(美)约翰.阿什贝利诗歌草译

剑郭琴符

新的更高的        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        你对我来说不仅仅是生命。我经历了    你不知道，不知道我在经历。    我知道你需要我。我来到    你住的地方，爬上楼梯。那里没有人。    没有人欣赏我。它的合法性    扰乱了一把椅子。很多次为了庆祝    我们被召集在一起，在我们曾经    去过的地方，什么都没有，    虚无在任何地方。我们斜着走过，    没有留下任何注视。当太阳咕哝着结束，    以一种乐观的方式，是时候把它留在那里了。        兴高采烈地进出的地方，羞怯地脸红    在靠近外面匍匐爬走的窗户的    大衣的标签上，我暂时不管那地方和现在。    现在是时候重新蹒跚，    灭灯，当时间从窗户进来时。    剩下的不多了。    我笑了，羞涩地把手放在    你的眼睛上。你现在能看见吗？    是的，我只在那个地点    那里那条盛开的溪流起飞，在你窗下。    现在去，你说。从我的窗户出去。    我对你的窗户有一半的爱我不能破坏    它，我说。

The New Higher                You meant more than life to me. I lived through    you not knowing, not knowing I was living.    I learned that you called for me. I came to where    you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.    No one to appreciate me. The legality of it    upset a chair. Many times to celebrate    we were called together and where    we had been there was nothing there,    nothing that is anywhere. We passed obliquely,    leaving no stare. When the sun was done muttering,    in an optimistic way, it was time to leave that there.        Blithely passing in and out of where, blushing shyly    at the tag on the overcoat near the window where    the outside crept away, I put aside the there and now.    Now it was time to stumble anew,    blacking out when time came in the window.    There was not much of it left.    I laughed and put my hands shyly    across your eyes. Can you see now?    Yes I can see I am only in the where    where the blossoming stream takes off, under your window.    Go presently you said. Go from my window.    I am half in love with your window I cannot undermine    it, I said.

  

在那些日子里        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        音乐、食物、性及其伴随的    比喻就像曾被飞溅上笑声的    门前的一堵光墙        来看看“你”有多喜欢它---    它真是你认可的吗？    如果是这样的话，那么这一切中的孤独    意味着什么？我们有多瞎？        我们看到了被遮蔽的土地和沟渠的    未来几英尺。    那条路肯定是出现的    长的那条。然而，没有人        看到我们所做的一切有任何问题，    我们如何来讨论它，在这里，有风    和太阳有时的倾斜。    你已经走到了这一步，下来的路        在瘫痪，虽然这是逝去的    我记得很好的青春，曾经。    必须洗牌，哪怕它只是言语中    迷失的讽刺，当它的    神圣感在流血，        开放给各种各样的解释。

In Those Days                Music, food, sex and their accompanying    tropes like a wall of light at a door    once spattered by laughter        come round to how you like it---    was it really you that approved?    And if so what does the loneliness    in all this mean? How blind are we?        We see a few feet into our future    of shrouded lots and ditches.    Surely that way was the long one    to have come. Yet nobody        sees anything wrong with what we’re doing,    how we came to discuss it, here, with the wind    and the sun sometimes slanting.    You have arrived at this step, and the way down        is paralyzing, though this is the lost    youth I remember as being okay, once.    Got to shuffle, even if it’s only the sarcasm    of speech that gets lost, while the blessed    sense of it bleeds through,        open to all kinds of interpretations.

  

参观愚人院        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        岁月减弱成云朵    比我所见过的任何一朵都美丽---    漂流的骑马雕像，在风中流动着上升。    在这里，被寒冷搞得阴沉的尸体    以不同的角度相遇和分开。被给定的无    不能被收缩。我们的火焰是冰川，    照亮了极地的背景。如果你来，它    现在就在中间括号里，你参与的季节，    研讨会哪儿也不去。（我必须把这些围起来；    只有一棵树会经过这里。）        文件中没有其中一些被取出    后来又被替换的记录。    窗户的峭壁，有的亮了，有的破了，    允许多样性吸引    和排斥，就像一个幸福的结局，真相受伤的方式。        “稀土元素”怎么能成为元素？        试管们打瞌睡。一扇宽阔的窗户望着大海。    另一些人朝房间里吹，地板像搔痒一样。    一把尺子贴在墙上    以表示时间，但为时已晚。雪    寻找和穿透裂缝的本领    终于成了大新闻。    让我们为这，    和刚刚表现出来的坚韧干杯。

A Visit to the House of Fools                The year subsides into clouds    more beautiful than any I have seen—    drifting equestrian statues, washing lifted by the wind.    Down here bodies made somber by the cold    meet and diverge at angles. Nothing is given    that may not be retracted. Our fires are glacial,    lighting up the polar backdrop. If you came it    would be in mid-parenthesis now, season of your engaging,    seminar not going anywhere. (I must wall these off;    nothing but a tree would pass here.)        There is no record that some of it was taken out    and later replaced in the file.    The cliff of windows, some lit up, some broken,    allows that variousness will attract    and repel, like a happy ending, the way the truth hurts.        How can “rare earth” be an element?        Test tubes doze. A wide window watches the sea.    Others blow inward toward the room with its floor    like an itch that scratching redeems.    A ruler is pasted against the wall    to tell time by, but it’s too late. The snow’s    knack for seeking out and penetrating crevices    has finally become major news.    Let’s drink to that,    and the tenacity of just seeming.

  

嘴巴的干燥        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        注意：这里的东西肯定不在那里，    我们也不是魔术师涂鸦的学徒。    这里的痛苦禁忌那里的美梦，    尽管要不人们可以被原谅希望的事情。        炼金术士太信任他的男助手，    他，虽然不恶毒，但比别人要求的要机警得多，    尤其是当夜色从烟囱里呼啸而下    七姐妹从她们的法兰多尔舞蹈里大声喊道：        “停！争吵的时间已经过去，    宽恕和冻疮混合在一个怀疑的    地平线上，它可以改变你。”小伙子，被箴言中段吓了一跳，    放下手中的蒸馏器。无法理解的爱    溢出过苔原，没有什么可以阻挡它。        这是他小时候经常梦见蝌蚪的情景：    简单的吻，气孔奇怪地没有出现，    一片紫罗兰地在颤抖。如果非要这样，    这样的方式总比缓刑签署的祝福好。        比长长的回家的路好，比回家好；不发光的火比    冻僵的壁炉架好。比在楼上    等你的星星毯子更好的玩具。“破产，夫人：我    比大多数人都擅长它。肯定需要更多的盐。”

Dryness of Mouth                NB: what is here is certainly not there,    nor are we apprenticed to an enchanter’s doodling.    The pain of here contraindicates pleasant dreams of there,    though one could be forgiven for wishing things otherwise.        The alchemist put too much trust in his boy assistant,    who, while not vicious, was more alert than was called for,    notably when night whistled down the chimney    and the seven sisters cried out of their farandole:        “Desist! The time for ornery has lapsed，    and forgiveness and chilblains mingle on the horizon    of a doubt that can transform you.” The lad, startled in mid-    apothegm, dropped his alembic. Uncomprehending love    spilled across the tundra, nothing there to dam it.        It was a situation he had oft dreamed as a tadpole:    uncomplicated kisses, stigmata strangely absent,    a field of violets shuddering. If it had to be this way,    better this way than a benediction signed by a reprieve.        Better the long way home, than home; better an unlit fire    than the frozen mantelpiece. Better toys than a blanket    of stars waiting for you upstairs. “Bankruptcy, ma’am: I’m    better at it than most. It definitely needs more salt.”

  

无意识的描述        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        他的风景画可能就是你意味的，    它对你来说意味很多，我从未怀疑过，    即使在当时。你有多少能指？    好，我有两个。我带着我的烦恼在路上    走了一会儿。当我们回来时，小天使    正在乔木里，苹果树下筑巢。我们怀疑，    吹口哨。路返回到他们    就在黑暗开始的时候。    滑稽和假作悲伤是我们的内心。    他们陷入困境时保持整数，而且，当它结束，    烤了一点奶酪来证明它从未发生过---    它已经反映在路边的一根针上了。    可爱的沙地是紫色或灰色的。        有时我觉得这都是一种夸大的做作。    四十个罐子，每个都装着它的小偷，向我    靠近，试图偷听。但唯一的声音是    上个千年滴下的水声。我也试着说；    你很高兴结束了，除了一大堆的睡眠    和人们做的半个梦——你认识的人，    但他们不是那些人，只是海滩上的插图。

Involuntary Description            That his landscape could have been the one you meant,    that it meant much to you, I never doubted,    even at the time. How many signifiers have you?    Good, I have two. I took my worries on the road    for a while. When we got back little cherubs were nesting    in the arbor, below the apple tree. We were incredulous,    and whistled. The road came back to get them    just as darkness was beginning.    The comic and the bathetic were our interior.    They kept integers at bay, and, when it was over,    toasted a little cheese to prove it never happened---    It had been reflected in a needle by the roads side.    The lovely sandlot was purple or gray.        Sometimes I think it’s all one big affectation.    The forty jars, each holding its thief, draw closer    to me, trying to eavesdrop. But the only sound is water    dripping in the last millennium. I try and say it too;    you are glad its over, except for a ton of sleep    and the half dreams that people it---people you knew,    but they weren’t those people，only figures on a beach.

  

剑郭琴符

荷尔德林旁注        献给安妮.邓恩        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        浸泡其中的是哪一个，    或者大箱子。    房间里也    供应的    是气气气气气        总是会有解脱的震颤    被金色磨砂跟着    机器人的修补        他们在解脱的时候来得到你，但无法想象，    或者被想象---    马戏团的老虎在织机上翻倒，而且    手    还留着。        一个看不见的仆人在厨房里储备物资    我们的食品储藏室被秋天擦亮    水壶什么也不放弃    ---------        再见再见    一个坟墓甚至超过了蒸汽压路机---你    在晚上反复唱什么    当夜晚的墙壁聚在一起打碎    他是我最杰出的。    主行话铸锭    羽毛落下的    秘密照亮一个晚上    到开放空间的沙子路径    （在缅因州）    情人沉没它是气体    更多气体和气体在墓穴之间的开口。        我们的英雄正好准时到达    以“掌管”    （落下的羽毛）    （一只丝袜）（撒尿）（秋天）    明媚的夜晚    有利返回的方式    --------------        已经有    那么多耐力的我们似乎    不可能不重新开始    凉爽，水    一切都是开放的    一切等待着    这棵树，这鸡舍是开放的    或水族馆整个下午默默地渴望    什么图像？    比利小子    尝试着扭曲的虹膜    它正在从它们擦拭    白内障，在它们折叠后    这是尝试任何东西，时间的感觉正通过    音乐会，它    --------------        在金色的海洋#######和别的地方之外，更多的网    决定不带来黎明，还没下    第一批大台阶        然后你长大了你疏远了    并不意味着乏味---    每个人在其生命中不得不形成一点    激情，橘色的，    玫瑰时代的大浅盘会动摇    在长度或体积中，仍然    保持秘密。        深不可测是不流行的    适合鬼争论    在提到的这一年中什么真的发生---    一旦开始它就结束？没有什么真正开始    在那一年或下一年或其后的一年。    被困在某个旅馆的某个地方    地平线从肉上    眺望着部落    复仇、集结的棱柱色。    孔雀蓝与黑色的    无花果树在恐惧中组装着    它解析过的果实，一个接一个或从一种东西    到另一种    现在它过去了    整夜旅行    到受人尊敬的星星    瀑布和崇拜鹅卵石的时间离开那里    窝里的蛋是棕色的，面纱也被拉上了    所以为什么五个手指是必要的数字    你要取代谁    窝蛋    因此它应该是简单的    从鹳眼的视角    来到球茎冰雹也许我们会重新考虑    自行车越过草地---    “这些都是性感男女！”    课堂抵达秩序    老秩序    99级    我们应该在你裤子里长大    想想它。    ----------------        一天下午当金色的麦秆    在天堂的客厅里吃草    语气小小的变化出现    告诉我们要准备好    打包足够的东西    蔚蓝的天空尖叫着    一位父亲和他的女儿正经过    令人愉快的新月拐角处    别怪我也带来了    变化的东西    我想我现在要进去    北极熊可能会穿越冰层数百英里寻找食物。        它的白色皮毛有时    用来做衣服。他们的篮子在前门    打哈欠，在屋檐下    给陌生人一点点四分之一硬币，    最后放弃了，最后放弃了。    哦，永久的东西，    在你背诵的课文里    像模仿草坪的纸    一样简单，    被某人，    最后        整个变化，    比我们想的    运送得远，    解开，    一个挂锁，    所有的    治疗都不走运，摇摇晃晃，    像树一样模糊，    你那邪恶的遗嘱    徒劳无益地收集起来    常春藤注意到，我    回到屠杀，那一刻    发生了，如果它曾经接受过    任何东西    完全    ---------        一种巨大的粗鲁突然，像一个戴着吊袜带的    怀疑的海洋一样眨着眼睛，在一个有着雷鸣般目的的泡沫箱子里    但在这种情况下，它    和蜀葵一起走到哪里，它，    现在似乎，总是爱着我们，    不说实话，但这几乎不重要。    还留有其他的东西解开    在黑夜的牙齿里的连接，    狮子和老虎二者。    我们彼此混合。    解脱在书中，    带到了新的极端，    到进一步的视野    为了一个新的维度    从树上生长回来    短暂地    由某人的错误造成    现在像毒液一样被吸出，    物质的眼泪，白桦的    皮肤    被吹走，在优雅的    分离中。

Hölderlin Marginalia        for Anne Dunn                    And in the soaking of which,    or the trunk.    is gas gas gas gas gas    of which the room too    is furnished        always the quaking of relief    is followed by gold scrub    piecings of a robot        They came to get you in times of relief as yet unimaginable,    or imagined---    circus tigers tip out on the loom, and the    hand    still stays.        An unseen servant stocks the kitchen with supplies    and our pantries are furbished by autumn    the kettle relinquishes nothing    ---------        Bye and bye    a grave overtook even the steamroller---what    are you chanting at evening    as evening’s walls come together and break    He was my finest.    Lord the lingo the ingot    feather that falls    Secrets that brighten a night    The sand path to the open space    (in Maine)    and the lovers go under it is gaz    More gaz and gaz in the openings between the tombs.        Our hero arrives just in time    in “take charge” mode    (feather that falls)    (a silk stocking) (peed on) (in the autumn)    of bright nights    of favorable returns    --------------        We who have    had so much stamina it seems    impossible not to start again    the cool, the water    everything is open    everything waits    this tree, this henhouse is open    or the aquarium lusts silently all an afternoon    for what images?    Billy the Kid    try wry irises    that is wiping the cataracts    from them after they fold    that is try anything, a sense of time is passing    concerts that    --------------        Out there on the golden sea ####### and other, more nets    decided not to bring dawn yet not yet down    the first big stairs        Then you grow up you grow away from    not meaning it as tedium---    everyone has to grow up a little in their life    a passion, orange,    platter of roses time will destabilize    in long or in large, keeps    still the secret.    The unfathomable is unfashionable    suited to ghost arguments    over what really did take place in the year mentioned---    was it over once it started? Nothing really was started    in that year or the next or the one after that.    Stranded in some hotel somewhere    the horizon looks out over meat    the prismatic colors of the tribes    avenged, assembling.    Peacock blue and black    Fig tree in terror to be assembling    its parsed fruits one by one or something    to the other    now it’s past    travel all night    to the respected star    fall and worship the pebble time left there    the eggs in the nest were brown, the veil too drawn    So why is five fingers the required figure    Who are you going to replace    nest egg    and so it ought to be simple    from a stork’s-eye view    set in bulbous hail perhaps we will rethink    the bicycle came across the grass---    “These are all pinups!”    Class came to order    the old order    Class of’99    We should be growing in your pants    Think about it.    ----------------        One afternoon as golden stalks    grazed the parlor of heaven    the little shift in tone came    to tell us to get ready    to pack enough things    The blue sky screeched    A father and his daughter were passing    the corner of the delighted crescent    Don’t blame me for the stuff of change    I too carry    I think I’ll go in now    The polar bear might travel hundreds of miles across the ice hunting for food.        Its white fur is sometimes    used for clothes. Whose basket yawns    at the front door, under the eaves    giving little quarter to the stranger    giving up at last, at last given up.    O permanent thing,    in your recited lesson    plain as paper    modeled on the lawn,    by someone,    and the whole        changes at last,    is carried farther    than we wanted to be,    came undone,    a padlock,    unlucky    for all the treatments, wobbly,    and vague as trees,    your unholy testaments    gathered to no purpose    ivy take note, and I    right to the kill, the moment    it takes, if it ever takes    anything    at all    ---------        A vast rudeness all at once, blinking like an incredulous ocean    with its garters down, in the foam chest of thundering    purpose but in that case where is it    goes in with the hollyhock, that,    it now seems, always loved us,    without telling the truth but it scarcely matters.    There are still other stays to unfasten    linkage in the teeth of night,    both lion and tiger.    We blend in with one another.    The relief is in the book,    taken to new extremes,    to further sights    in the cause of a new dimension    growing back from the tree,    caused briefly    by someone’s mistake    now sucked out like venom,    the tears of materiality, the skin    of the birch    blown away and within grace    divided.

  

告诉她继续        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        在加油站，贴纸震动占了上风。    居民的生活被改变了。        我的头被那些林荫道弄痛了。    远处的海湾    冻结，当它不得不时。        有缺陷的营养像触角一样收缩，    直升机，便士生活    也被寄托到这种快乐---    我可以把自己看作是一种恶意的一分子    渐渐消失在树林的花粉。        这些公民保持沉默的权利：    切割东西，带来证据，改变一切。

Told Her to Get On with It                At the pump, sticker shock reigned.    The lives of the residents were changed.        My head ached from those boulevards.    The distant bight    freezes over when it has to.        Flawed nourishment retracts like a feeler,    helicopters, penny lives    consigned to this pleasure as well---    I could see myself as a portion of malice    fading into the pollen of the grove.        The right of these citizens to keep silent:    cutting up things, bringing evidence, changing everything.

  

天气，比如说        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        海岸很吵。沉默在犯罪    在他们行为的弯道中。    一直以来，门柱都是错误的    当我们在那首歌下受苦，        抖出围裙是错误的    和天黑后孩子们用来标出    回去的路的面包屑一起。    把发酵剂舀进去，比起        襟翼和细绳，朝向兜帽更多。    边缘渗出。    他说它是胶木。我想它是胶木。    我们知道得这么多，        时间把我们包裹在一大群里，    杂种狗在荨麻耕地中，    怀疑的百分比转移不安，    沿着岸边光亮锁着。        我在床上曾经很快乐，    我可以看到它像海滩一样    快速地到来。我们在这里讲述    一些我们自己的账目，        从受割礼的神那里攫取恩惠，    被放进盒子或口袋里。    从那一刻钟起，什么也没有，    飞蛾应该在大西洋        汹涌的潮水中后退一步。    我发现我们这里有玩具鱼，    在过去的时间里    选择无论什么的集群，        冲进来填补不可思议的井。

The Weather, for Example            Coasts are loud. Silences sin    at the meander of their doing.    All along the gatepost was wrong    as we suffered under that song,        wrong to shake the apron out    with crumbs the children marked    the way back with after it got dark.    Spoon the leaven in, there is more        to the hoods than flaps and strings.    A margin oozes.    It’s Bakelite he said. I think it’s Bakelite.    There’s so much more we know,        time that wraps us in a swarm,    mongrels in nettle tilth,    percentages of doubt that shift unease,    bright locks along the shore.        I was once happy abed,    I could see it coming like a beach    then very fast. We are here to tell    some account of ourselves,        grab favor from the circumcised gods,    be replaced in a box or pocket.    Nothing coming from that quarter,    it behooveth the moth to inch back        against the steep Atlantic tides.    I found us here with toy fish,    choice clusters of whatever    you desired in time past,        rushing in to fill the unthinkable well.

   

  

剑郭琴符

还有数数        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        别墅坐落在火山岩的圆锥体上，高高地耸立在平静的海面之上，绵延至无云的地平线。天空，如果真是这样的话，蛋壳般的蓝。这座建筑融进了它自己，所以装饰的东西似乎成了这座建筑的织物，是一个粗鲁、沉默寡言的电枢。在里面，许多钟不停地报时，敲打着不同的小时。有一些细节和某种凝滞的激情，并没有走得太远，这唤起了我对一份工作之类的东西的负面感觉。        佩利亚斯（1）穿了一套褪了色的耧斗菜圣诞老人套装。九月份我已经没看过他了。他并没有做太多的努力来挽救困住我们的礼仪，就像船上的螺旋桨夹住了海藻。这辱骂他老是堆积在我身上---我再也接受不了。管风琴的琶音从楼梯口汩汩地往下流。短创作类型可以选择保持这种势头，也可以选择让它像一串串珍珠一样在垫子上崩塌。相反，她渴望眼睛的操作。就在那时，我意识到我是移动墙的一部分。没有什么能拯救我们，除了不可避免地打破了那章结尾的文字，一个微救赎，像一缕绿色的光线。        -----    （1）佩利亚斯：五幕歌剧《佩利亚斯与梅丽桑德》中的男一号，梅特林克编剧，德彪西谱曲。

And Counting               The villa sat on a cone of volcanic rock high above a waveless sea that stretched away to a cloudless horizon. The sky, if that is what it was, was eggshell blue. The architecture melted into itself, so that what was decoration came to seem the fabric of the building, a rude, uncommunicative armature. Inside, many clocks were continually chiming and striking different hours. There was detail and some kind of curdled passion, not going very far, that evoked the negative way I feel about a job and such.        Pelleas wore a Santa Claus suit the color of faded columbine. I haven’t looked at him in September. He hadn’t done much to salvage the manners that snagged us, like seaweed caught in a ships propeller. This abuse he’s always heaping on me---I can’t take it any more. Organ arpeggios gurgled down from the landing. Creative types in shorts have the option of sustaining the momentum or letting it collapse like a string of pearls on a cushion. She was instead dying for an eye operation. It was then I realized that I was part of the moving wall. Nothing could save us except the inevitable breaking of the text at the end of the chapter, a micro-redemption, like a green ray.

  

小时候你说        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我们一起坐在长廊里。    我有件事想问你，    我追求的新心情。既不摆姿势也不随意的东西。    外面由节拍组成的天空下，树叶好极了。    它们是我们自己的骷髅。闲置部分是同义反复的报告。        他们没有空床。这里的孩子就像    被猎杀的兔子，不要想太多以后会发生什么。    一个窒息的王子召唤着七重奏，    远处的钢片琴蜡像暗淡而明亮，    意味着距离的东西。你说得超出了幅度。

You Spoke as a Child                We sat together in the long hall.    There was something I’d wanted to ask you,    a new mood I was after. Something neither posed nor casual.    Outside under a slappy sky the leaves were right on.    They’re our own skeletons. And slack was the tautology report.        They don’t have bare beds. The children here are as    hunted rabbits, and don’t think too much about what comes after.    A suffocated prince summons the septuor,    celestas wax dim and bright in the distance,    what was meant to be distance. You spoke out of the margin.

  

纽芬兰有趣的人        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        纽芬兰现在，过去，充满有趣的人。    就像拉里，为了一个硬币在街角    出丑。有一个自称大公爵的    俄国人，据说他是某个地方的真正的公爵，    还有一个经常陪他巡视的女人。    汉克斯医生，一个外科医生，当他没有    完全喝醉的时候，他是一个真正的好外科医生，大部分时间都是这样。    当他喝得半醉的时候，他就可以做一个像样的颅骨手术。    有一个盲人，他什么也不说    但在一把锯琴上发出了幽灵似的声音。        那里有沃尔什百货公司，有一个优质的杂货部。    这真是一种享受，当爸爸妈妈    带我们去那里，在滑溜溜的冰雪上    打滑，从某处得到一个稀有的无花果奖赏。    它们有来自你能想象到的每一个国家的茶    和来自苏格兰的硬小蛋糕，稀有的雪利酒    和马德拉酒奖励来跳舞的叔叔阿姨。    在夏日的夜晚，在永恒的阳光下，在那里思考    是一种快乐。我们乘长途车    去乡下，但总是被泥沼或别的什么东西拦住。    然后是时候回家了，这对每个人来说都是可以的，    他们每个人都发现他或她需要一点睡眠。        简言之，那里有趣的人的人均百分比比地球上    几乎任何地方都高，但人口很少，    这意味着有趣的人不多。但是，尽管    我们彼此相爱，也曾有过    在木制码头上采摘彼此大脑和晒网的有趣时光。    我们总会有更多的人来。它是世界上    完全美的地方，没有人可以否认，    我宣布，与之碰撞的强大边界。    对地府神权的崇拜很可能发生在那里    但很少有证据。我们也喜欢这样，    因为我们是那里发生的所有事情的一部分，邪恶和善良    以及介于两者之间的所有阴影，很高兴在点名    或参加拼字比赛时开始吹。这件事太好了，    但至少现在结束了。他们正在用它制造一场盛会，    其中一个告诉我。它来到你附近的一家剧院。

Interesting People of Newfoundland            Newfoundland is, or was, full of interesting people.    Like Larry, who would make a fool of himself on street corners    for a nickel. There was the Russian who called himself    the Grand Duke, and who was said to be a real duke from somewhere,    and the woman who frequently accompanied him on his rounds.    Doc Hanks, the sawbones, was a real good surgeon    when he wasn’t completely drunk, which was most of the time.    When only half drunk he could perform decent cranial surgery.    There was the blind man who never said anything    but produced spectral sounds on a musical saw.        There was Walshs, with its fancy grocery department.    What a treat when Mother or Father    would take us down there, skidding over slippery snow    and ice, to be rewarded with a rare fig from somewhere.    They had teas from every country you could imagine    and hard little cakes from Scotland, rare sherries    and Madeiras to reward the aunts and uncles who came dancing.    On summer evenings in the eternal light it was a joy    just to be there and think. We took long rides    into the countryside, but were always stopped by some bog or other.    Then it was time to return home, which was OK with everybody,    each of them having discovered he or she could use a little shuteye.        In short there was a higher per capita percentage of interesting people    there than almost anywhere on earth, but the population was small,    which meant not too many interesting people. But for all that    we loved each other and had interesting times    picking each others brain and drying nets on the wooden docks.    Always some more of us would come along. It is in the place    in the world in complete beauty, as none can gainsay,    I declare, and strong frontiers to collide with.    Worship of the chthonic powers may well happen there    but is seldom in evidence. We loved that too,    as we were a part of all that happened there, the evil and the good    and all the shades in between, happy to pipe up at roll call    or compete in the spelling bees. It was too much of a good thing    but at least it’s over now. They are making a pageant out of it,    one of them told me. It’s coming to a theater near you.

  

破碎的郁金香        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        A走在B的街上，疯狂地    想要C的触摸，但却偷偷地解除了    要它的要求。在帖木儿    和东帖木儿，他停了下来，明智地：    洞里的东西再也没有出现过，    女学生们在闲聊，复活节兔子    沿街冲来冲去，在满帆    和强劲的逆风下。在新月透明的海湾里    有没有这么美好的东西    飘过？我们坐在    这里，他妈的，谈我们的旅行    直到天空又冷又灰。        另一个人的叙述取代了股市上那些    爬来爬去的语录：就像所有美好的事情    生活倾向于持续太久，当我们带着    无声的烦恼微笑时，会停顿片刻。    雨水沐浴着彩虹，    夜晚的形状是一个空的圆柱体，    聚焦在我们身上，催促着它的不顺从    在我们选择的道路上走得更近。

Broken Tulips                A is walking through the streets of B, frantic    for C’s touch but secretly relieved    not to have it. At Tamerlane    and East Tamerlane, he pauses, judicious:    The cave thing hasn’t been seen again,    schoolgirls are prattling, and the Easter rabbit    is charging down the street, under full sail    and a strong headwind. Was ever anything    so delectable floated across the crescent moon’s    transparent bay? Here shall we sit    and, dammit, talk about our trip    until the sky is again cold and gray.        Another’s narrative supplants the crawling    stock-market quotes: Like all good things    life tends to go on too long, and when we smile    in mute annoyance, pauses for a moment.    Rains bathe the rainbow,    and the shape of night is an empty cylinder,    focused at us, urging its noncompliance    closer along the way we chose to go.

  

复古        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        当月亮从山上升起    真的很激动    你已经原谅了一个    含盐的，多变的人，你唯一爱的人。        在公园散步很享受。    现在去耶路撒冷，    我走进一间旅馆房间。    我不需要名字什么的。    我去了贝尔维尤医院，    得到那家伙一个碎片。    就像我说的，真的很刺激。        弯曲总是回到    指定凹槽的物体也很刺激---    会一直这样吗？或者汽车零部件    将在阳光下开始它们的一天？        现在开始雄辩。    艾达公主计划每周让我们加班四天    直到苞片都紫了为止。    然后是一个车尾野餐会---    你希望你的汉堡做好了？        再来一点茶？        我看见她为一些动物哭泣。    这并不意味着一件事不会发生    或者只会消失，或者变得更糟。会发生的    最坏情况是什么？        午夜的森林拖着你前行，数千公顷的桃花。告诉他如果我要是他就不干了。没有什么能阻止蝗虫的喋喋不休，直到它们被关起来过夜。他挤进你的储物柜更近。我为什么让它开着？我忘了混合体。但他似乎对储物柜不感兴趣，也许我的鞋子---跟他所知道的任何东西不一样的东西。感觉到了紧张，他用一句调侃的话打破了僵局，说的是某地的天气，或者也许---也许是对时间的观察，它是如何在非常不同的通道里移动的，总是保持着自己，直到有一天---我要开车回办公室，一个英里的联谊会，收集一些去年的弹药。他笑着说，那我一定要去乡下。

Retro                It’s really quite a thrill    when the moon rises above the hill    and you’ve gotten over someone    salty and mercurial, the only person you ever loved.        Walks in the park are enjoyed.    Going to Jerusalem now    I walked into a hotel room.    I didn’t need a name or anything.    I went to Bellevue Hospital,    got a piece of the guy.    As I say, it’s really quite a thrill.        Quite a thrill too to bend objects    that always return to their appointed grooves---    will it be always thus? Or will auto parts    get to have their day in the sun?        Got to drone now.    Princess Ida plans to overwork us four days a week    until the bracts have mauved up.    Then it’s a tailgate party---    how would you like your burger done?        A little tea with that?        I saw her wailing for some animals.    That doesn’t mean a thing doesn’t happen    or only goes away, or gets worse. Whats the worst    that could happen?        The midnight forest drags you along, thousands of peach hectares. Told him I wouldn't do it if I was him. Nothing to halt the chatter of locusts until they're put away for the night. He edges closer to your locker. Why did I leave it open? I’ve forgotten the combination. But it seems he’s not interested in the locker, maybe my shoe--something unlike anything he’s ever known. Sensing the tension he broke the ice with a quip about the weather somewhere, or maybe—maybe an observation on time, how it moves vastly in different channels, always keeping up with itself, until the day---I’m going to drive back to the office, a fellowship of miles, collect some of last years ammunition. Then I’m definitely going to the country, he laughs.

