Pity we can’t
   lingo here forever, but no one lives forever,
   or so I’ve been told.
  
  




  
   挂断电话

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   荒谬。这就是她用的这个词,
   一个因为它的暗示和信念而备受推崇的词。
   我让她去她想去的地方。
   终究,“我”没在那儿听到它,
   在赛船会和它的船只中
   看起来有点茫然---或者它们是一个而且相同?
   每个在这儿休息的人都会停下来
   问我一个问题。我有一些想法
   但它们不会引起你的兴趣,以一个国家的面积计,
   它们不以百万计。总有一天我会释放我的解药
   对于消失的墨水(提示:它包含木乃伊)
   和其他一些我在这过去的生活中
   设法放弃的杰出观念,
   但直到那一天到来,我没有理由感到兴奋---
   嘿,等等,你是问“我”的那个人!
   那是你的丝绸拼接波莱罗肩上
   闪烁的天线灰尘。我甚至不想
   参与其中,记得?我从没签过名。
   我只记得新闻集团
   在布里斯托尔的酒吧里工作
   醒来时躺在一堆发霉的稻草上
   头盖骨上有一块鸭蛋大小的肿块
   我嘴里有一股碘酒的味道。

   但我们要讨论的不是我,记得?
   就我有关的而言,没有争论;
   因此,我从来没有输过或赢过。
   现在把我的裤子和钱给我,让我
   回去加入其他人。他们在哭,你知道。
  
  

  
Hang-Up Call



   Preposterous. That was the word she used,
   one much admired for its overtones of thrift and conviction.
   I let her go where she wanted with it.
   After all, I wasn’t there to hear it,
   looking somewhat dazed amid the regatta
   and its ships---or are they one and the same?
   Every restful person pauses here
   to ask me a question. I have a few ideas
   but they wouldn’t interest you by a country mile,
   not by a million of ’em. Some day I’ll have to release my antidote
   for disappearing ink (hint: it contains mummy)
   and a few other of the brilliant ideas
   I’ve managed to put aside in this old life of mine,
   but until that day comes I see no reason to get excited---
   hey, wait, you were the one who was asking me!
   That’s antenna-dust sparkling on the shoulder
   of your silk patchwork bolero. I wasn’t even going
   to be part of this, remember? I never signed on.
   All I remember is press gangs working
   the bars in Bristol
   and waking up on a heap of moldy straw
   with a lump the size of a duck’s egg on my cranium
   and a taste of iodine in my mouth.

   But it wasn’t me we were going to discuss, remember?
   As far as I’m concerned there have been no arguments;
   ergo, I have never lost or won any.
   Now give me my pants and money and let me go
   back and join the others. They’re crying, you know.
  
  




  
迷失的轮廓

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   有一次我有一个声音,
   发辫从我前额的房子前面
   向下垂到两边。
   有人说这里不需要
   奶油分离器。我的向导把它当作恭维。
   不管怎样,我们到了。莫名其妙地。现在这个问题

   正在失去相关性,因为水无处不在,
   就像一个透明的矿井。我很久以前就失声了。

   孩子们的声音无休止地波浪般起伏
   为新产品背书。蜥蜴神爆炸。

   坐在隔壁酒吧高脚凳上的那位女士
   但人们好像不明白
   你说的“老黑屋”电影---
   她以为某个地方一定有一座古老的黑房子
   而你想带她去那里。
   尽管如此,我的到来还是让她目瞪口呆,
   因为这表明你心目中还没有这样的事
   至少目前。

   今天我是一个疯狂的中国和尚
   在追逐他的寺庙。走哪条路?
   灌木丛的那个角落周围?或者那儿曾经
   有一座庙宇?它似乎越来越有可能
   是你想象力的虚构,一个
   可能像其他许多的虚构,只是有点不成熟。
   毫不畏缩,我在疯狂聚集的黄昏中追逐它
   黄昏撞到池塘、树上,吓坏了桥。
   它一定在这儿后面的某个地方---

   仿佛空气是纯净的闪电
   和大地,它的伴侣,仁慈的雷声,
   我终于可以站着呼吸。

   光线从我的指甲和腋窝的边缘
   收缩。这是一页错装订在日记里的
   一页。好像我们曾经那么开心,就那么一分钟。
   后来天空乌云密布,没有人永远快乐或
   不快乐,压迫者的梦想成为现实。
  
  

  
Lost Profile



   I had a voice once,
   braid falling over the front
   of my forehead-house and down the sides.
   No need for cream separators here
   someone said. My guide took it as a compliment.
   Anyway, we got here. Somehow. Now the question

   is losing relevance since water is everywhere,
   like a transparent mine. I lost my voice a long time ago.
   Voices of children ripple endlessly,
   endorsing new products. The lizard-god explodes.

   The lady on the next bar-stool
   but one didn’t seem to understand
   you when you spoke of “old dark house” movies---
   she thought there must be an old dark house somewhere
   and you wanted to take her there.
   Still, my arrival flabbergasted her,
   since it suggested you had no such thing in mind,
   at least for the present.

   And today I am a mad Chinese monk
   chasing after his temple. Which way did it go?
   Around that corner of bushes? Or was there ever
   a temple? It seemed more and more likely
   that it was a figment of your imaginatior, a figment
   perhaps like many another, only a little more underripe.
   Undeterred, I chase it in the madness of the gathering dusk
   that crashes into ponds, trees, scared bridges.
   It had to have been back here somewhere---

   As if the air were pure lightning
   and the earth, its consort, benevolent thunder,
   I can stand and finally breathe.

   Light shrinks from the edges of my fingernails
   and armpits. This is a page that got bound in the diary
   by mistake. It seems we were so happy once, just for a minute.
   Then the sky got clouded, no one was happy or unhappy
   forever, and the dream of the oppressor had come true.
  
  




  
多么危险

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   就像一只夏日袋鼠,我们每个人都是
   太阳在它翻滚骚动中的一部分。像我们一样
   它没有移动到正确的东西,在耗尽的小溪
   流进画过的石窟的地方晒着。

   是的,白雪皑皑的大草原,同一部歌剧的一部分,
   伸展进混沌,等待着男高音歌唱家的
   绝望咏叹调。然而,没有阴影横穿它。
   它可能是真的。也许是的。陌生人的故事
   被游客编织在虚幻的客栈里
   而最后的余烬一个接一个地崩塌,没有还击地
   醒着。“那是在塔吉克斯坦的中心要塞。”
   然后就有点习惯了,然后就不在那里。

   每一个人都高兴地注意到另一个人已经老了,
   同时也意识到新的风景需要输送
   并运输数千英里,通过窄轨铁路--

   公园里有一个喷泉,一个舒适的学校内部,
   一个快乐的医院---是的,它值得等待。
  
  

  
How Dangerous



   Like a summer kangaroo, each of us is a part
   of the sun in its tumbling commotion. Like us
   it made no move to right things, basking where the spent stream
   trickled into the painted grotto.

   Yes, and the snow-covered steppe, part of the same opera,
   stretched into dimness, awaiting the tenor’s aria
   of hopelessness. Yet no shadow fell across any of it.
   It might have been real. Perhaps it was. Stranger tales
   have been spun by travelers in unreassuring inns
   while the last embers collapse one into the other, waking
   no riposte. “It was at a garrison in central Tadzhikistan.”
   And then sort of get used to it, and then not be there.

   Each noted with pleasure that the other had aged,
   realizing as well that new scenery would have to be sent for
   and transported thousands of miles over
   narrow-gauge railroads---

   a fountain in a park, a comforting school interior,
   a happy hospital---and that, yes, it would be worth waiting for.
  
