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(美)约翰.阿什贝利诗歌草译

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 楼主| 发表于 2021-8-30 09:22:49 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-8-31 08:48 编辑

作者:(美)约翰.阿什贝利(John Ashberry)
   译者:剑郭琴符
      
   流动的图
   一首诗
   
   献给大卫
   
   I
   
   城市仍然在出版中,但还没有
   被一种新形式的绝望所超过,我问
   这个图表:这是它也许很容易存在的
   痛苦的先兆吗?还是一种如此突然的
   空虚,它留下大梁
   打击着,在没有风,
   天空的牛奶蓝色而收敛的情况下?我们知道生活是如此忙碌,
   但一个更大的活动笼罩着它,而这是
   我们永远无法感觉到的事情,除非偶尔,在贴出的
   警告我们的小标语中,一旦被清除,部分
   或全部。
   河神的悲伤在增长,当他在我们
   不认识的情况下顺流划过我们时:因为如果,他认为,
   他可以被忽视,那么认识他就等于吃掉他,
   吞下他所承载的名字,穿过最终设定的
   时间,在一串腐烂的船体上。而那些感觉到
   他到来时有点局促不安的人足以知道不必抬头
   从他们正在阅读的那一页上,编织的线条
   像一条青铜链延伸到永恒。
   “我好像在读什么东西;”
   我已经忘记了它的意义,也忘记了
   让我想要感受到的中心诗歌的小角色。不管怎样。
   那些字眼,现在很遥远,斜接着,闪烁着。然而,没有人能
   逃脱痛苦和快乐的森林,它使他们
   陷入一种通过惯性而变得永久的解决方案中。意义的
   力量永远不会挤出。昆虫们,
   当然,也不介意。我想是在那一刻,为了
   我自己的利益,他故意从我取回了
   缓慢流动的飞行的想法,现在
   太坚定的引导,它无处不在的提醒深深地刻进
   我的额头,它粗鲁的委屈和问候
   一个阶级远离每个人都能感受到的惊奇,
   无论是独自一人在床上,或者和爱人在一起,或者在某个
   环礁岛上用贝壳拖上岸(如果孤独
   提早把我们吞没,那么它永恒的想法
   只是后来才筛选入视野,是的
   后来,也许只是偶尔,只是很久以后
   从黎明站到黄昏,正如海浪竖琴的
   哀鸣声总是在那儿作为对话
   和转变的背景,即使
   在最被遗忘的时候)也无法
   弄懂它们,但他知道
   熟悉的、无误的事情,这给了他勇气
   因为白天结束了,夜晚安排了它的东道主,为
   即将到来的漫漫长夜做好准备。
   星座把我们原本想保留
   在那里的一切都抛了回去:“我们的”意义,对我们来说,然而
   当别人说出它时,感觉多么不同!
   事后的想法是多么的冷酷,它暂时夺走
   我们的时间(就在我们开始带着
   母爱教给我们的脆弱的嗜好走的时候),把我们带到了遥远的
   海上的垫脚石上。
   因此,无论什么样的限制,警告、
   预感早早把我们制成格子,支持我们
   已经成为的这个人造的、树墙的东西,同样的道理,任何
   后续的学习都不会剥夺我们,似乎,任何神圣的
   教养都不会使我们放松
   神圣礼仪、我们现在的救赎,我们对未来希望的带子。
   只要让那条河不要太靠近地乞求它的河岸,
   磨损和淹没它的堤坝,因为尽管洪水总是很可怕,
   更糟糕的是那些后来从快速流动的
   冲积淤泥中诞生的彩绘怪物。
   当破坏法律的时刻
   到来时,一定要确保它发生在我们
   日常思想和幻想,我们对我们
   如何从那里走到这里的惊奇的子宫中。在正午松开的眼睛里
   这些和其他可怕的事情都被写下来了,但在当时
   它似乎像水库中的小波的飒飒声一样温和。
   只有迟来的确定性才是最重要的,
   我想,而且,当它真的到来时,似乎像玫瑰一样永恒不变。
   与此同时,神又把事情搞砸了。看似
   是一个早期时代:金蛋孵化成
   遗憾,雪花的吻像魔术师的毒药一样
   燃烧;然而,在成长的黎明,一切似乎都很好。
   一直滋养着我们的微风(无论多么干燥,
   空气中如何充满了对时间和天气的抱怨)
   指出了一条偏离真实道路的道路,但没有否定它,
   通过不同的咒语达到相同的结果,
   因此没有人更明智地知道我们成长的方式,
   几乎无意识地,进入一个优雅的立方体,这是
   一个永久的庇护所。让这本书就此结束,少数人
   说,但那当然是不可能的;这种增长必须持续
   进入阴暗和危险的地区,受到
   死亡之风的诅咒的破坏,直到有人递给他一个头骨
   作为生日礼物,小说的每一段结尾都
   画上了下划线:“继续下去”,现在应该
   没有和平,没有睡眠保存在对未来的一瞥中
   在水晶球的厚度,气泡状表面上。不,你和我
   除非我们在一起。只有到那时,他才对我们喃喃自语,混淆感情
   和词语,就像小檗在附近的霜冻中流血,
   一种鲜红的纯真,困惑的奇迹,对我们,对我们
   对别人,对我们自己所做的一切。没有分离。只有
   凋谢,被标签所保证,才永恒延续。

   诸神透露了这么多,在他们变得太不安分,
   太专注于其他的事情,以至于看不到现在给予的
   唯一事实,以及许多丝带,许多糖霜
   和假装的音乐之前。但是我们不能在他们的白昼与他们生活在一起:
   空气,虽然纯净,但太浓。后来,当其他人
   走过来问,这是什么样的,人们太惊讶了,不会做出奇怪的行为;
   未来灭绝了;世界上五颜六色的小路通到
   我的口中,我落下,谦卑地,从红土地板上吃东西。
   只有到那时灵感才会到来:来得晚,但永远不会太晚。

   这是可能的,这只是可能的,神的要求
   飞出窗口,一旦打开,就从账单擦除。如果一个人孤身一人,
   那么它对其他人来说就没有那么重要了,他们上船开始随便的旅程
   进入梦境的乱交。然而,我总是第一个知道
   他的感受。这次无声拍卖的物品清单
   没有太多承诺:一个嚼过的仙人掌,一个空气垫,
   一份逐字记录的报告。凉鞋。大量的笔录使他
   获得了不可原谅的自由---见鬼,我宁愿更早更深
   介入项目,保留所有的利益,但一个人注定要
   重复自己,永远不要重复自己,你知道我的意思吗?
   如果在这段时间里有虚假的叙述流传,为什么,
   一个人至少没意识到它,并且可以在可行的无意识中
   度过自己分配的时间弧,看着女孩们的亚麻衣服,
   带着烟圈回家。除了熟悉的门垫之外
   没有什么可以让人兴奋,然而,当一个人在散漫的天气外出
   这种变化近似于唱诗班在遥远的地方歌唱,朦胧地充满了恐惧
   和爱。有时,一个人自己的希望实现了
   生活变成了对所花时间的每一秒的描述;
   相反,有些人会被军团成群乱转的声音推迟。
   一个人培养某种气味,害怕离开焦虑房间的
   迷人圈子,以免不受约束的气氛降临