  

大写的O        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        甜食，我舔你    就像从一个仁慈的容器。    我们“解包”了结构凌乱的    混乱的范例。今天别管我们。        我想把这一切都写给你。    同样地，我也不想写下    我们现在所是的    和永远不可能是的一切：事物的来世。        似乎是这样的，走在    每一件好事的木板上    朝着食肉鳗鱼的池塘    唱歌，叫着，就像我们走进        被减去的《死之舞》。    也就是说，每一个    好儿子的背后    都有一个警惕的父亲。        不用说，雪咳出了风景。    在风景优美的铁路上有一个    叫《雪绒花》的站，当我们走近时    我的心开始唱得更明亮，        有伪装成天才童子军的    外国特工走近我    瞧，被融化的一切都变得壮观；    莎草里有瞎灯笼        那西迷舞被命名为年度舞蹈。    很快，最后期限过去了，    这意味着远处有新的石灰绿芽    在靶场上举行宴会        那里所有的反应都过期    星星颤抖着变成银色，    然后在艰难的光线下变成粉红色。    然后是明天和早餐，        还有大量未回复的信件，这一页，    这秘密的一页，请从信封里    折叠，让更多的骚动，    更少的禽流感。我的意思是，即使猫    也知道，即使它们徘徊，这与你和我        刺穿莲花的时候是一样的    旧的立体视控器在我手上    分开了，这是对替代光谱分析记录存在的奖赏。

Capital O                Sweet food, I lap you up    as from a vessel of kindness.    We “unpack” paradigms of    unstructured mess. Leave us alone this day.        I’d like to write you about all this.    Similarly, I’d like not to have to write    about all the things we are    and never could be: the hereafter of things.        Or so it seemed, walking the plank    of every good thing    toward the tank of carnivorous eels    singing, chiming as we go        into subtracted Totentanz.    That is to say, behind    every good son    there is a watchful father.        Needless to tell, snow coughed up scenery.    There was a stop on the scenic railway    called Edelweiss, and as we got nearer    my heart began to sing lighter,        I was approached by foreign agents    masquerading as talent scouts    and lo, everything dissolved became grand;    there were blind lanterns in the sedge        and the shimmy was named dance of the year.    Soon, the deadline had been passed,    meaning new lime-green shoots in the distance    and banqueting on the firing range        where all reaction is overdue    and the stars shudder and turn silver,    then pink in the difficult light.    Then it’s tomorrow and breakfast,        with unanswered letters galore, and this page,    this furtive one, tucked out of an envelope    please, let there be more commotion,    less avian flu. I mean, even cats    are aware, even as they prowl, which is much the same        while you and I pierced the lotus    and the old stereopticon came apart    in my hands, reward for sub rosa being.

  

一年生和多年生植物        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        告诉它如此简单，如此遥远，    就像这个美国，自由的家园，    彩色的灰烬涂抹在底座    或基座上，繁荣着怀疑    成为优雅的方式，挥舞着纤细的手…        我们像鹰或乌鸦一样    飞驰和捣乱。    我们为我们所说的谎言而受苦，但不想    在优雅的护腕上窝成杯状，    十几岁的博尔吉亚人或冈萨加人，    金色反对灰色的一伙人流淌着，意味着没有伤害，我们从来没有        想过，这条小溪现在不幸地    流进了等待着我们的前厅。        我们有形状但没有力量。

Annuals and Perennials                Telling it so simple, so far away,    as this America, home of the free,    colored ashes smeared on the base    or pedestal that flourishes ways of doubting    to be graceful, wave a slender hand ...        We are fleet and persecuting    as hawks or crows.    We suffer for the lies we told, not wanting to    yet cupped in the wristlock of grace,    teenage Borgias or Gonzagas,    gold against gray in bands streaming, meaning no harm, we never        meant it to, this stream that outpours now    haplessly into the vestibule that awaits.        We have shapes but no power.

  

狼岭        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        注意，购物者。从怪人的    倒引号里面，一天中的这个时候    煽动性的低语水印。是时候    出去了，就像他们说的，到处。在内心压力的海洋上的    平静，在寒冷的北风的庇护下，    我们漫无目的地开槽：一定是    在这之前，当我们都搬到了    学校，一个有鳍的部落，如此这般    派别的喧闹升高：    标点和嘲弄，一个“环境”    就像一个可爱的小屋。我自己的塑料鲟鱼    警告我远离知道。现在看看伤害。    你不能。它是看不见的。不管怎样，你耗尽了他的爱，    用他的刀吞下了一切，    从前面正咆哮的折叠座椅上看    这是一种必要的不愉快。        我想改变这一切。    我们带着各种授权来到这里，不管怎么说    问心无愧。消耗和诉讼费用    给你带来了过去十年最好的。现在它是坚定的    一点也不透明。每个人都迷失于捉迷藏，除了你，    独自一个。不坏的结束今晚的方法，    吹口哨。他们想要一顿糟糕的晚餐，    而此时糟糕的晚餐推迟了。    肉饼，你记得，是第三种蔬菜。

Wolf Ridge                Attention, shoppers. From within the inverted    commas of a strambotto, seditious whispering    watermarks this time of day. Time to get out    and, as they say, about. Becalmed on a sea    of inner stress, sheltered from cold northern breezes,    idly we groove: Must have    been the time before this, when we all moved    in schools, a finny tribe, and this way    and that the caucus raised its din:    punctuation and quips, an “environment”    like a lovely shed. My own plastic sturgeon    warned me away from knowing. Now look at the damage.    You can’t. It’s invisible. Anyway, you spent his love,    swallowed everything with his knives,    a necessary unpleasantness viewed from the rumble seat    of what was roaring ahead.        I want to change all that.    We came here with a mandate of sorts, anyway    a clear conscience. Attrition and court costs    brought you last year’s ten best. Now it’s firm    and not a bit transparent. Everybody got lost    playing hide-and-seek, except you,    who were alone. Not a bad way to end the evening,    whistling. They wanted a bad dinner,    and at this time a bad dinner was late.    Meatloaf, you remembered, is the third vegetable.

  

当我看到令人讨厌的闪光        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        当我看到令人讨厌的闪光    和房子在地平线上升起时    我叫我的兄弟。“兄弟，”我叫道，    “为什么这些变色龙在戏弄我们？    是不是它们是疣猪，猎场看守人在打盹？    我为一品脱英国苦啤酒付出了什么，    或者任何东西，几乎什么都没有。    当你选择，似乎多么孤独，    于是，而当你如此选择好，似乎更孤独。    在过去的晴天里，我们应该多出去。    现在，爱只是一个教训，而且是一个乏味的教训。    他们认为他们可以把我从这所学校开除，或者，更糟，    让我停学？在这种情况下，我所有的知识都将成为稻草，    尽管会有很多，    我可以向你保证。”        傍晚的海浪猛烈地拍打着桩    鸟儿比平常多了。    有些人发现我邋遢，我似乎    为别的人打扮得太好了。我想撞击    一个快乐的媒介，但风格    是这样一个私人的东西，一个永恒的谜。        然后我看到闪光再次转动。    救命，它说，我比你更想摆脱    这一切。我曾经是隧道尽头的    一道美丽闪耀的光，后来有人希望这在我身上。    请帮我把它放在身后。        从闪光转向床单    我看见我们在自己的缺点中多么伟大，是的，    因它们而更伟大。字母表中的字母    我们还不知道，但当我们到达它们时    我们会知道没有支持的事物的光彩。    我们的消极情绪会追上我们    而且我们会因为它而更好。只是    不停地开灯，浪费电，    和土豚狂欢，砸碎高脚杯。    我们住的这些公寓    比我们以前住的地方好，接近开始。

When I Saw the Invidious Flare                When I saw the invidious flare    and houses rising up over the horizon    I called to my brother. “Brother，” I called，    “why are these chameleons teasing us?    Is it that they are warthogs, and the gamekeeper is napping?    What I’d give for a pint of English bitter,    or anything, practically anything at all.    How lonesome it seems when you’re choosing,    and then, when you have done so, it seems even more lonesome.    We should have got out more during the last fine days.    Now, love is but a lesson, and a tedious one at that.    Do they think they can expel me from this school, or, worse,    suspend me? In which case all my learning will be as straw,    though there’ll be a lot of it，    I can assure you.”        Evening waves slap rudely at the pilings    and birds are more numerous than usual.    There are some who find me sloppy, others    for whom I seem too well-groomed. I’d like to strike    a happy medium, but style    is such a personal thing, an everlasting riddle.        Then I saw the flare turn again.    Help, it said, I want to get out of this    even more than you do. I was once a fair twinkling light    at the end of a tunnel, then someone wished this on me.    Help me to put it behind me please.        Turning from the blaze to the counterpane    I saw how we are all great in our shortcomings, yea,    greater because of them. There are letters in the alphabet    we don’t know yet, but when we’ve reached them    we’ll know the luster of unsupported things.    Our negativity will have caught up with us    and we’ll be better for it. Just    keep turning on lights, wasting electricity,    carousing with aardvarks, smashing the stemware.    These apartments we live in are nicer    than where we lived before, near the beginning.

  

  

剑郭琴符

沉重的家    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    …一种纤细的物质的饥饿的食者    --C.M.多尔蒂    在事件视界中，一个东西跟随另一个雨篷。一个正在进行的生命改变了主题。有些东西有意义，别的没有。我不希望这么快死。好吧，我想我得用某种方式把自己制成表格。我讨论过在你腿上写作。树上学校里的其他人呻吟着，在睡梦中搅动，因为他们最近把孩子气的东西都扔掉了。我们都迟到了。如果我们住在海外呢？我们可以靠施舍和承诺生存一段时间，在木桶行业找工作，熬甜酒，以此来建立回声。    在这里，我们拔营，这是由一位长者，或桤木颁布的命令。他把水煮沸。他给了我们渴望和必要的手段去抓它们，化石伪装成政党的恩惠。然后呆头呆脑地跳进镀金的包围中，毕竟是幻想。洋娃娃的眼泪漏出来。就好像我们选择了这条路，踏上了不同的旅程，在震耳欲聋的荒野中等待我们的本能去追赶，长腿的希望。    以后你会把卫生间里很多脸红还回去，我们会把它交给机械神谕，交给音顿，期待节俭的谢意，介于欢笑和咒骂之间的某个地方。但半圆形的传动器和它的装饰是多么奇特：凝视地球仪，云雀镜子，石灰树枝，金属丝，金色铜，维纳斯的捕蝇器，“天鹅绒的爪子”，伦勃朗和他的山羊。回访时，我们没有收到，宽限期已失效。    象形文字也是一种幻想。从第一天起你就开始滥用它。在我们的桨上休息，我们呼吸着异议的玫瑰油，谈判的中断，大使的召回，琵琶中的裂痕。目前，有争议的飞地是你的。但它的节奏在别处。

Heavy Home    ...hungry eaters of a slender substance    --C. M. DOUGHTY    One thing follows another awning in the event horizon. One life in the going changes the subject. Some things made sense, others didn’t. I didn’t expect to die so soon. Well，I guess I’ll have to have tabulated myself in some way. I’d discussed writing on your leg. Others in the tree school groaned, stirred in their sleep, having lately put away childish things. All of us late. What if we lived overseas? We could survive on alms and pledges for a while, find jobs in the barrel industry, decoct melismas on which to build an echo.    Here we break camp; it was decreed by an elder, or alder. He put the water on to boil. He sends us itches and the wherewithal to scratch them, fossils in the guise of party favors. Then sprang dull-headed into the gilded surround, chimera after all. Tears from the doll leaked out. It was as if we had chosen this path on a different journey, and were waiting in the deafening wilderness for our instincts to catch up, leggy hope.    Many flushings of the toilet later you’ll give it back and we’ll give it to the mechanical oracle, render unto caesura, and expect thrifty thanks, somewhere between laughter and obloquy. But how quaint the semicircular drive and its trimmings: gazing globe, larks mirror, lime twigs, tinsel, ormolu, Venus’s-flytrap, pattes de velours, Rembrandt and his goat. On a return visit we were not received, the grace period having expired.    The pictograph is also a chimera. Since day one you’ve abused it. Resting on our oars we breathe in the attar of dissent, breaking off of negotiations, recall of ambassadors, the rift within the lute. For the time being the disputed enclave is yours. But its cadence is elsewhere.

楼上的情况    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    就像丛林中的森林大火    没有人看它，这海风    把我释放到知识的云端。    树林里有打手，    滋养着它，你就是它，    背诵着它。楼上长长的攀爬    把我们降落到这里。字母表上    没有方法，顽童被罢免。    你必须学会随着年龄    “反弹”，只是为了跟得上时间。    到那时，它将被审查，    从纷争的秋天中褪色。    我们适时成了双胞胎，分开成长，    感受到了百年的曙光。    没有地方可以求助    也没有人可以求助。    “登陆”需要我们    在这个时代一无所知的技能，    然而他们的音乐表演伴随着我们，    把我们推出大门，进入夏末的喧嚣，    在那里我们打皱褶的长寿模仿我们。    我们应该更好一些，对孩子们    和他们的宠物讲话时。在这晚些时候    把挂毯拉到一边，就是和傻子    和牧师们混在一起洗牌，尽管还有一件吃力不讨好的事    要声称并且受其影响：    脚步声的可靠飞行播放并通话。    这些不再是装饰我们的：    与新的统治者交谈和获得的洞察力，    向日葵结束了，    在隔板书柜上的灰烬。

The Situation Upstairs    Like a forest fire in a jungle    with no one to watch it, this sea breeze    releases me to the cloud of knowing.    There are beaters in the woods,    nourishing it, and you're it,    reciting it. The long scramble upstairs    landed us here. There is no method    in the alphabet; the urchin was unseated.    You have to learn to “bounce”    with the ages, just to keep up with time.    By then it will have been censored,    bleached from an autumn of discord.    In time we were twins, grew apart,    felt the centennial dawning.    There was nowhere to turn    and nobody to turn to.    To have “landed” requires skills    we knew nothing of in our era,    yet their musicianly acts accompany us,    push us out of doors, into late summer s clamor,    where our pleated longevity mimics us.    We should have been nicer, talked to children    and their pets. To draw the tapestry aside    at this late date is to shuffle with fools    and clergymen, though there is one more thankless    task to claim and be influenced by:    the credible flight of footfall plays and calls.    These not any more for our adornment:    talking to new rulers and insight gained,    sunflowers over and out,    ashes on the clapboard credenza.

光线充足的地方    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    七叶树庇护王子的房子。    月桂轻推楸树。    墨索里尼给科罗一颗钻石。    骄傲的，著名的，宏伟的    散发着温柔和狂妄自大。    大使馆喧响着钹声和风琴声。    傲慢的味道是尖锐的，夹杂着令人愉快的混合甜味。    一个在盾形纹章前发表演说的男人    拥有伟大的骄傲，相信没有人能在勇气、尊严和能力上与他匹敌。    他将有两个妻子深爱着他，而他一点也不爱。    他会变得暴躁和好色。    因他忽然发怒和他的伟大勇气，他必承受许多反转。    这个女孩将有一个又大又宽的胸部。    她在12岁时会因为压迫或处女的堕落而感到失望。    她将征服一切，在上帝，紫红色，橙色和大丽花的帮助下。

Well-Lit Places    The horse chestnut tree shelters the house of princes.    The laurel nudges the catalpa.    Mussolini offers a diamond to Corot.    The proud, the famous, the magnificent    exude gentleness and megalomania.    Embassies are loud with the sound of cymbals and organ.    The taste of insolence is sharp, with an agreeable mingled sweetness.    A man declaiming in front of a coat of arms    is possessed of great pride and believes no man equal to himself in valor, dignity or competence.    He will have two wives who will love him dearly and whom he won’t love at all.    He will be irascible and lustful.    He will endure many reverses because of his sudden wrath and his great courage.    The girl will have a large and wide bosom.    She will experience disappointment at the age of twelve through an act of oppression or virginal corruption.    She will conquer in all things, with Gods help and that of the fuchsia, the orange, and the dahlia.

意味深长的爱    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    坏消息是什么    变得明显太晚了    关于它我们没有做任何好事。    我被提供不紧急的梦，    不需要名字什么的。    一切都被照顾。    在我意识到的中等城市里    田鼠正在建造阿波罗巨像。    蓝色的房间在那边。    他没有伸出触角。    这一天对他来说是合一的一切。    一些天他从不离开房间    那是最好的日子，    迄今为止。    在坡下更远的地方有郁郁寡欢的花园，    看起来像是归它们所有的在那里的蚁丘。    香肠没煮透，    酒太凉，面包融化了。    谁说带来毛衣？    气候不太可靠。    大西洋缓缓地向左边爬行    在熟睡的少女们解开的金色头发上钉上一条信息，    下一次的诡计，    那里的街道上水火肆虐，    大门紧闭---今天没有游客    也没有明显的心跳。    我摆脱了童话书，    典当了我的旧车，买了一张去游乐场的票，    六点钟发现我自己回到这里，    思考着“可能的副作用。”    那时爱没有坏处，    也没有确定的好处。但爱是有爱仆人    或老板。没有笔直的路从那里出来。    门周围的树叶是用铅笔写的损失。    二十年才能修好。    紫苑以这样或那样的方式开花。

Meaningful Love    What the bad news was    became apparent too late    for us to do anything good about it.    I was offered no urgent dreaming,    didn’t need a name or anything.    Everything was taken care of.    In the medium-size city of my awareness    voles are building colossi.    The blue room is over there.    He put out no feelers.    The day was all as one to him.    Some days he never leaves his room    and those are the best days,    by far.    There were morose gardens farther down the slope,    anthills that looked like they belonged there.    The sausages were undercooked,    the wine too cold, the bread molten.    Who said to bring sweaters?    The climates not that dependable.    The Atlantic crawled slowly to the left    pinning a message on the unbound golden hair of sleeping maidens,    a ruse for next time,    where fire and water are rampant in the streets,    the gate closed---no visitors today    or any evident heartbeat.    I got rid of the book of fairy tales,    pawned my old car, bought a ticket to the funhouse,    found myself back here at six o’clock,    pondering “possible side effects.”    There was no harm in loving then,    no certain good either. But love was loving servants    or bosses. No straight road issuing from it.    Leaves around the door are penciled losses.    Twenty years to fix it.    Asters bloom one way or another.

更多反馈    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    激情四射的人被固定住了。    表面硬化的波动覆盖在图书馆的    墙上，或多或少表现出一种姿态。    春分又来了，不知道    该把车倒回去    还是在小巷子入口    猛踩刹车。季节属于    别人而不是我们。我们的工作使我们    熬夜；没有比工作所给予的    更多的快乐和悲伤。    一个小男孩认为断崖上的乌鸦    是一种有翼的仪器；它给予的    和说它给予的很少。其他的    觉得自己被月亮排斥。    日常生活中纯粹的快乐    被命运和战斗的鲜血所冲击。    没有回头路了那汉子说，    在跳板顶端等着    取票的那个。不过，在过去    我们可以一直等一等。事实上，    我们现在正在等待。事情就是这样。

More Feedback    The passionate are immobilized.    The case-hardened undulate over walls    of the library, in more or less expressive poses.    The equinox again, not knowing    whether to put the car in reverse    or slam on the brakes at the entrance    to the little alley. Seasons belong    to others than us. Our work keeps us    up late nights; there is no more joy    or sorrow than in what work gives.    A little boy thought the raven on the bluff    was a winged instrument; there is so little    that gives and says it gives. Others    felt themselves ostracized by the moon.    The pure joy of daily living became impacted    with the blood of fate and battles.    There’s no turning back the man says,    the one waiting to take tickets at the top    of the gangplank. Still, in the past    we could always wait a little. Indeed,    we are waiting now. That’s what happens.

丢失的镜头    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    你说，“生活是饥饿的沙漠”    或诸如此类的话。我听不见。    弯曲的小径将我们    护送到阿米达馆。女巫。    她把所有的东西都做得    比真人大小略小，如果你坐在    那张桌子的椅子上就会发现。    干净---一切都可怕地干净，    从面包屑在面包板上    投下长长的阴影，到敞开的窗户里翻腾的蚊虫。    我们不能长久地掩饰焦虑，    但我们可以做出善行和可贵的行为    让那些在我们之后的人洗劫。    是的，再也没有人访问。    我以前认为是因为他，现在    我认为是因为他和我们。    我们在自己的岗位上变得更加脆弱，    询问空旷的夜晚。“谁去了那儿？”    他去了，“不，站着展开你自己。”    我想，在角落里，在峡谷里，    在柜子里，有什么东西把我紧紧地搂在    一个可怕但平易近人的怀抱里。    一切都静了下来，除了织布机的    脚踏板，它的织锦零零碎碎地    流淌着。“我不管你怎么做。”    我可以看到这个主题：一只鹰，用他剃须刀蛤蜊的爪子    抓着木卫三，在斑驳的太阳    和风暴云的天空下。    从那以后，很多烦恼。

Lost Footage    You said, “Life’s a hungry desert,”    or something like that. I couldn’t hear.    The curving path escorts us    to Armida’s pavilion. The enchantress.    She had everything built slightly smaller    than life size, as you’ll find    if you sit in the chair at that table.    And clean---everything is terribly clean,    from the crumbs casting long shadows    on the breadboard, to the gnats churning in the open window.    We can’t mask the anxiety for long,    but we can produce good and cherishable deeds    to be ransacked by those who come after us.    True, no one visits anymore.    I used to think it was because of him, now    I think its because of him and us.    We grow more fragile at our posts,    interrogating vacant night. “Who goes there?”    And he goes, “Nay, stand and unfurl yourself.”    I thought, in the conner, in the canyon,    in the cupboard, was something that seized me    in a terrible but approachable embrace.    All was silent except the pedals    of the loom, from which a tapestry streams    in bits and pieces. “I don’t care how you do it.”    I can see the subject: an eagle with Ganymede    in his razor-clam claws, against a sky    of mottled sun and storm clouds.    From that, much vexation.

红色画架    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    说医生，这些东西虽然和整体协调    但年代不对。你不应该太难接受。    每个人都喜欢它，当随意的漂流    变得更加坚持，一边按顺序整理房子    一边为它的三层甲板小说写结尾。只有母鸡的哀鸣    像纱门一样穿透黄昏    无所不在才变得头重脚轻。哦，真的吗？    我以为它们有你这样的家伙的名字    和带它们去的地方。那是真的，但    我们不要草率行事，好吗，宣布你的例子    是欺诈行为，在所有的回报都进来之前？这些都，    结果是，充满激情和参与性的，而且留在这里。

The Red Easel    Say doc, those swags are of the wrong period    though in harmony with the whole. You shouldn't take it too hard.    Everybody likes it when the casual drift    becomes more insistent, setting in order the house    while writing finis to its three-decker novel. Only when the plaint    of hens pierces dusk like a screen door    does the omnipresent turn top-heavy. Oh, really?    I thought they had names for guys like you    and places to take them to. That’s true, but    let’s not be hasty, shall we, and pronounce your example    a fraud before all the returns are in? These are,    it turns out, passionate and involving, as well as here to stay.

新奇爱的小跑    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    我喜欢传记、书目    和文化研究。至于音乐，我体会    接近李斯特的《安慰曲》，特别是那些平滑的，    虽然我从来没有被它们    安慰过。嗯，也许一次。    至于宗教，是关于下地狱，    不是吗？我读到30%的美国人相信地狱，    尽管只有1%的人认为他们会死在那里，    这说明了很多关于我们，和其他宗教的事情。    没有人相信天堂。地狱才是让他们兴奋的地方。    我可能是唯一一个    认为他将上天堂的美国人，尽管我的理由    很难解释。我喜欢季节    和野餐。从树枝上飘出的一缕，我在天堂，虽然不是字面上的意思。    因为那一个必须等待陡峭的下降    进入下坡，不远处    同伴的喊叫。    最后，我们喜欢什么无关紧要。    我们把它们列表，我们刚开始    听众的注意力就转向了别的东西。    “你‘看到’了吗？那家伙打断他的方式？”    亲爱的，一些细节都知道了，    一些刻痕在轮廓清晰的眉头，但它不会有太重    在天平倾斜的秤盘。别人对我们的看法    对我们和他们来说都是    唯一重要的。你在往南瓜花里    塞牛杆菌蘑菇。我在别处，像往常一样孤独。    我必须重新回到我的哀歌。

Novelty Love Trot    I enjoy biographies and bibliographies,    and cultural studies. As for music, my tastes    run to Liszt’s Consolations, especially the flatter ones,    though I’ve never been consoled    by them. Well, once maybe.    As for religion, it’s about going to hell,    isn’t it? I read that 30 percent of Americans believe in hell,    though only one percent thinks they’ll end up there，    which says a lot about us, and about the other religions.    Nobody believes in heaven. Hell is what gets them fired up.    I’m probably the only American    who thinks he’s going to heaven, though my reasons    would be hard to explain. I enjoy seasons    and picnicking. A waft from a tree branch    and I’m in heaven, though not literally.    For that one must await the steep decline    into a declivity, and shouts from companions    who are not far off.    In the end it matters little what things we enjoy.    We list them, and barely have we begun    when the listeners attention has turned to something else.    “Did you see that? The way that guy cut him off?”    Darlings, well all be known for some detail,    some nick in the chiseled brow, but it won’t weigh much    in the scales careening pan. What others think    of us is the only thing that matters,    to us and to them. You are stuffing squash blossoms    with porcini mushrooms. I am somewhere else, alone as usual.    I must get back to my elegy.

剑郭琴符

模板    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    总是在那里，它的存在很少    受到质疑或怀疑。未来的诗人    会躲避它，像我们一样。一道假想的栏杆    消失在森林里。就是在这里老帮派    习惯于收集和交换故事。它    就像亚马逊，但规模要小得多。    后来，当我们中的一些人跨入这个世界    可以进行比较时，这种大惊小怪似乎是有道理的。    没有两个诗人在任何事情上意见一致，这使我们感到好笑。    似乎很好，每天都有凝块般的黑暗降临。

The Template    was always there, its existence seldom    questioned or suspected. The poets of the future    would avoid it, as we had. An imaginary railing    disappeared into the forest. It was here that the old gang    used to gather and swap stories. It    was like the Amazon, but on a much smaller scale.    Afterwards, when some of us swept out into the world    and could make comparisons, the fuss seemed justified.    No two poets ever agreed on anything, and that amused us.    It seemed good, the clotted darkness that came every day.

从中国到秘鲁    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    我被嘲笑穿了一套黑色的羊毛套装到这个场合，或者说“事件”，尽管其他大多数人都穿着相似的衣服，包括折磨我的人。的确，现在是秋天，天黑得很早，尽管空气中有夏天那样的闷热。我本来很乐意换一件更明亮的衣服，重量和颜色二者都如此---一件“自然”的衣服。但没有时间，或地点，再加上缺少合适的服装，如果那就是它本来的样子，因为大量的深色衣服已经呈现出一种指责的态度。那些看上去好像要离开去旅行或刚从旅行中回来的男人正在吃果冻。要做到这一点，似乎有必要向后走到房间的一个角落，遮蔽在盆栽的棕榈树中，然后运动失调地蹒跚着向酒吧走去，那里静静地摆着所需的饮料，静静地消耗着。有时人们可以听到轻柔的，远处小女孩们唠叨（多远？房间相当小），这似乎是对几分钟前表演的掌声。这让人不安——就像马戏团一样。我理解了“三环马戏团”这个短语的意思---某种在那里你只看到几个事件的部分弧线，这些片段加起来应该比它们各部分的总和小得多，一些故意缺乏意义的东西。我渴望着鸡尾酒时间毫无疑问地跟着的这场奇怪的比赛。    接着，不可思议的事情发生了---一切都开始破裂，就像在海中的岩石上退潮的第一波。在不到半分钟的时间里，海水已经完全退去，留下了一片令人吃惊的礁石和人群的风景，凶猛而生气勃勃，当海水从它们飞舞而去。这些是我的同时代人。他们仍然穿着像我，或者说，我像他们。一股气流从一扇开着的窗户爬过公寓，沙沙作响的纸张和植物叶子。一张新闻纸急促而虚晃地滑向我---向前两步，向后一步---直到我终于能读到标题：“日本向奥匈帝国宣战。暹罗大使回忆说。”    如果有天气预报我会很高兴。但尽管有些女孩试过了，我还是没办法得到它。我懊悔万分，陷入在脚凳上，很快就忘记了我所处的可怕境地。

From China to Peru    I was taunted for wearing a dark woollen suit to the occasion, or “affair,” though most of the others were similarly dressed, including my tormentor. True, it was autumn and darkness had fallen quite early, though there was a sultriness like that of summer in the air. I would have been happy to change into something lighter, both as to weight and color——something “natural.” But there was no time, or place, in addition to the lack of suitable attire, if that’s what it would have been, since the mass of dark clothes had taken on a kind of accusatory mien. Men who looked as though they were about to go off on safari or had just returned from one were downing Jell-O shots. To do this it seemed to be necessary to walk backward to a corner of the room shrouded in potted palms, then lurch ataxically toward the bar where the required drink was presented silently and as silently consumed. Sometimes one could hear the soft, laughing chatter of little girls in the distance (what distance? the room was fairly small), which seemed like applause for an act performed several minutes ago. It was unnerving---like a circus. I understood the meaning of the phrase “three-ring circus”---something where you see only a partial arc of several events, segments that are supposed to add up to something much less than the sum of their parts, something purposely deficient in meaning. I was thirsty for the cocktail hour that would undoubtedly follow this strange competition.    Then the unthinkable happened---it all began to break up like the first wave of a retreating tide on a rock in the sea. In less than half a minute the sea had completely withdrawn, leaving a startled landscape of reefs and crowds, fierce and bristling as the water danced away from them. These were my coevals. They were still dressed like me, or rather, I like them. A draught from an opened window crawled through the apartment, rustling papers and the leaves of plants. A sheet of newsprint slid toward me in jerks and feints---two steps forward, one step back---until finally I could read the headline: “Japan Declares War on Austro-Hungary. Siamese Ambassador Recalled.”    I would have been happy with a weather report. But though some of the girls tried, there was no way of getting it to me. Full of remorse, I sank down on a footstool and soon forgot all the horror of my situation.

剑郭琴符

森林的概念        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我喜欢所有这些浮现，握着手的东西---    还有什么比握手更好呢？因为我们开始看进    远处，远离其他的雕刻方式，    即使是一点点现实，黑暗的摄入    虽然有一个影子大脑在它们的整齐乳头    作为自动思想停止。直到把碎鸡蛋拿来。    真诚的信息是我的表达方式。    跟着巨人回家，但别让他看见你。记住    草总会让你出去。只是别偷偷溜出。

Idea of the Forest            I enjoy all this emerging, holding of hands---    what isn’t better than holding hands? For we get to see    into the distance, far from ways others carved,    even a little reality, darker intake    though there was a shadow brain in their regular nipples    as the auto thought to stop. Til bring the devilled eggs.    Sincere messages are my form of expression.    Follow the giant home but don’t let him see you. Remember    the grass will always let you out. Just don’t steal out.

  

受伤害的聚会        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        这一个知道；    因此这一个就像是一次转变    就像肖邦在他们的起居室里演奏    蝙蝠在漫长的夏天里倾斜。        和水泥做爱，一个辍学的人    以前见过滑轮。    上诉伤害了通向法庭的道路，    停下，时不时地，喝点水，    以“僵局”告终。        多年来，我们的追踪记录    是零与礼貌。那些记得我们的人都对    在天堂这边向我们问好感到惊奇。    我们摆弄着头发，向审判长恳求，    但最后是我的姓名首字母，和日期，刻着罗马数字。    哦，我明白了。你们是这里那些爱我们的人。    其他人在外面。    风在刮。        我们在门上画上“冬天”这个词。

The Injured Party               This one knows;    this one went hence like a conversion    as Chopin played in their living rooms    and bats tilted through the long summer.        Making love to the cement, a dropout    had seen sheaves before.    The appeal wound its way through the courts,    pausing, now and then, for a drink of water,    ending in a “stale mate.”        And for a number of years, our track record    was zero and polite. Those who remembered us at all    were amazed to be greeting us this side of heaven.    We fidgeted with our hair, pleaded with the presiding judge,    but the end was my initials, and the date, carved in roman numerals.    Oh, I see. You’re here of those who love us.    The others are outside.    The wind is blowing.        We paint the word “winter” on the door.