  




  
微不足道的馅饼

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   各种各样的味道列举给我们。
   与此同时,不可避免的卡斯帕.大卫.弗里德里希画的
   一艘船以某种方式向上的方向滑落到类似雾的东西中,
   围绕在我们周围的是
   对我们没有做的事情感到遗憾的元音
   就像一声巨响从桶顶升起。

   我本想说,你睡着的时候
   我吻了你一次,你没注意。

   从那一天起,我就是一个
   在荨麻中来回奔波的旅行家,永远不知道
   他想在哪里结束,一个有态度的
   流浪犹太人。

   太阳一直以来盯着我们
   一直到它下山。最后,当它到达地平线,
   它有话要说。比如在你出去的路上拿上你
   两周的薪水
   别让我再在这个星球上看到你。

   好吧,但是我们要在什么代币的海岸上
   被雾气笼罩?我们都得在某个地方一起结束。
   不妨在上周的教区通讯
   或努比亚情妇的手肘里。
   我是说,我们“是”对的,不知何故是对的,这是同一件事
   只是更是如此。棍棒和代币
   是我对消失的太阳的赞歌,
   再也没有回来,它似乎,
   尽管。
  
  

  
Humble Pie



   Various flavors recite us.
   Meanwhile the inevitable Casper David Friedrich painting
   of a ship pointing somehow upward has slipped in like fog,
   surrounding us with vowels of regret
   for the things we did not do
   rising like a great shout above the barrel.

   I was going to say I kissed you once
   when you were asleep, and that you took no notice.

   Since that day I have been as a traveler
   who scurries to and fro among nettles, never sure
   of where he wants to end up, a Wandering Jew
   with attitude.

   All this time the sun had its eye on us
   as it was going down. Finally, when it hit the horizon,
   it had something to say. Something like pick up your two weeks’ salary
   on your way out
   and don’t ever let me catch you on this planet again.

   Fine, but on what token shore
   are we to be misted? We all have to end up somewhere together.
   Might as well be in last week’s parish newsletter
   or in the elbows of a nubian concubine.
   I mean, we are right, somehow right, which is the same
   thing only more so. Sticks and tokens
   are my hymn to the sun that has gone,
   never to return, it seems,
   though.
  
  




  
更多的曲棍球

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   恐惧的是他们不会来。
   大海越来越汹涌。
   从墙上有一种不同的语言在歌唱。
   从墙上没有歌唱。

   恐惧的是他们会来。
   给,这些拿一个。
   拿着这个。不,拿这个。
   几乎从生命一开始
   就遵循一句格言,穿过
   郊区的褶皱和灌木丛,耸肩离开
   就像内衣放在一个二聚体盘子里一样。

   然后快速浮现入
   它带着你的地方:

   没有无花果,椒盐卷饼。早餐
   失去动力。

   最后一辆车走了。
   现在就让那些从不改变别人言论的人
   在智慧中畅游。让窗帘
   就地下落。它们今天才陷入困境。

   我们有更进一步的倒置,像父亲
   和他的孩子缝了一天。
   就像你喜欢的羽毛,你
   喜欢收到的邮件。

   你成功地破坏了威胁我们的大山。
   现在,黑豹在街上徘徊。

   我乘坐的一辆有轨电车变成朝向终点的公共汽车。
   上帝给我的奖赏是唧唧喳喳的黄色绒毛球。

   我想写一首十四行诗打扮一封信
   当罗斯用鼻子过马路时
   她父亲做得更好。

   我总是喜欢有人突然从灌木丛里冲出来
   祝贺我最近的成功
   而我对此只负部分责任:
   兄弟姐妹帮了忙,他们阻止它融化
   在阿尔卑斯山的高处,你会以为它一直都是
   冰冻的。显然不是。如果每人冷静片刻
   现在我们可能会有一场暴乱。

   一个影子人领着我沿着一条路
   来到一个小房子,在那里我吃饱了就
   带着墙上的钟潜逃。我告诉他们我是凡人
   他们似乎放我走。但是没有人听到我。
   我就像一个拿着手套的灰尘人,
   一个白色的,然后厌恶地抛来扔去,留下它躺在
   你童年时吸收的所有滴下的
   皱纹中,爱着它。两扇门消失了。

   我们终于孤独,正如他们所说。
   这些冬天会扣上你的扣子。
   他们说加拿大鹅终生交配,或
   直到其中一只死了,无论哪只较短者。

  
  

  
More Hocketing



   The fear was that they would not come.
   The sea is getting rougher.
   There is a different language singing from the wall.
   No singing from the wall.

   The fear was that they would come.
   Here, have one of these.
   Have this one. No, have this one.
   To have followed an adage
   almost from the beginning of life, through
   suburban pleats and undergrowth shrugged
   off like underwear on a dimer plate.

   Then to emerge fast
   into where it’s taken you:

   no more figs, pretzels. Breakfast’s
   run out of steam.

   And the last car has left.
   Let those who never denatured another’s remark
   swim in wit now. Let the curtains fall
   where they may. They are only in distress today.

   We have further inversions, like father
   and his children sewed up for a day.
   Like the feathers you enjoy, the mail
   you enjoy receiving.

   You have successfully undermined the mountain that threatens us.
   Now, panthers prowl the streets.

   I took a streetcar that turned into a bus toward the end.
   God rewarded me with chirping yellow fuzzballs.

   I intended a sonnet that turned out a letter
   when Rose crossed the road with her nose
   and her father is doing better.

   I always like it when somebody explodes out of a bush
   to congratulate me on my recent success
   for which I’m only partly responsible:
   The siblings helped, they prevented it from melting
   so high among the Alps you’d have thought it stayed frozen
   always. Apparently not. Now we might have a riot
   if everybody would calm down for a second.

   A shadow-person conducted me along a road
   to a little house where I was fed and absconded
   with the clock on the wall. I told them I was mortal
   and they seemed to let me go. Yet no one heard me.
   I was as dust one takes a glove to,
   a white one, then tosses in disgust, leaving it lie
   in all the trickling creases you absorbed
   in childhood, loving it. Two doors went away.

   We were alone at last, as they say.
   These winters can button you up.
   They say Canada geese mate for life, or
   till one of them dies, whichever is shorter.

  




  
健忘症到舞会

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   在慈爱的等候室,他们开始分发讲义。出于某个理由我的名字不在名单上。但我不管怎样收到了我的讲义---显然有人认出了我,知道我应该得到一份。我打开它,没有太多的热情。什么时候我最后收到一本常规色情手册?它没有太多的区别,也不是完全缺乏区别。我重新整理我的橙色西装。模块化性行为实际上是这么说的。这让我开始了一系列新的想法,配有全部赌博和吸烟休息室。我不想利用这一刻。它已经是特殊化。

   所以总是深入新事物。就像云不知何故无关紧要---但看看它们!以前有没有任何如此极其真实的事情曾经被解释过?历史到底是谁?它有屁股吗?

   我得完成这些或者假装没写。赫克警长要来了,你知道那是什么意思。陶笛吹奏建立冒充的节日宁静,但你我都知道什么是栀子花。你甚至拥有过一次。在无聊的问候之后,有足够的时间说出该说什么。然后我会回家,如果不太舒服的话,我会感觉好些,也许会躺在你身边。我们会给邻居打电话叫他们进来。
  
  

  
Amnesia Goes to the Ball



   In the avuncular waiting rooms they begin handing out the handouts. For some reason my name isn’t on the list. But I receive my handout anyway--- somebody obviously recognized me and knew I should get one. I open it without much enthusiasm .When was it I last received a manual for regular sex? There isn’t much distinction in it. nor does it totally lack distinction. I rearrange my orange suit. Modular sex was what it actually says. This starts me off on a new train of ideas, complete with gambling and smoking lounges. I am not to capitalize on this moment. It is already particularized.

   So always going down into new things. It’s as though the clouds somehow don’t matter---yet look at them! Was anything so enormously real ever explained away before? And who is history anyway? Does it have a bum?