   看到橡树
   被常春藤环绕。

   
   Flow Chart
   A Poem
   
   for David
   
   I
   
   Still in the published city but not yet
   overtaken by a new form of despair, I ask
   the diagram: is it the foretaste of pain
   it might easily be? Or an emptiness
   so sudden it leaves the girders
   whanging in the absence of wind,
   the sky milk-blue and astringent? We know life is so busy,
   but a larger activity shrouds it, and this is something
   we can never feel, except occasionally, in small signs
   put up to warn us and as soon expunged, in part
   or wholly.
   Sad grows the river god as he oars past us
   downstream without our knowing him: for if, he reasons,
   he can be overlooked, then to know him would be to eat him,
   ingest the name he carries through time to set down
   finally, on a strand of rotted hulks. And those who sense something
   squeamish in his arrival know enough not to look up
   from the page they are reading, the plaited lines that extend
   like a bronze chain into eternity.
   It seems I was reading something;
   I have forgotten the sense of it or what the small
   role of the central poem made me want to feel. No matter.
   The words, distant now, and mitred, glint. Yet not one
   ever escapes the forest of agony and pleasure that keeps them
   in a solution that has become permanent through inertia. The force
   of meaning never extrudes. And the insects,
   of course, don’t mind .I think it was at that moment he
   knowingly and in my own interests took back from me
   the slow-flowing idea of flight, now
   too firmly channeled, its omnipresent reminders etched
   too deeply into my forehead, its crass grievances and greetings
   a class apart from the wonders every man feels,
   whether alone in bed, or with a lover, or beached
   with the shells on some atoll (and if solitude
   swallow us up betimes, it is only later that
   the idea of its permanence sifts into view, yea
   later and perhaps only occasionally, and only much later
   stands from dawn to dusk, just as the plaintive sound
   of the harp of the waves is always there as a backdrop
   to conversation and conversion, even when
   most forgotten) and cannot make sense of them, but he knows
   the familiar, unmistakable thing, and that gives him courage
   as day expires and evening marshals its hosts, in preparation
   for the long night to come.
   And the horoscopes flung back
   all we had meant to keep there: our meaning, for us, yet
   how different the sense when another speaks it!
   How cold the afterthought that takes us out of time
   for a few moments (just as we were beginning to go with the fragile
   penchants mother-love taught us) and transports us to a stepping-stone
   far out at sea.
   So no matter what the restrictions, admonitions,
   premonitions that trellised us early, supporting this
   artificial espaliered thing we have become, by the same token no
   subsequent learning shall deprive us, it seems, no holy
   sophistication loosen the bands
   of blessed decorum, our present salvation, our hope for years to come.
    Only let that river not beseech its banks too closely,
   abrade and swamp its levees, for though the flood is always terrible,
   much worse are the painted monsters born later
   out of the swift-flowing alluvial mud.
   And when the time for the breaking
   of the law is here, be sure it is to take place in the matrix
   of our everyday thoughts and fantasies, our wonderment
   at how we got from there to here. In the unlashed eye of noon
   these and other terrible things are written, yet it seems
   at the time as mild as soughing of wavelets in a reservoir.
   Only the belated certainty comes to matter much,
   I suppose, and, when it does, comes to seem as immutable as roses.
   Meanwhile a god has bungled it again.Early on
   was a time of seeming: golden eggs that hatched
   into regrets, a snowflake whose kiss burned like an enchanter’s
   poison; yet it all seemed good in the growing dawn.
   The breeze that always nurtures us (no matter how dry,
   how filled with complaints about time and the weather the air)
   pointed out a way that diverged from the true way without negating it,
   to arrive at the same result by different spells,
   so that no one was wiser for knowing the way we had grown,
   almost unconsciously, into a cube of grace that was to be
   a permanent shelter. Let the book end there, some few
   said, but that was of course impossible;the growth must persist
   into areas darkened and dangerous, undermined
   by the curse of that death breeze, until one is handed a skull
   as a birthday present, and each closing paragraph of the novella is
   underlined: To be continued, that there should be no peace
   in the present, no sleep save in glimpses of the future
   on the crystal ball’s thick, bubble-like surface. No you and me
   unless we are together. Only then does he mumble confused words
   of affection at us as the barberry bleeds close against the frost,
   a scarlet innocence, confused miracle, to us, for what we have done
   to others, and to ourselves. There is no parting. There is
   only the fading, guaranteed by the label, which lasts forever.

   This much the gods divulged before they became too restless,
   too preoccupied with other cares to see into the sole fact the
   present allows, along with much ribbon, much icing
   and pretended music. But we can’t live with them in their day:
   the air, though pure, is too dense. And afterwards when others
   come up and ask, what was it like, one is too amazed to behave strangely;
   the future is extinguished; the world’s colored paths all lead
   to my mouth, and I drop, humbled, eating from the red-clay floor.
   And only then does inspiration come: late, yet never too late.

   It’s possible, it’s just possible, that the god’s claims
   fly out windows as soon as they are opened, are erased from the accounting. If one is alone,
   it matters less than to others embarked on a casual voyage
   into the promiscuity of dreams. Yet I am always the first to know
   how he feels. The inventory of the silent auction
   doesn’t promise much: one chewed cactus, an air mattress,
   a verbatim report. Sandals. The massive transcriptions with which
   he took unforgivable liberties---hell, I’d sooner j oin the project
   farther ahead, retaining all benefits, but one is doomed,
   repeating oneself, never to repeat oneself, you know what I mean?
   If in the interval false accounts have circulated, why,
   one is at least unaware of it, and can live one’s allotted arc
   of time in feasible unconsciousness, watching the linen dresses of girls,
   with a wreath of smoke to come home to.There is nothing beside the familiar
   doormat to get excited about, yet when one goes out in loose weather
   the change is akin to choirs singing in a distance nebulous with fear
   and love. Sometimes one’s own hopes are realized
   and life becomes a description of every second of the time it took;
   conversely, some are put off by the sound of legions milling about.
   One cultivates certain smells, is afraid to leave the charmed circle
   of the anxious room lest uncommitted atmosphere befall

   and the oaks
   are seen to be girdled with ivy.
    

  



 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-1 09:30:33 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-9-2 20:15 编辑


   哀哉,他说,多么紧张的声音
   
   另一个时刻的他更多,但现在
   在象牙框里的你,一个接一个地剥去了你最早的
   观点,不管怎么说,被蜜蜂污染了,容光焕发地
   站在我们失去的、不快乐的年轻人的圈子里,哦,我的
   朋友,在我认识你之前就认识我,当你来到我身边
   知道这是永远,这里不会有缺口,只是我
   太无知了,忘记了这一切。你责怪我
   忘了,一瞬间我就想起了一切:那
   校舍,帐篷会议。我走得越来越近,直到有一天
   我把我的名字牢牢地写在被统治的页面上:那是一个
   即将到来的时刻,所有在记忆中快乐的哭泣将这块石头放在
   魔法盒中,并用壁纸覆盖。似乎我们各自的
   生活可以各自独立地继续,像一颗星星一样闪耀。
   我从来不知道这样的幸福。我从来不知道这样的幸福会存在。
   并不是说黑暗的世界被移开了或者变亮了,而是
   它里面的每一件东西都被稍微放大了,这样看起来就变成了它
   真正的浮雕般的自我,一个液体的东西,像鸟一样
   被握在手心。当然,更正式的时代
   会到来,但抽象的理智永远不会淹没在这种
   私人悲伤的长生不老药中,它在好的时候和坏的时候
   都会对自己歌唱,人们意识的实例,
   正确行为的象征,在黑暗中还是在水下。
   那些秘密的时代是多么的不可改变,它们是多么的秘密地
   成长!仅仅完成第一幕需要花费
   永恒的时间,然而风景、中世纪房屋的方形、开着
   巨大的蓝色和红色花朵的花园和庄严的小鸟让
   它们坐着的树相形见绌,根本不需要让位于高峡谷的
   烟雾和裂缝:关键是人们要做对我们来说
   重要的事情,一切都是正确的,就像一幅画
   永远不会渴望一个框架,而是像我们一样漫不经心地继续梦想。
   谁能料到这样一个梦会消失,因为有一些
   是我们醒着的生活被费力制定的网络:
   那里有真实的、忙碌的事情,成功的市长
   在那里来来回回阔步,用手指的一个
   小小的动作指挥着一切。但当它真的到来时,
   结局是,我们在某家餐馆取消了喝酒,
   太专注了,太永恒了,期待着在那里或关怀的快乐。
   
   

   那灵感是后来出现的,下雨时在睡梦中,
   很急切,于是黑暗的线条干扰了
   梦的伪装的谨慎安排:没有接受者?不管怎么说,
   睡眠本身就变成了这个深坑,由重复单词组成,
   由像蒸汽一样从某处冒出来,变成了
   某物的单词移动的堤坝组成。忘记星辰给你的承诺:它们是半醉的,而且
   它们与任何能影响我们思维方式的概念
   都没有联系,现在就
   像过去任何时候一样晦涩。一个荒凉的公园矗立在我们面前
   但我们没有办法进入它,因为守卫们
   已经把他们的邮件抛弃到青灰色的
   像吸墨纸一样流进你的心里的阳光,混淆
   或否定了智慧在我们这个世纪罕见的生存:
   这些,至少,都是我的孩子,她吟诵道,
   这些孩子属于我脱去的自己,以便适合于进入无限的
   缺口,正如乌鸦回到遥远的小树林的长长弧线
   所定义的那样。一切都通红。但我们从中看到,光荣的化合物中
   包含了一些凡人的物质,几乎
   没有什么可以阻止它的泥石流席卷我们
   而它把凹凸不平的地球渲染得光滑、崭新,有点像
   人们关于它最初的想法,只是如此原始
   以至于它无法理解我们。与此同时,我穿的这件外套,
   由消费品编织而成,让你停下来,检查
   我们曾经有效的与普通和真实的契约
   仍然肥沃的土壤。它想要出去,
   我们会得到它,即使服务减少,抽查次数
   增加,因为所有这些,包括我们自己,
   都是为了我们自己的利益,在适当的时机到来时
   为之辩护和否认。现在,除了睡觉和祈祷,再也没有
   留下别的事可做,把碎片留到
   稍晚的时候,它们将被视为神圣的抛光镜子的
   残余物,全能的神曾在镜子中看到自己,哭泣,
   意识到他所有的预言最终在他的人民身上
   成真,没有人比他更聪明,当他们走在宽阔
   无影的街道上,没有眼皮,也没有记忆,当它出现
   与其他,同样受祝福的生物的路线交叉时
   (祝福没有名字,没有先入为主的策略
   除非它们躺在地下,挖起来无利可图
   直到几十年后,在必要的技术沿途开发出来,并且
   点头致意,好像是对一个熟人的
   致谢,这熟人人们不记得了,但也不确定是否
   曾经正式放弃:它是在陆地还是在海上
   那只鸟第一次来到,离它最近的东西很多英里的地方?)。
   我们之间的关系不那么急迫,更令人
   不安,没有可辨别的根,没有存在的理由,要不然倒流到
   一个源头,比如原生汤,很容易别上
   任何东西,比如在人们翻领上的康乃馨。因此,似乎我们必须
   保持一种不稳定的关系,在一起
   不是很恰当,不是清晰的朋友或恋人,虽然肯定不是敌人,如果
   我们存在于其中的海绵状地形的浮力要作为
   一股脓水来体验,而不是从镜子的倒影中丢失的
   所有评论。“我是这么说的吗?这会是我吗?”否则,条约
   似乎不成熟,和平不相称,人们还不如偷偷溜回
   狗舍的孤寂中,因为这一愚蠢被解读为只是
   任性、自我放纵。同时我们周围的一切都已经
   为这项解决做好了准备;温度,季节都恰到好处
   因为这一切都不会被从某个不可能遥远的环境中驱逐出来的情绪
   所淹没;你小时候的一些插曲,没人知道,甚至
   你都记不准。现在是睡长床的
   时候,是在长床上度过额外的时间的时候,但肯定有人能
   找到一些东西自发地说在它失败前,在炽热的
   钳子被泥浆冷却之前,柳树嫩黄的脆枝
   干枯而不是成熟之前,推断说时机
   不合适,英雄们都去休息了,所有普通的
   历史人物都蹒跚在把他们的生活主观地解读为
   可牺牲的,平凡的异端,普通陶器的碎片的材料
   对之感兴趣只是因为在它们消失在永恒之中那片刻后很久
   才决定做什么的时候才出土,
   无数个这种无人听到的步行出口之一,
   只要它们能被迅速而公正地遗忘,
   像我们从不知道我们拥有过的灵魂一样被减掉,取而代之的是
   某种任何日子、所有日子,一千年后的年轻、轻松的气候的东西。
   