  

蛋形织补衬托架        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        他从树林里出来了。两个偷猎者用步枪在他的头上射击。    他抑制不住他的喜悦。        他和柏树跳舞，接着停止。        取消订单。今晚在半途中犯错的衰老小明星唱诗班耸耸肩，也许感到震惊。不是该走了吗？他们疲惫不堪地沿着钴色和陶土色坡道往回走，唱着一首歌来振奋他们的精神，“军队进行曲”。现在，人们的眼球都靠近远处的多孔性。把我们带到那里的不是酒。        思考微小和巨大，“实验危险”。        伊芙琳审视着阴影。后来，他看到了。        诸天，在那之后一切都是责任。责任召唤。这并不是说不太快乐，声音不更大。我脑子困惑，在年鉴上找不到你的名字。几年前，它就像薄雾。        这只猫训练接触基地，寻找新的地点。好吧，一切都会在一年内，回到今天。好吧，那么看看它看起来怎么样。同时颁发成绩和奖状。羊皮挂在锦绣小酒馆的墙上。对它们来说一切都结束了。但和它们一样，在这场古怪的比赛中，一个吻照亮了我们的道路。        记住我爱你。再也看不见。

A Darning Egg                He had emerged from the woods. Two poachers fired their rifles above his head.    He couldn’t restrain his joy.        He danced with the cypress, and stopped.        Cancel the order. The choir of aging starlets that blundered halfway through here tonight shrugged，appalled probably. Wasn’t it time to go? Wearily they turned back down the cobalt and terra-cotta ramp, singing a song to hoist their spirits，the “Marche Militaire.” Now eyeballs close on the distant porousness. It’s not liquor that gets us there.        Think tiny and big，the “experiment perilous.”        Evelyn surveyed the shadow. Later, he’d see.        And the heavens, it was all duty after that. Duty calls. Which isn’t to say pleasure doesn’t too, and louder. My head is so screwed up I can’t find your name in the yearbook. Years ago, it was like mist.        The cat is trained to touch base, scout out new locations. Well all be back in a year’s time, to the day. Well see how it looks then. Meantime grades and awards are to be given out. Sheepskin hung on the walls in brocaded taverns.It was all over for them. But like them, a kiss comes to light our way in the eccentric competition.        Remember that I loved you. See no more.

  

狂野的城市        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        在尘埃基座上，振荡的频率很快变得不可维持。让它变得顺从。哦，如果有人打电话告诉他们我出去吃午饭了，事实上，我已经出去了。        他们的周年纪念日又回到了床上。有一天在我们的花粉图上我注意到秋天的斑点越来越大。光是那自信的黄色。我听说你要去的地方没有远景。人口众多的狗和小马组成的“北部”。那为什么要拍照片？没人说你必须容忍乌合之众。一点烦躁的平静比遮蔽的巅峰更甜美，新邻居的大型生日庆祝活动还没有人知道。        很高兴在如此不稳定的一段时间后回到奇怪的东西，我们喂养穷人，就像这里说的那样，在我们应该去的地方，但谁知道他们会变得多么贪婪！在夜晚被注意，他们会按照计划进行一段时间，直到它变成非常明显的证据，其开始已经崩溃，上面密集的队伍靠在一起寻求支持，被风吹得呆若木鸡。去吧，笨蛋，要冰激凌，巧克力和香草，如果有的话找个机械师。我的曲轴箱需要曲霉病。        当树在那里，一个新的愤怒的神接管了。传递方糖钳。它就像它将要成为它结束时的东西，但仍然是一个活跃的感觉，几乎在中途，在阳光的横梁中滑动。仔细称量他的羊皮纸。        那么，瞧，我爱的多于一个，这是不可能的，除非酒的低语本身沙沙响，否则，在这种情况下，我同意一切。        在这里，让我们签署一项条约，或者撕毁一项，消除边界将引导我们更忠实地前往海关。一个天使骤然向我们的方向投去询问的一瞥。当然，亲爱的，你可以免费骑。我们都朝着同一个方向走。但我得回去拿些我留在铸铁杂货店的东西。

Wild City            On the dust bed the frequency of the oscillations is rapidly becoming untenable. Make that amenable. Oh, and if anyone calls tell them I’ve gone out to lunch, which, in fact, I have.        Their anniversary turned back into bed. One day on our pollen chart I notice the spots of autumn are getting larger. The light is that self-confident yellow. I hear there’s no perspective where you’re going. That populous “upstate” of dogs and ponies. Why make a picture then? Nobody said you had to brook rabble. A little fretful calm is sweeter than shrouded peaks, large birthday celebrations of the new neighbor no one knows yet.        Good to get back to the queer stuff after so unstable an interregnum, and we fed the poor just as it says here somewhere we’re supposed to, but who knew how ravenous they can get! Heeded at night, they go on for a while as programmed, until it becomes glaringly evident that the beginning has collapsed and the serried ranks above are leaning together for support, glazed by the wind. Go, dummy, and ask for ice cream, chocolate and vanilla, and a mechanic if they have one. My crankcase needs asperging.        While the trees were there a new and angry god took over. Pass the sugar tongs. It was just like it was going to be when it was over, yet still a lively sense of being barely halfway there in the sunny beams did glide. Weigh his parchment carefully.        Then lo, I love more than one, which is impossible, unless the whisper of wine itself susurrate otherwise, in which case I agree to everything.        Here, let’s sign a treaty, or tear one up, and the eradication of borders will guide us more faithfully to the customhouse. An angel on a dime casts an inquiring glance in our direction. Sure honey, you can ride for free. We’re all going in the same direction. But I have to go back and get something I left in the cast-iron drugstore.

  

流血的黄鼠狼        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        两只鞋区别了    街上的人。《大宪章》    被永远扣押，但现在它结束了。    三个希腊青年经过。“祝好运。”    而我，扭曲的我…    我先去救济院，    然后去了附近的一家酒厂。当然，如果不是    婴儿的滑稽死亡，我们就不会再来了    也不会保证我们看到了什么。        竖立在其阳伞上    毛毛虫预言还会有三个多月的阴暗。    闲聊的人影潜伏着。任何人    能做的不很多。我们在上面传播堵塞    这有帮助，但只有一点点。更多的食人魔从另一边    来到我们这边。萤火虫在树下    四处游动，被杜宾犬的呜咽声证实，然而    一切都以某种方式变得轻盈而安逸。国家的财富    飘到我们的膝上，好像从来没有发生过住房危机，    或者好像我们，我们所有人，都发明了一种    光鲜的手册中没有提到的庇护所。    约柜是一种树的形式，你说，他把怒火    呼吸到我脸上。那是一个时代，当其幸好    是，已经是，我们过去所有漂泊的观念    都在一床疯狂的过时的华丽被子里崩溃。

The Bled Weasel                Two shoes make a difference    to the man in the street. The detention of the Magna Carta    was forever but it’s over now.    Three Greek youths pass. “Have a good one.”    And I，contorted as I am ...    First I repaired to the almshouse,    then to a nearby distillery. Sure and if it ain’t    the baby’s comic death，we’ll come no more    nor promise what we had seen.        Erect on its parasol    the caterpillar predicted three more months of gloom.    Chatty figures lurked about. There was nothing    much anyone could do. We spread jam on it    which helped, but only a little. More ogres from the other side    crossed over to ours. Glowworms circulated    under the trees, confirmed by whimpering Dobermans, yet    all was somehow lightness and ease. The wealth of nations    floated into our laps, as though there had never been a housing crisis,    or as if we, all of us, had invented a kind of shelter    unmentioned in the glossy manuals.    The ark is a type of tree, you said, and he breathed    fury into my face. That was in the time when it was just as well    to be, having been, and all the vagrant notions of our past    collapsed in a crazy quilt of expired pageantry.

  

发挥失常的明星        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        在荒野里的喧嚣    颜色不太匹配，不应该以后，    看我操纵你，悲伤的爱，    像一个香烟盛会的场景。        你的脸像木板上的亚麻布一样白。    我祈祷天空会吸收你的电力，    鸟的创立者来到脚跟，    驾车经过的刺伤会蒸发成友好的即使是不明朗的蒸汽，        而悲剧会把他的衬裙拉过你的脸    因为这发生得还不够。    一艘几乎被耸肩淹没的救生艇，你那著名的接吻者    现在像一面“旗帜”漂浮在美国所有的城市。        他们说你会来得更早。现在还早，但我不能    再等了。它是为我准备的床和电影。    明天，异常地，早餐可能会有一颗有缺陷的本土珍珠，    而在10月份，大部分天气，很多都粗糙。

A Below-Par Star            After the shouting in the wilderness    and the colors that don’t quite match，and shouldn’t，    behold I handle you, mournful love,    like a scene in a cigarette pageant.        Your face is as white as linen on a board.    I pray that the skies will soak up your electricity,    the birds founder and come to heel,    the drive-by stabbings evaporate into friendly if noncommittal steam,        and tragedy draw his petticoat across your face    because it doesn’t happen enough.    A lifeboat almost swamped by shrugs, your famous kisser    now floats over all American cities like a drapeau.        They said you’d be here sooner. It’s still early，but I can wait    no longer. It’s bed and the movies for me.    Tomorrow, exceptionally, there may be a flawed native pearl for breakfast,    and in October, lots of weather, much of it cruder.

  

雪渍的花瓣不再漂亮        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        街上的一次偶遇，一个娇弱的女人提供一句古老的话，把他送回洞中的青春碎石。一些可行的小束仍然伸出。这一切都涉及恋物癖，那些可怜的被误解的性密室雇员。被鄙视的工蜂。那些担保人在城里，担保着。销售代表来电话时我该怎么跟他说？我们不需要激烈的言辞。我们生活得落后。我们没有弥补过去的错误，我们就是过去。        他陷入了一种昏昏欲睡的极乐，从来没有见过他在那房屋中。躲在一间里。你，在过去的日子里总是那么好，当你为年轻女士做的事情再次出现在谈话中，你还可以列举吗？灰色的鹦鹉伸展着他那令人惊恐的猩红色翅膀，房间里一片寂静，储存着几个参与者急促吸入的呼吸。四点钟了，你来晚了，小睡时间结束。老一套造假进退两难，不急。我都忘了，因此继续你的故事吧。男人走进酒吧。静止的雪崩后退，以慢动作。微暗水泥上的白雪。为了让季节退去，樱桃必须首先活跃起来，以一种有些尴尬的坦率爆发，而远处的隆隆声还在继续：有机会为某事做别的事，让它成为别的事。与此同时，哈代们得意洋洋。为什么？他们没有把污点寄给我，邮戳不见了。那邮票呢？所有的碰撞，扭曲得像火车烟雾在风中，由元素嘎嘎作响。天黑后惩罚人们。破坏者发出警告。在一个瓶子里的信息形状，扔进好望角附近的大海。大约十二年后，当他妹妹发现它时，他所有的预言都成真，然而它们并不很重要。没有人注意到。这，我的朋友们，就是学习和努力与死者交流的回报。最后一切都支离破碎。

The Snow-Stained Petals Aren’t Pretty Any More            A chance encounter in the street, an ancient phrase offered by a delicate woman, sends him back to burrow in the rubble of his youth. A few viable wisps still protrude. It all involves fetishes, those poor misunderstood employees of the sexual closet. Despised worker bees. Those bondsmen are in town, bonding. And what shall I tell the sales representative when he calls? That we don’t need any fireworks. We’re living backward. We’re not making up for the mistakes of the past, we are the past.        He was sinking into a kind of lethargic kick the house had never seen him in. And was hiding in one. You, always so good at the old days when something you do for the young ladies comes up again in conversation, can you still conjugate? The gray parrot stretches his alarming scarlet wing, and the room falls silent, save for the hastily indrawn breath of a few of the participants. It’s four o’clock，you’ve come late, that wraps up nap time. The old fake dilemma, not urgent. I’ve even forgotten it, so go on with your story. Man walks into bar. Stilled avalanches back up, in slow motion. White snow on dun cement. For the seasons to withdraw, cherries must first come alive, in a burst of somewhat embarrassing frankness, while the distant rumble goes on: the opportunity for something to do something else, for it to be something else. Meanwhile, the Hardys ride high. Why? They didn’t send the blotch to me，the postmark is missing. And the stamp? All colliding, twisting like train smoke in the wind, rattled by the elements. To punish people after dark. Buster issued a warning. In the shape of a message in a bottle, cast into the sea off the Cape of Good Hope. When his sister found it some twelve years later all his prognostications had come true, yet they hadn't mattered much. No one had paid attention. Such, my friends, is the reward of study and laborious attempts to communicate with the dead. In the end it all falls to pieces.

  

岩石中的张力        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        他们为晚餐改变了。那些日子    没人着急，每次都是    实时的。通常晚上街道上都承受着    雾。白天大部分时间都被吹走。    我们继续生活，因为我们知道如何生活。    枫树种子像回形针一样在“小巷”里蹦跳。    我们不知道有多少爱好者爬上了山坡，    也不知道他们花了多长时间。用一个人的话来说，就是    “注视”而不知道。我们缓解着。        你可以看到过去如何实现    在蕨类植物、矿石和文字的扫荡中    它们遮蔽了这些被划伤的叙述，    仿佛任何一个旅馆客人都可以把枯萎的东西抹去    这样做，就可以暂时得到救赎。    我告诉你这不是不体面的。    小姑娘们聚集在小树林里，想看到愿望的详细说明，    然而铁杉下的一切都在蜕皮，符号的    狂怒，被摧毁。我们知道该感谢谁的    明信片。上面写着“爱，哈罗德和奥利弗。”

Tension in the Rocks                They changed for dinner. In those days    no one was in a hurry, it was real time    every time. Usually the streets were saddled with fog    at night. In the daytime it mostly blew away.    We kept on living because we knew how.    Maple seeds like paperclips skittered in the allées.    We knew not how many enthusiasts climbed the slope,    nor how long they took. It was, in the words of one,    “beholding” not to know. We eased by.        You can see how the past has come to pass    in the ferns and sweepings of ore and text    that shadowed such narratives as had been scratched,    as though any hotel guest could wipe the blight away    and in so doing, be redeemed for the moment.    I tell you it was not unseemly.    Little girls gathered in groves to see the wish spelled out,    yet under the hemlocks all was moulting, a fury    of notations, obliterated. We knew who to thank    for the postcard. It was signed, “Love，Harold and Olive.”

  

床罩        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我房间的形状是一个笼子    ---阿波利奈尔        人们不妨捡起碎片。    它们还有什么用？打断别人的风琴演奏---    我们是在打扰，不是吗？我是说在目标的    最高意义上，欢迎所有的灰尘和噪音    就好像我们是城市的围裙。        出门还有另外一个原因---    从我们的墙壁里渗出的矿物盐    把它染成了不幸的颜色，然而我们等待着    它们，和平在我们的嘴里继续。        有时候自杀似乎是一个巧妙的解决方案---    “优雅”，正如数学家所说，    现在算出来已经太迟了。    但在美国我们掀起的黑色浪潮可能是最好的        方法。它让你想练习    同时喘气，放弃休息    花一点时间看书，或鼓励葡萄树生长。    我们需要所有的触角我们能在十二月份得到，        所以继续放出它们。接线员们正等着接你的电话，    超载的主干线大叫着后悔，    然而，这个答案，当它出现时，不是特别有说服力，    尽管它的意思是好的，邀请我们休息在稀疏的桂冠上        把一点幻想钻进隔壁的大脑。    “怎么样，头儿？进展顺利吗？”    紫藤的天空不得不变成一片舒适的海洋    我们和许多友好的山羊和鬼魂在上面漂流。        生活是一个仓库出售着开始，    也就是说，那些人知道去哪里找到，    然后使它回到被遗弃的梳子    我们已经如此热情地想着多年的精心打扮。

Counterpane                Ma chambre a la forme d’une cage    —APOLLINAIRE        One might as well pick up the pieces.    What else are they for? And interrupt someones organ recital---    we are interruptions, aren’t we? I mean in the highest sense    of a target, welcoming all the dust and noise    as though we were the city’s apron.        Going out has another factor about it---    the mineral salts that have leached through our wall    staining it untoward colors, yet we wait    for them, the peace goes on in our mouth.        Sometimes suicide seems like a neat solution---    “elegant，” as mathematicians say,    and it’s too late to be counted out.    But the black tide mounting in us is probably the best        method. It makes you want to exercise    and simultaneously gasp, give up resting    and spend a little time with a book, or encourage the vine to grow.    We’ll need all the feelers we can get come December，        so go on putting them out. Operators are waiting to take your call,    overloaded trunk lines bawling regret,    yet the one answer, when it comes, isn’t particularly cogent,    though it means well, inviting us to rest on sparse laurels        and drilling a little fancy into the brain next door.    “How’s about it, Chief? Gotten in any smooth ones yet?”    That wisteria sky has to become a sea of comfort    on which we’re cut adrift with lots of friendly goats and ghosts.        Life is a warehouse sale for the initiated,    i.e., those who know where to go and find it,    then make it back to the abandoned comb    we’ve thought about so intensely across the spruced-up years.

  

  

剑郭琴符

二百万违规者        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        就像一根头发落在沙子上    回信地址是空    或开放，    无论哪种方式引导我们，    都会让我们发生。        星星在它们的窝里移动。    上帝巡查海底，    把多立克蜗牛    抬到防火梯的高度。    看到我们来了，    转过一个拐角。        贴纸板的男人在他们的商店里闲逛    经过了流畅的一个小时，    给我们端茶和果汁冰糕    默许在后面的小房间里。        我们已经一次又一次地装满    这些订单，它说，    我们的废物出口到    帝国最远的地区。    还是没有合唱，    鸟儿在耳边叮当作响。        仍然没有向下倾斜的    白鼬斜坡，    也没有心灵的巢。    破旧的石阶包含了    所有的削减。

Two Million Violators                Like a hair falling on sand    the return address is emptiness    or openness,    whichever way that leads us,    makes us happen.        Stars shift in their sockets.    God patrols the bottom of the sea,    lifts the doric snails    to fire-escape level.    Sees us coming    and turns a corner.        Pasteboard men idle in their shops    past the gliding hour,    serve us tea and sherbets    conniving in the small back room.        We have filled these orders    over and over, it says,    exported our waste    to the furthest reaches of the empire.    Still no singsong,    bird jangle in the ears.        Still no ermine slope    fanning downward,    nor eyrie for the mind.    Distressed stone terraces contain    all the abatement.

  

十四行诗：更多相同的        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        尽量避免已经被避免的模式，    避免模式。它不像看上去那么容易：    人字形图案正急切地    从鲱鱼浮起来，变成拼花地板。或者适合它的随便什么。    新的分形叫嚣着要和姐妹们    一模一样。它们中有一半成功了。其他的    则继续是普罗旺斯的印花，一些沉睡，但由精巧的    织工在十八世纪中期创作了一半，    直到现在它们才有了生命。        就像练习一个比例尺：马上就不同但从不一样。    不要问我们为什么要做这些事。问我们为什么觉得它们有意义。    问一下在宝塔和隐士洛可可洞穴的中途    目瞪口呆的杜鹃。他可能会告诉你。

Sonnet: More of Same                Try to avoid the pattern that has been avoided,    the avoidance pattern. It’s not as easy as it looks:    The herringbone is floating eagerly up    from the herring to become parquet. Or whatever suits it.    New fractals clamor to be identical    to their sisters. Half of them succeed. The others    go on to be Provencal floral prints some sleepy but ingenious    weaver created halfway through the eighteenth century,    and they never came to life until now.        It’s like practicing a scale: at once different and never the same.    Ask not why we do these things. Ask why we find them meaningful.    Ask the cuckoo transfixed in mid-flight    between the pagoda and the hermits rococo cave. He may tell you.

  

爱的利益        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我们可以看到它从永恒而来，    然后它只是在这里，平行于    日子的行走。那时我们    已经消失，进入一本书的隧道里。        深夜起床，我们加入了明日    新闻的潮流。为什么不？与其他人    不同，我们没有任何东西可以要求    或借用。我们只是一些实心几何体的碎片：        圆柱体或菱形。我们得到了    某种满足。当然，我们会继续回来    为了更多---这是游行中“人性”外貌的    一部分。还有一些用铅笔画出来的        较暗的区域，我们需要花些时间去探索它们。    现在这一天已经足够结束了。    它带来了新鲜的负载，把它放下    就离开了。至于我们，我们还在这里，不是吗？

The Love Interest            We could see it coming from forever,    then it was simply here, parallel    to the days walking. By then it was we    who had disappeared, into the tunnel of a book.        Rising late at night, we join the current    of tomorrow’s news. Why not? Unlike    some others, we haven’t anything to ask for    or borrow. We’re just pieces of solid geometry:        cylinders or rhomboids. A certain satisfaction    has been granted us. Sure, we keep coming back    for more---that’s part of the “human” aspect    of the parade. And there are darker regions        penciled in, that we should explore some time.    For now it’s enough that this day is over.    It brought its load of freshness, dropped it off    and left. As for us，we’re still here，aren’t we?

   

剑郭琴符

组成    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我们以前叫它胸管，    但我想他们不再用管子了。    不管怎样，它在醒后和入睡前起到了    很小的作用。今天的新闻---    但有没有这样一个东西的新闻，    甚至口述历史？是的，当你想在片刻后回去    评估树叶的    堆积时，比如说在沙箱里。    其余的都是租来的洼地，    只在旺季才有    旺季总是下个月，    一个纯粹但麻烦的时期。        这就是为什么我不常出去，虽然    呆在家里似乎从来没有太多的选择。    说到疯狂的概念，“家”肯定    在名册上远远在上。我对“现在”和“那时”    更有把握，因为它们和我很亲近，    就像恋人一样，虽然显然不像我和它们一样    爱我。我喜欢打电话给它们，    有时它们也会回答，出于某个梦想的深奥事业。

Composition        We used to call it the boob tube,    but I guess they don’t use tubes anymore.    Whatever, it serves a small purpose after waking    and before falling asleep. Today s news---    but is there such a thing as news,    or even oral history? Yes, when you want to go back    after a while and appraise the accumulation    of leaves, say in a sandbox.    The rest is rented depression,    available only in season    and the season is always next month,    a pure but troubled time.        That’s why I don’t go out much, though    staying at home never seemed much of an option.    And speaking of nutty concepts, surely “home”    is way up there on the list. I feel more certain about “now”    and “then，” because they are close to me,    like lovers, though apparently not in love with me,    as I am with them. I like to call to them,    and sometimes they reply, out of the deep business of some dream.

  

像大多数海洋一样        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        大提琴为中提琴提供了    适当精练的精神食粮，它们渴望更高的东西，    而不是，事实证明，在地图上。我们沿着熟悉的大街    走进城市，几滴雨滴    在头顶的树叶上呵痒。在这里大部分是干燥    和不严重的。在有争议的地方，现在    逃避责任的官员宣布学校的声音。耶！    而捕狗者也宣布将    在八月底退休。相隔    不太远，桥就像眼镜。    空间针斜靠在微风中。        就这么远它发生了，在另一天：    母亲们给出通知，让她们的孩子们浸透在    一个由黑色笑话和记忆通道组成的难题。    我们并不是所有的人都被允许进来，吊闸门    似乎明显享受于用矛捅    那些最皱巴巴、最少看清的东西，尽管这不存在    正义的问题；看守人政府冬天就被废除了。    诽谤是可以接受的，就像对富贵草    或新税单的评论一样轻松愉快。    我们能从很远的地方听到海水的漱口声。    很快它就会拍打穷人的阁楼    和富人夸张的梯田。    没有人想过要离开，或者更确切地说，没有人想过    它在运动。我们每个人都在自我决定的    牢房里快乐，专心地从明天心房的爱中    抽身而出，它的肌肉，它的虚张声势。

Like Most Seas                    The cellos offer appropriate pithy fare    to the violas, who aspire to something higher,    not, as it turns out, on the map. We walk the familiar avenue    into the city, and a few raindrops    tickle the leaves overhead. Down here it is mostly dry    and unserious. On disputed ground right now    truant officers pronounce the schools sound. Yay!    And the dog catcher has announced his retirement    by the end of August. Spaced not too far    from each other, the bridges resemble eyeglasses.    Space needles lean into the breeze.        Just this far it happened, on another day:    Mothers gave notice, their kids a seething conundrum    of black-out jokes and memory passages.    Not all of us were being let in, and the portcullis    seemed to take a distinct relish in spearing    the most rumpled and least distinguished, though there was no question    of justice; the caretaker government had been abolished back in winter.    Slander was acceptable and as lighthearted    as comments on ones pachysandra or the new tax rolls.    We could hear the gargle of the sea from a great distance.    Soon it would be lapping at the attics of the poor    and the high-flown terraces of the rich.    No one thought about leaving, or rather it was moving    that no one thought about. We were each happy in the cell    of our self-determination, attentively falling out of love    with the atrium of tomorrow, its muscle, its bravado.

  

新关注点        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        充满硫磺味，汉拉蒂夫人的围裙漂浮在    夕阳之上，预示着极度寒冷。    客队的优势不会削弱    他们的绿色守门员时代。        被风驱动的豌豆苗撒满天空。    一切都是颤抖，谦虚，等待被告知。    几位演讲者立刻指责    八月晚溪的真实性，    而这一切在另一年的同一天都    意味着什么。到现在为止，跑步者已经到达了    北部边境，指尖插入    火焰中。是的，        这是其中的一次。

New Concerns                    Sulfurous, Mrs. Hanratty’s apron floats    above the sunset, auguring extreme cold.    The guests’ advantage doesn’t undermine    their green goalie days.        Wind-driven pea shoots strew the skies.    All is tremor, modesty, a waiting to be told.    Several speakers impugn at once    the veracity of a late brook in August,    and all it would have meant on the same day    in another year. By now, runners will have reached    the northern border, plunged fingertips    in the flame. And, yes,        this is one of those times.

  

迷路的火车        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        了解一切，我们的梦很重要，它们告诉我们    必须不做什么来保持清醒。        耐心不是在家里写的东西。        叫我挑剔，我喜欢在港口里看到一艘炮艇，它告诉我    一旦结束，我们总是可以回头啜饮过去。皱巴巴的奇迹    陷入欣赏一个呼吸者，一个在嘴唇上发出的叹息。阅读    爱斯基摩人的证词。        当你很少意识到它，梦会干涉你的睡眠。        她缺乏在这个不满的世界里走得更远的政治悟性。        有一次，我半转身，看见它来了，忘了    躲避。尽管时间不很长，涂猪油于拉链，直到    槽掉了，西风也合理地盛开。别的都是    家用器皿，激情呐喊，床垫都指向北方。        月亮飞奔上发丝梯子，战胜了一点最小的抽搐。

The Lost Train                Understanding all, our dreams are important, in that they tell us    what we must not do to stay awake.        Patience is nothing to write home about.        Call me choosy, I enjoy seeing a gunboat in the harbor, it signals me    we can always turn back to sip the past once it’s over. The miracle-wracked    strand appreciates a breather, a sigh brought forth on the lips. Reading    testimony to Eskimos.        Dreams can strike in your sleep when you are least aware of it.        She lacked the political savvy to go far in this disgruntled universe.        One other time when I was half turned around, I saw it coming and forgot    to duck. That was not much of a time though, larding the zipper till    the trough fell out and the west wind bloomed reasonably. The others were    in housewares, in full cry, all mattress points north.        Darting up a hair ladder the moon triumphs over a least twitch.

  

樱桃时代        （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        还在下雨吗？我退出。动机的频带减弱，在强度上，就像油漆碎片---    从沉重到苍白。众所周知    这是事物的力量，        它们不会变得更好。    总有一天事情会好起来。    那是一个即时的季节，被歌声淹没。    我们喜欢站在它的边缘，    想象那些美好的事物可能在这里，    它们在这里，这几乎是一样的。        羞涩的时间下潜入翅膀，    太尴尬不能报以掌声，    密密麻麻，像一条小河在进攻。        在另一个苏打喷泉和奔跑板子的时代    它并不重要。现在它被减少成一个明亮的    特殊原子，深蓝色，典范的。        对你来说，诱惑是一种加速的方式，    虽然不追赶，就像亚特兰大的运转。    这些苹果是被后来的来源添加的。    称之为异教徒，即，无踪迹。叫我    不负责任，直到八月回来，    在樱桃离开后。    这多么积极？

In the Time of Cherries                Is it raining yet? I quit. The bands of motivation    recede, in intensity, like paint chips---    heavy to pale. It is acknowledged    that this is the strength of things,        that they will not get better.    One day things actually were better.    It was a season in time, muffled in song.    We liked standing at the edge of it,    imagining the wonderful things that could be here,    and that they are here, which is much the same.        Shy time that dives into the wings,    too embarrassed to acknowledge the applause,    dense, like a runnel attacking.        In another age of soda fountains and running boards    it hadn’t mattered. Now it was reduced to a bright    particular atom, deep blue and exemplary.        For you, seduction was a way of accelerating,    though not catching up, like Atalantas run.    The apples were added by a later source.    Call it pagan, i.e., traceless. Call me    irresponsible, Til be back in August,    after the cherries have left.    How motivated is that?