   I have to finish this or pretend it isn’t written. The Sheriff of Heck is coming over and you know what that means. Ocarina blasts building up the fake festive restiveness, yet you and I know what a gardenia is. You even owned one once. After the boring compliments there will be time enough to say what is to be said. Then I’ll go home,feeling better if not exactly okay, and probably lie at your side. We’ll phone the neighbors and have them in.
  
  




  
强迫

   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符

   在山上工作…
   这也错了?
   说实话,我几乎听不到她

   顺风穿过松果的汽笛声。
   告诉我们更多你的经历。
   这才是我们读者真正感兴趣的。
   你知道,当你落魄

   而且沮丧,像每个人的时刻。
   当你饿着肚子从桌子上起身
   然后一个星期没吃东西。

   或者是那些有你已牢记了一个特别名字的地方:
   佛罗伦萨,佛罗里达。女人们(我确定有很多)
   和你在丝绸床单上过夜,

   或者兄弟们(那些有鸡巴的人),我敢打赌
   也有一些。
   现在把盐加到
   谎言和愿望的锅里---过量的盐,

   事实上,否则最终的结果将是彻头彻尾的清淡。
   我可以想象这发生在某些楼梯
   下面的厨房里…

   混账,我爱莫能助,如果没有地方
   放我女朋友的鞋子,她那一大堆
   上面有苏格兰狗图案的皮夹子。
   你看,永没有足够的

   衣柜,都能分到。我们把东西摊得
   满屋都是。如果有人想要某样东西
   他知道在哪里可以找到它

   它可能就在那里
   就像在我们这个时代,月亮可能就在
   你最后一次寻找它的地方,在它的某个阶段。

   太阳也很灿烂
   和万寿菊。
   把我的鹤嘴锄递给我。我想我只是被我的受欢迎停留太久。
   一个警报响了,在里面很深的某个地方。
   我卧室的墙纸被毁了。
   暂时不吃天使鱼,至少。太糟糕。
  
  

  
Railroaded

   Job on the hills ...
   Is that wrong too?
   To tell the truth I hardly heard her

   what with the wind whistling through the pinecone.
   Tell us more about your experience.
   That’s what really interests our readers.
   You know, times when you were down and out

   and depressed, like everybody.
   When you got up from the table hungry
   and didn’t eat for a week after that.

   Or places with names to which you’ve fastened a special resonance:
   Florence, Florida. Women (and I’m sure there were many)
   with whom you spent the night in silken sheets,

   or guys (the ones with dicks), I’ll wager
   there were a few of those too.
   Now add salt to the cauldron
   of lies and wishes---oversalt,

   in fact, or the end result will be downright bland.
   I can picture this happening in a kitchen
   below some stairs ...

   Darn,I can’t help it if there was no room
   for my girlfriend’s shoes,her vast collection
   of pocketbooks with scotties on them.
   There never were enough closets,

   you see, to go around. We kept things spread out
   all over the house. If someone wanted something
   he knew where to look for it

   and it would probably be there
   just as in our time the moon is probably there
   where you last looked for it, in one of its phases.

   The sun was glorious too
   and the marigolds.
   Hand me my pickaxe. I think I just overstayed my welcome.
   An alarm just went off, some place deep inside.
   The wallpaper of my bedroom has been destroyed.
   No more angelfish for a while, at least. Too bad.

  
  




 楼主| 发表于 2020-12-6 18:06:54 | 显示全部楼层
  
贵宾
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   接受这些我们没有用的好东西:
   优美的暮色,云和太阳的混合,
   溪流中的小鱼。也许我们需要它们的
   时间到达。它们永远是你的,
   或者另一个梦让你口渴,
   醒着。你看不见桌子
   和面包。一封干净的、未拆封的信
   和烤面包的味道如何?
   今天学校关闭了---打雷了。
   日历已后退或被颠倒
   因此日期没有最小的分母。
   不管怎样,它想弄清楚
   你是谁,是什么让你导向我们。
   是樟脑的味道吗?或者
   在一家外州报纸上的广告,寻找
   一个很久以前失踪的人的新闻?
   他穿着制服,靠在一辆汽车上,
   对一个似乎对他遮住眼睛的女孩微笑着。
   会吗?坎迪斯,是你吗?她不可能
   再朝我们这条路看。
   
   我能告诉你什么?今晚所有的东西
   都被锁起来了,如果我想要的话,
   我不能帮你拿。但一定有办法---
   下着毛毛雨,小路上的灯都在哭泣,
   想向你展示这个巨大的东西,
   永远装在盒子里,总是越来越近。
  
  
  
Honored Guest
   
   
   Accept these nice things we have no use for:
   polished twilight, mix of clouds and sun,
   minnows in a stream. There may come a time
   we’ll need them. They’re yours forever,
   or another dream leaves you thirsty,
   waking. You can’t see the table
   or the bread. How about a clean, unopened letter
   and the smell of toast?
   School is closed today---it’s thundering.
   The calendar has backed up or been reversed
   so the days have no least common denominator.
   Anyway, it was trying to figure out
   who you were, what it was that led you to us.
   Was it the smell of camphor? Or an ad
   in an out-of-state newspaper, seeking news
   of someone who disappeared long ago?
   He was in uniform, and leaned against a car,
   smiling at a girl who seemed to shade her eyes from him.
   Can it be? Candace, was it you? There’s no way
   she’ll look our way again.
   
   What can I tell you? Everything’s been locked up
   for the night, I couldn’t get it for you
   if I wanted to. But there must be some way---
   it’s drizzling, the lamps along the path are weeping,
   wanting to show you this tremendous thing,
   boxed in forever, always getting closer.
  
  
  
  
我们的首领在做梦
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我们的首领又在那儿做梦。
   在这里,胆怯的街道展开它们的议程;
   提议,小心翼翼,走出去到黑夜
   去观察夜空。还有
   什么,你可能会说,你是对的。
   不过,一定有人发号施令。我可以从远处
   听到他们,敲打摩尔斯
   电码的名字,让鸽子眨眼。
   今天仍然开放。我想我应该休息一下,
   试着打破这场连败,直到---
   
   它是我们的创建者。他想知道你为什么不拆开
   他的拼写。我说你已经停止射击麻瓜
   因为每一个麻瓜出现,试探性地,从隐蔽舱口
   而且又冲了回来。是的,但他说你
   让你的网球比赛见鬼去,他还是拼不出
   天空建议他说的话。你的庇护者
   不接电话,他说。相反,一种古怪的显灵
   引导我们回到浅滩,那儿,在鲨鱼为患的漩涡中
   最后一次看到一个孤零零的电话亭。麻雀是可以的,
   尽管,没有人想杀死或吃掉它们。诱饵顶部也是如此。
   告诉他我们还剩下一些。至于弹药,
   你可以有燃料“和”弹药。你可以有汤,或者鞋子。
   
   所以正是我离开了火山口,留下双簧管
   才安全。它甜美的声音仍然萦绕在我心头。
   我想这次我给你带来了鲜花,
   会在最后一位客人走后让你知道。云层消失了,
   我的头痛奇迹般地减轻,
   就像在去图林根的牛奶火车上。想到我们曾经可以
   彼此相信,但对我全都一样。总之我爱我,
   和你。
   
   于是,那个厚颜无耻的巨大驼峰看见了我们,凝视着外面的风景。
  
  
  
Our Leader is Dreaming
   
   Up there our leader is dreaming again.
   Down here, timid streets unfold their agendas;
   propose, gingerly, a walk out into the night
   to view the night sky. What else
   is there, you might say, and you’d be right.
   Still, someone must be calling the shots. I can hear them
   from afar, tapping out some name
   in Morse code, making pigeons blink.
   Today is still open. I think I’ll take some time off,
   try to smash this losing streak, until---
   
   It’s our founder. He wants to know why you didn’t disconnect
   his spelling. I said you were off shooting mugwumps
   as each emerged, tentatively, from the booby hatch
   and hustled back in. Right, but he says you’ve
   let your tennis game go to hell, and he still can’t spell
   the words the sky proposes to him. Your shelter
   isn’t taking calls, he says. Instead a curious epiphany
   pilots us back to the shoals where a lone telephone booth was last sighted
   amid shark-infested eddies. Sparrows are OK,
   though, no one wants to kill or eat them.Same goes for carrot tops.
   Tell him we’ve a few gross of those left, too. As for ammunition,
   you can’t have fuel and ammunition. You can have soup, or shoes.
   