   
   
   
   
   Alack he said what stressful sounds
   
   More of him another time but now you
   in the ivory frame have stripped yourself one by one of your earliest
   opinions, polluted in any case by bees, and stand
   radiant in the circle of our lost, unhappy youth, oh my
   friend that knew me before I knew you, and when you came to me
   knew it was forever, here there would be no break, only I was
   so ignorant I forgot what it was all about. You chided me
   for forgetting and in an instant I remembered everything: the
   schoolhouse, the tent meeting. And I came closer until the day
   I wrote my name firmly on the ruled page: that was a
   time to come, and all happy crying in memory placed the stone
   in the magic box and covered it with wallpaper. It seemed our separate
   lives could continue separately for themselves and shine like a single star.
   I never knew such happiness. I never knew such happiness could exist.
   Not that the dark world was removed or brightened, but
   each thing in it was slightly enlarged, and in so seeming became its
   true cameo self, a liquid thing, to be held in the hollow
   of the hand like a bird. More formal times would come
   of course but the abstract good sense would never drown in the elixir
   of this private sorrow, that would always sing to itself
   in good times and bad, an example to one’s consciousness,
   an emblem of correct behavior, in darkness or under water.
   How unshifting those secret times, and how stealthily
   they grew! It was going to take forever just to get through
   the first act, yet the scenery, a square of medieval houses, gardens
   with huge blue and red flowers and solemn birds that dwarfed
   the trees they sat on, need never have given way to the fumes and crevasses
   of the high glen: the point is one was going to do to it
   what mattered to us, and all would be correct as in a painting
   that would never ache for a frame but dream on as nonchalantly as we did.
   Who could have expected a dream like this to go away for there are some
   that are the web on which our waking life is painstakingly elaborated:
   there are real, bustling things there and the burgomaster of success
   stalks back and forth^ directing everything
   with a small motion of a finger. But when it did come,
   the denouement, we were off drinking in some restaurant,
   too absorbed, too eternally, expectantly happy to be there or care.
   
      
   That inspiration came later, in sleep while it rained,
   urgently, so that lines of darkness interfered with the careful
   arrangement of the dream’s disguise: no takers? Anyway,
   sleep itself became this chasm of repeated words,
   of shifting banks of words rising like steam
   out of someplace into something. Forget the promises the stars made you: they were half-stoned, and besides
   are twinned to no notion that can have an impact
   on our way of thinking, as crabbed now
   as at any time in the past. A forlorn park stood before us
   but there was no way to want to enter it, since the guards
   had abandoned their posts to slate-gray daylight
   flowing into your heart as though it were a blotter, confounding
   or negating the rare survival of wit into our century:
   these, at any rate, are my children, she intoned,
   of whom I divest myself so as to fit into the notch
   of infinity as defined by a long arc of crows returning to the distant
   coppice. All’s aglow. But we see by it that some mortal
   material was included in the glorious compound, that next to
   nothing can prevent its mudslide from sweeping over us
   while it renders the pitted earth smooth and pristine and something
   like one’s original idea of it, only so primitive
   it can’t understand us. Meanwhile the coat I wear,
   woven of consumer products, asks you to pause and inspect
   the still-fertile ground of our once-valid compact
   with the ordinary and the true. It wants out and
   we shall get it even with decreased services and an increased
   number of spot-checks, since all of it, ourselves included,
   is in our own interests to speak up for and deny when the proper
   moment arrives. Now, nothing further remains to be done except
   to sleep and pray, saving the pieces for a slightly
   later time when they shall be recognized as holy remnants of the burnished
   mirror in which the Almighty once saw Himself, and wept,
   realizing how all His prophecies had come true for His people
   at last and no one was any wiser for it as they walked the wide
   shadowless streets with no eyelids or memory when it came to
   intersecting the itineraries of other, similarly blessed creatures
   (blessed for having no name, no preconceived strategies
   unless they lay underground, too unprofitable to dig up
   until the requisite technologies had been developed some
   decades down the road and nodding as though in acknowledgment of
   an acquaintance one doesn’t remember yet is not sure of
   having ever formally renounced either: was it on land or at sea
   that that bird first came to one, many miles from the nearest anything?).
   What we are to each other is both less urgent and more
   perturbing, having no discernible root, no raison d’être, or else flowing
   backward into an origin like the primordial soup it’s so easy to pin
   anything on, like a carnation to one’s lapel. So it seems we must
   stay in an uneasy relationship, not quite fitting
   together, not precisely friends or lovers though certainly not enemies, if
   the buoyancy of the spongy terrain on which we exist is to be experienced
   as an ichor, not a commentary on all that is missing from the reflection
   in the mirror. Did I say that? Can this be me? Otherwise the treaty will
   seem premature, the peace unearned, and one might as well slink back
   into the solitude of the kennel, for the blunder to be read as anything
   but willful, self-indulgent. And meanwhile everything around us is already
   prepared for this resolution; the temperature, the season are exactly right
   for it all not to be awash with sentiments expelled from some impossibly
   distant situation; some episode from your childhood nobody knows about and
   even you can’t remember accurately. It is time for the long beds
   then, and the extra hours to be spent in them, but surely somebody can
   find something spontaneous to say before it all fizzles, before the incandescent
   tongs are slaked in mud and the tender yellow shoots of the willow
   dry up instead of maturing having concluded that the moment
   is inappropriate, the heroes gone to their rest, and all the plain
   folk of history foundered in the subjective reading of their lives
   as expendable, the stuff of ordinary heresy, shards of common crockery
   interesting only because unearthed long after the time had come for a
   decision on what to do at the very moment they disappeared into timelessness,
   one of innumerable such tramping exits that no one hears,
   so long as they may be promptly and justly forgotten,
   subtracted like the soul we never knew we had and replaced with something
   young, and easier, climate of any day and of all the days, postmillenarian.






 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-2 22:55:14 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-9-3 16:11 编辑


   就这样,一些人争辩着,一些人仍然
   被他们的纯真,一个保姆给他们的
   荒唐公式所滋养。他们长大后身材苗条,
   个子高,但往往似乎缺少一些东西,
   一些浓缩的点围绕着人们可以收集它自身的地方,
   既不清醒也不漠不关心,是中性的。
   当罐子的
   牛奶变空,就不会再注满,而是洗干净放在架子上。
   谈话仍然开始,
   迟疑不决,在树叶下,在户外的桌子周围,
   但他们什么也不坚持,只是作为
   令人不安的例子,关于生活可能会如何
   在另一个停滞不前但繁荣的时代
   当力量的游戏被抛弃时。
   每个客人都从桌上
   突然站起来,一颗星星在他或她的肩上。
   因为当时,在被玷污的夜晚,任何污点或瑕疵都无法抹去它,
   你们早晨听到的美妙问候
   也是听到你们自己的回答。
   