  

剑郭琴符

我该在哪里漫步    （选自Where Shall I Wander）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    移动着，太过焦虑而无法完全意识到，灰尘和闪光的屏幕啃食人行道的边缘。据了解，这是已经过去，六十，六十四年前的现在。它恰恰重要，在冰柱末端形成的血滴对你嘶嘶作响时，你就是一个人的豆荚。你知道，忘记且讨厌他。    一排盘子伸向远方，在做梦。你在日本吗？这些板岩监狱是谁，排成一排，一半在台下鞠躬，一半在提示包厢里爆发？甘油弄脏了脸颊    老火钳也有自己的说法。这是一个箱子里的故事。晚上的谈话不应该被偷听，所以你不能准确地知道你什么时候进来，在哪一秒。室内设计意味着楼上楼下整个大厅都很温馨，从蓝色的微秒到这里都让人眼花缭乱，但如果是这样，为什么？为什么岸上会有骚动？沙子里有鸟的痕迹，鸟击，爪印。其余的都不见了。    很快面包就要面世了。从后面看，这是你要做的。在压舌片上涂一点板油，然后站在一边，一如既往地悲观。你头发上的那部分看起来很自然。你褪了色的红色T恤确实是我们的。只是现在中年乡巴佬太多了。你知道，你得走了，推挤气压计，撞到大厅的树上并原谅自己，下三级台阶，走到路边，对着某人的轿车撒尿。那么结果可能是你看到了“你的”背影。一声欢快的吼叫照亮了岬角，远远望去    尖叫的白色仿佛是哥伦比亚世界博览会，蓬勃发展的二十世纪建筑师的灵感，现在蜂拥而至，太饥饿以至于不能满足，让我们继续干。但你必须更经常这样做。有资格获得一些救济援助。国王们在地下城为新百年喝彩，麦金利暗杀。伊利湖忧思，伸出它的下唇。好吧，如果你能通过管理不善得到你想要的一切，这个最新的破坏者也能做到同样的，只要你们都开始成形。达科他大道上有许多豪宅和工厂。跳板，和房子的黑暗节奏，关闭，永远，这是什么概念？最后爵士乐地带会尽力解决。该死，    我喜欢你的行话。我们俩还是在这里。俄国麻雀烦扰地转动，不，现在不是进来的时候，我说不，现在不是进来的时候。好吧，呆在外面温和的地方，    偶然事件在这里很流行。我说…不，但总有一天，偶然事件本身取决于突然发生的愿望，一个巨大的打嗝在某处酝酿。而且，我曾经对你们坚持的位于，沙漠里指向错误方向的路标，我们会尽我们所能回来，真见鬼。然后你就在谷仓的边缘走了一圈，就好像要变成现实一样，不会花太多时间。那我为什么不…我们不…它是过去的时间，过去了一半的时间，太晚了，但是另一时间，那么久，那么久的瞬间，天哪，我不知道，答案，如果我知道，你---如果我知道…    可表达地，它继续谈论，而不是削减它，仓促然后重组，一首歌记住在不计后果的睡眠，往事。她惯于说，“正如埃米所说，就像利昂所说的那样，”让这讲台像一个切入花岗岩表面的大门，从那里可以看到里面的碎片，巨石像被激流折磨着，但仍然，像睡眠从没梦想到的动作。然后站起来舒展筋骨，白昼干涸。抓挠任何瘙痒，下面阴沉的连奏将显著地激增，依靠在右边的杠杆。缺乏    解除自身，必须继续写那些笔记。让我们看看…任何婊子都可得到，用B列替代一个物品，然后回到起始目标。挑战者还没来得及说出我们的姓名首字母，蛋糕上的釉料就掉了，吁，以前只有几个，但现在它们都成了一块，鼾声淹没了小苍兰的沉默。查尔斯走了。他过去常常住在这里，当血爆发成骚乱，节俭的抗辩者突然撤退。我们喜欢习惯在这里，擦洗肥皂石，庆祝在我头上的破布使鹿角发光。使用中等强度的漂白剂，直到追求的撞击效果在小毛刺，在可怕的白内障中优雅的音符中跳动，我们期待的呻吟，狂欢者，早产的激动。他满腹牢骚地同意，一个批发商拂过    被放逐的间隔解析。但是为什么要在这样的夜晚谈论入室行窃呢？对一个观众，带着精心设计的漫不经心，朝不同的方向，在拉斯蒂的车库后面重新集结，编造出知道什么魔鬼的人，在白发苍苍的抄写员身上放任地蒸发了全身心投入的几分钟。如果你要录下从随后的嘎嘎声中发出的著名的“涡流”---你会做得不同吗？对于时间来说，这是它变得非常讨厌的地方，记得我们所有人，承认我们体谅自己的外表变化，并用名字亲切地问候我们，只是偶尔会弄混（尽管确实发生过）。所以，谁会责怪我们在议程上签字，沉入舒适的椅子，接受提供的雪利酒，叹息事情真的很容易，更多的人还活着的一段时间。那，杰克的纹身。但是还有别的东西从后门溜了进来，混进了被邀请的客人，“想不到吧”。既不是一个法警，也不是一个在人类堕落前的学校野餐中被拒绝的求婚者，也不是一个表面上漠不关心的观察者，也不是一个把一切都记录下来的领带夹相机，也不是一个我们的祖辈们所出身或所知的有教养的资产阶级中真正开明的成员，而是一个宇宙的笨蛋，以同样的热情执意要搞恶作剧和善行，一个完全下定决心要成为别人而不去打扰别人的人，他对事物的现状和未来的看法是被动侵略性的---杰出的客座讲师。    在豪华轿车里拍打，隔壁友好的雾气把一只手放在我的肩上，胶结物质。教授看起来很谨慎。“鲜花有助于铺路，”他提出。大海在为我们填平。太多空旷的午间帝国，没有它们，你就不能统治一个半球，也不能除观看外感到满足。我们的电视大脑勇敢而友好地围着我们，就像温顺的宠物。我们靠调整过活。似乎它总是发生在别人的头上，远离彩绘的紫苑和缅因州美丽的岬角，远离你几乎能享受的一切。这是你的说教吗？说下去，请便。我会坐在这间蓝色的房间里，直到时间到了，把我的手腕搂在披肩里。但我希望被记住，如果只有你。坚持住。    哦，“那个”旅行推销员。充满热情，我从睡衣里长长的元音队伍中买走了。好像我和世界都无关紧要。浓密的鸟儿犁着空气，仿佛被一种亲密的力量所驱使，就像是使通灵板充满活力的力量。我是这么说的吗？是的，那人是这么说的，他对编织的水果和有饰缎带的涡卷饰很感激，阿门。我们这里有的是一些专门扰乱公共庄严事物的人。另一些人，则是在缓慢移动的脱毛意见筛选中的破烂助手，因为它退化为一个屏幕，后面是一个北欧湖泊向上逃逸到狂喜的牧场，异议。但我们首先假设了蒸汽的结构完整性，现在它歇斯底里了两次，一次绕过弯道，两次是你的想象，它选择无论什么来揭示自己。这比你在学校里学习，观察雨水进入雨桶要多。想想正是你昨天才抗议织机双键盘的便利性。现在你似乎启动了你自己的叙述，在记忆中，尽管。巨大的纪念碑预期在这里摸索着它自己分支的嘻嗬声。不好意思那样撒谎，午饭结束。好吧，它到期了，这就是可说的。我将在后天提出你的有约束力的决议，与完全定义擦肩而过。现在所有的赌注都没有了。    总统总是知道，在她的紫丁香下是一片褪色的肝脏。是的，我能想到很多事情，如果你知道这磁带，会让你大吃一惊。异体吞噬，一旦我们的任务完成了，我们目不转睛来到站立的白昼，朝着好几个方向驱车兜风。保护孩子，把垃圾扔到附近的院子。有时，寂静的备用污水遍及喷泉的边缘，那么这是一场对城市网格上仍然空白的未实现空间的竞赛。然后我们所有物心照不宣的守护者们都安静了，我们在边线犯了错误，闷闷不乐。幻觉随着一声吼叫而破灭。我们想我们和一个雪人约好了见面，所以在我们的约会簿上也写了。但那家伙刚离开，去了更温暖的地方。因此，我们离开的惊险的精确时刻漂移下来的空牌匾和芦苇铜环绕着。我们不是应该注意到新的怪异可怕的东西变形成一种彩色古典主义，它的轮廓像水星一样颤抖，渴望被带到船上吗？唉，我们的预兆，    虽然我们像百合花一样漫步，但没有一个能安抚我们，或者在这个时候不能。最初，我们想作为“文明”的背景，公共汽车和出租车在环形道路上挥霍，急于取悦顾客，尽管事实证明后者供不应求。像这么多图形背景的困境，这一问题得到了解决，带着所有有关方面适度的令人满意的结果。“隐藏的动机”从高处飘落下来，停在我们脚踝附近，用任何东西来确认我们的刷子。随之而来的喧嚣使我们得以与其他迅速离去的客人不辞而别，达到最大的新鲜度，一旦门关上，天空的大音顿，与星星一起抽搐着，不置可否地注视着我们，使我们能够笔直站立，吸入巨量的刺鼻空气的风味，从而获得最大的新鲜感。我们意识到我们正在做一些事情，因此准备尽可能地跟踪事件的轨迹，越过海洋、山脉和世界末日的脊梁以及随之而来的几代人。    这个季节突然后退。红中带着明亮的绿。差点从我的帝国掉下来。在最近的来来回回里，同样老同样老的，这张唱片无声，除了竖直的啁啾声，有时相当于一首颂歌，或是一首赞歌。看来，这个小炸弹起作用了。现在这是一个记录册，我们垂涎欲滴的永恒，直到太阳落在我们的外半球外壳。但虚拟竞赛是它唯一的目的。从世界半路运来的一面镜子，记录着它招致的其奇怪、非人情味地驶入当下环节的低语，我疏忽的蹒跚和随之而来的鼓声。一个骇人听闻的睡前故事侵犯了数百万人的隐私，这只小狗笑着，爬上了承载红色康乃馨的凳子，逐渐消失了。笑声从乐池底部慢慢开始，逐渐向后面涌出；似乎在说没关系，不算，你最终还是会属于，即使你没有戴上合适的袖标或穿大礼服。我爬过一个涵洞来到这里，你爱我是对的，我只是有点扭曲，现在我的梦想是在这里和你在一起，好吧，长笛，没有毒。准备传统的炖山羊惊喜宴。    你穿着有星星和条纹装饰的腰封。我，身着苏格兰格呢褶裙 ，用石灰烧制，用听诊器对着临别客人的头。我们永远是一起的一对。

Where Shall I Wander    Shifting, too anxious to be fully aware, the screen of dirt and glitter grazes the edge of the pavement. It is understood that this is now the past, sixty, sixty-four years ago. It matters precisely at the drip of blood forming at the end of an icicle that hisses at you, you’re a pod of a man. You know, forget and dislike him.    The row of dishes stretched into the distance, dreaming. Is it Japan where you are? Who are these slate prisons, aligned, half bowing offstage, half erupting out of the prompters box? Glycerin stains the cheeks    and the old fire tongs have their say. This is a story in a chest. Conversations at night not meant to be overheard, so you can’t tell exactly when you came in, at which second. The interior is meant to be homey upstairs, downstairs, all across the hall, dazzled from the blue microsecond it took to get here, but if then, why? Why the commotion on the shore? Traces of birds in the sand, birdshit, claw marks. And the rest are missing.    Soon bread will announce itself. To be seen from behind, here is what you have to do. Smear a tongue depressor with a little suet, then stand away, pessimistic as always. The part in your hair will come to seem the natural one. Your faded red T-shirt is indeed ours to look at. Except there are too many middle-aged rubes now. You know, you’ve got to go out, jostle the barometer, bump into the hall tree and excuse yourself, descend three steps, walk to the curb and pee against someones sedan. Then it may turn out that you have seen your back. A joyful roar lit up the headlands, from afar    screeching white as the World’s Columbian Exposition, inspiration to architects of the burgeoning Twentieth Century, swarming now, too hungry to appease, let’s get on with it. But you have to do it more often. To qualify for some of that relief aid. Kings in their dungeons applaud the new centennial, McKinley assassinated. Lake Erie broods, pushes its lower lip out. OK, if you can get all you want through mismanagement, this late-breaking trust buster can do the same, providing you all shape up. Mansions and factories line Dakota Boulevard. Skyboards, and the dark rhythms of houses, shuttered, forever, what concept is that? In the end the jazz reaches will effort it out. Darn it,    I like your lingo. We two be here all the same. The Russian sparrows wheel pesteringly, no it is not time to come in, I said no it is not a time to come in. Fine well stay out where it’s mild,    contingency is all the rage here. I said ... No but there comes a time when contingency itself is contingent on the abrupt desire to happen, a colossal burp brewing somewhere. And moreover what I maintained to you once stands, signpost in the desert pointing the wrong way, we'll get back whatever way we can, sure as heck. Then you just came around the barn’s edge as though materializing, it wouldn’t have taken much. So why didn’t I ... didn’t we ... It’s past time, half past time， too late but another time, so long，so long for a while, geez I don’t know, the answer, if I did, you---and if I did ...    Effably, it talks on, not paring it, scrambled then restructured, a song to remember in reckless sleep, bygones. She used to say, “as Amy would say, as Leon would say, ” and let this stand as a portal cut into the granite face, from which one could view shards within, boulders tormented as though by torrents, but still, as though motion had never dreamed of sleep. Then to stand up and stretch, the day draining. Scratch any itch, the somber legato underneath will surge prominently, lean on the right lever. Absence    relieves itself, got to be getting on with those notes. Let’s see ... Wherever a tisket is available, substitute an item from column B, then return to the starting goal. The challenger barely had time to mouth our initials, the glaze was off the cake, whoa, before there were few but now they are all of a piece, snoring to drown the freesia’s reticence. Charles is gone. He used to live here, when blood erupted into riots and the frugal demurrers retreated all of a sudden. We like to use to be here, scrubbing soap stone, celebrating rags in my head to make the antlers glow. Use medium strength bleach until pursued clobbered effect pulsates in little burrs, grace notes in an awful cataract, groans we anticipated, revelers, premature hoo-ha. Grouchy he acceded, a jobbers whisk    parses the banished interval. But why talk of housebreaking on a night like this? To one viewer, off in different directions with elaborate casualness, to regroup behind Rusty’s garage, concocting who knows what deviltry, having conveniently evaporated from the hoary scribes all-consuming minutes. And if you were to tape the remous famously issuing from the ensuing gaggle---would you do it differently? For time, and this is where it gets really nasty, remembers all of us, recognizes us making allowances for our changed appearance and greets us familiarly by name, only occasionally getting mixed up (though it does happen). So who’s to blame us for signing off on our agenda and sinking into a cozy chair, accepting the proffered sherry and sighing for a time when things really were easier and more people were alive. That, and Jacks tattoo. But there was something else slinking up via the back way and mingling with the invited guests, mine de rien. Not a bailiff or a rejected suitor from prelapsarian school picnics, nor yet a seemingly indifferent observer, tie-clasp camera getting it all down, nor a truly open-minded member of the cultivated bourgeoisie our grandfathers sprang from or knew about, but a cosmic dunce, bent on mischief and good works with equal zest, somebody fully determined to be and not disturb others with his passive-aggressive version of how things are and ever shall be---the distinguished visiting lecturer.    Smack in the limousine, the friendly fog next door placed a hand on my shoulder, cementing matters. The professor looked wary. “Flowers have helped pave roads，” he mooted. The ocean filling in for us. Too many vacant noon empires, without them you can’t rule a hemisphere or be sated other than by watching. Our TV brains sit around us all brave and friendly, like docile pets. We get by by tweaking. Seems it’s always going on in anothers head, far from the painted asters and the glorious headlands of Maine, far from everything you could just about entertain. Was that you sermonizing? Go right ahead, be my guest. I’ll sit here in the blue room till it’s time, cradling my wrists in my shawl. But I wish to be remembered, if only by you. Make it stick.    Oh, that traveling salesman. And, enthused, I bought away from the long procession of vowels in pajamas. It was as though I and the world didn’t matter. And thick the birds plowed the air，as though driven by an intimate force like that which animates the Ouija board. Did I say that? Yes, that’s what the man said beholden to the garlands of woven fruit and beribboned cartouches, amen. What we have here are certain individuals intent on disarraying the public gravitas of things. Others, threadbare acolytes in the slow-moving sift of moulting opinion as it degrades to a screen behind which a nordic lake escapes upwards into ecstatic pastures, demur. But we began by positing the structural integrity of vapor, now it’s hysteria twice over, once round the bend and two’s your fancy, whatever it chooses to reveal of itself. And that is more than you get studying in a school, observing rain as it enters the rainbarrel. To think it was you that only yesterday protested the convenience of the looms double keyboard. Now you seem launched in your own narrative, in memory’s despite. The vast memorial due here fumbles its own branching hee-haw. For shame to lie like that, and over lunch. Well, it is due, and that’s what can be said for it. I’ll posit your binding resolution in the day after tomorrows brush with de-definition. For now all bets are off.    The president always knew, under her lilacs was a liver fading. Yes, I can think of a number of things which would surprise you if you knew the soundtrack. Heterophage, we come unblinking into the standing day and tool off in several directions once our duties are accomplished. Guarding the kids, throwing junk into the adjacent yard. Sometimes the silent backup slops over the fountains edge, and then it’s a race to the unfulfilled spaces that are still blanks on the city’s grid. The guardians of our tacit belonging are stilled then, we err on the sidelines and mope. The delusion comes undone with a roar. We think we have an appointment with a snowman, so is it written anyway in our datebook. But the guy just left, headed for warmer climes. And thus the breathtaking precision of our off moments drifts down the vacant plaque and its reeded copper surround. Weren’t we supposed to be taking note of the new eldritch morphing into a chromatic classicism whose contour trembles like mercury, eager to be taken aboard? Alas for our foreshadowing,    for though we wander like lilies, there are none that can placate us, or not at this time. Originally we were meant as a backdrop for “civilization，” the buses and taxis splurging along ring roads，anxious to please customers, though the latter proved to be in short supply.Like so many figure-ground dilemmas, this was resolved with moderately pleasing results for all concerned. Times arrière-pensée floats down from on high, settles near our ankles, confirming our brush with whatever. The ensuing uproar allows us to take French leave of the other swiftly departing guests, to achieve maximum freshness once the door has closed and the great caesura of the sky, twitching with stars, fixes its noncommittal gaze on us, enabling us to stand erect and inhale huge gusts of astringent air. We are aware that we are doing something and are thus prepared to follow the events traces as far as need be, beyond the sea and the mountains and the ridgepole at the worlds end and the attendant generations.    Abruptly the season backed up. Bright green out of the red. Almost fell off my empire. On recent to-ing and fro-ing, the same old same old, the record is silent, save in vertical chirps, amounting at times to a carol, or motet. The little bomb works, it seems. Now that’s one for the record books, us salivating an eternity till the sun goes down in an outer husk of our hemisphere. But a virtual contest is all it ever gets up to. A mirror shipped from halfway around the world records the whisper that begat its strangely impersonal voyage into the lap of the present, my stagger of inattention and the consequent drumroll. Invading the privacy of millions with a lurid bedtime story, the little dog laughs, climbs the stepstool bearing red carnations and lapses. The laughter begins slowly at the bottom of the orchestra pit and wells gradually toward the back; it seems to say it’s OK not to be counted, you’ll belong eventually even if you’re not wearing the right armband or redingote. I crawled through a culvert to get here and you’re right to love me, I was only a little awry, now it’s my fancy to be here and with you, alright, fluted, not toxic. Prepare the traditional surprise banquet of braised goat.    You wore your cummerbund with the stars and stripes. I, kilted in lime, held a stethoscope to the head of the parting guest. Together we were a couple forever.

剑郭琴符

象征性抵抗        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        当一个人在梦中转向另一个人时    微笑着，像一个刚刚    停止鸣叫的钟，伸出一本书，    然后说：“所有时间的        庸俗，从石器时代    到我们现在，有它的面馆    和象征性的抵抗，就像生命对    被给予你的生命一样。穿上它，”        所以一个人必须从我们朋友    方格的高处传下来，不必要地    排练我们将要说的话    就像一道普通的光沐浴着我们，        一本普通的小说在我们经过庆典时    回荡。起初    我们不打算离开家。但不知怎的，在雨中    我们勇敢地向前迈了最好的一步。        现在在这以后过了几年。不可能    再年轻了。    然而，这棵树把我当作一个野蛮的朋友；    我自己的鞋子给我走过的路留下了伤痕。

TOKEN RESISTANCE                As one turns to one in a dream    smiling like a bell that has just    stopped tolling, holds out a book,    and speaks:“All the vulgarity        of time, from the Stone Age    to our present, with its noodle parlors    and token resistance, is as a life    to the life that is given you. Wear it,”        so must one descend from checkered heights    that are our friends, needlessly    rehearsing what we will say    as a common light bathes us,        a common fiction reverberates as we pass    to the celebration. Originally    we weren’t going to leave home. But made bold    somehow by the rain we put our best foot forward.        Now it’s years after that. It    isn’t possible to be young anymore.    Yet the tree treats me like a brute friend;    my own shoes have scarred the walk I’ve taken.

  

春天的叫喊        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我们最坏的恐惧已经变为现实。    然后一连串的成功，或失败，跟随。    她恳求我们留下来：“留下来，    就一分钟，好吗？”        我们被逐出进入了我们决定的尘埃。    知道它会是这种方式并没有    使它更容易理解，或承受。        五月在胡说八道。它的重演    耗尽了土壤。穿过沼泽地    有一只鸟失去了它的踪迹，走了回来，羞怯，叽叽喳喳。    地峡是镀金的白色。人们正在重返    海湾：成年游泳者，他们所有人。

SPRING CRIES            Our worst fears are realized.    Then a string of successes, or failures, follows.    She pleads with us to stay: “Stay,    just for a minute, can’t you?”        We are expelled into the dust of our decisions.    Knowing it would be this way hasn’t    made any of it easier to understand, or bear.    May is raving. Its recapitulations    exhaust the soil. Across the marsh    some bird misses its mark, walks back, sheepish, cheeping.    The isthmus is gilded white. People are returning    to the bight: adult swimmers, all of them.

  

收费公路上的山魈        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        这是一门艺术，知道该把什么东西放在谁的身上，    然后，在期待垂涎三尺之际，拿走北极星，    裹着一条印花手帕，在你的后口袋里。好吧，    谁拿到了？别看“我”，我    在等我的约会，她已经迟到十五分钟了。    听着，自作聪明的人---但是下一瞬间，    交通就像一片干草    淹没了我们。    现在回家，完成工作    不再那么重要---    看，北极星对你    有影响，但只是在你知道的情况下。不然的话，    不用担心，钟敲十下，晚上就开始了。        然后，当每一件事和每一个身体都被整理好，    这---嗯，“你”知道，我称之为虚拟语气的东西又爬了进来，    坐起来，乞求一个幻觉，    或者一块饼干。与此同时，那只鸟在哪儿？    可能是下蛋或执行其他自然功能。为什么，    我是我弟弟的监护人，我弟弟是间谍？        你和莫尔斯太太比你说的更值得知道。    “我从克拉珀姆来到这里，    寻找一间粉刷过的小屋，在那里，许多夏天我都很喜欢    那里的东西。我们在这里进行了第一次    无辜的对话，杰克。只是别对我撒谎---    我讨厌别人对我撒谎。他们    可以对我做任何事，真的。一切    都是合理的，当然。        “为什么要允许一首歌，那是    几个季节以前。”

THE MANDRILL ON THE TURNPIKE                It’s an art, knowing who to put with what,    and then, while expectations drool, make off with the lodestar,    wrapped in a calico handkerchief, in your back pocket. All right,    who’s got it? Don’t look at me, I’m    waiting for my date, she’s already fifteen minutes late.    Listen, wiseguy---but the next instant, traffic drowns us    like a field of hay.    Now it’s no longer so important    about getting home, finishing the job---    see, the lodestar had a kind of impact    for you, but only if you knew about it. Otherwise,    not to worry, the clock strikes ten, the evening’s off and running.        Then, while every thing and body are getting sorted out,    The---well, you know, what I call the subjunctive creeps back in,    sits up, begs for a vision,    or a cookie. Meanwhile where’s the bird?    Probably laying eggs or performing some other natural function. Why,    am I my brother’s keeper, my brother the spy?        You and Mrs. Moles worth know more than you’re letting on.    “I came here from Clapham,    searching for a whitewashed cottage in which things were dear to me    many a summer. We had our first innocent    conversation here, Jack. Just don’t lie to me---    I hate it when people lie to me. They    can do anything else to me, really. Well, anything    within reason, of course.        Why it was let for a song, and that    seasons ago.

  

将要移动        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        肚脐都在周围跳舞    熨衣板漫步回到了出发的大门    毫无意义的暴力无助地从头顶飞过    它们对楼梯来说太多    不能更好地爬上床，他们哭了    因为宙斯这恶魔用他明亮的眼睛死盯着我们    他永远不会来帮助我们        但从那一刻起，一首红歌    在海浪中长出，势不可挡的田里和果园    都没回到过去，据说如果在数数的时候    你们少了一个人，那你们就会变坏    即便如此，许多毛茸茸的身体站起来离开了        现在如果有什么能挽救这一局面    它就是那块小小土地上的奶牛    我捐赠我的牛奶以免其他人干涸    它说，很乐意为和平与美好的力量提供我的服务    但那棵树下真的长了什么        到现在它都变成一个保全面子的问题    聚会上的许多人这么认为    这些只是过去时不时存在的    无关紧要的情况        所以没有人去了解红心之王的情况    那女人说，瞥了一眼她的铲子，雪继续    一排一排降落，这片废墟就像充斥着死亡的生命    只是不要去那里，时光不再        我已经读过许多预言书，现在我可以告诉你    倾听和忍耐        首先山羊站起来，绕着冬青树转了半圈    这以后    几只从他们的窗户注视    观察那混乱的景象，它聚集自身    整齐地排成排，躺在被环绕的货车前    就在那时许多离开了彩绘的城市    说我们可以记住那些颜色，就够了    我们可以悲惨地回来，但在什么地点    简洁的一个首先消失    其余的折回来，很快一切都够好

ABOUT TO MOVE                    And the bellybuttons all danced around    and the ironing board ambled back to the starting gate    and meaningless violence flew helplessly overhead    which was too much for the stair    Better to get in bed they cry    since Zeus the evil one has fixed his beady eye on us    and will never come to help us        But out of that a red song grew    in waves overwhelming field and orchard    Do not go back it said for if there is one less of you    at the time of counting it will go bad with you    and even so, many hairy bodies got up and left        Now if there was one thing that could save the situation    it was the cow on its little swatch of land    I give my milk so that others will not dry up    it said and gladly offer my services to the forces of peace and niceness    but what really does grow under that tree        By now it had all become a question of saving face    Many at the party thought so    that these were just indifferent conditions    that had existed before in the past from time to time        so nobody got to find out about the king of hearts    said the woman glancing off her shovel The snow continued    to descend in rows this rubble that is like life infested with death    only do not go there the time should not be anymore        I have read many prophetic books and I can tell you    now to listen and endure        And first the goat arose and circled halfway around the ilex tree    and after that    several gazed from their windows    to observe the chaos harvesting itself    laying itself in neat rows before the circled wagons    and it was then that many left the painted cities    saying we can remember those colors it is enough    and we can go back tragically but what would be the point    and the laconic ones disappeared first    and the others backtracked and soon all was well enough

  

月亮的幽灵骑士        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        今天我会让它保持原样。    袖珍梳子---“脏得像梳子一样”，法国人说，    但没有那么脏，但在精神意义上肯定不是    某种直觉；剃刀，与竖立的牙刷    成一定角度平躺，就像鳄鱼跟踪    “舞女”---是万物自身的    独特效果，即，完全疯狂        没有道歉，对世界或以太    然后是破碎的    已经被叫停的实现。楼梯踏板    在里面合谋。沸沸扬扬的油    蜷缩在其容器的边缘，就这样坐在那里。    没有道歉作出，再也    没有，退回商店的物品没有不在场证明，    只是僵持，平静，永恒。人们可以再一次    欣赏事物的涂层，不带偏见    或含沙射影，把核心小心地    处理好---嗯，吐出来。我的        忍耐力像探照灯一样挑出来的    东西也多走了    一英里，像小学生，现在坐成    体贴的几排，整齐地等着这些话淹没    发狂的沉默角落。我们收集    它们毕竟是因为它们    对彼此和为我们所有人提供住处的    马戏团的独特冷漠，以及它们的收藏价值---    以及，他们崩溃的倾向。

GHOST RIDERS OF THE MOON                Today I would leave it just as it is.    The pocket comb---“dirty as a comb,” the French say,    yet not so dirty, surely not in the spiritual sense    some intuit; the razor, lying at an angle    to the erect toothbrush, like an alligator stalking    a bayadère---the singular effect of all things    being themselves, that is, stark mad        with no apologies to the world or the ether,    and then the crumbling realization that a halt    has been called. That the stair treads    conspired in it. That the boiling oil    hunched above the rim of its vessel, and just sat there.    That there were no apologies to be made, ever    again, no alibis for the articles returned to the store,    just a standoff, placid, eternal. And one can admire    again the coatings of things, without prejudice    or innuendo, and the kernels be discreetly    disposed of---well, spat out. Such        objects as my endurance picks out    like a searchlight have gone the extra mile    too, like schoolchildren, and are seated now    in attentive rows, waiting trimly for these words to flood    distraught corners of silences. We collected    them after all for their unique    indifference to each other and to the circus    that houses us all, and for their collectability---    that, and their tendency to fall apart.

  

爱的场景        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        十年后，我的灯    失效。一开始我以为    不会再有这个了。    在春天的便利店里        我遇到了一个认识我在乳品箱旁爱的人    的人。所有的丝带    都在音乐的面纱上分开，在里面    不知情的红毛猩猩赌袜子，        戴着流苏的敌人被击溃。    在一个角落里，一股带格子的烟雾    只是警告快乐离开。我们    相处得很满意---就像        “着火的房子”，我相信这个表达    是。期中考试时我得到了    进城的许可。在那里，    除了在混乱中其他的不多，我的爱人    等待着。这是太幸福了，不吸收，一个伟大的炼狱的    篮子里小猫的浪漫。    有了这些，我们就被要求保持纯洁，    用石头和贝壳来洗手---    我的海报贴得到处都是。    当两个人相遇，褶皱可能会落在    任何它们可能的地方。叶子说没事。

THE LOVE SCENES                After ten years, my lamp    expired. At first I thought    there wasn’t going to be any more this.    In the convenience store of spring        I met someone who knew someone I loved    by the dairy case. All ribbons parted    on a veil of musicks, wherein    unwitting orangutans gambled for socks,        and the tasseled enemy was routed.    Up in one corner a plaid puff of smoke    warned mere pleasures away. We    were getting on famously—like        “houses on fire,” I believe the expression    is. At midterm I received permission    to go down to the city. There,    in shambles and not much else, my love    waited. It was all too blissful not to take in, a grand purgatorial    romance of kittens in a basket.    And with that we are asked to be pure,    to wash our hands of stones and seashells---    my poster plastered everywhere.    When two people meet, the folds can fall    where they may. Leaves say it’s OK.

  

那是什么        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        你还没到吗？    活跃的睡意消散了我的一个    顾虑：我躺在水泥观景台上    被太阳毒打。    坚果聚集在高坛上，    一群人在一些西部影片中喘息：第一章，等等。    过去我上过当。    现在我相信。    没有什么总比什么都没有好。    冬天。老鼠在天窗里安睡。        那辆旧马车通过；    那包违禁品被注意到了：    一对野山羊角，    天平在钢片琴高贵地歌唱。    我们对任何事情什么都不知道。    风吹过我们，就像吹过一袋    海洛因栗子。说。    勤务兵沿着大厅消失了。    很长一段时间，一阵蕨类植物的集合声响起，然后    什么也没有，只有陌生城市里未知角落的    无声快照。为故事安排合适结局的    乏味过程。    地面检查。反启蒙主义者的诡计。        一旦你在某个特定的时间里骗过了    那么多人，在没有其他颜色的天空中    一定会有黎明。电话亭    在空中优雅地旋转。啊爬回    桃色梯。某个地方有一个漫画赛车场在呼吸。        提供了一架钢琴：    三楼的惊异。    那个和蔼的妓女改过自新了。    呼吸急促而沉重。    引座员请求他们的座位。

JUST WHAT’S THERE                Haven’t you arrived yet?    A sleepiness of doing dissolved my one    scruple: I lay on the concrete belvedere section    belabored by sun.    Nuts convened in the chancel,    a posse wheezed by in some oater: Chapter I, etc.    In the past I was bitten.    Now I believe.    Nothing is better than nothing at all.    Winter. Mice sleep peacefully in their dormers.        The old wagon gets through;    the parcel of contraband is noted:    a brace of ibex horns,    a scale worshipfully sung at the celesta.    We know nothing about anything.    The wind pours through us as through a bag    of horse chestnuts. Speak.    The orderly disappeared down the hall.    For a long time a sound of ferns rallied, then    nothing, only dumb snapshots of unknown corners    in strange cities. The tedious process    of fitting endings to stories.    Ground review. An obscurantist’s trick.        Once you’ve wheedled as many as are there    at a given time, there’s a certainty of dawn    in the not-much-else-colored sky. A phone booth    pivots daintily in air. O crawl back to the peach    ladder. A comic-book racetrack breathes somewhere.        A pianola was offered:    astonishment on the third floor.    The nice whore mended her ways.    The breathing came fast and thick.    The ushers will please take their seats.