   So it was that I departed the caldera, leaving my oboe behind
   as security. Its sweet voice haunts me still.
   I think I brought you the bloom this time,
   will let you know after the last guests have gone. The clouds vanished,
   and my headache miraculously thinned,
   as on the milk train to Thuringia Falls.To think we could have
   once trusted each other, but it’s all the same to me. I love me,
   and you anyhow.
   
   So the great brazen hump saw us, gazed out over the landscape.
  
  
  
  
最后一程
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我侄子---你还记得他---
   在尘土飞扬的篱笆上吐舌头。
   我这个白天的坐标系。
   这就是我的印象。
   
   他很慢地回到海,
   它冲过来迎接他,把他推到了
   干燥的陆地上。毕竟,旱地是他的
   地盘。他住在那里直到今天,
   拥有所有的吊床,留声机,
   成对的老式眼镜,猕猴
   和过期杂志订阅构成了
   一些人的生活。他从某卫理公会医学院
   毕业的装裱好的文凭,却神秘地不见他的名字。
   金色密封令人印象深刻。
   
   籍由陆地、海洋或泡沫,
   总有一天我会到达那里,虽然---
   一段特别的过去的碎片
   它的芬芳让我陶醉,吸收我,
   没有人注意。我要带的雪橇
   光它就放不下我的脚柜。
   另外,这条货船正驶向巴伊亚
   或诸如此类的。
  
  
Last Legs



   My nephew---you remember him---
   tongue along a dusty fence.
   And I the day’s coordinates.
   That’s what an impression I am.

   He was slow to back into the sea,
   which ran to meet him, pushing him
   on to dry land. Dry land was his place,
   after all. He lives there to this day,
   with all the hammocks, gramophones,
   double old-fashioned glasses, macaques
   and expired magazine subscriptions that constitute
   a life for some. His framed diploma
   from some Methodist medical school, from which his name is mysteriously absent.
   The gold seals are impressive.

   By land or sea or foam
   I’ll get there someday, though---
   a particular slice of the past
   whose perfume intoxicates, imbibes me
   and nobody notices. The sled I was going to take
   only it wouldn’t fit in my footlocker.
   Besides, the tramp steamer was heading for Bahia
   or some such.
  
  
  
  
狐猴和法利赛人
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   当然,一个人确实滔滔不绝说得太久了,
   但这是谁的错?五美元
   一点,谁来算?我想,一个人可以
   放松自己的谈话,这不足以
   吓唬它,而是手里拿着
   冷东西,给手掌降温;然后,这些话
   可能会以另一种方式绕开,屏幕后面
   有一个意图的影子
   在灯光亮起之前,将军们
   侧身去进行另一次会议。“是‘你’
   让我们卷入了这桩德莱弗斯的事务。”“骗子!”
   让我们在这里的商业中断一下,
   我的脑子里蛛网密布,充满了
   今天下午所有的事实。
   
   我决不是我昨天所是的那个岛。
   孩子和小宠物在我的脚踝周围欢呼雀跃;
   黄丝带从树干上垂下来。
   这是“我的”日子!任何人都没意识到这是
   一条该死的变色龙或一个唯唯诺诺的人!是的,先生,
   我们注意到你脸色异常苍白,甚至
   你异常也。救护车已经被召唤,
   此刻正隆隆地驶过三角洲,
   我敢打赌。同时,如果我们能做点什么
   让你舒服两三分钟…
   
   荒原又燃烧起来了。我们最长的软管
   总共离它不到四英里。
   你不知道这对我们,
   对我们的家人,对我们的祖先意味着什么?传唤的
   那一页,及时地到达萎蔫的紫菀
   有人错误地命令。它是我们
   习惯性地不能保持一个直面撤退的变化,
   我们背对着烟雾和血红色的臭气
   我们已经知道有,从树篱中跳出来
   如此密集,连山雀都无法通过。
   我们再也不会被邀请回来了^我的意思是
   没有人再邀请我再回来。其他人也犯了罪,每个人
   都以不同的方式,我有照片来证明这一点,
   逐渐褪色到易辨认的最远点
   下次,你写这个。
  
  
  
Lemurs and Pharisees
   
   
   And of course one does run on too long,
   but whose fault is it? At five dollars
   a blip, who’s counting? One could, I suppose,
   relax one’s discourse, not enough
   to frighten it, but to have something cold
   in the hand, to cool the palm; the words might
   then unspool in a different mode, shadow
   of an intention behind the screen
   before the lights go up and the generals
   sidle on for another confab. “It was you
   who got us involved in this Dreyfus business.” “Liar!”
   Let’s take a commercial break here,
   my head is cobwebby from all the facts
   that got stuffed into it this afternoon.
   
   In no way am I the island I was yesterday.
   Children and small pets rejoice around my ankles;
   yellow ribbons come down from the tree trunks.
   This is my day! Anybody doesn’t realize it
   is a goddam chameleon or a yes man! Yes, sir,
   we’d noticed your singular pallor,singular
   even for you. Ambulances have been summoned,
   are rumbling across the delta at this moment,
   I’d wager. Meanwhile, if there’s anything we can do
   to make you comfortable for two or three minutes ...
   
   The heath is ablaze again. Our longest hose
   won’t come to within four miles of it.
   Don’t you realize what this means for us,
   for our families, our ancestors? The page,
   summoned, duly arrived with the wilted asters
   someone had mistakenly ordered .It’s a variation
   on our habitual not-being-able-to-keep-a-straight-face withdrawal,
   turning our back on the smoke and blood-red fumes
   we already knew were there, plunging out of hedgerows
   so dense not even a titmouse could get through.
   Never were we to be invited back again, I mean
   no one asked me back again. The others sinned too, each
   in her different way, and I have the photographs to prove it,
   faded to the ultima thule of legibility.
   Next time, you write this.
   
  
  
  
  
承销商
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   约书亚.利普顿先生喝了这杯茶
   非常喜欢它,开始
   卖给几个朋友,在他的游艇甲板上。
   
   它传播到世界各地,成为一种全球性的
   东西。今天每个人都知道它的故事,
   我们必须小心,不要冒犯我们的赞助商,
   拿他们最轻微的心血来潮幽一默,不管
   他们当时在我们看来多么疯狂。就像从前他们中的一个
   要把城里所有五岁或五岁以下的婴儿
   带到他面前,系着玫瑰色的腰带,
   好让他整天给他们读《约伯记》。
   有许多,正如你所想象的那样,眼泪流了下来,
   流动,扑通一声,但最后老家伙
   (赞助商,不是约伯)很满意,沉入了比世界上任何人曾经知道的
   都更微妙的睡眠。你看到这里是什么样子---
   这是个疯人院,先生,我正打算逃离,在第一次
   送给他自己礼物的场合,比如说一袋洗好的衣服,
   或者一辆松饼卡车的货物。与此同时,时间的
   “沙子”,正如他们所称的那样,正在几乎不带暗语地流逝
   除了我们当中最有山猫眼的人。我们凑合着,
   
   改天,购物之类的,晚上把肉带回家
   全都是玫瑰色的,闪烁的,为煎锅准备的。
   我们的名字会在点名时被读出,我们不会听到---
   我们怎么可能?我们甚至还没出生---星星们会私下表演他们的
   舞蹈,为我们,而夜幕下翻开的
   黑皮书上的图画将用它们的黄色和声迷住我们。
   我们会设法回到,总有一天,束缚的一端,在那里,这一切
   主意又开始,沮丧和有点饿,但渴望
   听到对方的故事,在我们漫长的生命中
   继续着什么,茶叶说了什么
   以及结果是否那样。我要把你的刘海刷
   一下,你会靠在我的臀部上寻求安慰。
  
  
  
The Underwriters
   
   
   
   Sir Joshua Lipton drank this tea
   and liked it well enough to start selling it
   to a few buddies, from the deck of his yacht.
   