   但在像最近
   这样的时刻,山毛榉的呻吟声会被听到,后悔,
   不是因为发生的事情,甚至不是因为
   可理解的能发生的事情,而是
   因为从未发生过的事情,因此存在着,像梦一样
   黑暗而透明。不知从何而来的梦。一个
   无处可去的梦,一切穿着盛装,无处可去,一把斧头
   威胁着,断断续续,遍及永恒。或者船只,无人看见的
   陆地,像卵石一样
   散布在浩瀚海面上的岛屿;这就是
   信而不见,乞求梦想,然后
   通过狡猾、受煎熬和疲惫,一副自己的框架画回到家。广告
   没有告诉你这一点,它们太忙于自己的专业花招
   没有注意到那些远远在深水中的人(“当我这样一个命中注定
   不幸的人,从船上一头栽下来的时候”),装饰漩涡
   用某人(我希望我知道是谁)对什么是对的,或可爱的想法。
   很快,黑色的椅子和桌子
   在奇怪的绿色条纹墙前急剧地站出来,海鸥在天空中盘旋,从遍及城市
   各个战略点点燃的一堆堆旧轮胎中冒出的烟雾
   穿过玻璃窗与窗台不太相连的裂缝---
   这是不是,我问你,一个沉默恳求,由某位意图好
   但害羞的神发出的,是为了摄走被下面这里剩下的几个
   挥霍掉的生命的温度?相反,要问,为什么时钟
   每天都慢一点,需要两倍、三倍甚至四倍的铃响声
   为了阐明其基本的陈腐意图
   以便人们可以安顿下来享受稀少的、破碎的秒的
   使用权,其时期待着在90岁时
   以一份舒适的收入退休,而不后悔人们第一次采取这种奇怪的策略的
   那一天,这种策略把我们投射入了自我厌恶和肤浅兴趣的一生。
   人们就这样生活着,从历史的垃圾堆中采摘一种低劣的
   生活方式,却没有意识到富人生活中类似的美味,
   就像海洋中的鱼,海底点缀着生锈的引擎和早已
   被遗忘的残骸的碎片;是的,“我比他更深,”我想,
   但这也无助于把一个人交付回归根结底要么是理智要么是有益的空白区域
   一个人总是从这里启程,同时忘记了其他的
   戒律,理智和疯狂,它们闯入了,一旦一个人开始
   完全思考任何事情。它总是在圣经中简短提到的某些
   肉锅的边缘,一个被看到是蠕动的,一个被钉住的虫子,因此
   一个人与他人对抗就像与自己对抗一样:孤独,饥饿,
   还有一点口渴,直到末日普遍误认为这是一个
   宽慰的时刻,尘土柱从沙漠山谷中直冲而出
   那里人们的脚跨过一根柱子,所有那些关于破碎的轨道,
   和被丢弃的设备的神话,而这条无人居住的狭长小河,现在它的水槽
   只是泥和几滩骆驼尿,成形了。
   
   

   最新的报告显示,政府
   仍然控制着一切,但金发囚徒的位置
   已经被精确定位,由于来自边远地区支持者的紧急针扎
   总体而言,人口安然无恙。但我们能
   居住其中任何一个吗?我们的隐私在云层开始的地方结束,就在这里,就在
   海边这匿名的一块地方。我们有权
   得到确认,就像动物或甚至植物一样,只要我们离开,把
   我们的建筑的每一个必要部分都抛在身后。当然然后,我们工作的目的必须
   在某个时候得到批准,即使我们没有权利发布
   这样的东西。这里有很多洞穴,几乎没有一个
   被探索过。这并没有给我们太多
   继续下去的机会,但我们坚持喊着说别人的回旋曲已经
   在演奏,而且一遍又一遍,所以这么会没有人来对此做任何事情,
   让我们在我们的鞋子里放松,告诉我们就寝时间?当然,在我更年轻的
   时候,人们对此的行为不同。没有演说家的事,只有安静的
   人们在做他们的生意,不太担心
   最后会归根结底得到回报。不,我们正
   闲逛着,太忙于这些事,朝着祭坛,
   或者更好的是走进中殿,那里的水果和鲜花
   装饰朴素地、轻松地通向它所期待的
   户外。坐在那里压柠檬汁或橙汁
   是没有用的,因为只要人们想站起来再玩一次
   就很要紧。现在清算的时间临近了,它穿这一件改变了的外套;
   它的颜色更鲜艳。不,但是在颜色的顺序和它们如何被缠绕的
   肯定也有一些结构上的差异,只是
   没有人能够可以理解地足够关心这一点来谈论它。好吧,我能
   而且做了,但那些不友善的片段几乎总是
   在这座伟大城市的喧闹声中维护它们自己,我甚至很难记住
   我的名字,直到某个路过的女孩燃起了它的幻想,我的名字
   对我来说是什么,当我第一次开始思考其他事情时。这种厌烦也没有真正的邮费,所以它一直
   在返回,可以说永远不会完全消失,
   除了它一直被拿来比较的媒体。我说,当你
   有机会的时候,别的东西真的到达让你发痒。在这段时间里
   我认为他只是在到处放屁,不愿意对任何事情发表
   严肃的意见,更多是让它发泄或表达。我的视线
   一千年来第一次清晰了,这是真的,我可以看到前方
   无人等待的地方,长长的旗帜在夕阳的尘埃中飘扬下垂
   因此,在我们做对之前,它将永远永远存在。我的选择不是告诉你
   如何逃避或不适当地安慰你,但只要有一点时间
   和耐心,我们就会让这件事运作。即使你认为
   你所接触到的一切注定要崩溃或无法开始,时间的袖子上
   有一些意外,应该因为没有更多而被唾弃,
   或者将如此,如果它过去没有意外。但它现在有。有诺言穿着
   你能想象到的最好的丝绸和迄今做梦也想不到的银饰品,如果只有你能
   从你自己的秘密收藏中找到同样可爱和好奇的东西
   来搭配。当然,这确实需要时间,但最终人们会
   感觉到它比以往任何时候都打扮得更加俗不可耐的丰富,并将排队等候
   从徒劳的行列提升到结晶在接管本世纪初的良好幽默中的
   狂喜和全部崇高的狭隘皱纹中。当然,
   没有人知道这一点。然而。但给
   每个人时间,即使没有演出,一切都会倒流,那
   盛装打扮的夜晚,对一些人来说是一个试验,否则一切都会走样
   进入你的童年和海滩,它们是它的发射台,在
   饥饿和恐惧占据之前,尽管欢乐培养了一种观念,那就是
   有足够的东西让每个人,孩子们停下来
   拥有一个没有人再谈论的快乐的家。最好休息,睡觉,对
   不再重要的人笑它,然后你会发现你真的
   在它之中,而且自始至终在,只是这表演就像跑步机一样
   以与你的笑话和雄心壮志相同的沉重步子前进,这就是为什么你
   从来都不知道它,所以不管怎样都同意参加
   这次危险的到真正时间之源的远足。不要
   原谅你自己,没有什么可以原谅。
   
   
   
   Just so, some argue, some still are
   nurtured by their innocence, a wanton
   formula a nursemaid gives them. They grow up to be slim,
   and tall, but often it seems something is lacking,
   some point of concentration around which a person can collect itself,
   and be neither conscious nor uncaring, be neutral.
   And when the pitcher
   is emptied of milk, it is not refilled, but washed and put away on a shelf.
   Conversations are still initiated,
   haltingly, under the leaves, around an outdoor table,
   but they insist on nothing and are remembered
   only as disquieting examples of how life might be
   in that other halting yet prosperous time
   when games of strength were put away.
   And each guest rises
   abruptly from the table, a star at his or her shoulder.
   For then, in smeared night, no blotch or defect can erase it,
   the wonderful greeting you heard in the morning
   and heard yourself reply to.
   
   But at times such as
   these late ones, a moaning in copper beeches is heard, of regret,
   not for what happened, or even for what
   could conceivably have happened, but
   for what never happened and which therefore exists, as dark
   and transparent as a dream. A dream from nowhere. A dream
   with no place to go, all dressed up with no place to go, that an axe
   menaces, off and on, throughout eternity. Or ships, lands
   which no one sees, islands scattered like pebbles
   across the immense surface of the ocean; this is what it is
   to believe and not see, to implore dreaming, then to arrive home
   by cunning, stricken and exhausted, a framed picture of oneself. The ads
   didn’t tell you this, they were too busy with their own professional sleight-of-hand
   to notice those farther out in deep water (“when such a destin’d wretch
   as I,wash’d headlong from on board”), decorating the maelstrom with
   someone’s (I wish I knew whose) notion of what is right, or cute.
   Soon the dark chairs and tables stand out
   sharply in front of strange green-striped walls, gulls circle in the sky, smoke
   from piles of old tires set alight at strategic points throughout the city
   sifts through the crack where the pane doesn’t quite join the sill---
   is this, I ask you, a mute entreaty on the part of some well-intentioned
   but shy deity meant to take the temperature of the lives being squandered
   by the few left here below? Ask, rather, why the clock slows down
   a little more each day, necessitating double, triple and even quadruple tintinnabulations
   in order for its fundamentally banal intentions to be elucidated
   so that one may settle down to enjoying the usufruct of the sparse,
   shattering seconds, the while looking forward to retiring at ninety
   on a comfortable income without rueing the day one first took up the odd
   gambit that has projected us into a lifetime of self-loathing and shallow interests.
   One lives thus, plucking a mean sort of living from the rubbish heaps
   of history, unaware that the parallel daintiness of the lives of the rich,
   like fish in an ocean whose bottom is dotted with the rusted engines and debris
   of long-forgotten wrecks, unfolds; yes, “And I in greater depths than he,” 1 suppose,
   yet it doesn’t help deliver one back either to the after all sane and helpful blank square
   one is always setting out from, having in the meantime forgotten those other
   precepts, sane and insane, that intrude as soon as one begins to think
   about anything at all. It is always on the rim of some fleshpot briefly
   mentioned in the Bible one is seen to squirm, a pinned worm, so that
   one is pitted against others as against oneself: lonesome, hungry,
   and a little bit thirsty until the day of doom universally misconstrued as a
   time of relief and pillars of dust rising straight up out of the desert valleys
   where one’s feet take one, and all that mythology of broken tracks,
   jettisoned equipment, and the long-uninhabited wadi whose watering-trough
   is merely mud now and a few puddles of camel-stale, materializes.
   