  

标题搜索        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        春之声。维也纳糖果圆舞曲。    早报。来访的消防队员。哀悼波尔卡。    大调交响乐。大雾浸透的极限。    阿格里帕。阿格里平。耐莉和所有人。海岸    来到我们家的那天。        错觉焦点。不自然的梦。五美元诗集。    橡树和火山口。罗伯特，狂想曲。塞西莉亚.瓦尔德斯。    犹太孩子。内务官员巫师。读者文摘    豪华分配之书。受挫恋人的企鹅书。    美国滑稽喜剧。        牧师生活的场景。印加人序曲。42街的房子。    之间那男人。盒子上的那男人。汽车。        相思路。榆树街和之后。    红色小教堂。酒店区。    我吃墨西哥人。泡沫的遗产。    特洛伊喜剧。给喷泉加水。寄居蟹回忆录。    鸵鸟的继承。被土耳其追到出口。    在英镑里。艺术家的生活。在美丽的蓝色多瑙河。    少的是咆哮。骑自行车的人。父亲。

TITLE SEARCH                Voices of Spring. Vienna Bonbons.    Morning Papers. Visiting Firemen. Mourning Polka.    Symphonie en ut dièse majeur. Fog-soaked Extremities.    Agrippa. Agrippine. Nelly and All. The Day    the Coast Came to Our House.        Hocus Focus. Unnatural Dreams. The Book of Five-Dollar Poems.    Oaks and Craters. Robert, a Rhapsody. Cecilia Valdes.    The Jewish Child. Mandarin Sorcerers.The Reader’s Digest    Book of Posh Assignations. The Penguin Book of Thwarted Lovers.    The American Screwball Comedy.        Scenes of Clerical Life. Incan Overtures.The House on 42nd Street.    The Man in Between. The Man on the Box. The Motor Car.        Rue des Acacias. Elm Street and After.    The Little Red Church. The Hotel District.    I’ll Eat a Mexican. The Heritage of Froth.    The Trojan Comedy. Water to the Fountain. Memoirs of a Hermit Crab.    The Ostrich Succession. Exit Pursued by a Turkey.    In the Pound. The Artist’s Life. On the Beautiful Blue Danube.    Less Is Roar. The Bicyclist. The Father.

   

剑郭琴符

免费指甲油        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        够酷了。承认，    她有漂亮的腿，你知道。    男人们的思想不断地被拉到    她成功的围裙后面，    或者被拉到她通向    伟大的、哲学的、最有礼貌的    耗费半热带空气的    灵魂的秘密的入口最高处。        我需要投资一个悲惨的未来。    没有得到别人的支持，我---    等待，它沿着铁轨来了，    一列从波顿开过来的慢车，每个窗口的乘客    熨过的脸上都表达着某种精确的东西    但没有什么特别的东西。        是的，这个车站周围哞哞叫的树林    有一部分是极端的，    有些地方铁丝网    很深。我们不知道    它们是干什么用的，也不知道为什么我们会    在墙纸丁香糖上    对着虫子的轨迹打鼾。

FREE NAIL POLISH                    Cool enough. Granted,    she has beautiful legs, you know.    Men’s thoughts are continually drawn behind    the apron of her success,    or to the tank top of her access    to the secrets of the great and philosophic,    of the most polite spirits    that invest these semitropic airs.        I need a tragic future to invest in.    Getting no support from others, I---    wait, here it comes along the rails,    a slow train from Podunk, the ironed faces    of the passengers at each window expressing something precise    but nothing in particular.        Yes, the mooing woods around this station are    partly extreme,    and wire fences are deep within    some parts of them. We know not    what they’re for, nor why we snore    at a bug’s trajectory    over the wallpaper’s lilac lozenges.

  

直到公共汽车开动        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        “这颗心没用。我必须拥有另一颗。”    ---《弗兰肯斯坦的新娘》        我喜欢在途中小睡。    我应该做的    只是坐在那里。我喜欢    夏天---它喜欢我吗？    这么多草率的风    它脑子里带着东西---    “现在没时间    担心它，”她-这样-说。        简言之，我喜欢那些日子的    许多分隔物    它们会靠近，偷听我们的想法。    滑翔机又如何？    这些，是的，我也喜欢。        绿色铜质的东西    像是出自于三十年代的东西。    我一定要一个---不，    弄一打，都是    新包装的，在我的所在地。        如果它只是一个笨拙的动作    绕着我的脚踝拖着    天啊，我会给所有这些家伙    同样的待遇，多年来，给我。你不能旋紧    吊杆螺栓，却不知道它们，    看起来有多可怕，    当它们回到树下的家时    没有人说    什么，也没有人想要它。        不过，我会出去    在我的路上，等着    另一辆车。    似乎很奇怪，我以前读过这一页，不，    这整个短篇故事。现在有什么    警报在向我歌唱    用按纽把我遮住？

TILL THE BUS STARTS                “This heart is useless. I must have another.”    ---The Bride of Frankenstein        I like napping in transit.    What I ought to do    just sits there. I like    summer---does it like me?    So much cursory wind    with things on its mind---    “No time to worry about it    now,” it—she—says.        In short I like many    dividers of the days    that come near to eavesdrop on our thoughts.    What about gliders?    These, yes, I like these too.        And greened copper things    like things out of the thirties.    I must have one---no,    make that a dozen, all wrapped    fresh, at my address.        And were it but a foozle    schlepping round my ankles    by golly I’d give it the same    treatment all those guys,    years, gave me. You can’t fasten    a suspender stud and not know about it,    how awful they looked,    and when they returned home under trees    nobody said    anything, nobody wanted it.        Still, I’ll go    out in my way, waiting    for yet another vehicle.    It seems strange I read this page before, no,    this whole short story. And what    sirens sing to me now,    cover me with buttons?

  

可笑译者的希望        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        高尚的施加者，但房间又小又吝啬    其秘密如此用纸糊，以至于连形状    都不确定，但这是过去的形状：    没有爱，没有额外的信誉，甚至没有    来自那些阴影的礼貌。他们看到你了吗？        他们非常渴望你在那儿，    有一次，在发生在他们身上的事情的操场上。    那时候的信息是鲜明的，帽子没脱，    举止清新，凉爽，就像早春    合适的一天。瞥一眼    沟渠里的溪流撞击出一种有点像燧石的声音，    尽管，鸟儿们很警惕，比平常更谨慎。        一个拄着拐杖的人磁化了    所有那些看不见的和部分可见的横流，    不情愿的，完全闷闷不乐的，或者那些还没有时间    体现这里正在建立的东西：一个点，    不多也不少。没有试着吻你，    我也觉得自己被周围的动物复仇场景吸引住了：    动物们三三两两地回来，进入笼子，    顺从地坐着，而驯兽师却吼叫着命令它们。    “它们”，似乎，没有什么可失去的。在所有粉饰过的    现在过去时的领域里，也没有人参与    现在让我们变得强壮、高大、脆弱的秘密    就像一个在教堂留下来等待的新娘，慢慢地后退到    悬崖边，在摄影师    准备微笑的时候。

THE RIDICULOUS TRANSLATOR’S HOPES            Gracious exertor, but the rooms are small and mean    and so papered over with secrets that even their shape    is uncertain, but it is the shape of the past:    no love, no extra credit, not even civility    from those shades. Do they even see you?        They were so anxious for you to be there,    once, in the playground of what was happening to them.    Messages were bright then, hats undoffed,    manners fresh and cool, like a seasonable day    in early spring. The glancing    rivulets in the gutters struck a note that was a trifle flint-like,    though, and the birds were wary, warier than usual.        It took a man with a cane to magnetize    all those invisible and partly visible crosscurrents,    reluctant, downright sullen, or ones that hadn’t yet had the time    to reflect on what was being set up here: a point,    no more nor less. Instead of trying to kiss you,    I too felt sucked into the ambient animal-revenge scene:    By twos and threes the animals returned, to their cages,    and sat obediently while the trainer barked orders at them.    They, it seemed, had nothing to lose. Nor in all the whitewashed domain    of the present past tense was anyone privy to the secrets    that now make us strong, or tall, and vulnerable    as a bride left waiting at the church, inching backward    to the cliff’s edge as the photographer    gets ready to smile.

  

下星期的故事        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        是的，但是正确的理由规定定了…是的，但是狼在门口，    我们的发现也不会被索引。    是的，但生活是一场马戏，一场流逝的表演    在其中每个都会落下倒影    从而与漩涡的目的相矛盾：    鼓励，推力。    如果别人的所作所为    最终似乎对你有好处？为什么，    给它镀金的十足礼貌    正在剥落。被动本身就是一个障碍。        所以，与无人认领的彩票垃圾一起迷失，    没有列清单，你是一个任何东西的继承人。    目标的光辉已包括：百分制    胜利的马屁精似乎抓住了它的尾巴    但它却用发明来违抗它们。    站起来，一开始    你口袋里的雨会很冷。        稍后，一个偶然的机会，你会发现    在闪闪发光，空酒馆里的晚餐。    一张漂亮的，白色床等着你；    你的护照也在里面。

THE STORY OF NEXT WEEK                Yes, but right reason dictates ... Yes, but the wolf is at the door,    nor shall our finding be indexed.    Yes, but life is a circus, a passing show    wherein each may drop his reflection    and so contradict the purpose of a maelstrom:    the urge, the thrust.    And if what others do    finally seems good to you? Why,    the very civility that gilded it    is flaking. Passivity itselfs a hurdle.        So, lost with the unclaimed lottery junk,    uninventoried, you are an heir to anything.    Brightness of purpose counts: Centesimal    victorious flunkeys seemed to grab its tail    yet it defied them with invention.    Stand up, and the rain    will be cold at first in your pockets.    Later, by chance, you’ll discover supper    in the sparkling, empty tavern.    A nice, white bed awaits you;    your passports in there too.

  

一百本影集        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        行为已经被清理干净。    在最新的折衷方案中    时髦的观众大多理解。    不愉快，奇怪的光点升起，    九浴室车库。    但我们从哪里再开始，    我们与你相比是什么，    就像两个男人在收银台前扭打    一个孩子弯曲    进入光，她对天真无邪的认识    就像现在的死亡，在登记册的名字    戴着手套的手在签字？        我们得救的理由是什么，如果没有    看见这些和别的    不爱我们的东西？        因为你喜欢某件曾经    秘密做过的事，而你失去了进一步的立足点，    脱离了框架，        一切证明无尺寸的东西都是憔悴的。        “他是某种东西，不是吗？    在每个人都被允许进入并找到睡眠之前    我们就走他的路，从我们得到的    一瞥中，滑稽透顶的    特殊习俗的关注中获益。    一旦地面结冰    就没有看守人来覆盖我们，    也没有梭子鱼及时刺穿地球的秘密表面    及时赶上为你所看到的一切守夜。”（1）        天文馆里的玫瑰    要求安静，“请安静”，你难道    看不见门漏出余烬，从那最后一道，我们    刚刚停在旁边的至关重要的光中，就像一杯热酒，    但是汤却猛掷在你脸上。    然后有一天，他坐下来写下了那一行    如此优美，每个人都想    在山坡上哼唱，肩膀紧锁着，随着它的节奏    摇摆，然后“主宰”就会走上前来，    没有造物见过的存在，    完美得像民谣中的一只啼叫的公鸡    大多数人都会预言，唉。    哪个恶棍没教过我那个？        ----    （1）此节都为斜体字，应该是独白。

A HUNDRED ALBUMS            Acts have been cleaned up.    In the latest compromise    the hip audience mostly understands.    Unpleasantness, strange blips arise,    the nine-bathroom garage.    But where are we to begin again,    and what are we compared to Thee,    as two men scuffle in a checkout line    and a child bends    into the light, her knowledge of innocence    as a death now, name in the register    a gloved hand signs?        For what have we been rescued, if not    to see these and other things    that have no love for us?        For relishing something once done    in secret, and you lose footing further on,    out of the frame,        and everything that proves dimensionless is haggard.        He was something, wasn’t he?    Until everyone has been let in and found sleep    we go his way, profiting    from the glances we get, the attentions to    special mores that are side-splitting.    And no caretaker comes to mulch us    once the ground is frozen,    no pike stabs the secret surface of earth    in time for a vigil of all you see.        The rose in the planetarium    asks for calm QUIET PLEASE can’t you    see the door is leaking embers from that last, crucial light    we’d just stopped by for, like a mug of hot wine,    but it is soup that is being dashed in your face.    Then one day he sat down and wrote that line    that is so beautiful everybody wants to hum it    on this hillside, shoulders locked swaying to    its rhythm and the Master will come forward then,    the being no creation has seen,    perfect as a crowing cock in a ballad    most will have foretold, alas.    What wretch hasn’t taught me that?

  

摔倒在地上，来到门口        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        其到来，让一些人感到震惊的预感，    作为一个统计数字占据了应有的位置。    “我不认为你……”    “不，”我厉声说，“不在歌剧院，外面有泥巴。    在我看来，好像有一块发霉的砖头种植在我的路上    而我上次看的时候却不在那里…‘但那是什么时候？’    为什么要继续玩这个字谜游戏,如果它无关紧要，    比如一扇小小的窗户，或者一块缺失的饰板？”    然后我燃起希望。    很多事情接下来都会得到整理，    就像你梦寐以求的春季大扫除。    什么，我？就好像一个小精灵在充电器上命令我    躺在我的背上，在树干    正在膨胀的树下，正变成世界，也许就是。    我有星系要出来，到街上，    穿短裤，在任何地方，只要它们去…        有人读到另一个人的亲属如何    继承了苏格兰的一大笔遗产。    发生在别人身上的事！当然    就在一分钟前，我发现你在一个终止的祈祷中    得到了回答，你自己说的。我， 从这个架子上    我看不到陆地，甚至看不到空间，还记得    鸭子们如何在伞下跳舞。    那时过去是桃子。

FALLS TO THE FLOOR, COMES TO THE DOOR            That arrival, a foretaste of which appalls some,    assumed its rightful place as a statistic.    “I don’t suppose you ...”    “No,” I snapped, “nor at the opera, with the slush outside.    It seems to me a mildewed brick has been planted in my path    that wasn’t there when I last looked …but when was that?    Why keep the charade up, if it matters so little,    like a tiny window or a bit of missing veneer?”    Then I get my hopes up.    So much gets sorted out in coming,    like the spring cleaning you always dreamed of.    What, me? It’s as though an elf on a charger commanded    me to lie on my back, under the tree whose trunk    is swelling, becoming the world, it may be.    And I have galaxies to turn out, into the street,    in knickers, anywhere, so long as they be going...        One reads how another one’s kinsman    has inherited a vast estate in Scotland.    The things that happen to other people! Surely    it was only a minute ago I caught you in a lapsed prayer    that was answered, you said it yourself. I, from this shelf    whence I see no land, not even space, can yet recall    how the ducks danced under their umbrella.    The past was peaches then.

  

躺椅        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        这对他来说是一种解脱，我的主人    纠缠着我，用棉绒，秘密，    总是别人的秘密，你已经    知道。两个胆小鬼在审判中    被隔离，就像一个棘手的结。    你也知道。        在这个躺椅里精神饱满。    一些伪造的色彩篡改了    壁画中的草原天空，    使其清新，即时，这些    完美的情况是错误的。        然后又回到了老学校，打赌，    妓院很快来了。本来老早就可以    这么简单解决。但那时就不会有情节，    也不会有挂最薄的    纱布的钉子。        你，我想，想要这样    是因为我们都想这样。    因此，这个故事从不被糖衣包裹，    就像披肩上的刺刀一样突出。        如果还有其他，他们就不会来看    骚乱是怎么回事。事实上，没有    干扰，没有什么可以滑动一只手，    只有附言和自残的    旧方式：现金和携带，不退款。

THE LOUNGE                That it was a relief to him, my lord    who pestered me, with lint, with secrets,    always others’ secrets, you knew    already. Two caitiffs were severed    from the trial, like a gordian knot.    That you knew too.        It is so hearty in this lounge.    Some bogus tint tampers    with the prairie sky in the mural,    makes it fresh, immediate, wrong    for these immaculate circumstances.        Then it’s back to the old school, wagers,    brothels soon to come. It could have been settled    way back when so simply. But then there would have been no plot,    no peg to hang a dress on    of gauze the filmiest.        You, I suppose, wanted it this way    because we all want it this way.    Thus the story never gets sugar-coated,    protrudes like a bayonet from a shawl.        If there were others, they never came to see    what the disturbance was about. In fact there was    no disturbance, nothing to slide a hand along,    only postscripts and self-mutilation    the old way: cash and carry, no refunds.

  

改进        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        是在那里发生的吗？    就在昨天，当我回来时，我对这个房间，对空间，    对整个天空，以及其他任何超越的东西    都有一种强烈的不满。    我摸了摸茄子，然后是大黄。    似乎没有什么东西强大到足以    让这种生命去管理，它能看到远处    形成某种实体的粒子---    所以我们穿得很和蔼，在此刻很疯狂。    后记的生命开始。        在我们的生命中我们从来没有活到    知道今天是什么样子。    碎片，微笑的海滩，    甚至在我们与他们交谈时，不知何故抛弃了我们。    而豹子是透明的，就像冰茶。        我醒来，我的脸压在    一个露水般混乱的梦境中，这很重要，    因为梦，因为梦是天生的悲伤    即使有很多惊叫和跳动    因为在这一个里面。我要梦想的    开放性由内而外，由它自己未问的问题    爆炸成意义的碎片，    超越天堂的计算。然后，飞燕草    会不成比例地负重，    树木又回到起始的门。    看，我们的嘴唇弯曲。

THE IMPROVEMENT            Is that where it happens?    Only yesterday when I came back, I had this    diaphanous disaffection for this room, for spaces,    for the whole sky and whatever lies beyond.    I felt the eggplant, then the rhubarb.    Nothing seems strong enough for    this life to manage, that sees beyond    into particles forming some kind of entity---    so we get dressed kindly, crazy at the moment.    A life of afterwords begins.        We never live long enough in our lives    to know what today is like.    Shards, smiling beaches,    abandon us somehow even as we converse with them.    And the leopard is transparent, like iced tea.        I wake up, my face pressed    in the dewy mess of a dream. It mattered,    because of the dream, and because dreams are by nature sad    even when there’s a lot of exclaiming and beating    as there was in this one. I want the openness    of the dream turned inside out, exploded    into pieces of meaning by its own unasked questions,    beyond the calculations of heaven. Then the larkspur    would don its own disproportionate weight,    and trees return to the starting gate.    See, our lips bend.

  

“赞成回答        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        被请求。”这就是它开始的地方---    像订婚的事，在紧随其后的    脚步中带着勾结。就像旧肖像照片中    眼睛的斜视---四分之三的    视角足以说明野心，    恐惧。        也有一些现实，一些娱乐    在这里。你看到晚餐后沙发    在哪里休息，打扫干净，房子    周围的白色裙子？    从来没有人造出来，但也没有人    让它听起来更好。        后来它们把你拖出去了。    直到叶子部分生锈，    与新鲜的绿色相碰撞，隐蔽    被承认。那时是时候换新衣服，    新煤块---调整。有些人还在应付，        雾气似乎仍然使他们脸红    虽然这只是一种错觉。做爱之后    什么都没有，只有一个理由，    一桌疲惫的书。一块花边    高高地挂在空中。

“THE FAVOR OF A REPLY            Is requested.” That’s where is it began---    something like an engagement, with collusion    in its footsteps following. Like the slanted look    in the eyes of old portrait photographs— the three-quarters    view is more than sufficient to tell the ambition,    the dread.        There’s some reality, too, some entertainment    here. Did you see where the couch rests    after dinner, the clearing up, the    white skirts around the house?    No one ever made it up but no one    made it sound better.        They dragged you out after that.    It wasn’t until the leaves were partly rusted,    clashing with the fresh green, that a cover-up    was admitted. By then it was time to get new clothes,    new coals---to adjust. And some are still coping,        the mist still seems to cause them to blush    though it’s only an illusion. After sex    there’s nothing, only a reason,    a table of wearied books. A piece of lace    hung high up in the sky.

   

剑郭琴符

当地时间    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    我们能做什么，    除了    紧握，松开这只永远不属于我们的手，    很像它想要成为的那样？在灰色的天光下    日食仍在燃烧，百合花盛开，完美    来临，然后尖齿    挖掘出更少的余烬。是时候离开吗？    模特们，在脱衣服的时候，    误读了配置，即使承认没有版本：    热的还是穿衣服的。紧身的男孩，    你让我想起了蜻蜓的鬼鬼祟祟，    达到顶峰的芳香火焰的，    我们谁也不认识对方。    你知道的下一件事是冬天来到。    天窗，现在穿白色围裙    是我们光秃秃的收获。    但重新出现也有好处：    火焰的轰鸣，威士忌的烧杯，不管怎样    一切大概应该一直是老样子。

LOCAL TIME    What can we do,    except    clasp, unclasp the hand that never is ours,    much as it wants to be? Under a gray skylight    the eclipse burns still, there are lilies, perfection    arrives, and then the tines    unearth fewer embers. Can it be time to go?    Models, when they undress,    misread the configuration even    while confessing to no version:    the heated or the clad. Tight boy,    you reminded me of dragonflies skulking,    of aromatic fires peaking,    and neither of us gets to know the other.    Next thing you know it’s winter.    The skylight, now aproned with white,    is our bare harvest.    But there is good in reappearing:    the flames’ roar, beaker of scotch, the old way    things were probably supposed to be all along anyway.

嗯，是的，实际上    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    可能涉及的人：听好了。    大约一年半前，一个年轻人在我的办公室。    这个年轻人，    名叫迈克尔，    是我已经认识的另一个年轻人的朋友，弗雷德里克是其名。    好吧，其结果是，迈克尔，    他靠自己的努力把自己拉了起来，想    知道一些已经不那么秘密的事情的秘密，    比如：水，它看起来膨胀了，或者当所有的水分子    都被抽出时，它的重量是多少，    在正确的答案被传递之后，一个人向谁称呼自己？    我告诉他，尽我所能，    事实上，正如我过去告诉其他人的那样，这样的    软机制，这样的软件，不能被控制，如果可以的话，    没有人会想要任何答案。好吧，他就坐在那里，    沉默。然后，当乌鸦的叫声穿越    山谷和牧场，在夜晚的小岛上更新自己时，    答案也在他心里说话。但他马上意识到，这件事    永远不会重演。或者有人会恼怒地拔荨麻，    到处拍打它们，然后你喜欢用魔鬼可能会在意的态度    定量配给它的东西就会像纸一样扁平，    比从人行道上剥落的影子还要平坦。但我离题了。    在这个镇上，在这棵树附近，曾经有一所学校高傲地    拔地而起，远远望去，许多人从它进进出出    当钟声从它红色的，庄园式的塔楼上敲响报时。    当然，杂种狗也来来往往，    和萝卜贩子们。嗯，有一个    男人，表面上看是个盗窃牲口的人，对学校    和学校所有的附属品都不满意：课桌、水龙头、    黑板擦等等。他觉得这些很可惜    有些人是来学习和享受的，而另一些人则    悠闲地编着辫子，在凉爽的阴影下，不读书    不加总和，而牛奶则快乐地    变酸，在阴凉处。从城外来的孩子们会来    俯视其他的，他们也会争吵起来    直到老师召集所有人，说：    “受祝福的孩子们，我的孩子们，除了这个我    别无选择。”那男人想，如果这是学校里教你的，    也许我应该回学校去。因为我是一个孤独的人，我保证，    孤独的人永远不会学习，尽管他们可能知道一件    别人不知道的事情，或者，同样的道理，需要的东西。    一个影子落在    萝卜地上：这是真品，真货，    所有其他的猜测都有点悲哀地被取代了。    他们想了想。老师想了想，直到今天，    不知道她哪里出错了，    为什么棱镜不再照射电的颜色    本生灯没有导致对烟雾和咯咯声的    反驳，在那里长长的课桌上。    这些是我哭泣的苹果，    她说，是他们从未带给我的那些，而我，    我太痛苦了，无法梦想。    好吧，你不认为迈克尔和弗雷德里克听说了这件事    并第一个表示哀悼吗？但首先    他们把所有的粉笔碎片扫成整齐的一堆    献给陌生人，献给老师的    是波莫纳极乐渴望的产物，    她整天独自在海边跳舞，醉醺醺的，    却像现代精神一样爱我们。    他们用一块楔形的木头    把门撑开，所以它一直开着。

WELL,YES,ACTUALLY    To whom it may concern: Listen up.    About a year and a half ago a young man was in my office.    This young man,    whose name was Michael,    was the friend of another young man I already knew, Frederick by name.    Well, the upshot of it was, Michael,    who had pulled himself up by his bootstraps, wanted    to know the secret of things already not so secret,    like: Water, does it seem swollen, or how much does it weigh    when all the water molecules have been withdrawn,    and to whom does one address oneself after the correct answers have been passed around?    I told him, as best I could,    indeed, as I have told others in the past, that such soft    mechanisms, such software, can’t be regulated, and if it could,    no one would want any answers. Well, he just sits there,    dumb. Then, as the call of the crow renews itself    across valleys and pastures, in the island at night,    the answer speaks in him too. Only it can’t, he realizes right away,    ever be repeated. Or someone would pull nettles in exasperation,    slapping them all over the place, and then what devil-may-care    attitudes it pleases you to ration out will be flat as paper,    flatter than shadows peeled off of pavement. But I digress.    In this town, near this tree, a school rose proud and tall    once, and from a distance many were seen going in and out of it    as the bell sounded the hour from its red, hacienda-like tower.    And sure, mutts wandered in and out too,    and radish sellers. Well, one    man, a rustler to all appearances, wasn't happy    with the school and all its appurtenances: desks, faucets,    blackboard erasers and such. He thought it was a pity    that some come to learn and enjoy, while others plait    their tresses idly, in cool shadow, and read no book    and add no sum, the while the milk sours    happily, in the shade. And children from out of town would come    and look down at the others, and they too would fall to quarreling    until the teacher summons all, and says,    “Blessed children, my children. I would have it no other way    but this.” And the man thinks, if that’s what they teach you in school,    maybe I should go back to school. For I’m a loner, I warrant,    and loners never learn, though they may know the one thing    nobody else knows, or, by the same token, needs.    And a shadow fell across the fields    of radishes: This was the real, the genuine article,    and all other speculation had been slightly but sadly displaced.    And they thought about it. The teacher thinks about it to this day,    wondering where she went wrong,    why the prisms no longer irradiate electric colors    and the Bunsen burners cause no retorts to fume    and gurgle over, over the long desks that were.    These are the apples of my crying,    she says, the ones they never brought me, and I,    I am too distressed to dream.    Well, don’t you think Michael and Frederick heard about it    and were the first to offer their condolences? But first    they swept all the chalk bits into a neat pile    and dedicated it to the stranger, and to the teacher they offered    the product of Pomona’s blissful yearnings,    who dances alone all day by the sea, inebriated,    yet loves us as only a modern spirit can.    And they propped the door open    with a wedge-shaped piece of wood, so that it stayed open all the time.

我的金链    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    在格林纳威的大帽子下，女主角，    钻石倾斜…沉重的火车嘶嘶地驶过，散发着    来自彼得堡运河和车站男厕所的恶臭。什么是，春天？我忍不住    有点代表欧洲人。有时。    毕竟。    在这件事上我没有发言权。    他后来对我吼道：    “走开，你的幻觉，晒干的希望    慢炖到一种忘却的煎药，遗忘    在五月，当一切都开始的时候，或者    如果它不是那么害羞的话。但看看下周，    屠夫秤的新闻纸上    流血的肉。但到那时你可能不需要它，    既然如此，为什么问我？毕竟我只是个小渔船船夫……”    风吹入纤细的窗帘。    像这样挺好。    从来没有人要我当伴娘，    所以也许我是新娘？你想说的事，    只有你不能， 你知道，从一个银色的口香糖包装上    分辨出一片叶子。我们不应该知道的事    但是没有什么我们不能知道。他的歌结束了，我    最好准备继续。告诉你的读者    给我写信，我喜欢他们的问题，只是有时    它会变得这么黑，你只想站着摇晃。

MY GOLD CHAIN    Under the big Greenaway hat, the Diva,    diamonds aslant... Heavy trains hiss past, whiffing    the stench of Petersburg’s canals, and the station    men’s room thereof. What is it, spring? I can’t    help being a little European. At times.    After all.    I had no say in the matter.    He hollered at me later,    “Be gone, your phantasies, sun-dried hopes    simmered to a tisane of forgetfulness, forgetfulness    in May, when everything is beginning, or would be    if it weren’t so shy. But check it out next week,    the meat that bleeds on newsprint    of the butchers’ scales. But by then you may not need it,    in which case, why ask me? I’m only a doryman after all …”    Wind enters the slim curtains.    It was all right to be like this.    Nobody ever asked me to be a bridesmaid,    so maybe I’m a bride? The things you think of telling,    only you can’t, you know, tell a leaf from a silver    chewing-gum wrapper. Things we mustn’t know    but nothing we can’t know. His song’s over, I    better get ready to go on. Tell your readers    to write me, I love their questions, only it gets    so dark sometimes, you just want to stand and shake.

脚步声    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    啊他昨天看到什么了吗？    我不能开始说。    “有东西    掉在地板上。”    你拥有吸引人的危险，鞭策我们。    祝贺，也，关于天气，    虽然我知道你和那没关系：    令人兴奋，有点坚硬，    就像一把锁在风的洗涤中消失。    当我们已经停下来做事，他    还不能侮辱你。我们的风流韵事，    就像餐具一样，持续了大约一年，    然后就消失了。我的车还在车辙里，    但谁能预言这些绿色，    那个带着羽毛的女孩    她几乎不想睡在那里？    但当我们都出来的时候，这一天    扮演了主人的角色，做了必要的事情。    在建筑的上方是镀锡的露头，之间的一个空间。    简言之，这是了不起的，年轻的主人疯狂地拥有我们，    但直到这样的时间，棘手的法律角度    可以解决，欢乐必须留在    我们周围的空气监禁，像湿度。    今天没有流苏。    有趣的是，我已经习惯了它们，    习惯了你脚趾上的铃铛。    这里面有个故事，    她说。我待会儿再告诉你。    已经有两个人支持。

FOOTFALLS    O did he see something yesterday?    I cannot begin to say.    Something fell    on the floor.    A nice danger you have whipped up for us.    Congratulations, too, on the weather,    though I know you had nothing to do with that:    exhilarating, a bit flinty,    as a lock gets lost in a wash of wind.    When I’ve already stopped to do things, he    hasn’t been able to insult you yet. Our love affair,    like dinnerware, lasted about a year,    then went away. My car’s still in the rut,    but who could have foretold these greennesses,    the girl with the aigrette    who didn’t barely want to sleep there?    But when we all came out, the day    assumed the role of host, did what was necessary.    Above the architecture were tinseled outcroppings, a space in between.    In short it was marvelous, the young master was mad to have us,    but until such time as the thorny legal angles    can be worked out, joy must stay    imprisoned in the air around us, like humidity.    Today there were no tassels.    Funny, I’d gotten used to them,    and to the bells on your toes.    There’s a story in that,    she said. I’ll tell you later.    Two have already been supportive.

世界末日    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    有时候，时间比我们忧虑的要多，    和别人在一起。有时候很有趣。    我只能告诉你如何阻止事情的发生。    生命是传奇。我们非常看好    生命。狗和其他生命    让我们相信，生命狗一样廉价。    未来是个幽灵。过去，    在这里说，是一个自动人体模型。    不是死亡，是他的全权代表之一。    大海在我看来，    这生命被照亮    带着它能吸收的所有睡眠。    我以前经常拖着脚走得太多。有一天    有好运，我会去报摊找到它    并买些樱桃，问候老朋友。

WORLD’S END    Sometimes it’s more time than we care to be,    with the others. Sometimes it’s interesting.    I can only tell you how to stop things happening.    Life is legendary. We’re very bullish    on life. Dogs and other lives    convince us life is dog-cheap.    The future is a ghost. The past,    it says here, is an automated manikin.    Not death, one of his plenipotentiaries.    Sea in my regards,    this life is lit    with all the sleep it can absorb.    I used to shuffle a lot. Someday    with luck, I’ll make it to the newsstand    and buy some cherries, greet old friends.