   It spread around the world, became a global
   kind of thing. Today everybody knows its story,
   and we must be careful not to offend our sponsors,
   to humor their slightest whims, no matter how insane
   they may seem to us at the time. Like the time one of them
   wanted all the infants in the burg aged five or under
   to be brought before him, wearing rose-colored sashes,
   in order that he might read the Book of Job to them all day.
   There were, as you may imagine, many tears shed,
   flowing and flopping about, but in the end the old geezer
   (the sponsor, not Job) was satisfied, and sank into a sleep more delicate
   than any the world had ever known. You see what it’s like here---
   it’s a madhouse, Sir, and I am planning to flee the first time
   an occasion presents himself, say as a bag of laundry,
   or the cargo of a muffin truck.Meanwhile, the “sands” of
   time, as they call them, are slipping by with scarcely a whisper
   except for the most lynx-eyed among us. We’ll make do,
   
   another day, shopping and such, bringing the meat home at night
   all roseate and gleaming, ready for the frying pan.
   Our names will be read off a rollcall we won’t hear---
   how could we? We’re not even born yet ---the stars will perform their dance
   privately, for us, and the pictures in the great black book
   that opens at night will enchant us with their yellow harmonies.
   We’11 manage to get back, someday, to the tie siding where the idea
   of all this began, frustrated and a little hungry, but eager
   to hear each others’ tales of what went on in the interim
   of our long lives, what the tea leaves said
   and whether it turned out that way. I’ll brush your bangs
   a little, you’ll lean against my hip for comfort.
  
  
  
  
苍白的兄弟姐妹
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   再见。今天岸上什么也
   没有。远在海边,一些湿疹
   模仿阳光和阴影,但只暂时成功。
   
   我是因为流浪才受到惩罚吗?
   或者是另一个兄弟姐妹的阴谋,
   总是急于折磨我,把我的头发拧成
   女巫的扫帚,没有内在的力量?
   
   记住,他们爱你就像空气中的
   粉末,他们根本不会花很长时间。
   二十五年前情况不同了。请
   耐心点。你的期限也会到。
   
   看,他是你很好的朋友,你知道。
   你只是不想整天坐在一堆灰烬里
   舔着下巴上的牛奶。是吗?然后
   从你的屁股上起来,大步跨入融化的黄昏,
   看看城市的景色。那里的草
   比你预期的更多,你可以打赌。
   
   于是,我像一朵云彩一样羊毛般徘徊,有一天,一个老牧人穿过我的路,带着他的曲柄杖显得非常聪明。你从那玩意儿里能得到多少好处,我问他。依赖,他回答。有时候他们中的一个几个月都不会误入歧途。其他时候,我用手充满它们,向一切方向跑动,嘲笑我。对着我!好吧,我不会接受这份工作,这额外的责任,当然哪,如果我只想着被感谢的话。是的,我说,但是当有人真的感激,优雅,而你却像你现在这样渐渐消失,你的彩虹帽,雪茄店的印第安人的木制羽毛头饰,你所有的女儿都因喜悦或误解而发狂,当你滑过,离她们很近尽管她们看不见你,但你又如何避免呢?哦,我们应该说,我学会了应付,就这样吧。是的,我说,务必,让我们。
   
  
  
  
Pale Siblings
   
   
   Cheerio. Nothing on the shore
   today. Far out to sea, some eczema
   mimicking sunlight and shadow, with but temporary success.
   
   Was it for wandering that I have been punished?
   Or was it another plot of the siblings,
   always anxious to torment, to twist my hair
   into witches’ brooms, with no inherent power?
   
   Remember they love you like powder
   in the air, and it wouldn’t take them long at all.
   Twenty-five years ago it was different. Please
   be patient. Your term too will arrive.
   
   See, he’s a very good friend for you, you know that.
   You just don’t want to sit in a pile of ashes all day long,
   licking the milk from your chin. Do you? Then get up
   off your ass, stride into the melting twilight,
   see the sights of the city. More grass
   there than you’d expected, you can bet.
   
   So I wandered fleecy as a cloud and one day an old shepherd crossed my path, looking very wise with his crook. How much use do you get out of that thing, I asked him. Depends, he replied. Sometimes one of’em doesn’t go astray for months on end. Other times I’ve got my hands full with them running around in all directions, laughing at me. At me! Well, I never would have taken on this job, this added responsibility, rather, if being thanked was all I’d had on my mind. Yes, I said, but how do you avoid it when someone’s really grateful, and graceful, and you’re fading away like you’re doing now, your rainbow cap a cigar-store Indian’s wooden feather headdress, and all your daughters frantic with glee or misapprehension as you slide by, close to them though they can’t see you? Oh, I’ve learned to cope shall we say, and leave it at that. Yes, I said, by all means, let’s.
  
  
  
  
没人去任何地方
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我真不明白你为什么
   反对这些。就个人而言,我是无可置疑的。
   我住在一个向上爬的地方,那里老鼠都腐烂了,
   那里午夜的曲调解脱了砖瓦匠们
   天花板上大量存在于上帝的感觉。
   
   一些更三维的东西必须被呼吸
   到行动中。但慢慢来,落下的线
   只会像穿过困难的阴霾一样对生活说话。
   门廊里装满了东西,一个问号
   像耳环在你脸颊的底部摆动:
   固执,焦虑的平原。空气和冰,
   那些无情的笨蛋,似乎总是在说,
   “这是我们今后生活的地方。”
   
   院子里一棵梧桐树闪烁着。
   
   船已经离这里很远,就像一艘幽灵船。
   布道的核心总是距离,风景
   等待被考虑,也许最终会
   爱一点。而且我愿意,我愿意。
  
  
  
Nobody is Going Anywhere
   
   I don’t really understand why you object
   to any of this. Personally I am above suspicion.
   I live in a crawlup where the mice are rotted,
   where midnight tunes absolve the bricklayers
   and the ceiling abounds in God’s sense.
   
   Something more three-dimensional must be breathed
   into action. But go slow, the falling threads
   speak to life only as through a haze of difficulty.
   The porch is loaded, a question-mark
   swings like an earring at the base of your cheek:
   stubborn, anxious plain. Air and ice,
   those unrelenting fatheads, seem always to be saying,
   “This is where we will be living from now on.”
   
   In the courtyard a plane tree glistens.
   
   The ship is already far from here, like a ghost ship.
   The core of the sermon is always distance, landscape
   waiting to be considered, maybe loved a little
   eventually. And I do, I do.
  