  
   Latest reports show that the government
   still controls everything but that the location of the blond captive
   has been pinpointed thanks to urgent needling from the backwoods constituency
   and the population in general is alive and well. But can we dwell
   on any of it? Our privacy ends where the clouds’ begins, just here, just at
   this bit of anonymity on the seashore.And we have the right
   to be confirmed, just as animals or even plants do, provided we go away and leave
   every essential piece of the architecture of us behind. Surely then, what we work for must be met
   with approval sometime even though we haven’t the right to issue any
   such thing. There are caves and caves,and almost none
   of them has been explored yet. That doesn’t give us much
   to go on, yet we insistently cry that someone else’s rondo is already
   being played, and that over and over, so how come nobody does anything about it,
   relaxes us in our shoes and tells us about bedtime? Surely, in my younger
   days people acted differently about it. There was no barnstorming, just quiet
   people going about their business and not worrying too much about
   being rewarded at the end when it came down to that. No, we were wandering
   away, too busy for such things, toward the altar,
   or better yet into the nave whose fruit-and-flower
   decoration led unostentatiously and facilely into the outdoors it
   anticipated. No use just sitting around juicing the lemon
   or the orange for that matter as long as one was intending to get up and play
   again. And now that the time of reckoning nears, it wears a changed coat;
   its color is brighter. No but there must be some structural difference as well
   in the ordering of the colors and how they were laid on, only
   no one can conceivably care enough about this to talk about it. Well I do
   and can, but the un-nice fractions almost always assert themselves
   above the din of this great city and I have trouble remembering
   even my name until some passing girl kindles its fancy, what my name was
   to me when I first began to think about other things. There is not postage for this boredom either really so that it keeps
   returning, might be said never to have gone away at all,
   except for the media with which it keeps getting compared. I say, the other
   reaches really tickle you, when you have a chance. And all this time
   I thought he was only farting around disinclined to have a serious opinion
   on anything, and even more so to give it vent or utterance. And my sight clears
   for the first time in a thousand years and it’s true, I can see up ahead
   where no one waits and the long flags flap and droop in the dust of sunsets
   and so may it be forever and ever till we get it right. Mine’s isn’t the option to
   show you how to escape or comfort you unduly but with a little time
   and a little patience we shall make this thing work. Even though you thought
   everything you touched was doomed to fall apart or not start, time has
   a few surprises up its sleeve and deserves to be spat on for not having more,
   or would, if it didn’t.Yet it does. There are promises clad with the finest
   silk you can imagine and silver ornaments hitherto undreamed of, if only you can
   match them with something of equal loveliness and curiosity from your own
   secret collection. And of course this does take time, but in the end one
   senses it more richly bedizened than ever before, and in line for a promotion
   out of the ranks of futility into the narrow furrows of bliss and total sublimity
   crystallized in good humor that took over early on in the century. Of course,
   no one is aware of this. Yet. But give
   everybody time, even no-shows, and it will all flow backwards, that
   caparisoned night, a trial for some, and otherwise it all gets out
   into your childhood and the beach that was its launching pad before
   hunger and fears took over even as delight fostered the notion that
   there was going to be enough for everybody, for children to pause
   and have a happy home no one talks about anymore. Best to rest, sleep and laugh
   about it to someone who no longer matters and then you’11 find that you are indeed
   in it and have been all along, only that the show was on a kind of treadmill moving
   at the same leaden pace as your jokes and ambitions, which is why you
   never knew about it and therefore consented to come along anyway
   on this dangerous outing to the very sources of time. Don’t
   excuse yourself, nothing could.






 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-4 10:53:36 | 显示全部楼层

   我从来没有真正想过告诉你。现在。他讨厌
   这样做---他不确定为什么。因此就在这部没有欢乐的续集
   被发掘,不仅有一种抓住了他的愤怒的感觉,而且有解脱的感觉,因为
   你现在做不到。它们消失在树林和淤泥之间的
   某个地方,而且现在所有的汽车都有它们。还有五颜六色的玻璃
   和电话;他来试衣。它是适合的,而且正当其时。但无论
   你做什么,总有人会怀有恶意,并试图阻止你,
   尽管无法阻止它们。他来试衣,试图穿上它,它合适,就这样。多好笑。哦,是的,她从壁橱里
   笑了出来,我一分钟就到,亲爱的。你看
   她多么喜欢他,而他,嗯,他只是拿走了它,
   就像大多数东西一样,零钱,椒盐卷饼。她觉得他
   很擅长它,它有点像是在冒充她。当最后一块挡风玻璃呼啸
   而过,一切都结束了,很匆忙,随着肉的歌唱,
   嘴唇慢慢分开,为了夜钟的字母
   像一个巨大的钥匙环一样叮当作响,因此,随着狂风
   鞭打的的碎屑,它本身的概念,紧跟我们和所有的人,我们永远不会
   完全从它下面出来,它总有一根线附在你身上
   当你拿开那一根,另一根似乎被磁化了的取代了它的位置。
   上帝啊(1),和他一起呆在坑里是愚蠢的,因为当时的判决……
   但谁知道它们以前可能尝试过什么,在
   修补,真正成为了闯入者之前用尽了什么途径,
   尽管有它有火 花,但从来没有被认为是危险的。
   每个人偶尔都会有这样的想法,但这里有一个夜晚的
   小烈酒杯,都可以随时饮用,你在它里面散开
   甚至它在你中辐射前。不管你是否喜欢这些条纹
   都没关系,因为,在开始考虑它们的时候,
   它们会合并,富人的房子变成一个水壶,水池里的
   花圈变成了别的东西,而药水仍然保留着,
   很显著。你想看到它,想让它以这种方式被谈论,
   而不是散漫地说着漫无目的的同情。所以那天晚上,我们几乎被木板围住,
   打包去度假---哪儿?而且,没有男人听说过这件事,
   只有十几岁的女孩和长着水果色肤色和头皮的男性青少年,
   他们会让它很难,一旦一个有机会。
   但一件有趣的
   事情发生了,我们没有一个人在附近数数,一切都不符合我们
   应该永远履行的职责,也不需要太多的训练。那天晚上
   黑暗如甘露,从嘴里升起;你想你从未听过
   这么美妙的声音。然后,当然,寂静主义又被提了出来
   而且很快,很快鲑鱼的粉红色点燃了船卵的
   乳清和旧的、伤痕累累的金属的黑色;然后,它如何
   感觉到放松一个像温暖,麻木浴,她的论点,和你的,
   以及他们所有的---为什么,为什么不考虑,或更好的,只是
   握着,握着它们?因为光速是遥远的,
   你,迟早,必须回到
   一个恶化的状态,而且,把你的手放在火里,只是说出
   这些对你意味着什么:被连接和
   结束,亲吻那张展开的,僵硬卡片的燃烧
   边缘,当我们经过时,你无法避免对它
   做任何事或承认它,当一切都经过时。
   为什么
   他,凭什么是他干了这事?为什么,我们把我们的小故事推来推去
   来来回回,等等
   当它真正“内爆”的时候,我的意思是,那时他已经适应了
   没有人引起他的注意。在你的呻吟曲目中喉音一个
   接一个---你会感到差异。如果它不能从我们身上解放它自己,
   它就会变成空气中的灰尘,带着一种消极的威严,人们以为
   在他的一生中再也看不到了。但我有号角---我们有一个我们同意的交易,但
   没有任何关于它存在的记录的概述,而我就是我
   在这期间的全部,就像他妈的13000英里外他的门廊上的
   种植园主一样。所以我没意识到火炬,也可能,没意识到把我带到这里来的秘密。抛弃了我---我---
   我非常抱歉,大男孩,但是我的计划让湖对岸的乔治和他的妻子陷入了精神崩溃,而我,我们,你知道,我们
   坐在这里,下定决心,不像
   瓜皮,但不喜欢在奇迹般的黎明前说任何关于它的
   事情---气喘吁吁---把我们聚集在它的长袜里。他身上到处渗透着一种故意抒情的
   气氛,避开我们,他,如此迅速地,转向鸡舍,看到他
   在户外跑开,然后,很容易,除了在
   一片空地的树林之间,可能没有记录下来。谁,什么守护圣徒,会捡起
   闪闪发光的灯塔的碎片,让我们还原到它们,以一种
   罗马人的平静,我们准备的?突然间,“狗屁”,到处都是火和
   玻璃在破碎---就好像你从未出生过,但你必须以某种方式
   为手表弹簧的小核心干杯,或者为现在对你
   称王称霸的混乱干杯,但很快,在烘干机修好之前,它将比灰烬中
   未消耗的煤还少。然后都向外,沿着
   一直迷人地延伸到河口的煤渣路,我们所能知道的一切只是希望
   和对明天到来的狂热,明天的藏红花和潮湿的愤怒藏在一个不喜欢你的人的帽子角下。我,我
   在阳光下不管不顾地休息。我们看到一辆车开往城市,那是
   口令。冰块在我的脊柱上下捉迷藏。我在这里收集奖励。服从我的每一个命令,不管
   它看起来多么奇怪,否则我们在审判前就被放逐了,
   不知道我们在过去的朴素中是多么幸运。其他失踪的
   百日草也被会见,没有人有任何话,好的或坏的,说关于我们的事,
   但这并没有引起任何眼泪。然而人们不禁要问:如果一个人再次回到那里会怎么样?
   人们可以依靠谁?如果我们迷路了,会为我们混合
   什么样的干扰?谁是从远处操纵我们日常生活的
   男爵?当外面的沟渠里叛乱不断增长时,为什么还要依靠
   勤奋和纯真?谁知道我们?谁曾知道?我们不是
   在欺骗自己吗?当我们以为有一天发现有人对我们
   有点兴趣时,如果是,那是谁的错?我们来得
   太晚了,去看一个杂草丛生的棒球场?与此同时,棚屋从地球的面孔上
   消失得无影无踪
   现在这颗晚星正在阁楼的窗户前梳她的头
   没人该受责备,只要保持冷静,不要
   匆忙,一切都结束了,或者很快会来,或者以前来过,用任何
   其他语言都足以描述它---就像过去一样。
   