美国冰淇淋    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    我们所有人都舔过    然后又舔：以小为傲，    那些从画布上掉下来    又出现在下游的人。    …她总是忘了吃药，颠倒自己，吃点药。    母鸡认为小鸡，    在月球上的男人，个人资料：    一片未篡改的行动。    我们醒来，赞美这一天，    让我们的鞋子带我们去它们想去的地方。    天气极为宜人，    一个真正的晴天。    把你的帽子装满坚果。

ICE CREAM IN AMERICA    All of us getting our licks    and then some: the proud with the small,    those who fell off the canvas    and reappeared downstream.    ...always forgets her pills, reverses herself, takes some.    The hen thinks chicks,    the man in the moon, profile: a piece    of the undoctored action.    We wake up, admire the day,    let our shoes take us where they will.    The weather’s glorious:    a real shine.    Fill your cap with nuts.

作品第一页    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    日本的生活是这样最著名的生活之一：所有这些    主席和夜店围绕着    一个矛盾酝酿，    但捕鸟人知道他的生意把他带到别处，    打电话，有更多的时间在迷惑不解的    对称的水晶盛会中醒来。因为它而    命中注定？    我从不宿醉，直到下午晚些时候    然后它就像一个纪念品，一个安排。    一辆老式的荷兰出租车把我们带到海边    在那里其他乘客正试图改变他们的预订，    但巨大而混乱的网格球形穹顶不让他们（改变）。    他会怎么处理？    你看到一个失去叮当声的帝国。    你临终才能到那里。    我特别辨别出我看到的一千磅的灰尘    散布在郊外良性的    山丘之间，    每个人如何适度自由地改变。毕竟，    我们没有努力区分自己。    那些想保持赤身裸体的人被茶水哄得    笑出来，再也没有人的鼻子会靠近    磨刀石，我打赌，你可以弄清楚这些瑟瑟发抖的树。    但是书店的老板知道跳蚤被吹出一切比例，    九月份的台阶顺道而下    在巨大的狗被释放出来之前。

WORKS ON PAPER I    Life in Japan is one of the most famous with all these    chairpeople and night stalls brewing    around a contradiction,    but the fowler knows his business takes him elsewhere,    telephoning, with more time to awake in the crystal pageant    of perplexed symmetries. Doomed    because of it?    I never get hangovers until late afternoon    and then it’s like a souvenir, an arrangement.    An old Dutch taxi takes us down to the sea    where other passengers are trying to change their reservations,    but the great flummoxed geodesic dome won’t let them.    What will he do with it?    You’re looking at an empire that has lost its clangor.    You get there by dying.    I tell particularly a thousand pounds of dust I saw    interspersed between the benign mountain-shapes    on the outskirts,    and how everyone was reasonably free to change. After all,    we make no effort to distinguish ourselves.    Those who wish to remain naked are coaxed out of laughter    with tea and nobody’s nose is to the grindstone    anymore, I bet, and you can figure out these shivering trees.    But the owner of the bookstore knew that the flea was blown out of all proportion,    with September steps to go down in passing    before the tremendous dogs are unleashed.

奇怪的事情在晚上发生    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    不要想太多，    准备去你梦想的城市。    现在，抬头看。起初它们看不见你。    稍后，调整将被制订。    你男朋友啜饮树皮茶。    这个号码现在应该出现了。    也许是倾盆大雨阻碍了它，    衰退。无论如何，在这里我们的人有双重的太多。    我们必须对折力，否则就死。    即使是一个远程解决方案，这也一定实用。    并不是每天你都能骑着自行车经过人群中的    丝带，观看大酒店里    被认为迫在眉睫的一些事—没有消失。    如果我曾要把你的音量调大---    但这不是为了生活，是吗？    是吗？我的意思是，七种模式或等级中的    许多晚餐，尽可能多做出，持续下去    一旦老板和他们的小猎犬通过。

STRANGE THINGS HAPPEN AT NIGHT    Without thinking too much about it,    prepare to go out into the city of your dreams.    Now, look up. At first they cannot see you.    Later, the adjustment will be made.    Your boyfriend sips bark tea.    The number should’ve turned up by now.    Perhaps the driving rain impedes it,    the recession. In any case there are two too many of us here.    We must double up, or die.    And that might be a practical if remote solution.    It’s not every day you get to bicycle past the ribbons    of people, watch the grand hotels    for some event thought imminent---not lost.    If ever I was going to turn up your volume---    but this isn’t about living, is it?    Or is it? I mean, many suppers in the seven modes    or grades, as many as can be made to last    once the bosses and their beagles have passed through.

抓住的东西

   （选自And the Stars Were Shining）
   作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）
   译者:剑郭琴符

   然后他会把它稍微扔到篱笆上
   如果你明白我的意思的话。

   我知道你的意思
   但我不会告诉任何人
   直到你所有的意思
   对我来说都很清楚，也就是说，直到它变得清晰
   把我们从虚空中吸出来，穿过果园。
   当我还是个少年
   我听到远处的声音，想象
   它们是画在画布上的喊叫声。
   每个都有自己的颜色，或者说是更生动的
   近似颜色，等着
   被邀请进来喝茶，或者任何东西，
   轻拍着头。

   我必须从那里把自己拖下去---
   灌木丛里有很浓厚的交融。
   对于古怪的行为，甚至是彻头彻尾的疯狂
   我们有无数百万个理由---你只需选择一个
   并遵循它的逻辑结论。

   说你正坐在果园里，
   修补或祈祷---头顶上的微光
   会让你想起一条狗，并及时
   想知道那条狗发生了什么。

   开始的时候还可以，但是现在的颜色
   更暗淡，更厚重
   但这没关系，因为更圆润，
   人性化，就像一个
   为过去美好时光代表的尸体
   哀悼的统计数字。

   既然你已经走了这么远
   在镜子里对你进行评估
   是有意义的。缝合线直吗？“似乎”
   它们直。但是你必须脱去车的
   头饰盖，或者引擎盖，不管英国人称之为什么，
   为了它的发生，一天又一天的减少
   在沉寂的惊奇中。就像一个
   小爆炸的城市一样发生，无论你走到哪里
   它都能保护你。我们需要这种保护---
   它是颜色，正像开始的那一个。

（这一首英文又发不出来。）

剑郭琴符

A HELD THING
            
            
            
    Then he sort of lobbed it
    over the fence if you know what I mean.
            
    I do know what you mean  
    but I shall not tell anyone  
    about it until all your meaning  
    is clear to me, that is until it becomes clarity
    that sucks us out of the void and across the orchard.
    When I was a little teenager
    I heard the far-off voices and imagined  
    them to be cries painted on a canvas.  
    Each had its own color, or a more vivid  
    approximation of that color, waiting  
    to be invited in for tea, or anything,
    patted on the head.
            
    I must haul myself down from there---
    underbrush too thick with communion.
    We’ve a million reasons for eccentric behavior
    or even outright madness---you have only to choose one
    and follow it to its logical conclusion.
    Say you are sitting in that orchard,  
    mending or praying---the overhead rush  
    will make you think of a dog, and in time  
    wonder whatever happened to that dog.
            
    Okay for starters but the colors  
    are more bleak and heavy now
下面缺，不发了

剑郭琴符

天气和海龟        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        雨下得惊人地有规律。    理解的截段被强加于    这个湖---这是一个讨人喜欢但又贫穷的水库---    在那伟大的乐器，街道上。        对，但是我们能有一点光泽，    在这里，请，一点纹理吗？这就像每周都会发生的事情，    嘲笑那些从你身边走过的人的    四肢，一心想购物    或看世界---无论什么，只要    这与你无关，疯狂的傻瓜    在你噩梦般怀疑的旋转木马上，看到了    却又宣布，又看到了，但是没有人    能阻止发狂的《骷髅之舞》（1）    由苏打水喷泉、鞋店、廉价拱廊产生    掩埋在一层像奶酪一样的光亮中。    它现在是老哑剧了。    我看，我读书，我打盹。    谢天谢地，嵌合体从未靠近我，    在它的洞穴里放松。    ---    （1） Danse macabre：交响诗《骷髅之舞》 又名《死神之舞》，为浪漫时期法国作曲家卡米尔•圣-桑的一部管弦乐作品。

WEATHER AND TURTLES                The rain fell with startling regularity.    Sections of understanding were imposed    on the lake---a likable but needy reservoir---    and on that great instrument, the street.        Okay, but can we have a little luster,    here, please, a little texture? It’s like a weekly occurrence,    this laughing at the limbs of people    who march by you, intent on shopping    or seeing the world---whatever, so long    as it has nothing to do with you, frantic dimwit    on your nightmarish carousel of doubt, who sees    and yet proclaims, and sees on, but no one    can stop the demented danse macabre    ensuing from soda fountains, shoestores, penny arcades    buried in a stratum of light like cheese.    It’s the old dumb-show thing now.    I see, I read, I nap.    Thankfully the chimaera never came near me,    relaxing in its cave.

  

有时在某些地方        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        耐心地，不强求    任何认识他的人的证实，    诗人躺在浩瀚的天空下，    梦想着大海。诗歌，他    现在意识到，比他更聪明。        所以去哪里，里面有什么？    因为当知更鸟筑巢，    因此，每一天都织一个它自身的凉亭    奉献给世界。我站在这里    倾听，但没有一个词能证明事实，    尽管有几个词能。我们将使    城镇、城市、日落，适应我们的愿望，哦    偶然的政界要员，丰盛的    紫色天鹅绒主宰着    我们的梦想，一会儿，然后我们将    向邮件点头，然后再离开。        白昼落下它自己的重量。    基于你在其上的运气，    你也进入了鬼龙之间的    小冲突，因此你因失聪于    幸存青蛙嘘声的    喧闹中被祝福。忘了你的午餐，    是吗？不，我以为你有。    不，那是我的。

SOMETIMES IN PLACES                And patient, exacting    no confirmations from those who know him,    the poet lies down under the vast sky,    dreaming of the sea. For poetry, he    now realizes, is cleverer than he.        So where to go, what to be in?    For as the robin builds a nest,    so each day weaves a bower of itself    to offer to the world. I am standing    here listening, but no one word proves the truth,    though several do. And we shall acclimate    towns, cities, sunsets, to our desire, O    accidental mandarin, and the purple    velvet of plenty dominate    our dreams, for a while, and then we shall    nod to the post, and be off again.        Day falls of its own weight.    And basing your luck on that,    you too enter the skirmish    of ghosts and dragons, and so are blessed    with deafness to the clamor of surviving    frogs’ catcalls. Forgot your lunch,    was it? No, I thought you had one.    No, that was mine.

  

威廉.伯德（1）        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        他以一个人的精准战斗着，慢慢地，在他身后绝对知识的攻城锤的阴影中，在一个桶形拱顶、神圣的空间里…        尽管有侏儒的侮辱，但这是一个值得纪念的日子，对所有关心的人是真实的，然后潮水倾泻进来。忘记这一魔力的金块是致命的，即使一个人挣扎在它膝盖深的地方，猛撞海鸥，哭泣，风…        装饰艺术的女祭司从清晰的壁龛中召唤导致辨别计时折磨的脑髓。从船的索具上不祥地飘动着的小三角旗不禁让人想起一个烧焦了的红色实体，对某些人来说是楼梯着陆。蓝色是钴，我们把腰带指向它，充满活力，充满灵魂。        被捆绑在一些神经官能症比赛中，我很高兴看到你在这么多年前的生日聚会上还是个小女孩，改变了，每滴眼泪都戴着手套---白昼中标星号的时刻。那时候弯腰、转半圈是优雅的，当痴迷的主人从一场无名的狂欢中走到某人的视线中，从一个无名的狂欢，礼貌和冷漠，对他和其他人的礼貌最漠不关心。因为我们生活在一个三通道的小溪床上，没有气球犯罪离开这里。        现在我想你持续地把你额外的树突钻到我的额头上，一根芦苇的肉纹理。        你知道，臭鼬家族也认可了，包括臭鼬老爷爷。但这并不能使我们远离战争和他们的教规。剥落的、干了的颜料努力达成预示的热情。世界上开始有像盘旋鸟群的低云。你导引我们的凝视越高，你脚下的挣扎就看得越少，从中会浮现一个胜利者，是的，孤儿们经常和我们在沙滩上玩耍，直到一个接一个地被收养。这就是为什么所有的角度都是锐角，而且比口袋里更冷。        突然，蹒跚地    她走向我，一个物体部分地属于建筑，    属于它如何愿意成为“所有”参与、    交流的基础，它在拖延中，因为你头上的一些    愚蠢的东西。哦，好吧。别人的苦难    被视为一件令人悲伤的事情，但人们也必须思考它，而且继续    聚集，一点点地，在深坑里，无论什么被暴露在东西低潮中。    你悬挂的那颗简洁的钻石…然后所有人都想来看看，巨大的    人群淹没了码头，在他们的重压下它有倒塌的危险，但    他们想看，他们开始看。起初，它就像某种    现象的未出生的东西，然后是一颗冰冷的星星，但总是一个字母表，其字母之间    交织着许多情感和死亡。        握着我的毒刺，当一个陌生人，而且我马上就是。    我还没填写表格。    我能看见荒野和海岸；在它们里面我们又变得神奇和空虚。    ----    （1）威廉.伯德 （William Byrd，1539或1540年－1623年7月4日），英国文艺复兴时期的作曲家，罗马天主教徒，莎士比亚的同时代人。    本诗明显是描写音乐的，其创造力很令人惊叹。阿什贝利有很多描写音乐的诗，正如前面翻译的一些。

WILLIAM BYRD            With the precision of one who fights, slowly, the shadow of the battering ram of absolute knowledge behind him, in a barrel-vaulted, hallowed space ...        The gnomes’ contumely notwithstanding, it was a red-letter day, really for all concerned, and then the tide poured in. It is fatal to forget this nugget of charm even as one flounders knee-deep in it, smashing at gulls, cries, the wind ...        Art-deco priestesses summon from distinct alcoves brains made for discerning timekeeping ordeals. The little pennants that flutter ominously from the rigging of ships cannot help but evoke a charred red entity, staircase landing for some. Blue is the cobalt at which we point our belts, energetically, soulfully.        Tied in some neurosis competition, I was happy to see you as a little girl at your birthday party so many years ago, changed, and with a glove for each tear---starred hour of the day. It was graceful then to be back-bending, to half-turn as the obsessed host comes into one’s line of vision, from a nameless spree, polite and indifferent, most indifferent to his politeness and that of others. For we live in a three-channeled creekbed and there are no balloon-offenses leaving from here.        I thought you had drilled the dendrite of your extra keeping into my forehead by now, flesh the texture of a reed.        And you know, the skunk family approved it too, including old Grandpa skunk. But which does not take us very far from wars and their canons. The chipped, dried paint managed to signal enthusiasm. There was beginning to be in the world like a low cloud of birds circling. The higher you direct our gaze the less it sees the struggle at your feet, out of which a victor will emerge, and yes the orphans play with us often on the sand until one by one they get adopted. Which is why the angles are all acute ones and it’s colder than the inside of a pocketbook.        Suddenly, shambling    she comes up to me, a thing partly of architecture,    of how it would like to be the basis for all partaking,    communicating, and is in arrears because of some    dumb thing over your head. Oh well. The misery of others    is a sad thing to behold but one must contemplate as well the gathering    that goes on, in bits, in pits, whatever is exposed at low tide.    The brief diamond that you dangled ...And then all want to come to see, tremendous    crowds overwhelm the dock, which threatens to collapse under their weight, but    they want to see, they get to see. At first it’s like some    phenomenon’s unbirthing, then a cold star, but always an alphabet among whose    letters are interlaced much affection and dying.        Hold my stinger as a stranger and I will be presently.    I haven’t filled out the forms.    I can see heaths and coasts; in them we become magic and empty again.

  

自信心训练        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我喜欢你所说的话的完整性，    戏剧或梦想。什么是没有自信的信誉，没有怀疑的忍耐？    你在一根低垂的树枝下    你的忍耐向我突然的插入。    这些又能做什么，如果没有骷髅    作为思想？我听到探戈开始，    失落的华尔兹。在烟囱里交叉的木头…        没有进取心，希望，我无法征服任何一个。    没有碎片可回到你，    说，“这是我。”我们被暴露在他者之中的    谎言之一。当针最终摆动时    它被破布包裹着，在一片漆黑中。    我逃离了生活在童话里的    梦想，没有幸福的结局，完全没有结局，    只有睡觉的时间才能一直活下去。        你可以爬过小檗中的一道篱笆    却永远看不到天鹅脸上即将离去的微笑。    只有你的需要能被赎回    当你再次住在我们中间，被极深误解的时候。    现在你的玻璃祈祷包围了我们两个。

ASSERTIVENESS TRAINING                  I like the integrity of what you have to say,    drama or dream. What is credibility    without assertiveness, endurance without skepticism?    And the abrupt thrust of your bearing    at me under a low-hanging branch.    What shall any of these do without skeletons    as ideas? I hear the tango beginning,    the waltz that is loss. Crossed logs in the chimney...        Without aggressiveness, hope, I couldn’t conquer any of it.    There’d be no piece of it to bring back to you,    saying, “This is me.” A lie    among others we’re exposed to. And when the needle finally swung    it was wrapped in rags, in pitch blackness.    I escaped from the dream of living    into a fairy tale with no happy ending, no ending at all,    only bedtime to live ever after.        You could climb a fence amid barberries    and never see the departing smile on the swan’s face.    Only your need will be redeemed    when you dwell again among us, much misunderstood.    For now your glass prayer encases both of us.

  

像一句话        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我们知道得多么少，    当我们知道的时候！        漂亮地说，“没人    在平原上有很多牛，他的柜子里    也没有碎片！”等等！我想我知道是谁说的！那是…    没关系，亲爱的，下午    会把你折叠起来，还有全神贯注于    现在看来如此重要的事情，直到只有一个孩子    骑着独轮车占领着舞台中央跑来跑去。    那你把墙理解成什么？我担心你    不得不追上某些东西，        不管是在海上梯田开局    还是在市场上偶尔听到的流言蜚语。    因为你看到，受惩罚变成了你：    让老年人羡慕年轻人，    让年轻人害怕变老，    那里小路穿过榆树丛，狂欢节，开始。        据说，盖吉兹的戒指（1）    吸引了那些看不见他的人，    就像那些在他周围游荡的人只注意到    某种寂静，比如耳朵痛之前，    而戴着发带的伐木工人下来看看这一切混乱是怎么回事，    不管这是不是他们能够    作为“没有”冒犯自尊的一部分。    那些已经看得够多的神殿鬣狗，    鼻孔闪耀，皮毛在微风中倒伏，    你无法指望任何地方，    带来众所周知的火药    就像步枪的枪托接受了另一条刻痕。        我，同时…我想说我浪费了春天    当夏天来临，把它从我身边夺走    就像一位女士请求一个人拿一会儿的一只小猎犬    一边在称重机的镜子里调整她的长袜。    但现在是冬天，把其他季节    说成似乎存在是错误的。    时间在他背后的钱包里    只有一个议程，而我们    以为我们知道自己在哪里，未受干扰地    最终到达灿烂的树林，营养比我们所能知道的还要多    由于出乎意料的冰、星星    和噼啪作响的眼泪。我们只需放开它，    逃离它。如果烘烤饼干的气味能安抚    一个或另一个嗅觉，爬进    这辆满载囚犯的车里。        那时，韵律会令人惊愕地清晰，    节奏没有弹起，因为尽管我们来到了    生活就像一所学校，但我们必须在毕业之前离开它    正如不祥的风吹起了    骄傲的三桅船帆，它们不知道朝向哪里，    只是在那里刻着一个动作，颤抖着获得自由。        ---    （1）参见希腊神话。

LIKE A SENTENCE                How little we know,    and when we know it!        It was prettily said that “No man    hath an abundance of cows on the plain, nor shards    in his cupboard.” Wait! I think I know who said that! It was ...    Never mind, dears, the afternoon    will fold you up, along with preoccupations    that now seem so important, until only a child    running around on a unicycle occupies center stage.    Then what will you make of walls? And I fear you    will have to come up with something,        be it a terraced gambit above the sea    or gossip overheard in the marketplace.    For you see, it becomes you to be chastened:    for the old to envy the young,    and for youth to fear not getting older,    where the paths through the elms, the carnivals, begin.        And it was said of Gyges that his ring    attracted those who saw him not,    just as those who wandered through him were aware    only of a certain stillness, such as precedes an earache,    while lumberjacks in headbands came down to see what all the fuss was about,    whether it was something they could be part of    sans affront to self-esteem.    And those temple hyenas who had seen enough,    nostrils aflare, fur backing up in the breeze,    were no place you could count on,    having taken a proverbial powder    as rifle butts received another notch.        I, meanwhile ... I was going to say I had squandered spring    when summer came along and took it from me    like a terrier a lady has asked one to hold for a moment    while she adjusts her stocking in the mirror of a weighing machine.    But here it is winter, and wrong    to speak of other seasons as though they exist.    Time has only an agenda    in the wallet at his back, while we    who think we know where we are going unfazed    end up in brilliant woods, nourished more than we can know    by the unexpectedness of ice and stars    and crackling tears. We’11 just have to make a go of it,    a run for it. And should the smell of baking cookies appease    one or the other of the olfactory senses, climb down    into this wagonload of prisoners.        The meter will be screamingly clear then,    the rhythms unbounced, for though we came    to life as to a school, we must leave it without graduating    even as an ominous wind puffs out the sails    of proud feluccas who don’t know where they’re headed,    only that a motion is etched there, shaking to be free.

  

两个碎片        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        1        伊迪丝和朱利安    在等待，被山上的其他人    等待，是的。        但我要从哪个畅通无阻的阅兵场    到达那座山？    因为说出坐标    是简单的    当他们问候你，    不像在生活中，    不是街道。        2        当坩埚    倾斜，里面的东西    向外流动    就像河的嘴巴    取出它的假牙。        没有讣告，更多的袜子。    一个离群的不知其名者    曾经知道你的名字    现在坐在地板上。    现在没有余震。    马鬃毛的眼泪---

TWO PIECES            I        Edith and Julian    waiting, awaited by others    in the hills, yes.        But by what unobstructed parade    ground do I reach that hill?    For it is    simple to say    the coordinates when they greet you,    not like getting on with life,    not the street.        II        When the cauldron is    tipped, whatever    is in it flows outward    like the mouth of a river    taking out its dentures.        No obit, more socks.    And a stray whoosis    that knew your name once    now sits on the floor.    Now no aftershocks.    The horse’s mane tears---

  

友好的城市        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        除非你收起它    否则他再也不能玩它，    木琴，你知道那意味着什么。        我们的城市哀叹我们，或者它    只是似乎如此？阵雨交替而来，    灯柱在空中守护，    植物园里树木干枯的咯咯声？        你是为这个郊区市场    而写，还在那个    线装笔记本上写？    比如：“人不能忍受自己变成什么    但他喜欢舔自己的呕吐物”？    如果那样的话，这个城市可能会在一天的大部分时间里    呆在这里。它喜欢你沉睡的声音，    而不是其他人糟糕的沉默    他们甚至现在阻碍了它的接近，    给这个地方一个坏名字。        哦，如果这是他想要的名字    为什么某人没有说某事？    我们可以很容易地找到他    就像“勃兰登堡的选举人”，    而这座城市最终也可以看到它的    倒影，一座公爵宫殿，被颠覆。

THE FRIENDLY CITY            Unless you put it away    he can never play with it again,    the marimba, and you know what that means.        Our city bemoans us, or does it    only seem to? Showers that come in shifts,    light poles guarded in air,    the dry cackle of trees in the Botanical Gardens?        Was it for this suburban marketplace    you wrote, and are writing still    in that wire-bound notebook?    Things like: “Man cannot stand what he has become    but he loves to lap up his own vomit”？    In that case the city will probably stay around    for most of the day. It likes your sleeping sound,    not the bad silence of the others    who are even now clogging its approaches,    giving the place a bad name.        Oh if it was a name he wanted    why didn’t somebody say something?    We could have found him one so easily    like “Elector of Brandenburg,”    and the city could have seen its reflection    finally, a ducal palace, upended.

  

绝望时刻        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        那个男人，某人的叔叔，走到    那里，障碍物对他说，为什么    你要扰乱宇宙的一个角落    那是你的，在我们任何一个人    被发明之前是你的？        他说我真的不知道我打鼾。    他说我真的发明了一种马蹄药。        但这些都是有形的、懒惰的东西---    那些他们在你出生时给你扮演的    不确定的、苍白的东西又如何？    为什么市中心没有    被称为什么是这个城市的东西？        他说我只看到她盔甲上露出    纯洁的脸颊。这座塔倾斜得    啊比最近过去的二十世纪    还要令人绝望。    为什么它是我的粪堆，我的玫瑰园？    在这句真话中，一切都被藏在仓库，    熨斗，三角帆，甚至两匹马都没有真正注意到。        但那是你的表链，    你那锯齿形的弓形窗户，弯得    的确像弓，这就是为什么他们称它们，    你的小镇，你那四十英亩外的    农场。你的疣。你五年的日记。    你作出决定的意图，一旦它过去。

THE DESPERATE HOURS                The man, someone’s uncle, went down    to where the barrier said to him why    do you disturb a corner of the universe    that is yours that had been yours    before either of us was invented?        He said truly I did not know I snore.    He said truly I invented a hoof medication.        But these are tangible, lazy things---    what about the uncertain, pallid ones    they gave you at birth to play with?    Why did not the city centers    come to be called what is this town?        He said I never saw any but chaste cheeks reflected    in her armor. The tower leans    O more desperately than it has done    these twenty centuries past.    Why is it my dungheap, my rosary?    And in this true saying all are warehoused,    the flatirons, the jib, even the two horses not paying any real attention.        But it is your watch fob,    your crenellated bow window, bent    indeed like a bow, that’s why they call them that,    your small town, your farm of about forty acres    outside it. Your wart. Your five-year diary.    Your intention to have made this once it had passed.

   

剑郭琴符

西方的衰落    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    啊奥斯瓦尔德，啊斯宾格勒，这个发现真是太不幸了！    我的阁楼，我的孩子    不理我，因为紫罗兰色彩条的天空。    柜子里没有干净的盘子    送牛奶的马踮着脚尖走过，好像    怕吵醒我们。    什么！我们的文化已经年老昏聩！    然而这首诗却正好反驳了这一点，    它从集体无意识中弹起来    就像一只黄鼠狼穿过一道栅栏。    我可以指出另一个极端，无论是在陆地上    还是在海上，那里的海浪会像一个人吃花生一样    啃咬着你刻板的理论。说，虽然，    我们没有例外，    而且，就像胸衣上方的胸部曲线一样，    我们的抛物线寻找并找到光明，从    不太远的地方返回。同上，我们    浪费的时间：雏菊，光的硬币。    最后他敲定了    我们应该知道但不想要的事情。    为此，我们应该心存感激，    为此那块红帽子    在雪中被荆棘捕捉。    他的书，我在什么地方看到的，我买的。    我从没读过它，因为它看起来太长了。    虽然他的理论，我与它战斗    虽然它喷出我的歌，    现在滑板无可挑剔地    停止。我们在交换位置的    地方。啊，谁能尝到这份爱的外壳？

THE DECLINE OF THE WEST    O Oswald, O Spengler, this is very sad to find!    My attic, my children    ignore me for the violet-banded sky.    There are no clean platters in the cupboard    and the milkman’s horse tiptoes by, as though    afraid to wake us.    What! Our culture in its dotage!    Yet this very poem refutes it,    springing up out of the collective unconscious    like a weasel through a grating.    I could point to other extremities, both on land    and at sea, where the waves will gnash your stark theories    like a person eating a peanut. Say, though,    that we are not exceptional,    that, like the curve of a breast above a bodice,    our parabolas seek and find the light, returning    from not too far away. Ditto the hours    we’ve squandered: daisies, coins of light.    In the end he hammered out    what it was not wanted we should know.    For that we should be grateful,    and for that patch of a red ridinghood    caught in brambles against the snow.    His book, I saw it somewhere and I bought it.    I never read it for it seemed too long.    His theory though, I fought it    though it spritzes my song,    and now the skateboard stops    impeccably. We are where we exchanged    positions. O who could taste the crust of this love?

群岛    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    嘿，伙计们，向    姐妹岛跑去怎么样？    你能从你站的地方看到它们---    你愿意用幻觉来换取    泥土肿块下沉的感觉吗？    水仙花    采取行动，同样，不像真实地，金盏花    出现要晚得多，一般来说。但我发誓，    它们在那儿。    她说，我可以给你一些吗？    他的纠缠如此困惑他，    他说的只是“一路上的船。”    真的，有那么多种类的东西，    当你想起来的时候，它会让你停下来，    这是所有的时间，真的---啊，没有“意识地”，    那将是一种浪费，但在诡诈的角落，    像一只兔子坐直，等待什么？    我们可以学习绘画和算术，而标志    仍然很遥远，就像一个油漆过的标志    在建筑物的一侧褪色。哦，要知道的太多了。    如果仅仅我们不是守旧的人，能像吞下药丸一样    吞下一个词，深思熟虑地延伸到    所有别的词，像太阳跟在山丘上的    云影后面，我们的篮子会满，    太成熟以至于不能拆开，但又太空余不能睡，    温度也会恰到好处。    求主怜悯!相反，我被无数的学生围观，    他们成群结队,退到这个地平线和下一个---    所有的岛屿都感受到了，    它们的休息被马驹敲打的膝盖,    被风筝的尖叫声所扰乱。想想看，我    本可以把它拆开，    舒适地蜷伏在树屋里，我的计划    开放给世界的临时检查，像一只解开拉锁的苍蝇---    但是告诉我们，你一定有过比这更多的经历？    哦，交叉孵化的雨，从我的鱼尾纹扇出，    总是平静下来的愤怒的大海，    以微笑结束的争论。    这是恋人的脚适合的轨道。    但最后他们朝你挥手。

THE ARCHIPELAGO    Well, folks, and how    about a run for the sister islands?    You can see them from where you stand---    will you barter vision for the sinking feeling    of lumps of clay?    The daffodils    were out in force, as were, improbably,the nasturtiums,    which come along much later, as a rule.But so help me,    there they were.    She said, may I offer you some?    His tangling so flummoxed him,    all he said was “Boats along the way.”    Really, there are so many kinds of everything    it halts you when you think about it,    which is all the time, really---oh, not consciously,    that would be a waste, but in sly corners,    like a rabbit sitting up straight, waiting for what?    We can study drawing and arithmetic, and the signs    are still far away, like a painted sign    fading on the side of a building. Oh, there is so much to know.    If only we weren’t old-fashioned, and could swallow    one word like a pill, and it would branch out thoughtfully    to all the other words, like the sun following behind the cloud shadow    on a hummock, and our basket would be full,    too ripe for the undoing, yet too spare for sleep,    and the temperature would be exactly right.    Miserere! Instead I am browsed on by endless students,    clumps of them, receding to this horizon and the next one—    all the islands have felt it,    have had their rest disturbed by the knocking knees of foals,    by kites’ shrieking. And to think I could have had it    for the undoing of it,    snug in the tree house, my plans    open to the world’s casual inspection, like an unzipped fly---    but tell us, you must have had more experiences than that?    Oh the cross-hatched rain, fanning out from my crow’s-feet,    the angry sea that always calms down,    the argument that ended in a smile.    These are tracks that lovers’ feet fit.    But at the end they flag you down.