  
  
  
几次诗歌的场合
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   事实上,有不安的空间
   紧跟警告的嘶嘶声伴随着我
   无论我走到哪里,去看牙医还是回来
   或有时一声赞许的尖叫声
   会偷听我刚才说的话,
   或者甚至一个小小掌声的颤抖
   都会模糊在中间的距离,导致
   更遥远的狗吠叫。
   
   我喜欢看着星星咯咯笑,轻咬
   我的手,当我用一种信任的姿态伸出手来,
   就像歌德指着他的同伴们
   可能忽略的一些意大利山丘。“我告诉你,
   
   都在季节中,或者是调味品,沃尔夫冈---
   否则,你所有的发明都可能会
   漂流到遥远的一条线上。”这是对的,
   把伦理问题归咎于“我”。与此同时,你难道
   看不到孩子们,真正的青少年,正在
   苹果树下醒来,无精打采地捡起书包
   沿着大概通向学校的路疲惫地走下去?
   在那里,他们会读到我们---你和我---在
   重要场合对彼此说过的话。
   
   没有人会更聪明。二十个鲜红的修女
   走了进来,领着她们向森林的方向
   走去,那里发出了大乐队曲调的混合曲
   出自于世纪之交被遗忘的作曲家们之手。
   现在又是一个世纪的转折。是优美还是沮丧?
   你对你穿的那件夹克,那件红色榆叶色的宽松裤子
   有什么好说的?
   
   它将成为新世纪的流行色。
   他们会叫它“白色”
  
  
  
Poem on Several Occasions
   
   
   In truth there is room for disquiet
   in the wake of the admonitory hiss that accompanies
   me wherever I go, to the dentist and back
   or sometimes a squeak of approval
   will eavesdrop on what I just said,
   or even a tiny quiver of applause
   will blur in the middle distance, causing
   even more distant dogs to bark.
   
   I like to watch the stars giggle and nibble
   my hand as I hold it out in a trusting gesture,
   like Goethe indicating some Italian hills his companions
   might otherwise have overlooked. “I tell you,
   
   it’s all in the seasons, or the seasoning, Wolfgang---
   otherwise all your inventions might as well have
   washed up on a distant strand.” That’s right,
   blame me for the ethics issue. Meanwhile can’t you
   see that children, young adolescents really, are waking
   under apple trees, picking up their bookbags listlessly
   and traipsing down the road that presumably leads to school?
   There they’ll read about what we---you and I---have
   said to each other on important occasions.
   
   No one will be any wiser. Twenty scarlet nuns
   came in and led them off in the direction
   of the forest, whence issues a medley of big-band
   tunes by forgotten composers from the turn of the century.
   Now another century is turning. Will it be pretty or depressed?
   What have you to say for that jacket you’re wearing, those baggy
   pants the color of scarlet elm-leaves?
   
   It will turn out to be a popular color in the new century.
   They will call it “white.”
   
  
  
   

 楼主| 发表于 2020-12-7 17:28:53 | 显示全部楼层
睡眠者
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   凸眼于
   她睡觉的
   可能性。
   我是说我们中感染了炭疽比没感染的
   更多。
   
   从煤仓
   笨手笨脚地走出来
   我们的州长。他最近没睡太多觉。
   某些事使他困惑。我知道---那是
   牛奶槽里的墨水渗漏。我现在知道,这让他很烦恼。
   
   我们的道路,
   那边和里面的道路。
   
   再说,它在别处。
   冒险。
   你的道路绕到
   地板。
   
   诺金斯正在练习,
   我们想要的只是去动物园的路。
   我们想放出火烈鸟
   但它们飞了起来,飞到我们头上,
   几乎抓伤了它们。
   我以为我会被撞倒。
   然后一个善良的动物园服务员走过来。“这很自然”
   他解释说,“在你这个年纪(咳嗽,咳嗽),想为
   这些害虫或宠物做点什么,但最好不要为它们或任何人
   做任何事。你看,它们已经习惯了某种程度的深刻性
   当它被你这样一个善意的冲动所干扰时
   它们会非常生气,“尤其是”
   如果这是出于善意的话。这个,我恐怕,
   就是悲喜剧的本质。但是没有它谁能活下去?”
   
   你很可能会问,你
   从来没有做过一点工作保存叮当作响的金属门在人们的猫中。
   你说得对,尽管。我们生活在悲喜剧的旧汤里。
   狼人环绕我们,希望它们是我们。
   我们,另一方面,只希望我们在别的地方。
   现在你要让我们进笼子,还是怎么?
   
   很快就完成了。一群信鸽呼啸而过,
   有的像蜉蝣一样掉下来,因为它们毕竟已经灭绝了,
   只有一些还没有听说过。其他珍稀鸟类
   不见踪影,尽管笼子上的标签
   另有说明。但它又旧又锈,
   就像笼子自身。嘿,有人照顾这个地方吗?
   它就像一个幽灵动物园。
   
   是的,就是这样,我的儿子。
   你刚刚才注意到?好吧,我们在这条路上想出了一些
   非常特别的东西---闷热的泥炭沼泽高尔夫球场
   和骨瘦如柴的高尔夫球手,希望一杆进洞
   一切来得非常有规律。
   
   我们有平淡无奇的学院
   有长长的候补名单,还有歌剧的订阅,
   只是如果我是你,你不会想听它们。
   我们的学龄前儿童饥饿不堪,小学里到处都是细菌。
   我可以背着你,
   我想,穿过闷热的草皮到第十九洞
   在那里我们可以用清酒和点心打湿口哨,
   只是我不建议你在日落后呆得太久。
   哦,没什么好笑的。事实上,什么都
   做不到。它只是一种宽泛、松散的感觉
   让你重新聚焦在你自己身上,就像一个老柯达的
   逃学镜头,你可以看到所有你
   可以或曾经想成为的东西,
   躺在海边的砾石上,在阳光下晒干,
   就好像没有足够的东西把这个地方弄得和它一样臭烘烘。
   
   好吧,我要向你太太致意,
   她,无意冒犯,比她所透漏的更了解我。
   但谁在乎呢?我认为生活是一场
   狂欢。再说,它在别处。
   
   他离开时,夜色开始枯萎。
   我们想知道我们到底在这里做什么,如何
   解脱我们自己,我们真的曾想吗。
Slumberer   
   
   
   Bug-eyed at the
   possibilities
   she slumbers.
   I mean there were more of us on anthrax
   than not.
   
   Out of the coal bin
   Lumbers
   our governor. He hasn’t been getting too much sleep of late.
   Something puzzles him. I know---it’s the seepage
   of ink in the dairy trough. It bothers him, I now know.
   
   Our way,
   that way and in.
   
   Besides, it’s elsewhere.
   Adventurous.
   Wind your way to
   the floor.
   
   Noggins were getting a workout,
   and all we wanted was the way to the zoo.
   We wanted to free the flamingos
   but they took off and flew right over our heads,
   almost grazing them .
   I thought I was going to get knocked down.
   Then a kind zoo attendant came over.“It’s natural,”
   he explained, “at your age (cough, cough), to want to do something
   for these pests, or pets, but it’s really better to do nothing
   for them or anybody. See, they’re used to a certain profundity
   and get all riled when it’s disturbed
   even by a well-intentioned impulse such as yours, especially
   if it’s well intentioned. Such, I fear,
   is the essence of the tragi-comic. But who could live without it?”
   
   You may well ask, you
   who have never done a lick of work save clang metal gates in people’s pusses.
   Point taken, though. We live in an old soup of the tragi-comic.
   Werewolves circle us, wishing they were us.
   We, on the other hand, wish only that we were somewhere else.
   Now are you going to let us into the cage, or what?
   
   Swiftly it was done. A swarm of passenger pigeons whooshed past,
   some of them dropping like mayflies, for they were after all extinct,
   only some of them hadn’t heard about it yet. Other rarae aves
   were nowhere to be seen, though the label on the cage
   indicated otherwise. But it was old and rusted,
   like the cage itself. Hey, does anybody take care of this place?
   It’s like a ghost-zoo.
   
   Aye, and so it is, my son.
   You’ve only just noticed? Well, we come up with some pretty
   extraordinary things down this way---smouldering peat-bog golf courses
   with skeleton golfers, hoping for that hole in one
   that comes all too regularly.
   