   (1)Begorrah是“上帝”一词的委婉说法
   
   
   
   I’ve never really considered telling you.And now. He hated
   doing it---he wasn’t sure why. And so just as the mirthless sequel was being
   disinterred, a feeling of rage came over him, but also of relief, because
   you couldn’t do it now. They’re lost somewhere out there between the trees
   and muck, besides all cars have them now. And the colorful glasses and telephone
   are there; he came for a fitting. It was proper, and in its time. But no
   matter what you do someone will be malevolent about it, and try to stop you,
   though there is no stopping them. He came for the fitting and tried
   it on and it fit, just like that. What a laugh. Oh yes she laughed out
   of the closet I’ll be there in a minute dear. You see
   how fond of him she was, and he, well he just took it,
   like most things, change, pretzels. And she thought he was
   so good at it it kind of faked her when the last windshield whizzed
   by and it was all over as though in a rush. And as meat is sung,
   and lips only slowly parted for the alphabet of night chimes to come
   clanging down like an immense ring of keys, so with the gale-
   whipped morsel, notion of itself, that dogs us and all humans, and we never
   quite get out from under it, there is always a thread of it attached to you
   and when you remove that, another one as though magnetized takes its place.
   Begorrah it was dumb to be in the pit with him, for then the sentence...
   But who knows what all they may have tried before, what
   avenues exhausted before it was time to mend and really be the interloper,
   and for all its sparks it was never considered dangerous.
   Everybody gets such ideas on occasion, but here was the little shot-glass
   of night, all ready to drink, and you spread out in it
   even before it radiates in you. It doesn’t matter whether or not
   you like the striations, because, in the time it takes to consider them,
   they will have merged, the rich man’s house become a kettle, the wreath
   in the sink turned to something else, and still the potion holds,
   prominent. And you want to see it and to have it be talked about this way,
   not drool aimless compassion. So on that night we were almost boarded up,
   packed off to a vacation---where?Moreover no men heard of it,
   only teen-age girls and male adolescents with fruited complexions and scalps,
   who were going to make it difficult for one should an occasion arise.
   But a funny
   thing happened, none of us were around to count, all incommensurate with our
   duties as we should forever be, and not wanting much training. The dark
   was like nectar that evening, rising in the mouth; you thought you had never heard
   so pretty a sound. Then, of course, quietism was again broached
   and that soon, and quite soon the pink of the salmon ignited the whey
   of the plover’s egg and the black of old, scarred metal; then, how it
   feels relaxes one like a warm, numbing bath, and her argument, and yours,
   and all of theirs---why, why not just consider, or better yet, just
   hold, hold on to them? For the speed of light is far away,
   and you, sooner or later, must return
   to a deteriorated situation, and, placing your hand in the fire, say
   just what it means to you to be connected
   and over, and kiss the burning edges of the unfolded, stiff
   card, and be unable to avoid doing anything about it or acknowledging it
   when we have passed, when all is past.
   And why did
   he, by what was he it? Why, we push our little tales around
   and back and forth and so on
   by which time it literally implodes, I mean by then he was settling in
   and no one called his attention to it. In your repertory of groans is one
   glottal one---you’ll feel the difference.And if it can’t liberate itself from us,
   just turns to dust in the air floating with the kind of negative majesty one thought
   one would not see again in one’s life. But I had the horn---we had a deal we agreed on, yet
   no record of its existence is sketched,and I am all I am
   in the meanwhile and 13,000 fucking miles away like a planter
   on his porch. And so I am unaware of the flambeaux and, possibly, the stealth
   that brought me here. And abandoned me ---I---
   I 'm awfully sorry, big boy, but my plans concern George and his wife over by the other side
   of the lake slipping into a nervous breakdown, and I, we, well as you know, we
   sit here determined, not like the rind
   of the melon but not liking to say anything about it into the miraculous dawn
   that---gasp---gathers us into its stocking. A pervasive air about him of studious
   lyricism avoided us, and he turned, ever so quickly, to the hen house, and off
   in the open was seen running, and then ,it’s so easy, was probably not recorded
   except between the trees of a clearing. And who, what patron saint, will pick up
   the pieces of the glittering lighthouse and restore us to them in a kind
   of Roman calm, that we were meant for?And suddenly SHIT it’s the fire and
   glass breaking everywhere---it’s as though you were never born but you must somehow
   drink a toast to the small nucleus of watch-springs or confusion that
   lords it over you now but will be less than an unconsumed coal among ashes, soon,
   until the dryer’s fixed. And then all out and along the
   cinder path that led so alluringly down to the bayou, all we can know is hope
   and fevers for a coming tomorrow of saffron and moist rage under the corner
   of someone’s hat that wasn’t meant to like you. Me, I
   rest in the sun regardless. We saw a car drive on to the city that
   is the password. Ice-cubes played tag up and down my spine. I’m here to collect the reward. Obey my every command, no matter
   how strange it may seem, otherwise we’ll have been banished before the judgment,
   not know how fortunate we were in our old simplicity. Other vanished
   zinnias were interviewed and nobody had anything, good or bad, to say about us,
   which doesn’t cause any tears yet one wonders: what if one were back there again?
   On whom might one rely? What distractions would be concocted for us
   if we had strayed? And who is the baron that manipulates our daily lives
   from afar? Why even depend on industry and innocence when rebellion is growing
   in the ditch just outside? Who knows about us? Who ever did? Weren’t we
   lying to ourselves when we thought we caught someone being just slightly
   interested in us one day, and if so, whose fault is it? That we came
   too late to an overgrown baseball diamond? And in the meantime shacks had vanished
   without a trace from the face of the globe
   and now the evening star was combing her hair at the attic window
   and no one is to blame, just be calm, don’t
   rush, it’s all over or soon will be or just was, in any
   other language sufficient to tell it in--- just like it was.
   
   
   