涂胶的援军    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    同样，一起被困在一个…    你想不想要一个？    成长就是这样，    倚靠在风中，一分钱也没有。    我们有最美好的童年，    和午餐---它甚至更美好。    我只花了4.75美元买了我的。    一种尴尬，考虑到    这对我来说也是一种尴尬。    然后他嬉戏着说，无论发生什么    发生在梦里，    十一次，十二次，十五次一天。    有时当你离开    它发生在晚上，    整晚。    我们曾经失去的孩子    知道如何不断地重复他们学到的    碎片，知道回到我们的路，    我们，作为盗墓贼，盗一家以蛋糕为中心的    旧糖果店：一家野性的，    脆弱的一家。因此读这个：    一个太阳，如任何一个一样温和，在某处有着钻石尖端般的    后果。一种沉思的气氛，也许…    对！蛋糕是方形的！    你怎么猜测？一直以来，一只    鹳正爬上楼梯    来到它的凉亭，被家具    和最后一分钟的准备弄伤了。没有人    来签名其登记表。    大鼓里没有一个人    溃疡折叠起来，看着    你真实的刻薄的样子。    而我和梦仍然只是熟人    过了这么久，一个世纪，似乎，    从阿肯色州。山羊及时挤奶    为你的手放牧吗？那时暴风雪结束了吗？    那些画天堂门廊的人    在我们所有想法上放了减音器，像爱的    极端创造。你们听到了我，女士们---    从前纯粹的真实，摇曳着，    在大地上匆匆离去。    那群强盗没有离开。    宁愿是日落，如果足够    无情。但不是。数一数鸽子、人，人，    城里人，向四面八方跑得飞快。    在这里为金雀花毛毯签名，请。

GUMMED REINFORCEMENTS    Insame, trapped together in a ...    How would you like one?    Growing up is what it is,    leaning into the wind, without a cent.    We had the most beautiful childhood    and lunch---that’s even better.    I only paid $4.75 for mine.    An embarrassment, considering    it would be an embarrassment for me too.    Then he frolicked and said, whatever happens    happens in a dream,    eleven, twelve, fifteen times a day.    Sometimes when you are away    it happens at night,    all night.    Children we had lost once    know how to keep repeating the piece    they learned, knew the way back to us,    us, as grave robbers, of an old candy store    with a cake as centerpiece: a wild,    fragile one. Therefore read this:    a sun, mild as any, with diamond-tipped consequences    somewhere. An atmosphere of brooding, perhaps ...    Yes! And the cake was square!    How did you guess? And all along, a    stork was creeping up the stair    to its bower, injured by the furniture    and last-minute preparations. Nobody    came to sign its register.    There was no one in the large drum    a canker folded over, looking    at you real mean-like.    And I and the dream are still only acquaintances    after all this time, a century, it seems,    from Arkansas. Did the goats get milked in time    for your hand to graze it? Was the squall over then?    Those who paint the heavenly porch    put a damper on all our ideas, extreme creations    like love. You heard me, ladies---    past and pure truth, swaying,    light out over the land.    The crowd of robbers doesn’t go away.    It would rather be sunset, if that were inexorable    enough. But it’s not. Count the pigeons, the people,    townspeople, running fast in all directions.    Sign here for the blanket of furze, please.

聚焦美国    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    我必须镇定自若地前进。    我应该到处购物。    毕竟，比较购物是这个地方的    全部。我想。这些很脆。    没有什么像黑暗中的大陌生人一样    “集中注意力，”正如约翰逊博士所说。    威尼斯窗帘是用来密切注视的---    另一个去那儿了！    如果宣言中没有和平    它们可能成为装饰品。毕竟，迷信    曾经如此，它们不是很像历史，    甚至是一样的东西吗？    那时候，当有人说“毯子里的猪”，    这些移动的穿着北欧衣裳的动物    就会合并。今天，其他的雕塑作品    从远和近，近和远，    正在向历史的漩涡加速。    好吧，让他们试试。如果一些老专业人士    想要，让他们也试试。让这脆弱的    过去时刻成为最后一个知道的时刻，像往常一样。

SPOTLIGHT ON AMERICA    I must proceed unflustered.    I should have shopped around.    After all, comparison shopping is what this place’s    all about. I think. These are very crisp.    Nothing like a big stranger in the dark    “to concentrate the mind,” as Dr. Johnson said.    Venetian blinds are for keeping close watch on---    there goes another one!    And if there is no peace in declarations    they may become ornaments. After all, superstitions    did once, and aren’t they very like history,    even the same thing as?    Back then when someone said “Pigs in a blanket,”    these shifting animals in nordic drapery    would coalesce. Today, other pieces of statuary    from far and near, near and far,    are hastening toward the whirlpool of history.    Well, let them try it. And if a few old pros    want it, let them try it too. Let this frangible    passing moment be the last to know, as usual.

你什么时候叫它什么    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    火预示着它    就像女人在这甲板上意味着    很多东西---    这就是为什么讨厌的人物    他知道出自于隐藏    火最终会燃烧得很快    提供了光滑但起皱的边缘    那么多的平坦需要    从大草原的    厨房景观可以开始：    令人惊讶的木瓜    角落里的饮料    所以一切都将是一个红色或蓝色的标志    老年的沟渠扫污机    青春的刺客    绅士行走：    这个企业的受托人。    从一英斗珍珠中挑出一颗并不难。需要的是让我们回到正轨，轻轻地撒尿，因为某些剧院而不是我们自己。一些不是我们的庇护所。    他们笑了，开始围成一个圈跳舞，头在颠簸，脚踝在清扫，这是同样一种古老的私人舞蹈，是对没有早点开花的悔恨，也是今天的毒药，在藤蔓下，纠正这种姿态。    集市和圆顶尽管有一托盘浮雕拂过，无形的扣押，就像人群没有找到他们要找的东西的时候。    所以我终于来找你看这部喜剧了，在这里，我没有遗憾，只有沉默，秘密，还有很久以前送给我的面具。我在这几个部分的段落中重复着，现在还不准备回家。

WHAT DO YOU CALL IT WHEN    The fire betokened it    as a woman means many things    in this deck---    that’s why unsavory characters    He knew that out of hiding    the fire would burn fast at last    providing the smooth yet crinkled edge    so much flatness requires    that from savannas    the kitchen landscape may begin:    amazed quinces    the drink on the corner    so everything would be a red or a blue sign    Crowders-out of old age    assassins of youth    gentlemen walking:    the trustees of this enterprise.    It is not difficult to single out one pearl in a bushel of them. What’s needed is to set us back on the track, having gently peed, and that for some orpheum other than ourselves. Some shelter that is not us.    They laughed and began to dance in a ring, heads bobbing, ankles sweeping, the same old private dance that is remorse for not having blossomed sooner and the poison of this day, under vines, to correct that stance.    Fairs and cupolas notwithstanding it is a tray of cameos to be brushed past, the invisible seizure, as when crowds don’t find what they are looking for.    So I came at last to you for the comedy of it, and in this I have no regrets, only silences, secrets, and the mask that was sent me long ago. I repeat it in paragraphs in these parts and am not ready to go home yet.

快乐船    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    一次又一次地洗它。    这个等式漂流。    在企鹅中打滚，    她在企鹅中打滚。    以恶魔般的聪明    前景逼近了。    四叶苜蓿迷失。

PLEASURE BOATS    Wash it again and yet again.    The equation drifts.    Wallowing in penguins,    she was wallowing in penguins.    With fiendish cleverness    the foreground closes in.    The four-leaf clover loses.

剑郭琴符

漂亮的问题    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    这两个公园连接，    属于夏天的土地，    属于裹尸布和颜色，    红色的希望。    你现在长大了要写小说？    他在餐桌上等了好几年，    没有毒刺失去。    旅行经纪人应该减少旅行吗？    女孩们永远无法远离火山，可能。    任何人没有任何？    看，它就像木板之间的柏油，    轮廓，虽然没有力量或目的---    只是用来    拖拽，携带，以满足费用的    东西。这一分钟的损失    被要求：    在我要告诉你们的某种程度上，    在需要退出之前，    昨晚已经结束了。    他们拿着冰激凌工具向我走来。    在这儿你先阅读它。    为什么你都是蓝色的，    你的鞋子也是蓝色的，    包围我们的那桶空间也是。    也许一切都是。    我们应该想要它是。    救命。我不得不去洗手间    为什么，这是你的不同，当然，    你必须从公园    下来，金雀花的香味，    令人愉快的树梢。    这其中没有多少曾经是我的    但其中一些必须是    我投入其中的光芒。    继续。我会继续这样做    如果我们能在一起，一起玩。    这两座山都是我的。    它们现在是你的。    也就是说，如果你想要的话，你可以拥有它们    以及随之而来的那一天。

PRETTY QUESTIONS    The two parks interfaced,    of summer earth,    of shroud and color,    red hope.    Are you growing up to write your novel now?    He’d been waiting on tables for several years,    lost without a stinger.    Should travel agents travel less?    The girls can never be free of the volcanoes，might.    Anybody not having any?    See, it was like tar between the boards,    outlines, though without force or purpose---    just things to drag    along, carry along, to meet a fee    with. And the damage    during the minute was requested:    that it was over last night    before quitting was necessary,    in a certain way that I was going to tell you about.    They came at me with ice-cream implements.    You read it first here.    Why you are all blue,    your shoes are too,    so is the barrel of space that encloses us.    Maybe everything is.    We should want it to be.    Help. I have to go to the bathroom    Why, there’s your difference, of course,    your having to come down    from the park, gorse-scented,    and the pleasing treetops.    Not much of this was ever mine    but some of it had to be for    me to invest it with a shine.    Go on. I’ll go on doing that    if we can stay together, play together.    The two mountains were all mine.    They are yours now.    That is, you can have them if you want them    and the day that comes with them.

无路的游荡    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    而我，有效的毁灭，    从前一个梯子，没有宽恕    给予欺负者，因为他们正在    从学校腾空，在玫瑰的时间。    似乎我长得太高。    大多数男人都有毛病。    女人们，然而，充满了同情心    在最后一次草地网球比赛的地方。    在睡梦中，我和我亲爱的同伴    分享眼泪和面包。我们三岁了，    印着那个时代的精湛技艺。    我可以告诉你现在没有一个样品重要。    潮水一度来得也太频繁了。    我们跪在一个巨大的定音鼓前    祈祷，芦苇的姿态    完善了探照灯弯曲的抓握，睡在东西后面。    这就是我们的一切…    然后，当我看到球落下    感觉空气因我的包装而变脆时    我做了在你面前的别人所做的事情：    在你看来，就像一只乌鸦在梦中    冲走了所有的风景，现在和将来。    鸟儿不喜欢洗澡太糟糕。    我喜欢便宜一点，    而且要准确地找零，    牙齿为这肉。

PATHLESS WANDERINGS    Whereas I, efficacious ruin,    in former times a ladder, no quarter    gave to the bullies as they were emptying out    of school, in the time of roses.    It seems I grew exceeding tall.    There was something wrong with most men.    Women, however, were overcome with sympathy    where the last lawn tennis had been.    In my sleep I shared tears and bread    with my loving companions. We were three,    stamped with the bravura of those times.    I can tell you not one swatch matters now.    The tide has come in once too often.    We kneel to say our prayers    to an enormous kettledrum. The reeds’ stance    perfects the searchlight’s curving grasp, sleeps behind things.    Which is what we all ...    Then when I saw the ball descending    and felt the air crisped for the packaging of me    I did what others before you have done:    appeared to you as a raven in a dream    that washed away all landscapes, now and to come.    Too bad the birds don’t like their bath.    I like it cheaper,    and to have the exact change,    teeth for this meat.

第一次听施雷克的《寻宝者》    （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符    灵魂迷茫的女人不停地呼唤。    “有什么”？既然你在檀香山，你就得尽情享受    不管他们在大街上向你扔什么    食物。哦，但我的过去是歌剧般的    你看，闪光，眨眼和闪烁，    都在我的骨头里。非理性行为的霸权    总是让当时非常坚定的重装步兵感到惊讶，    他们在树林中呻吟。或者你更喜欢    大海？这个空的，砾石硬壳的院子怎么样？    请看大海。增进理解的时期。    像男性情谊这样的事情是不存在的。    “另一方面”，马尾辫是小马穿的东西。    啮合的驴子们，我们在含盐空气的阳光下搜身。很明显，今天很多东西    都不可能存在；我们应该为此心存感激    收拾我们的房间，因为今晚的夜晚将是光明的，    比起受不了的，我们中更少会被挑选、    检查、残酷地扔到角落里，就像丢失了一个    或多个四肢的布娃娃。说，那么，    你来这儿的时候想要什么？    是不是要颠覆我们的狡猾，我们的欲望，    让它们回到我们，在一个有缺口的口袋镜子里的倒影？    如果是这样，那么为什么要把我们    用作指示器？我们的光环不安全，    大约我们想，于是我们被教导。那些放牧它们的人    总是会感到悲伤。    但这就是生活的意义，不是吗？    所以你的到来加速了我们应得的惩罚。    在某个坑里一个人和一个呆子离开。    我们可以有，有，我说，    任何多余的障碍来到我们的道路。    但要简短。剩下被询问的将在结语中    为我们解释，在屋檐下没被加热的爬行空间里。    愚人的时代来临了。光环在运行。

ON FIRST LISTENING TO SCHREKER'S Der Schatzgräber    The woman with the confused soul keeps calling.    Was gibt es? Now that you’re in Honolulu you’ve got to live it up    no matter what kind of grub they throw at you    on Main Street. O but my past is operatic    you see, the glitter, wink and shimmer,    all are in my bones. The hegemony of irrational    behavior always leaves the by-then-very-determined hoplites astonished,    they moan in groves. Or do you prefer    the sea? How about this empty, gravel-encrusted courtyard?    The sea please. A time of increased understanding.    Such things as male bonding didn’t exist.    En revanche, ponytails were something small horses wore.    Asses in gear, we frisked in salt-air sunlight. Obviously a whole lot    aren’t going to exist today; we should be thankful for it    and pick up our rooms, for tonight the night will be bright,    fewer of us than can stand it will be chosen,    examined, tossed cruelly into corners like rag dolls    missing one or more limbs. Say, then,    what did you want when you came here?    Was it to subvert our cunning, our lust,    and turn them back on us, reflections in a chipped pocket mirror?    And if so why then utilize us    as indicators? Our auras are unsafe,    or so we think, so we have been taught.And those who graze them    invariably come to grief.    But that’s just what life’s about, isn’t it?    So your coming sped our just deserts.    One is off with a nerd in a pothole somewhere.    And we can have, have, I say,    whatever surplus barriers come our way.    But be brief. What remains to be quizzed will be spelled out for us    in the epilogue, in the unheated crawl space under the eaves.    The time of the fool approaches. And an aureole is running.

剑郭琴符

恐龙之乡        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        于是，洗了个澡，说了几个蹩脚的词，    那陌生人安顿下来。就这样，    夜晚的懒汉---青绿色小鹦鹉，长柄扒    小贩，拒绝受理。        每个人都在等待发生在    亿万年前的那个“大”日子    或者绝对的明天---随你挑---    同时在桑拿比赛中避开    隧道视野。新的紫色浴巾    在这里！        但是，如果在一个微妙的    充满天空的白昼中，一些浮沫到达你，比方说：    “天哪！谁都开不起玩笑吗？    我只是在探问太太，那十个    可爱的，模糊的孤儿在吹口哨让皮毛飞。    现在我在一个孤岛上，在一条以自我为中心的河里    带有艾迪生和斯蒂尔的精选散文    还有足够的军用应急口粮，可以持续到米迦勒节    和它的雏菊，它们，顺便，    只为我开花。”        我想没有人知道我和朱尼尔之间的约定。    但一名下车的妇女扭伤了脚踝，大声喊道：    “最后一次！我的住所不再是你的炉子    不管你多么喜欢它那精致的糖霜花式小蛋糕。”        然后有一次    你只是开玩笑地走到    我跟前，把你的手腕放在    我的肩膀上，低声说了    关于罗马人的消息：他们又赢了，    而且，更重要的是，赢在一个    超越恐龙时代的时代    差不多这一刻的快乐    嘲笑你的自由获得，你亮出你的运动衫    让乡下每个人都能看到，并坚持下去。    是的，还有阴影，但是    便宜，比起你为    不否认风帆向你飞来    而付出的代价，因为甚至没有适应    白发的杂技演员。

DINOSAUR COUNTRY               So, with a bath and tin words,    the stranger settled in. Just so,    the evening idlers---lorikeets, back-    scratcher vendors, declined to take cognizance.        Everyone waits for the BIG day    that happened billions of years ago    or is definitely tomorrow---take your pick---    while fending off tunnel vision in the race    for the sauna. The new purple bath towels    are here!        But what if on a subtle    sky-ridden day some scum comes up to you and sez:    “Jeez! Can’t anybody take a joke anymore?    I was only asking after the missus and those ten    dear, dim orphans whistled for the fur to fly.    Now I’m on an island in a self-engrossed river    with the selected essays of Addison and Steele    and enough K rations to last till Michaelmas    and its daisies, which, incidentally,    bloom only for me.”        I’d thought no one knew about the pact between me and Junior.    But a woman getting off a bus twisted her ankle and shouted:    “For the last time! My dwelling place is no longer your oven    no matter how much you fancy its delicately frosted petits fours.”        And then there was the time    when you just joked coming    up to me, laid your wrist on    my shoulder and whispered the news about    the Romans: They’d won again,    and, what was more to the point, done so    in an era that surpassed the age of the dinosaurs    by as much as this minute moment of pleasure    scoffs at you for the taking, and you flash your sweatshirt    for everyone in the country to see, and hold on to.    Yes, there are shadows still, but    cheap compared to the price you’d pay for not gainsaying    that sail swooping toward you, for not getting even    with the white-haired acrobats.

  

背风        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        向上，上升，    半影，    所有人都能看到。        天堂是敞开的---    不要搞错。    那一排书    刚刚自己滑过去了，    一个家伙，一个矮胖的家伙，    过来看了看，冷笑，    窃笑，再离开---但是，    哎哟！在这个等式中    有其他的线索，他现在看到了，还不算    太晚。在其他条件相同的情况下，    绿色变质，    可以得到控制。        只穿对你的衬衫。    再洗    但又一次。    那只熊仍然围着    你卖掉的他的遮挡，    不知道孩子们为什么害怕他。    要求安全行为是不是    太多，是的，对他来说也是    在夜晚的滑稽中    我们都必须穿    一段时间？

LEEWARD                Up, up it rises,    the penumbra,    for all to see.        Heaven is open---    make no mistake.    That row of books    just slid over by itself,    and a guy, a tubby guy,    came to look at it, sneer,    snicker, be off again---only,    ouch! There are other strands    in that equation, he sees now, not    too late. The green spoilage,    all other things being equal,    may be contained.        Only wear your shirt right.    Wash it again    and yet again.    The bear is still around    whose hide you sold,    wondering why children fear him.    Is it too much to ask    safe conduct, yes, for him too    in the travesty of night    we all must wear    for a while?

  

签名后的花笔        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        我得在这段    签名。在公共汽车开动前    你不能用完的书写片段。我想喝啤酒，    丰盛的啤酒。        一个人感到很安全，读着    报纸的边缘。    更多的学校出现。超载。    命运与漫画。二不能假扮    为一。在外面的盒子里    高尔夫球场没有消失。        测试区的灌溉点    保证了一个平庸的结果。我们可以跟着它    跳舞。        我们读不到边缘，边缘    在我们读完前更白。    看看这个。没有情况    出现的情况。        密码锁在你的喉咙里。    我们该走了，否则    鸟儿会责骂我们，    没有铃声打破。

PARAPH            I have to sign my name    to this paragraph. Writing pieces you can’t use up    till the bus starts. I feel like a beer,    buxom brew.        One felt secure, reading    the edge of a newspaper.    More schools come out. An overload.    Destiny and the comics. Two can’t play    as one. In the box outside    the golf course hasn’t disappeared.        Spot watering of test areas    guarantees a mediocre result. We can dance    to it.        We can’t read around the edge, the rim    is whiter before we were done.    Check this out. A situation    in which no situations appear.        And the code is locked in your throat.    We should be leaving or    the bird will chide us,    no chime break.

  

不打算回程        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        你手上的无知是八月，    是白色的八月。呼吸，但在一块石头上    一个共同的如愿以偿被扭转。    所有这些你支付了太多的晚餐---    不值得写？然后星体的行走    恢复。男人是玩具。我以前    接到过通知。        或者在八月的灌木丛前停下来    男人们自然的恐惧感    也在这里扎根，比以前更大    但不仅仅如此。乘船兜风。        我给予陌生人---使得，我对陌生人悲伤，    不求反驳，不求责备。那蠢货    又疯了。星星的金子是多么    柔韧！我们盯着看，留下来，然后分手。    这是有原因的，但它被关在    坟墓里，某个地方。        哦，有时风会从这里呼啸而过。    天哪，是吗？难道这些恩怨不能    永远消除，像蕾丝内裤一样？    我们不能盯着来抓我们的楼梯    往下看吗？如果我们有正确的眼光    一切都可能是世俗的，简单的。    但灵魂并没有从事贸易。    它是睡眠和睡眠的天气    编织的。忘记隐藏的东西。

NOT PLANNING A TRIP BACK                And the ignorance on your hands is August,    is white August. Breathe but on a stone    and a common wish-fulfillment is put in reverse.    All these dinners you paid too much for---    not worth writing about? Then the astral walk    resumes. Men are playthings. I’ve been    notified before.        Or pause before a bush in August,    and the trepidation that is natural in men    takes root here too, is bigger than before    but not so just. Take a boat ride.        I give to strangers---make that, I grieve to strangers,    asking no rebuttal, no rebuke. The jackass    is off his rocker again. How pliant the gold of the stars    is! We stare and stay, then part anyway.    There’s a reason for this, but it’s shut up    in a tomb, somewhere.        Oh the wind whips through here sometimes.    Gosh， does it? Can’t these feuds    ever be removed, like lace panties?    Can’t we stare down the stair    that’s coming to get us? If we had the right look    everything could be secular, and easy.    But the soul isn’t engaged in trade.    It’s woven of sleep and the weather    of sleep. Forgets what there is to hide.

  

穿卢莱克斯的男人        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        现在只是大约几天的事。    孩子眼睛上的光泽说明了这一点。    她说早上之前回来。    哦，回来！回来，好让我的敌人看到我    懒洋洋地靠在葡萄乔木上。        一旦我们给了我们兄弟呼吸    哪座山会把我们带下去？    他喜欢正式的：奏鸣曲和结花园    和比人们预期的更多的方式：    疏远，无所事事。        再往下看：怀疑的经济学，    这个外壳，让一些人停了下来。    对我们来说，它就是十足的概念，家的    味道。因为雪鞋是为雪准备的。

MAN IN LUREX                    It’s only a matter of days now.    The luster on the child’s eye says so.    Be back before morning she says.    O return! Return so that my enemies may see me    lolling in the grape arbor.        Once we’re given our brother a breather    where is the hill that will take us down?    He loved the formal: sonatas and knot gardens    and more manner than one had anticipated:    alienating, idled.        Down farther: the economics of doubt,    this carapace, gives pause to some.    For us it is the very concept, the scent    of home. As snow shoes are meant for snow.

  

与此同时，亲爱的        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        是时候出去    走走。    一个人醒来，希望他死了。        每个人都有一种庄严的感觉    除非你把它收起来。    他说，继续预言。        继续听，因为    偷听是写作的唯一方法。    啊所以你又在写手册。        我想了想脚踝。    然后大海冲了过去。    飓风查理和他妹妹    见到我们真高兴。        有时会有一种    钻石般纯净的眩晕。    这些和其他的可以稍后再送来。        不是他嘴里的食物。    他会听到其他人可能会适合    然后就逐渐离去。        翼手龙仍然出没于    种族棒球场。    这样更好，    就在这扇窗户里    夜幕降临。

IN THE MEANTIME，DARLING                The time is for going out    and across.    One woke up and wished he was dead.        There is for everyone a solemn feeling    unless you put it away.    Go on adumbrating he said.        Go on listening because    eavesdropping is the only way to write.    O so you’re doing a handbook again.        Thought I’d ankle over.    Then the sea rushed past.    Hurricane Charlie and his sister    sure were glad to see us.        At times there is a daze    with a diamond-like purity.    These and others could be sent for later.        It’s not the food in his mouth.    He’d hear others could become    and just drift away.        Pterodactyls still haunt    the ethnic ballpark.    It’s better this way,    just inside this window    as night approaches.

  

刚刚开始        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        关于这一不幸的指控：    他们会跑出去呆一分钟，    表现出必要的吝啬，    裹在毯子里。        这就是他们和她对你和我的看法。    但我们当然是一种商贩，    和实际的漂流没有关系，所以    当它变得更穷，勺子被出售    我们站在我们的后巷，懊恼    画在我们脸上的辉煌。        我不知道是什么让我写了这首诗    或其他（我的意思是，为什么人们要写？），    除非你在我梦中对我说话    我回答你醒来    睡与醒的事情开始了。        不管我怎么努力    我都不能再骑三轮车回来了。    看，一条鱼来救我们了。    一片风帆向我们的方向勇敢地点头。    也许不重要终究不是什么坏事。

JUST FOR STARTERS                Charges about this unhappiness:    They would run out and stay a minute,    exhibit the requisite stinginess,    roll up in a blanket.        That’s how they and she looked to you and me.    But of course we were vendors of a sort,    tied to no actual drift, and so    when it became poorer and spoons were put up for sale    we stood in our back alleys, chagrin    painted brilliantly on our faces.        I don’t know what got me to write this poem    or any other (I mean, why does one write?),    unless you spoke to me in my dream    and I replied to your waking    and the affair of sleeping and waking began.        No matter how hard I try    I can’t get back on the tricycle.    Look, a fish is coming to save us.    A sail nods gallantly in our direction.    Maybe unimportance isn’t such a bad thing after all.

  

凤梨        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        在我最初为怪人时代的哲学中    感觉就像一把竖琴被拨动。    如何不回应这些建议，如果这就是它们所是的东西，    就像微风吹拂草叶，    像重要的三角洲从一个点    像一个最小的遭遇扇出。        这就是我如何面对并远离    幸运岛，来到这个时空上    没有两个东西占据同一轮廓的    十字路口。似乎    抚养你长大的人为了你的最大利益抛弃你    从而引发启蒙危机---    然后从家具后面跳起来，从壁橱里    尖叫，“惊奇！惊奇！”但还不清楚    谁在这个过程中变老了。我    越往镜子里看，越往它表面涌进的纹理看，直到另一个我    似乎粗鲁地转过身来面对我，准备    最后回答那些很久以前提出的问题…        我们会有所成就吗？不太可能。    但是，由于椋鸟出现有模式，成对，这    似乎“确实”意味着什么，在这个世纪    被遗忘之前，你不应该呆在你的洞穴里。    那谁该付钱给摄影师？    我有没有告诉过你，你的印刷品已经准备好了，    你看起来像一个退休的巫师一样鲁莽    像春天的第一个山墙一样疲倦？

BROMELIADS                In my original philosophy for the age of gink    it felt like a harp was being plucked.    How not to respond to those suggestions, if that’s what they are,    like little breezes lifting grass and leaves,    as a delta of mattering fans out from    a point like a minimal encounter.        That’s how I faced up and got far away    from the lucky island and arrived at this place of crossings    where no two things occupy the same outline    in both space and time. It’s as if the people    who brought you up were to abandon you in your best interests    so as to bring on a crisis of enlightenment---    and then jump up from behind furniture and out of closets    screaming, “Surprise! Surprise!” But it’s not clear    just who ages in the process. I look ever closer    into the mirror, into the poured grain of its surface, until another I    seems to have turned brusquely to face me, ready    to reply at last to those questions put long ago ...        Will we achieve anything? Not likely.    But as starlings occur in patterns, and in pairs, it    seems that does mean something and you shouldn’t stay    in your cave until this century is forgotten.    Who’d pay the photographer then?    Did I tell you your prints are ready,    that you look as reckless as an enchanter emeritus    and weary as the first gables of spring?

   

剑郭琴符

商业广告        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        注意价值观。剩下的就是购物，    援助岛屿    他们拥有的一点点珊瑚。        告诉我…你选择了虾鸡尾酒。    我的鞋子里    没有沙子。女巫斜视着火。

COMMERCIAL BREAK                Take care of values. The rest is shopping,    aiding the islands    for what little coral they possess.        Tell me ... You opted for the shrimp cocktail.    I have no more    sand in my shoes. The witch squints at the fire.

  

西西里的鸟        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        香水爬进了我的树。    它被赋予红发精灵：    音乐几乎充分    表达的词语。    当时车站里的    交响乐，到处都是想听听的人    其他人努力逃走。一个“努力”的    情况，也许，但没有人比以前更糟糕。        马在泥泞里跋涉---地狱，    这对他们来说很正常。        还有我们曾经租过的那个夏天的小屋---记得    虫子是怎么从屏风里进来的，而且    一切都不像它应该的那样？    现在人们有车来做这类事情，    把它们带走，我是说，    我想。    无论人们把他巨大的脚放在哪里    花瓣都会涌现，人造的躯干，    裁缝的人体模型。一张古老的照片    和一台古老的留声机，在雾中的        颂歌。请原谅。房东把我们锁在外面。

SICILIAN BIRD                    The perfume climbs into my tree.    It is given to red-haired sprites:    words that music expresses    almost amply.    The symphony at the station    then, and all over people trying to hear it    and others trying to get away. A “trying”    situation, perhaps, yet no one is worse off than before.        Horses slog through dirt---hell,    it’s normal for ’em.        And that summer cottage we rented once ---remember    how the bugs came in through the screens, and    all was not as it was supposed to be?    Nowadays people have cars for things like that,    to carry them away, I mean,    I suppose.    And wherever man sets his giant foot    petals spring up, and artificial torsos,    dressmaker’s dummies. And an ancient photograph    and an ancient phonograph, that carols        in mist. Pardon. The landlord locked us out.