   We have academies for the undistinguished
   with long waiting lists, and subscriptions to the opera,
   only you wouldn’t want to hear any of’em, not if I was you.
   Our pre-schoolers are famished, and the grade school is full of microbes.
   I could carry you on my back,
   I suppose, across the smouldering turf to the nineteenth hole
   where we could wet whistles with some sake and dim sum,
   only I wouldn’t advise you to stay around much after sunset.
   Oh, not that anything funny goes on.Nothing ever does,
   in fact. It’s just a wide, loose kind of feeling
   that refocuses you on yourself like a truant lens
   in some aged Kodak, and you see all you
   can or ever wanted to be,
   laid out on the gravel littoral, drying in the sun,
   as if there wasn’t enough to stink up the place as it is.
   
   Well, I’ll be paying my respects to your missus,
   who, no offense, knows me better than she may have let on.
   But who cares? Life is a carnival,
   I think. Besides, it’s elsewhere.
   
   Night started to shrivel as he departed.
   We were wondering what on earth we were doing here, and how
   to extricate ourselves, should we ever really want to.
  
便餐
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   你总是把我留在我们离开的地方。
   你带给我每个小东西,
   这可能是个错误。
   你剃了我的金丝雀一次。
   我急着要走高速公路出去。
   至少,那里几乎什么也没发生。
   有一次我在卢塞恩湖边
   被一只猫下药。醒来时
   感觉自己像个没有公文包的商人。
   等等,这里来了一个新人。他会检查叉子
   看看是否有根。嗯,是的。处于危险之中。
   在过去,同样的东西有很多。
   
   于是我们在这样的时候跳波莱罗舞。
   我相信我比我上次穿的泳衣还苗条。
   汤米坐在台阶上,看起来很可爱。它是
   为了你的生命,现在或永远不会。现在
   我没感觉更好。我把信扔在
   办公室,以为会更快。
   也许编辑从没得到它。我喜欢吹
   玻璃口琴,我身材苗条,看起来是我岁数的一半。
   《麦田里的守望者》一直是我最喜欢的书。
   
   你呢?你是否,也,会在周六下午
   和你的家人来到这里,希望
   稍作休息和放松,在远离
   城市和办公桌的地方?这里他们有水仙花。
   看,城市那边有一个。
   他们有它的名字。“底特律。”
   
   一直以来,我都以为我是个害虫
   有人拼命地爱着我。
   这个人生病了,显然死在
   一家很远的医院里。现在我没有人,
   没有朋友可以抱怨,也没有人对之叫哄骗的名字。
   我肯定是在错误的时间
   或错误的城市出生的。晚上的便餐被共享。
   我以为我已经下了地狱。不幸我及时醒来。
Pot Luck
   
   
   You always leave me where we left off.
   You bring me every little thing,
   which is probably a mistake.
   You shaved my canary once.
   I am anxious to be out by the speedway.
   At least, almost nothing happens there.
   I was drugged by a cat once
   on the edge of Lake Lucerne. Woke
   feeling like a businessman without portfolio.
   Wait, here goes a new one. He’ll examine the fork
   to see if it’s rooted. Well, it is. In danger.
   In the past, which is much the same thing.
   
   So we dance the bolero in times like these.
   I believe I am slimmer than my last bathing suit.
   Tommy sat on the step, looking so cute. It was
   run for your lives, now or never. Now
   I don’t feel so much better. I had dropped off the letter
   at the office, thinking it would be quicker.
   Perhaps the editor never got it. I enjoy playing
   the glass harmonica, am slender and look half my age.
   Catcher in the Rye is my all-time favorite book.
   
   And how about you? Do you, too, come out here
   with your family on Saturday afternoons, hoping
   for a little rest and relaxation, far
   from the city and its desks? Here they have daffodils.
   Look, there is one over there by the city.
   They have a name for it. “Detroit.”
   
   And all the time I thought I was being a pest
   someone was desperately in love with me.
   The person sickened and apparently died
   in a hospital far away. Now I have no one,
   no friends to gripe with or call coaxing names to.
   I was definitely born at the wrong time
   or in the wrong city. Pot-luck dinners were shared.
   I thought I had gone to hell. Too bad I woke up in time.
  
葡萄采收季
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   十五区的一座高楼慢慢地消失了,然后完全消失了。到了十一月,天气变得非常冷。没有人知道为什么甚至注意到。我忘了告诉你你的帽子看起来很神气。
   
   一种新的入睡方式被发现了。长辈居民四处窥探,强迫睡觉。你醒来时感觉神清气爽,但有些事情改变了。也许是孩子们唱得太多。索菲不该带他们去听音乐会。我当时向她求情,但没有结果。另外,他们可以在院子自由活动。其他人可能想用它,或者让它空着。所有的椅子在一个晚上就坐满了。
   
   我脸色苍白,坐立不安。演员们跟着他们走向小屋。我知道有人要失去或毁掉我一生的工作,或发明。但还是有些事促使我冷静下来。
   
   偶尔会有一个朋友离开,是的。已婚男人,手到嘴。我去看展览了。我们回来听了一些唱片。奇怪的是,我没注意到熔岩倾泻。但就在那里,她说,一年中的每一个晚上,就像一条河。我想我现在注意到的事情比以前少了,
   
   那时我还年轻。
   
   它如此之多的任意性,就像羊毛从梳着的梳子。你不能保持警惕,她说。你必须保持这样,永远,开放和脆弱。就像一个体腔。如果你注意到太晚了,还没归档建筑次品。我们必须,正如你所说,保持联系。不被注意。如果我是为了这个才出生,我低声低语。这一个月来,我在这干什么?我想是在等修理工。
   
   最后一滴水滴滴下来的时候你在哪里?把吊袜带系在裤袜上。整件事结束的时间,比你能说杰克.罗宾逊和我们回到了大本营的时间还短,但总的来说,生活是精神上的。不过,现在是时候搬家了。也许我们会在路上遇到一个戴着兜帽的陌生人,他会为我们指明前进的方向,这也没关系,即使很无聊,也很有趣。
   
   我记得樱花盛开的世界仰望着太阳,想知道,我做了什么才配得到这个或别的什么?
   ---
   (1)原文如此。
Vendanges
   
   
   
   
   A tall building in the fifteenth arrondissement faded away slowly and then completely vanished. Toward November the weather grew very bitter. No one knew why or even noticed. I forgot to tell you your hat looked perky.
   
   A new way of falling asleep has been discovered. Senior citizens snoop around to impose that sleep. You awake feeling refreshed but something has changed. Perhaps it’s the children singing too much. Sophie shouldn’t have taken them to the concert. I pleaded with her at the time, to no avail. Also, they have the run of the yard. Someone else might want to use it, or have it be empty. All the chairs were sat on in one night.
   
   And I was pale and restless. The actors walked with the(1) to the cabins. I knew that someone was about to lose or destroy my life’s work, or invention. Yet something urged calm on me.
   
   There is an occasional friend left, yes. Married men, hand to mouth. I went down to the exhibition. We came back and listened to some records. Strange, I hadn’t noticed the lava pouring. But it’s there, she said, every night of the year, like a river. I guess I notice things less now than I used to,
   
   when I was young.
   
   And the arbitrariness of so much of it, like sheep’s wool from a carding comb. You can’t afford to be vigilant, she said. You must stay this way, always, open and vulnerable. Like a body cavity. Then if you are noticed it will be too late to file the architectural pants. We must, as you say, keep in touch. Not to be noticed. If it was for this I was born, I murmured under my breath. What have I been doing around here, all this month? Waiting for the repairman, I suppose.
   
   Where were you when the last droplets dribbled? Fastening my garter belt to my panty hose. The whole thing was over in less time than you could say Jack Robinson and we were back at base camp, one little thing after another gone wrong, yet on the whole life is spiritual. Still, it is time to pull up stakes. Probably we’ll meet a hooded stranger on the path who will point out a direction for us to take, and that will be okay too, interesting even if it’s boring.
   