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-17 18:04:28 | 显示全部楼层

   长期以来,我的观点是,豺狼,
   与认识森林的其他居民不同,能够预测
   某种寄生虫新陈代谢的未来,它们生长在其他人的
   孩子身上并吞噬他们。眼睛是深钴蓝色的,接受
   道德上的左右为难,慢慢地发芽出
   箴言,就像水晶,
   “但不,不是天真的”,
   而且不缺乏个性。你会记得,二十年前,那些眼睛
   以为它们产生差异,呆滞、健忘、厚颜无耻,
   不再为人父母。阿里纳斯很乐意服从
   尽管有点困惑。至少一开始是这样。一个非常难嚼的高级提议
   似乎支吾着,然后消失在背景噪音中,但---事情就是这样---
   “持续着”,一直到今天。秃顶而流血。我不喜欢它,没有人
   有义务这样,每个人都可能“愿意”忽视它,但它达到顶峰
   这样做有它的自主权。女经理很固执,但我有一个可怕的想法
   那就是把人们引用旧急件和陷入困境的嗜好
   延长到深夜和黎明之后,然后呢?沉闷的卫生间
   问题一直持续着,我投入太深,太缺钱,再加上我自己的舒适度
   这个绝不是微不足道的问题,以至于都无法被破解,而所有其他的争论
   突然崩溃了,就像回家的梦。我的神话多么刺痛;
   我的梦还没有结束,我们只是这样一个梦。到这时,所有的力量沉箱
   反正都被翻了个底朝天;轻视它被认为是恰当的
   所以是正确的,但是,一个人多长时间一次能蹒跚地
   回到植物泥中,仍然保持至少一种肤浅的悔恨外表?
   就像时钟似乎经常在说我爱你,巨石
   在睡梦中翻身叹息,而猫永远在逃跑一样。为此花了
   两周时间。商店现在很安静。
   我说躺在它里面。我已经问过圣诞老人。
   然后,你看,它成为我们文化历史的一部分。我们可以忽略它
   即使我们愿意,它是如此温和和无害。你认为
   你拥有它是好,还是坏。有这么多的关联需要
   不断翻阅,人们对合法的水印眨眨眼,它们渗透到
   一捆腐朽的每一页,直到最后一页,就像钉子
   穿过门。有人把这些灰掸掉,打开
   窗帘,让这个主题透进一点光:这个主题
   又独自出发了。是的,但如果家只是从溪流中
   黑暗的窗户上滑下的光,居住在它们的
   凹面上,并通常让它自己适应已经存在的东西的轮廓,
   人们可以理解这个,
   躺回僵硬的床,遮住自己的眼睛,避开
   无处不在的朦胧黎明,其行为就像叔叔的告诫:这么做
   不是为了我或你自己,而是为了你的母亲,就像一圈空空的
   雏菊试图宣传合理性,同时又太心烦意乱
   羞于清晰明确地发出诱惑就下沉,它也,
   陷入了不严肃可靠对待自己的泡沫之中。亲爱的,我祝你永远一切都好
   尤其是那些日子,当灰色的疼痛片刻升起,像困在温暖
   空气层下的雾,然后
   在完全不知道该如何处理
   它自己或做任何事情的时候凹陷。白昼,当雪线上方的森林
   尖锐的新鲜度
   可以认为它自己迟钝,当小溪友好的潺潺声交谈着
   后退,人们倾听,却从不注意
   那完美的渴望。嘿,它刚才还在这里
   我想,或者有人误导了我,就像有时发生的那样,但它与许多东西
   联系在一起,其中一些必然会降落,破碎,减小成
   令人烦恼的粉末,但像灰尘一样自然,在
   我们的一生中。当地商人被激怒。新的无痛
   方法被引入,但不知何故,把它制造成所有最密集的和橡胶,一个不必要的赞美诗
   没有人说它。忧虑开始了,离婚法庭
   一度爆满,没有人会提出异议,质疑权力真空
   它正在四处游走,挥手,像候选人一样代表全世界。
   但你感觉到了它,不是吗?为什么没有人
   有什么好话
   可说,我的意思是你的条纹球,即使是在一个商务纪念晚宴上,然后他们都
   跑回来,一定是一个错误。是的,这里我们拥有它。
   
   

   It has long been my contention that jackals,
   unlike other denizens of the epistemic forest, are able to predict
   the future of metabolizing some kind of parasite that grows on other people’s
   children and devours them. The eyes are a profound cobalt blue, accepting
   of moral dilemmas and sprouting proverbs
   slowly, like crystals,
   but no, not innocent,
   and not lacking in character. Twenty years ago, you will recall, the eyes
   thought they made a difference, were glazed, forgetting and impudent,
   relieved of parenting. Arenas were quite happy to comply
   though a little bewildered. At first at least. One very chewy advanced proposition
   seemed to falter, then faded into the background noise, but---here’s the thing---
   continued, to this day. Bald and bleeding. I don’t like it, no one
   is obliged to, everyone may bon gre mal gre ignore it, yet it peaks
   and in so doing has its say. The manageress was adamant, but I had the horrible idea
   of prolonging beyond night and dawn one’s predilection for quoting old
   dispatches and getting into hot water, and then? The sullen bathroom
   question lasted, I was too far out into it, out of pocket, plus the by no means negligible
   question of my own comfort to be decoded, and all other arguments
   suddenly collapsed, like a dream of homecoming. How stung my myth;
   my dream wasn’t over, we were only such a dream. By this time all the caissons
   of power had been turned inside out anyway; it was considered correct to despise it
   and rightly so, but how often can one shamble
   back to the vegetable gunk and still retain at least a superficial appearance of contrition?
   As often as the clock seems to say I love you and boulders
   turn in their sleep and sigh and the cat is forever running away. It took
   two weeks to lead up to this. The stores are quiet now.
   I say lie down in it. I already asked Santa about it.
   And then, you see, it became part of our cultural history. We can^ ignore it
   even though we’d like to, it’s so mild and hurtless. And you thought
   you had it bad, or good. With as many associations as that
   to keep thumbing through, one winks at the legal filigrane that penetrates every
   page of the mouldering sheaf down to the last one, like a spike
   through a door. Somebody dust these ashes off, open
   the curtains, get a little light on the subject: the subject
   going off on its own again. Yes but if home were only light
   sliding down darkened windows in rivulets, inhabiting their
   concavities and generally adapting itself to the contours of what is already there,
   one could understand that,
   lie back on the stiff daybed shading one’s eyes from
   omnipresent bleary dawn that acts as an uncle’s remonstrance: do this
   not for me or for yourself but for your mother the way an empty circle
   of daisies seeks to promote plausibility and is simultaneously too distraught
   and ashamed to articulate the siren call crisply and sinks, it too,
   into the foam of reliably not taking itself seriously. I wish you well darling always
   especially days when the gray pain lifts for a moment like fog trapped under
   a layer of warmer air, then sags definitively not knowing what to do
   with itself or about anything. Days when the pointed freshness of forests
   above the snowline
   can consider itself numb, when the friendly gurgling of rills talks
   back and one listens but never heeds
   that desire for perfectability. Hey, it was here only a moment ago
   I think or somebody misled me, as sometimes happens, yet with as many
   associations as that some of it is bound to come down, to crumble, to be reduced
   to a vexing powder but natural like dust, and that
   within all our lifetimes. Local businessmen bristled. New painless
   methods were introduced but somehow made it all thick and rubbery, an unwanted anthem
   No one said it. Care was off and running, the divorce courts
   overflowing for once, and no one was going to take issue, dispute the power vacuum
   that was walking around shaking hands, acting for all the world like a candidate.
   But you feel it don’t you? How come nobody
   has anything nice
   to say, I mean you striped ball, even for a testimonial dinner on a commercial, then they all
   run back, must have been a mistake. Yes, we have it here.
   
    

 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-19 11:04:38 | 显示全部楼层

   不管怎样,它们在哪里?我强烈反对拼图中的
   小碎片参与行动;流着口水,就像,
   只不过是我能看到《小红帽》爬上麦金利山。
   但是,关于它的恐怖---我们,看,我们所有人,都没有纪律,所以
   当是时候带孩子去某个地方或者颠覆老板的自负时,光芒
   会瞬间从我们身上消失。哦,我知道我们可以修补它,总是成功的,
   后来。但在这场邂逅的小小沉淀中,确实有一些东西
   需要阅读,尽管很少对准焦点。好肉汁,只要
   告诉你这件事就让我毛骨悚然。我们晒完日光浴后
   雾气很准时,阴沉而看得透。当然,没有理由回到家乡,回到
   我们的根源,但这也不能被理解为邀请。你知道
   你在电视上看到的一切都是骗局,种植在那里就是为了迷惑
   像你自己这样心烦意乱的爱国者,尽管我们没有更明智地介入其中
   决心改弦更张,但像实际的印刷错误这样的事还是发生了。我们不再
   负责我们的礼仪;
   寒鸦已经在附近发射,榆树也看到了
   更好的白昼。为什么仅仅因为我是个孩子,我就不能
   警告任何人这一点,除非用舌头说话?哦,我知道,制定
   聪明、时髦、令人难以置信的要求与当老师
   了解学生的迟钝不是一码事。我也可以
   狂想,但有一点,准确地
   瞄准并收获合理的回报不仅仅是
   歌唱的事,而是实体,不,我的意思是,积聚---确实是
   一个不可思议的事实。当我第一次想到这件事的时候
   就像被碾过一样。现在悲哀地说,我们的四肢
   没有那么重要;我们目睹了一场完整的网球比赛,蜡烛
   点燃了,空气中有一丝
   飘落的感觉,沉闷而无聊。“啊我必须不断反击
   以便发现你,那么当你还在那里的时候,我知道什么?”
   对未来一无所知,对你也一样,亲爱的,
   我要说。你有没有注意到事情怎么有解决的方法,但你还有没有注意到这很少会构成一套
   令人满意的环境,特别是当我们梦想,没有计划,它们的时候?在我家里
   没有人粗鲁,但这不是借口;
   我想脚步声
   正在接近,环绕着,然后移向
   另一个太阳,某个方向?我更在乎
   它还在那里。
   