  

一对蠢货        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        “但是他做什么，河流，    没人知道。”    ---荷尔德林，“伊斯特河 ”（1）        事实上，上光剂的意图    在汤被钉住后仍然    保持完好。残留物要珍惜：    莱辛老太太给我的日落领带，    是某人雪球的碎片。        你看，东西为我效劳，    有几分，尽管总有更多的事情要做。    但从尼罗河时代起    人类就知道这一点。我们被出口    必须在一个尘土飞扬的广场上    摸索一段时间，直到    一张海报碎片显示出我们想要的线索。    我们必须马上动身去瓦巴什。        果然，在火车边，穿蓝色    制服的自行车信使轻松地保存    并把包裹递给我。    “在他朝圣的日子消失之前,”    我必须仔细想想他到底做了什么：    他的手臂多么柔软，纱线一织好的那一刻    他如何在一片矮林中逐渐消失。        尽管如此，这些年后金鱼缸仍然    像一幅倒映在水面上的    图像。做了我所做的事情    并不是一件坏事，    尽管我能想象出更好的事情，但它仍然    总计比任何人想象的    更多。老鼠从椅子后面    仰慕地看着我；一两只猫    不时严肃地从我腿上或腿下走过。        关键是没有痛苦，    不是在这里，也不是在幕后。        我在战争中的突然收获    现在就像一个梦，一个为孩子    和其他的，食人魔写的梦幻宫殿。    她打破我老板的脑袋。    那一天从木板上反弹绿色。    真的，没什么回报：    口香糖球在分配器里嘎嘎作响，我看到了    午睡的机会而且利用了    就在青蝇恭敬地保持着距离的时候。    ----    （1）荷尔德林《伊斯特河》最后两行，刘皓明译为：        可是那一位会做什么，那条大川，    无人知道。    ---摘自《荷尔德林后期诗歌文本卷-西方传统：经典与解释-(德)荷尔德林.刘皓明译.华东师范大学出版社(2009)》。

MUTT AND JEFF                “But what he does, the river,    Nobody knows.”    ---HöLDERLIN, “The Ister”        Actually the intent of    the polish remained well after    the soup was nailed down. Remnants to cherish:    the sunset tie old Mrs. Lessing gave me,    a fragment of someone’s snowball.        And you see, things work for me,    kind of, though there’s always more to be done.    But man has known that ever since the days    of the Nile. We get exported    and must scrabble around for a while    in some dusty square, until    a poster fragment reveals the intended clue.    We must leave at once for Wabash.        And sure enough, by the train side the blue-    uniformed bicycle messenger kept up easily    and handed me the parcel.    “Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish, ”    I must reflect on exactly what it was he did:    how lithe his arm was, and how he faded    in a coppice the moment the yarn was done.        Still, the goldfish bowl remains    after all these years like an image    reflected on water. It was not a bad thing    to have done what I have done,    though I can imagine better ones, but still    it amounted to more than anyone ever thought    it would. The mouse eyes me admiringly    from behind his chair; the one or two cats    pass gravely over or under my leg from time to time.        The point is there’s no bitterness,    not here, nor behind the scenes.        My sudden fruiting into the war    is like a dream now, a dream palace    written for children and others, ogres.    She was braining my boss.    The day bounced green off its boards.    There’s nothing to return, really:    Gumballs rattled in the dispenser, I saw    my chance for a siesta and took it    as bluebottles kept a respectful distance.

  

考文垂        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        “有一个被赶出家门    另一个在一个晚熟生长的池塘边玩耍，    一个烫伤了他的手。”    现在，他说，请否认曾经有过房子。    但是有一幢，在里面你是我的镜子。        这些线条几乎传达了它的舒适，    所有的东西是如何以它们的方式在一起适应的。    但很有趣，我们离开了它---    她的地址，她的红裙子。        只是经常呆在乡下。    你没有房子。树没有帐篷的站着，    大理石地板出汗…    也是一种错觉。        好东西。好运气。    你得留在考文垂。        但我已经在那里，我抗拒。    再说，难道没有一个树叶或火车想要我    我在那里时停止干的一切，    真的在那里？然而，我是谁让任何东西，    任何人等待？所以我们    在接近城市时分头行动。        我的路沿着笔直的林荫道    它们变成了大街，每个角落都有一桶桶垃圾    在燃烧。天空是黑暗的，但里面蓝色的光线    使我鼓起勇气，直到手表的弹簧    坏了。你看，有人把它伤得太重了。    然后，我只能对奇怪的砖头傻笑，    住宅的角落，建筑物出租。    我晕过去了，亲爱的。        我再也没见过你    除了有一次快速    穿过维多利亚车站    在节日火炬的照耀下    但却奇怪地沉默寡言，毫无声息    像这里所有堵塞我们的睡眠和游戏。

COVENTRY                There was one who was put out of his house    and another that played by a pond    of a lateness growing,    one that scalded his hand.    And now, he said, please deny there was ever a house.    But there was one and you were my mirror in it.        These lines almost convey the comfort of it,    how all things fitted together in their way.    But it was funny and we left it---    her address, her red dress.        Just stay out in the country a lot.    You have no house. The trees stand tentless,    the marmoreal floors sweating ...    A delusion too.        Good thing. Good luck.    You’d have to stay in Coventry.    But I’m already there, I protested.    Besides, doesn’t any leaf or train want me    for what I’ll have stopped doing when I’m there,    truly there? Yet who am I to keep anything,    any person waiting? So we diverged    as we approached the city.        My way was along straight boulevards    that became avenues, with barrels of trash burning    at each corner. The sky was dark but the blue light in it    kept my courage up, until the watch spring    broke. Someone had wound it too tight, you see.    Then I could only giggle at the odd bricks,    corners of tenements, buildings to be leased.    I fainted, honey.        And I never saw you again    except once walking fast    across the Victorian station    lit by holiday flares    yet strangely dumb and rumorless    like all the sleep and games that jammed us here.

   

剑郭琴符

星星在闪烁        （选自And the Stars Were Shining）    作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）    译者:剑郭琴符        1        那是至日，它像一只友好的狗一样扑向你。    星星还在外面的田野里，    童妓们做着他们的生意，    唯一快乐的一件事，学到了苦恼如何刺入    也不会冒着被交易一首歌或一个气球的风险。    圣诞节办公室里的装饰    被工作人员跌倒在视频终端弄皱了，    在孤儿收容所里，沮丧明确表达差异性    那里咖啡会永久地渗透，上帝不是光    而是上帝，对“他自己”就像我们对“他”一样神秘。        比如说，另一天，花环散开    在海洋空气的新鲜感觉中，    好奇的海鸥从很远的地方滑行    以确保没有什么东西比它那一份鹅卵石    分享更多，漏水的水龙头突然停止滴水：    那是白天，毕竟。其中一件事，比如一个女人的长筒袜一样的    一段睡眠，你平躺着    它成为你生活的一个单位，而且---这就是它    变得复杂的地方---很多其他人的生活也是如此    试图理解毫无意义，更不用说读，    那些几十年来变化的叠加脚本    回响着，不断地，比如入侵的海带，以及    成为一个傻子所需要的一切，很可能不是及时拯救你    来到这里，两次换车，之后的东西，    当它们把你送到你的角落舔    你的伤口时，你发现你如此喜欢舔    以至于你把它添加到你疯狂的手势仓库中，    相信睡眠会惩罚那些在外面的人    正如它把你从舞蹈的迷局中解救出来，    一些古老的火，思想熄灭了，现在    在炉子里燃烧着，在一瞬间，我们意识到我们可以自由地    无限期地离去和回来。这就是        你说的持久的意思吗？哦，当然，    树篱也在里面，那里的鸽子和昆虫    和被赶上树的浣熊们看着一只，带着直截了当的反对：        “你这绝对的灾难，你！”我很高兴地发现    有人能把它压平或压缩，汤姆.蒂德勒的地上    只催生了一个浅昏迷，一个    成年男人喝着螺丝刀，对着混战傻笑的地方    它肯定会导致，如果某人，某个摄政王或警长，    不负责任，同时漫长的一天用拖把擦着    打开不满的风扇，骚扰    现在是唯一一个在模糊中脱颖而出的东西，在这样的距离。        那匹马独自回家，报答了以前所有的爱。        2        今天被盗走    衰退，我喝了些水，    嬉戏在一首最近的，    未完成的奏鸣曲的神韵中，    沉入雪中，    向前坠落进雄辩术，    像狼的暗示一样猛烈，你    从账本的那一边拿走的任何东西    都只是提防无聊，咒语般无聊。    然后，滑进那件温文尔雅的外套    它属于我不得不知道为什么每个人都从我身边经过，    我如何诅咒那个继承人，如何编织    从后面看到的信号的地铁，    那块旧地毯和它的杯子---对我来说都是疯狂的，    但只是灰尘。当我解开它缝了很多针的    青蛙时，一种近乎忧郁的情绪    从湖对岸临近---伸直的感觉上的    小裂片，它们在其路上都是    对的，尽管我解开了这些眼泪的门闩，    临时变白了。    楼梯知道    它在它们下面，但由于同样的原因，不能承认    从山的眉毛上举起的巨额债务。        同一个领班，同一个茶杯仍然叮当作响，    遵循一个局部的模式，    揭示了迄今为止一直是每个人的药丸的一切。        3        裸体的东西被带到    各个大使馆周围。        在他回家看她的    那天，在三明治的迷宫里    有个工匠向她求婚，    他就像夏天的蜜蜂。        记住反射模式，灵魂    可以接受它，或者活在它后面    他说，完全没用。最后的    乳房追上了。    早晨，她像吃糖一样把头伸到    心里想去的收费站。        4        “词语就像许多小轮子”    ---朱伯特        把答案分给他们    在纺纱母驴的正面，当它    不像真实地接近，    一个有毒的复仇者…        后来，在理由的干草中    我们理清了一个稀疏的要求。    他给她穿上黑白格子棉布的方格    是三十个吗，        或者，        一定，那小伙子去渴望    想到脊椎无疑太晚了，    头发和脊椎混杂在一起的毛皮，    当一切都意味着要保护他    不受最重要的干线，主要的影响。        一个门廊        嘎嘎声在附近，净距离。    从来没有人坚持要一个名字，    尽管我们都有一个。好笑，不是吗？    你的是“家伙”。我也喜欢“家伙”，“范妮”，    他们长大了，也有和我们一样的问题---    有点把我们带到了宇宙的高尔夫球场    中间，那里没有太多的事情发生，    除了长大，一钩一钩地，    一年栓住一年。    而在地下室，那本书，    只是另一件害怕的事。        5        这个问题    必须有那么多有毛病的其他东西    抗拒地留下一个我们将不得不漂浮的问题，    它到它刺山柑花蕾的瓶子，我到我的杜松子酒堆，    为其他人看到我们，假装没有注意到。        “那”本是繁荣，大火山，    但正如他们在夏延所说的，“不是有一些周末    一周中不止一天是姐妹日吗，当谈到排球，    凸花条纹布寿衣，和水彩衣是为大众    生活准备，当食物和谈话都耗尽的时候。    我知道，因为我还是个拿着香蕉的孩子，    但那只是为来生的。所有其他的缺口    都在被缠身的头脑中敞开。我很乐意        在法庭上重复我说过的话，但不要    派律师来跟踪我，不要“蓝色纸”，如果你愿意的话…    蜘蛛沿着它正在做的线攀爬，当它爬的时候，    好奇于在这同一刻还会发生什么可怕的事情，    当他到达那里时，好，已经太晚了。死亡    不会制造借口，同样地，什么都不要求。        这场比赛    很合适，这是一个伟大的比赛日子，    人类的比赛，是的，但也是帐篷比赛，    我的丈夫对我来说就像一个有核的苹果：    美，有时，在黑暗中进进出出。        我们比地球上任何两个人    都不关心对方，但关键是我们关心。    别告诉苏格兰人我们不关心。    他们不会相信你---只是    我的脑子里充满眼睛，像这样的日子。

AND THE STARS WERE SHINING                I        It was the solstice, and it was jumping on you like a friendly dog.    The stars were still out in the field,    and the child prostitutes plied their trade,    the only happy ones, having learned how unhappiness sticks    and will not risk being traded in for a song or a balloon.    Christmas decorations were getting crumpled in offices    by staffers slumped at their video terminals,    and dismay articulated otherness in orphan asylums    where the coffee percolates eternally, and God is not light    but God, as mysterious to Himself as we are to Him.        Say that on some other day garlands disbanded    in the fresh feel of some sea air,    that curious gulls coasted from great distances    to make sure nothing was getting more than its share    of pebbles, and the leaky faucet suddenly stopped dripping:    It was day, after all. One of those things like a length of sleep    like a woman’s stocking, that you lay flat    and it becomes a unit of your life and---this is where it    gets complicated---of so many others’ lives as well    that there is no point in trying to make out, even less read,    the superimposed scripts in which the changes of the decades    were rung, endlessly, like invading kelp, and    whatever it takes to be a simp is likely not what saved you    in time to get here, changing buses twice, and after,    when they sent you to your corner to lick    your wounds you found you liked licking    so much you added it to your repertory of insane gestures,    confident that sleep would punish those outside    even as it rescued you from the puzzle of the dance,    some old fire, thought extinguished, that now    blazes in the stove, and in an instant we realize we are free    to go and return indefinitely. Is that        what you meant by lasting? Oh, sure,    hedgerows are in it too, and the doves there and insects    and treed raccoons that eye one with frank disapproval:    “You unmitigated disaster, you!” I was pleased to discover    one could flatten or otherwise compress it, its Tom    Tiddler’s ground having induced only a subcoma, a place    where grown men drink screwdrivers and giggle at the melee    that would certainly have resulted if someone, some prince regent or sheriff,    hadn’t been in charge, while the long day moped    and opened the fan of its grievances, harassment    being the only one that stands out in the blur now, after such distance.        The steed returned home alone, requiting all previous loves.        II        To have been robbed of a downturn    today, I have drunk some water,    rollicked in the texture of a late,    unfinished sonata,    sinking into snow,    falling forward in the oratory,    violent as the wolf’s cue and anything    you take from that side of the ledger    only beware of boredom, boredom-as-spell.    Then, slipping into the gentle jacket of    my having to know why everybody passes me,    how I cursed that heir, braided that subway    of signals seen only from behind,    the old rug and its mug---all were madness for me,    yet only dust. And as I undid its much-stitched    frogs, a near melancholy approached    from across the lake---little slivers    of sense unbent, that were right about it all    in their way, though I unlatched these tears,    bleached for the occasion.    The stairs knew    it was under them, but by the same token couldn’t acknowledge    the enormous debt lifted from the mountain’s brow.        And the same foreman，the same teacups jingle still,    following a localized pattern,    uncovering what till now has been everyone’s pill.        III        The nude thing was taken around    to various ambassadorial residences.        And on the day he had come home    to see her, her in the maze of    sandwiches some artisan proposed,    he was like a bee in summer.        Remember the reflexive mode, the soul    can live with that, or live behind    it he said, to no avail. The last    breasts caught up.    And in morning like sugar she gave her head    to the toll-places the mind suggests.        IV        “words like so many tiny wheels”    ---JOUBERT        divide the answer among them    on the facade of the spinning jenny as it    approaches improbably,    a toxic avenger ...        Later amid the hay of reasons    we sort out a sparse claim.    Was it to be thirty he dressed her    in black-and-white checkers of gingham,        or,        perforce, did the lad go athirst    thinking no doubt too late of the spines,    pelage of mingled hairs and spines,    when all would have meant protection    for him from the main highway, the chief.        A porch        rattles in the near, clear distance.    There was never any insistence on a name,    though we all have one. Funny, isn’t it?    Yours is Guy. I like “Guy,” “Fanny” too,    and they grow up and have problems same as us---    kind of puts us out into the middle of the golf course    of the universe, where not too much ever happens,    except growing up, hook by hook,    year after tethered year.    And in the basement, that book,    just another thing to fear.        V        The problem    would have to have had so many other things wrong with it    to remain remonstrably a problem that we would have had to float,    it to its bottle of capers, I to my mound of gin,    for the others to see us and pretend not to notice.        That would have been the bonanza, the great volcano,    but as they say in Cheyenne, “Ain’t some weekends no    more than sister days of the week when it comes to volleyball    and dimity shrouds,and aquarelles are for the masses    to live off of, when food and conversation run out.    I know because I was a kid with a banana,    but that’s for eternity only. All other gaps open out    in the mind of the possessed. I’ll be glad to        repeat what I said in court, but send    no lawyers after me, no papier bleu, if you please ...    And the spider shinnied down the thrAead it was making as it did so,    curious about what other alarming event could be occupying this same moment,    and when he got there, well, it was too late. Death    makes no excuses and, by the same token, exacts none.        The race    is to the fit, and it’s a great day for the race,    the human race, yes, but also the tent race,    and my husband is as a cored apple to me:    beautiful, sometimes, and in and out of the dark.        We cared less for each other    than any two people on earth, but the point is we cared.    Don’t tell the scotties we didn’t.    They wouldn’t believe you anyway---it’s just    that my mind is full of eyes, days like this.

未完待续。

剑郭琴符

接上：《星星在闪烁》：

6        一个愚蠢的地方已着陆，    我想，但我们在这里。    通向更衣室的门半开着。    一场精彩的战斗正在那里进行。    稍后，他们会问，你会说你没有听到任何    不寻常的事情，现在，不是那天。    夫人出去了…        所以你带上风景。    从助产士到石像鬼，好像所有的或某件事    是合适的，你环绕着你内在的时间移动，    在吻的旁边种植星号，    一切都会再一次好起来，    为住得更近付出了很多的爱，就像一只爪子    搭在手腕上。还没有完成，        虽然面包和黄油机继续炮制    传真，每个女工的额头上都有    不同的东西，就像洛克菲勒中心    微风中的一品红。我不喜欢    冰川告诉我要快点，向下驾驶很急。    接着，大海的脸上爆发了笑容：    我们及时赶到，赶上了最近的午餐。    狗被教导不要吃掉我们。    过去保存了这么多冰激凌苏打水的味道，现在跳进了    人们的道路。今晚的回程中    我们必须注意到这一点，    尽管银色的雪铃纵容我们，    暗示着我们毕竟见到了    雪皇后，最后，掩盖了有人    沿着庭院奔跑的事实。        然后，看门人不再精神错乱，他本来    要被塞进的麻药酒被插入拥挤的交通中，    所有那些关于二氧化碳的谈话    也都是烟幕弹。这一切是多么脆弱，    从抽象的角度看，然而    这对那些孩子来说多么重要：这是他们的    葬礼，对于通过灯塔的反复冲刺    来毁掉它，他们应该有发言权。    他声称这是为了读瓦尔特.司各特先生。        从来没有人问过“他”。芦笋般的风采    不是用来鼓励傻瓜和口吃者的。    不过，我觉得这里沙发后面有    一条线索，那里迷路的小兔子们呜咽着    挤在一起。他“曾经”是个海员，    知道他最后一个汉堡包    是从哪里来的，其草书签名装饰着    擦亮的子弹。不久，和平    就会建立自身，欢迎外国人和风险投资，    潮水冲进，摧毁了    我和同学们在释放事物感觉方面    取得的小小进展。我们还    处在字母表的开头，反复唱这样的歌“大部头    将敞开，吐出我们改变日期的直觉，    我们这些继子，没有地方去，也没有地方    迟到，傲慢的微风    与我们的浮标嬉戏。不过，稍微考虑一下    可能会有所帮助，在那一点上。”时间会像一张    放着无绳电话的小桌子，紧挨着电视一样精确。        7        翻找一些旧诗找灵感---我肯定曾经有过一些？有些人每天都有一个想法，有些人每天一个，别人数百万个，还有一些人被宣判    要在一个想法里度过一生，就像一个气泡室。这些可能是可疑的。不管怎样，在诗歌中没有思想。事物中没有思想，也---她的名字叫威奇托。    后来在庆祝会上出现了蜡烛，我突然想到，这一切如何有帮助---如果不是在这里，我们就会像救生员一样寻找猎物。看，其中一个挡住了我。“你的蜡烛，先生？”妈的，我知道有些事    我应该记住，现在我迷路了。    “哦，不，你不应该，那只大鸟嘴上的微笑应该足以让你进入    这个秘密，而且更多。”他是来这儿帮忙的，    整个该死的国家都是，即使    潮水吮吸它的悬崖，高速    沙尘暴让它的人民失去理智。有人    会说他看到了天上的锚---    我为什么要告诉你这些？它就是那光，    紫罗兰，撞击，在那后面    造成了    片刻的差异。        黑色臭虫的德国    高跟鞋和后背，出售的    长斜斗篷，其他的---对，    它们还在这儿吗？    必须先做点什么    在它自己动手之前。你知道    那会是什么样子。摆着玫瑰的    白色桌子太漂亮了。    玉米是否褪色都无关紧要。        8        我们以前真的从来没有这样做过。    看，我做不到。这对你    有什么影响，我灵魂的    挡风玻璃雨刮器？看，我可以再试一次。        现在，试着揭露它。    我们会回顾，似乎不会    太久。这12月下旬。    你在32分钟内从白天走到夜晚，    牡丹花半开着---    我小时候擦过的那些    站起来面对我。    一只豌豆枪吹走了    士兵们。        在去铁轨的路上我很少遇到    比这更好色的事。我的棚屋    现在还不错，在我看来，我可以住在里面    如果不在里面，    谁有先见之明---头脑的先见之明    为购买纽约的一部分    而它仍然是一个人的伞上的标志，    从拉奥孔画面的洛可可罪犯。    那些蛇每季都在变坏    聋子男人说    他有理由    在他这边，它们正在勒死他的孩子    和山羊，即使我们在干燥的    模糊的潮湿和白色的天气里交谈。    下一个沼泽地，我们会做得更好，    收拾东西，扔掉的    长沙发，你想要的    为鸡舍的煤油灯。炉子，    太多了。冰箱：    爱斯基摩人真的需要它们    来防止他们的食物结冰    你对老师说，我的眼睛    是干的，所有的谜语都解开了。        热腾腾的，迅速的选择    在五月湖面上。    老灰母马。    紫罗兰响亮地开放    就像空缸里的咒语。    鱼大部分都回家了    海军上将重复着陷入    他惯常的结结巴巴---每当他    说到“铁击”这两个词就发生了，    可怜的富人，一旦他又    从与我们在一起的愤怒中恢复过来    就看不起摊位票。        无论是阳台上的烟    还是图书馆里    似乎从他书中爬出来的闲散的荣誉    我们都受到了惩罚---“凭经验”    于是又上床睡觉，再也不读书。    在各种各样的雨中站起来刷牙    是光荣的，但这改变不了什么    像一个快速跳棋游戏那么快。    那种哭声听不见        然而外面的其他人可能知道    快得像雾气被一根管子    吸上来，柏拉图式的曲线    又回到各种显要人物的身上栖息着    像外国军团或法国学院的成员一样。    在百老汇，雌雄同体的事实从来没有打破任何人的    自满，即使他们现在使用下降的    热气流（我认为它是非法的）---    尽管也许不是对你的招手    当你来评估    靠在一起的一切。        商店里的模特只要开口    都是免费的---是的，就是这样，    “只要开口。”什么不是？又有谁    能在旅行推销员的眼里    发出这种唧唧喳喳的声音---    比预期的还要高，比勃朗峰还要高---    他看到护身符在荔枝丛中死去    而其他人则打哈欠，朝    华盛顿广场走回去。        如果我有一个晚上，我会把它喂给你    但我有一些更好的东西---希望逃离总统，和你一起    在我的后座上。不论黄油    带着一股煤气味，还是伦敦塔卫兵    看起来臃肿，这都是我们关心的一些东西---    我们不需要分开，在你把那件毛衣编织成    一种全然的享受之前：只有    柔和的色彩闪闪发光，就像生命居住    在唯一的阳光附近一样，就像翻页者    与谱页和独奏者在一起的浪漫。    雷声闯入：    想起你的到来，    一个来自航运的安全港。    瞧，一座低山欢迎那些想    爬上它的两翼的人，到它的山顶    就在近地平线上，蓝色和奶油色，    我的海军的颜色，她说，我打赌你的    也一样。这就是为什么我必须玩    我的灰色披肩，失去的牌        从来没有人意识到有。    如果我们有什么东西可以炖，    一些盐什么的，为什么也能进去    只要还能看到陆地    左边，一个银色的乌鸦窝，里面有所有    丢失的东西，蓝色的圣诞树装饰品，站起来    唱匈牙利国歌    河里的衣服一起来鼓掌    以保护那些以前从来没有穿过它们的人    从胸针上拔出的金牙    加入到行善者的    一般喧闹中---我们周围的    普通人就像一层毛边的外套。        一旦熊知道了，他就回洞里去了。        冬天还不明朗    但一年中所有的日子都从缝隙里滚落出来，    那些时髦的和特别有趣的日子，    那些没有名字的    一切看起来都很渺小    一切都很好。        然后魔术师走进了他的房间。    太不幸了，再也没有柳树    但我们还是会满足他那弯曲的命令，    在黑暗中开个派对，    扔掉爱情，去公园里接吻，    把每一张表格都填上六份---然后让暴风雨    在后面不远，冬天的旧坟和旧剑    不合时宜地爆发。这对我们    不会有坏处。你看，企鹅离开太久了，    火烈鸟同样。我想我可以让一切都    一起出现，但为此    必须有一点沉默。    你的耳朵就是放它的地方。

VI        A silly place to have landed,    I think, but we are here.    The door to the dressing room is ajar.    A tremendous fight is going on in there.    Later, they’ll ask and you’ll say you heard nothing    out of the ordinary, now, not that day.    Madame had gone out...        So bring the scenery with you.    Midwife to gargoyles, as if all or something    were appropriate, you circle the time inside you,    plant an asterisk next to a kiss,    and it was going to be okay again, and the love    of which much was made settles closer, is a paw    against a wrist. Hasn’t finished yet,        though the bread-and-butter machine continues to churn out    faxes, each grisette has something different    about her forehead, is as a poinsettia    in the breeze of Rockefeller Center. I don’t like    a glacier telling me to hurry up, the ride down is precipitous.    Then a smile broke out on the ocean face:    We had arrived in time for the late lunch.    The dogs were instructed not to devour us.    And so much that in the past    was kept in flavors of ice-cream sodas now jumps    into one’s path. We’11 have to    take note of that for tonight’s return trip,    though silver sleighbells pamper us,    hint that we’11 get to see the Snow Queen    after all, at long last, obscuring the fact    that somebody was running along the courtyard.        Then the janitor wasn’t screwy, the mickey    he was to have been slipped was stuck in heavy traffic,    and all those conversations about carbon dioxide    were a smokescreen too. How brittle it all was,    in the way abstractions have, and yet how    much it mattered for those children: It was their    funeral, and they should have had a say in its undoing    by the lighthouse’s repeated lunges.    He claimed it was to read Sir Walter Scott by.        No one ever questions him. That asparagus-like mien    wasn’t made to encourage dolts and stutterers.    Yet I think a clue is back here    behind the sofa, where lost bunnies whimper    and press together. He had been a seafarer,    who knew where his last hamburger    had come from, and whose cursive signature adorned    the polished bullet. In a little while peace    would establish itself, welcome foreigners and venture capital,    and tides rush in to destroy    what little progress in unleashing the sense of things    I and my classmates had made. We were still    at the beginning of the alphabet, chanting things like “Tomes    will open to disgorge intuiting of our altered dates,    we stepchildren, who had no place to go, and nowhere    to be late, and brash breezes    play with our buoys. Still, a little consideration    might have helped, at that point.” And time will be as precise as    a small table with a cordless    telephone on it, next to a television.        VII        Rummaging through some old poems for ideas---surely I must have had some once? Some people have an idea a day, others millions, still others are condemned    to spend their life inside an idea, like a bubble chamber. And these are probably the suspicious ones. Anyway, in poems are no ideas. No ideas in things, either---her name is Wichita.    Later with candles coming to the celebration, it occurred to me how all this helps---if it wasn’t here we’d be like lifeguards looking for prey. Look, one of them stops me.“Your candle, sir?” Dammit, I know there was something    I was supposed to remember, and now I’m lost.    “Oh no you’re not, the smile on that big bird’s beak should be enough to let you in    on the secret, and more.” He’s here to help,    the whole darn nation is, even as    tidal waves suck at its precipices and high-speed    dust storms dement its populace. One    will say he’s seen an anchor in the sky---    why am I telling you this? It’s just that the light,    violet, impacted, made a difference    for a moment    back there.        The bug-black German    heels and back areas, the long tilted    cloaks for sale, the others---yes,    they’re still here?    Something must be done about it    before it does it itself. You know    what that will be like. The white tables with their    roses are so beautiful .It doesn’t matter if the corn is faded.        VIII        I’ve never really done this before.    See, I couldn’t do it.Does this    make a difference to you, my soul’s    windshield wiper? See, I can try again.        Now, try to expose it.    We’ll look back and it won’t seem    so long ago. This late in Dec.    you go from day to night in 32 minutes,    the peonies ajar---    That which I polished    as a child stands up to me.    A peashooter blows away    the soldiers.        I have seldom encountered more libidinousness    on the road to the tracks. My shanty    looks okay to me now, I can live with it    if not in it,    who had the prescience---the prescience of mind    to buy a part of New York    while it was still a logo on someone’s umbrella,    a rococo convict from the Laocoon tableau.    Those snakes get worse each season    the deaf man said    and he had reason    on his side, they were strangling his kid    and goat even as we talked in the parched    weather that was obscurely damp and white.    Next swamp we’ll do better,    tidy up things, the davenport    that got thrown out, the kerosene lamp    you wanted for your henhouse. The stoves,    so many of them. The refrigerator:    Eskimos really do need them    to keep their food from freezing    you said to the teacher, and my eye    is dry, all the riddles come undone.        Hot, swift choices    over the lake in May.    The old gray mare.    Violets blossomed loudly    like a swear word in an empty tank.    The fish mostly had gone home    the admiral repeated falling into    his habitual stammer---whenever he came    to the words “iron blow” it happened for him,    poor rich man, who despised the stall tickets    once he recovered from the rage    of being within us again.        And whether it was smoke on a balcony    or idle laurels that seem to creep    out of his books in the library    we were chastened---“by the experience”    and so went to bed and never read again.    It was glorious standing up in the various rain    to keep clear of the teeth but that changed nothing    fast like a fast game of checkers.    The kind of cry that can’t be heard        yet others outside might know of    soon as the mist was sucked    up through a tube and the platonic curve    returned for various dignitaries to perch on    like members of the Foreign Legion or the French Academy.    Androgynous truths never shattered anyone’s    complacency on Broadway even though they use thermal down    now (I thought it had been outlawed)---    beckoning though maybe not at you    as you come to evaluate    all the leaning together.        And the store models are free    for the asking---aye, that’s just it,    “for the asking.” What isn’t? And who    can make that chirp    sound round in the eye of the traveling salesman---    taller than might have been expected, than Mont Blanc---    who sees the talisman perishing amid lichees    while others gape and walk back toward    Washington Square.        If I had night I would feed it to you    but I have something much better---the desire to run    away for president, with you    in my back seat. And whether butter    brings a smell of gas with it or the Beefeaters    look bloated, all is of some concern to us---    we didn’t need to be separated before you knit that    sweater as a plenary indulgence: shimmering    with only pastel colors like a life lived    near sunlight exclusively, like a page turner’s    romance with the page and the soloist.    It breaks into thunder:    thought that comes to you,    a safe haven from the shipping.    Lo, a low hill welcomes those who wish    to climb its flanks, to its summit    just over the near horizon, blue and cream,    the colors of my navy she said, I’ll bet yours    are similar too. That was why I had to play    my gray cape, the lost card        no one is ever conscious of having.    And if we had something for the stew,    some salt or something, why that could go in too    as long as land could still be sighted    to the left, a silver crow’s nest in which all    lost objects, blue Christmas tree ornaments, arise    and sing the national anthem of Hungary    and the river garments come together with a clap    to shield those who never previously wore them    and the gold tooth extracted from a brooch    join in the general clamor    of do-gooders---the common sort of folk    all over us like a coat of burrs.        Once the bear knew he headed back to his cave.        Winter wasn’t clear yet    but all the days of the year were tumbling out of its crevices,    the chic ones and the special-interest ones,    and those with no name upon them    Everything looked slight    which was all right.        Then the magician entered his chamber.    Too bad there are no more willows    but we’ll satisfy his bent commands anyway,    have a party in the dark,    throw love away, go neck in the park,    fill out each form in sextuplicate---then let the storm    be not far behind, the old graves and swords    of winter erupt out of turn. It won’t be bad    for us. You see, the penguins have stayed away too long,    ditto the flamingos. I think I can make it all    come together, but for that    there must be a modicum of silence.    Your ear’s just the place for it.

未完待续。