   I remember the world of cherry blossoms looking up at the sun and wondering, what have I done to deserve this or anything else?
  
小城市
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   我在完全黑暗中生活了几年的小城市
   其苍白的术语占据了
   我对是非的多变本能。
   有时在晚上长时间,一个人会停止说话,
   然后,如果话题是,比如说,鞋子
   别人会装腔作势表示同意。今天我不能在门口进进出出
   而不想起你那些
   不再算数的脏话。我是说它们现在干净了。
   上班的死者七点上班。
   一张新桌子带给你的手。
   你应该搬进它,餐厅,
   让你吐出的酒漫步,堵住
   广场上空旷的卫兵广场。
   总有一个不见了,或者似乎是这样,
   但是他们有巧妙的方法掩饰它,
   就像一个披着披肩的漂亮女孩被送到医生那里去
   回收一些肥皂水,没有人注意到她,当
   我们意识到她不在时。然而玻璃窗上的鹿角
   变得湿冷和颤抖---
   毫无疑问,一想到某些运动
   无限地推迟,或缩减。
   但我们跟着她的眼睛导向跳舞,狂野的话题的地方。
   找一群!要不然,这一切遍及郊区
   那里的强光像一个暴躁的太阳分仪一样跳动着。
   乐队走了进来,演奏了医生交响乐
   当我们互相交谈时。下一步怎么办?
   面包箱里有面包
   但所有的鞋店都关门了。
   
   我们喜欢我们在第三纪时期
   喜怒无常的自我,但总是有
   一种模糊的不满啃着我们的牛肚。
   
   雷声之间有喵喵的叫声。
   我们确信我们不会活着出去,
   但我们总是这样,不知怎么的。不过,一定有人告诉我们,
   因为我们不得不站在地下室里
   就像时间从窗棂里渗进来。
   我们知道总有一天我们可以赶上
   当泡沫轻抚着堰
   黑眼的苏珊斯绊倒了。
   
   直到雨停之后
   这不是一个快乐的地方。
Small City
   
   
   
   Small city where I lived for some years in total darkness,
   whose pale terminology took over
   my varied instincts for right and wrong.
   Sometimes in the long evenings one would stop talking,
   then, if the topic was, say, shoes
   the others would mouth their assent. I cannot go in or out
   of doors to this day without recalling your vocabulary
   of dirty words that no longer count. I mean they are clean now.
   The working dead pitch in at seven.
   A new table had taken your hands.
   You should move into it, dining space,
   letting the wine of your spit wander over and muzzle
   the hollow square of guards out in the square.
   One was always missing, or so it seemed,
   but they had ingenious ways of disguising it,
   like a pretty girl in a shawl was sent to the doctor’s
   to reclaim some suds, and nobody noticed her by the
   time we’d realized she was gone. The antlers over the vitrine
   however grew clammy and trembled---
   no doubt at the thought of some sport
   infinitely postponed, or curtailed.
   Yet we followed where her eyes led dancing, wild topic.
   Find hordes! Or else it was all over in the suburbs
   whose furious light beat like an ornery orrery.
   The band marched in and played the doctor symphony
   while we were talking amongst ourselves. What to do next?
   There was bread in the breadbox
   but all the shoe stores were closed.
   
   We like our pixillated selves
   in that tertiary period, yet always
   a vague dissatisfaction gnawed at our tripes.
   
   There was mewing between the thunderclaps.
   We were sure we wouldn’t get out alive,
   yet we always did, somehow. Someone must have told on us, though,
   for we were made to stand in the basement
   as the hours oozed through the window grill.
   We knew we could catch up
   someday when foam would caress the weir
   and black-eyed susans stumbled.
   
   It is not a happy place to be
   until after the rain has ended.
  
复古化装舞会
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   那篇文章是我想读的---
   你第一次看到它,不久前,在一本杂志上,
   仔细阅读了它,忘记了它的主要宗旨。
   只有它的散文韵律的鬼魂为你服务,
   就像水在原木的底部
   一些小鱼挖掘着。
   
   所以那时它们从没有到
   我们住的城市的郊区来找我们。
   我们过着平静的生活,以死去的伟大作家的方式:
   早上金属咖啡,然后工作到几乎中午
   然后在黑麦烤面包上放两三个水煮鸡蛋,然后又
   同样继续工作到下午影子变长,到了
   长足和玩伏击的时间。我们悄悄地回来,
   品尝着未知祖先的慷慨,
   欣赏那些石头在商务旅行中的样子,
   红着脸充满整个地球。告诉我,
   你还记得这些吗?我, 把一切都放下的我,
   我不能,所以让活着的人在出租图书馆
   选我的书,从蔬菜水果商那里选晚上的沙拉。
   
   如果还有更多回忆,我把它送给你
   因为你有时是一个永恒的人,而你存在的
   可爱,像鸭毛从你身上抖干净。
Vintage Masquerade
   
   
   That article I’d meant to read---
   you saw it first, a while ago, in some magazine,
   perused it and forgot its major tenets.
   Only the ghost of its prose rhythms served you,
   like water at the base of a log
   some minnow undermines.
   
   So they never came for us in the suburbs
   of what city we were living in at that time.
   We lived undisturbed, in the manner of the great dead writers:
   metallic coffee in the morning, then work until almost noon
   with a couple of poached eggs on rye toast then, then more
   of the same till afternoon shadows lengthened, and it was time
   to go for a long walk and play ambush.Stealthily we’d return,
   sampling the largesse of unknown ancestors,
   admiring the way those rocks look on business trips,
   blush that suffuses the whole earth. Tell me,
   can you remember any of this? I, who put it all down,
   I cannot, and so let the living choose my books
   at the rental library, evening’s salad from the greengrocer’s.
   
   If there is more to remember, I gift you with it
   because of the eternal person you were sometimes, and the loveliness
   of your being, shaken clear of you like duck feathers.
  
给应该离开的好人
   
   (选自 Your Name Here )
   作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
   
   杏子:“哦,今年不会再有。”
   ---福楼拜,《庸见词典》
   
   很多人都无法停止对你的爱,
   这在十年之内。在争吵中,每一个高尚的
   冲动都是不光彩的,每一个提议都被拒绝,
   无论多么虚伪。一堵李子塔的墙
   盖过了耕作的努力。通常它们会给它涂漆
   于是你可以在薄雾中看到它。今天不行。
   
   一个满脸雀斑的女孩误解了我,笑了,
   好像我是她解释的一部分。
   “你看,男孩们驾车正好穿过你。
   我以为‘我’看不见。”亲爱的,是你的帽子,
   不是你的错,那晚的头条新闻抨击的。
   到处都是一片喧嚣,尽管上星期才有
   安静的教区。他们决定改变现状
   只是因为事情应该改变,要不然是因为他们改变了,总之。
   远处的宁静只是一种金属的哀鸣,
   果实同意。现在很少。
To Good People Who Should Be Going
   
   
   Apricots: “Oh, there won’t be any again this year.”
   ---Flaubert, Dictionary of Received Ideas
   
   Many couldn’t stop being in love with you,
   and that in a decade. In the pileup every noble
   impulse is disgraced, every overture rebuffed,
   no matter how insincere. A wall of plums towers
   over the effort at tilling. Usually they paint it up
   so you can see it in the haze. Not today.
   
   A freckled girl misunderstands me and laughs,
   as though I were part of her explanation.
   “You see, the boys drive right through you.
   And I thought I was invisible.”Hon, it’s your hat,
   not your fault, that evening headlines tilt at.
   Everywhere is a great fuss, though there were parishes
   of tranquillity only last week. They decided to change things
   just because things ought to change, or else because they do, anyway.
   Peace in the distance is merely a metallic whine,
   the fruit concurs. And now very seldom.
   
  

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