   尽管有障碍,交易还在继续,
   但天然牛角鸣叫着。今天的大雾可能会让交通陷入困境
   但办公室里时髦的服装表明,暴力肯定也有其平静的
   一面,当事情以成打,甚至几十件的形式完成时。博物馆的
   守卫一定知道什么事结束了,但这里也,只有沉默的口吃。
   不要问你的伴侣想什么。他可能已经注意到
   风向标被堵住了,即使是在一大群日游者
   乘着华丽的彩绘手推车离开城市的时候,到了中午,我们之间刚刚
   也发生了太可怕的事情。我给约翰打了电话,但他没能来接电话
   他的助手也不知道那吠叫的,珠宝
   哗啦掉落的声音的任何线索。我在海滩上的家中有时会想到
   其他人一定有着与我相同的经历
   他们也无法说出它们,如果我们足够
   关心,走进彼此的心灵并四处
   探索,一些罐装的白色创业型智力食品
   可以及时复制出来,以拯救无家可归者
   大军,还有大象。但是---
   候诊室是干什么用的,终究?如果人们
   不在被改造过的草坪边上恐怖地过着生活
   红叶依偎在草坪边上。家不仅仅是一个地方,甚至不仅仅是
   一个概念,对于这个精英少数群体来说,然后通过指出来
   挑出他们,这样他们一些耻辱的象征就永远
   不会离去,直到写在上面的纸已经腐烂了
   几千年以上,到那时,新的昆虫将被引进,
   新形式的头皮屑,真正鞋子的洞。一团稀薄的空气坑
   支配我们;所有的敬礼都是这样制造的,所有的
   屈膝礼和观念似乎都指向了那
   警报响起时的恐惧漩涡。但这是
   恐惧,还是只是令人不快的嗡嗡声?被吸引到那里的乱穿马路者,
   人们看见且相信。这位老人没有敌人。为什么,那么?因为几个时代
   知道他与诗歌的联系,通过远在洞穴下面的
   潮湿、开裂的岩石,为他们自己的了解进行报复,制造了一种不愉快的
   局面,它可能会消失,如果没有人对此发表任何意见,
   但现在---好,你不能要求人们
   对他们所看到的事情保持沉默,刺激我们
   走向胜利的力量正在上演一场没有典型特征的斋戒。
   只有明天的光的入侵才会被视为谈判中的
   新音符,无论如何,它将在那时进入公共
   领域,进一步的招募不再被视为需要,或进行。
   我不能动摇这种预感,这就是这些东西的全部,
   没有人在意
   知道,更不用说成为进一步合法讨价还价的见证人了。
   这就是造成所有麻烦的原因。
   
   语言,然而,并不是罪魁祸首。它们只是一种最糟糕的安慰剂,
   不导向任何地方(尽管没有任何地方,但必须补充的是,有时可能是一个舒适的
   地方,在许多情况下比某个地方更好),如果令人愉快的音符旋转,就导向平庸。
   用它们掩盖大量的大页纸并不能保证成功,
   但也不会自动导致毁灭;断头台上的轮子;
   留下,在中间的距离,像一个无休止的太平间,一个遗憾的湖。
   不过还是听听家具奇怪的唧唧声更好。
   听力是一种专利设备,其多种用途几乎还没有开始探索,
   人们应该在尽可能多的认为有益的任何场合进行练习。让你的朋友感到厌烦,
   设酒宴款待他们,让他们看一个盛大的时刻:别的,更吉祥的
   场合肯定会被唤起;当晚,从正面看台,巨大的
   蒸汽柱笔直落进玄武岩的天空。交谈的日子,而且,最后,
   一种在排序彼此感情和实际地部分
   解决某些不和方面取得进展的感觉似乎正在发生
   树屋被从错综复杂的关注点和解决方案的
   炽热核心中猛插出的光线分割开来,一段重要关系的手推车
   被引导到城市外的正确轨道上进入一个阴影,大部分空的
   眼泪的边缘地带,为了涂脂抹粉和愤怒的记忆,解除了现在,
   为黄昏作准备。这是《雄鹰童子军》在营火中
   经常讨论的事情,一页不知何故从记录中被撕掉了,好像
   它从来没有被撕掉过一样。仅仅因为牛和马就像它们总是站在周围那样,
   就好像我们在考虑一套密封的说明:
   现在这座桥永远不会建成,
   如果这是他背后钱包里的全部时间。在这里和那里
   缩小比例的惊喜,在灰尘中来回走动,再一次似乎
   一切都取决于我们。嗯,为什么不?这次脚下的砾石要
   细一些。没有人对你大喊大叫。这些词,就像它们
   总是做的那样,绕了一个圈,一直拖着反面的
   意思,人们甚至
   期待着这一点,有一些东西值得咀嚼。我是橡胶
   你是胶水,无论你说什么都会从我身上反弹并粘住你;在那黏糊糊的
   拥抱中我投降了。我们俩现在都是活物的一部分。
   
   
   
   Anyway, where are they? I am violently opposed to the little pieces
   of the puzzle getting in on the act;slobbering, as it were,
   any more than I can see Little Red Riding Hood climbing Mt.McKinley.
   But as for the horror of it---we are, look, all of us, undisciplined so
   when it’s time to take the kids somewhere or subvert the boss’s ego the light
   goes out of us for an instant. Oh I know we can patch it up, always successfully,
   later. But out of the fine deposit of the encounter there is surely something
   that is required reading, though seldom in focus. Good gravy, it
   gives me the creeps just telling you about it. And after we had sunbathed
   the mist was on time, dull and fathomable. That’s no reason to return home, to
   our roots, of course, yet neither can it be construed as an invitation. You see
   everything you see on television is a fraud, is planted there to confuse distraught
   patriots like yourself, and though we enter into it no wiser and leave
   resolved to mend our ways, something like an actual misprint occurs. We are no
   longer in charge of our propriety;
   jackdaws have launched nearby and the elms have seen
   better days. Why is it that just because I’m a child I can
   warn no one of this, except by speaking in tongues? Oh I know formulating
   bright, snazzy, fabulous demands isn’t the same thing as being a teacher
   and picking up on the slowness of your student. I can rhapsodize about that
   too, but there comes a point when having aimed
   accurately and reaped the reasonable rewards is more than something to
   sing about, is the entity, no I mean the accretion---is indeed the
   fantastic fact. It was like being run over when I
   first thought of this. And now sad to say our limbs
   aren’t as important; we have witnessed an entire tennis match and candles
   are coming on, there’s a hint
   of fall in the air, soggy and bored. O I have to keep fighting
   back to find you, and then when you’re still there, what is it I know?
   Nothing about the future and no more about you, either, honey,
   I was going to say. Have you noted how things
   have a way of working out but have you also noted how rarely this constitutes a satisfying
   set of circumstances, especially when we dream, not plan, them? In my house
   no one is rude but that’s no excuse;
   I think footfalls
   are approaching, circling round, then moving away
   to some other sun, some direction? I care more
   yet it’s there.
   
   Despite handicaps trading continues,
   natural horns bleat. The fog may be messing up traffic today
   but in offices chic outfits signal that for sure violence too has its calm
   aspects, when things get done in dozens, or even scores. The museum
   guards must have known something was up, yet here too, only silence stammers.
   Don’t ask your partner what to think. He may have noticed
   that the weathervane has jammed even as crowds of daytrippers
   move on out of the city in gaily painted carts, and by noon something just
   too awful had come between us. I called John but he couldn’t come to the phone
   nor did his assistant have any clue as to what the barking, the clatter
   of falling jewelry were all about. It occurs to me in my home on the beach
   sometimes that others must have experiences identical to mine
   and are also unable to speak of them, that if we cared
   enough to go into each other’s psyche and explore
   around, some of the canned white entrepreneurial brain food
   could be reproduced in time to save the legions
   of the dispossessed, and elephants. But---
   what is a waiting room for, after all? If not to
   live out one’s life scarily to the borders of altered lawns
   with red leaves nestled on them .Home becomes more than a place, more even than
   a concept for this elite minority, and then singles them out
   by pointing so that some symbol of their shame never
   goes away, until the paper it is written on has rotted
   over thousands of years, by which time new insects will have been introduced,
   new forms of dandruff, holes that are really shoes. A thin puddle of air
   rules over us; all obeisances are made that way, all
   curtsies and notions seem to point into that vortex
   of fear just as the alarm goes off. But is it
   fear, or only an unpleasant hum? And jaywalkers gravitate there,
   are seen to believe. The old man had no enemies. Why, then? Because a handful
   of ages knew of his connection to poetry via the wet, fissured rocks far below
   in the cave and took revenge for their own knowingness to create an unpleasant
   situation that would probably have gone away if nobody had said anything about it,
   but now---well you just can’t ask people to keep silent
   about something they’ve seen, and the forces that prodded
   us on to victory are staging an uncharacteristic fast.
   Only the intrusion of tomorrow’s light will have been recognized as a new note
   in the negotiations, which will in any case by that time be in the public
   domain, and no further recruiting be deemed necessary, or undertaken.
   I can’t shake the hunch that this is what the stuff is all about
   and no one cares to
   know, let alone be a witness to further legal horse-trading.
   That’s what caused all the trouble.
   
   Words, however, are not the culprit.They are at worst a placebo,
   leading nowhere (though nowhere, it must be added, can sometimes be a cozy
   place, preferable in many cases to somewhere), to banal if agreeable note-spinning.
   Covering reams of foolscap with them won’t guarantee success,
   yet neither will it automatically induce ruination; wheel on the guillotine;
   leave, in the middle distance, something like an endless morgue, a lake of regret.
   It’s better though to listen to the strange chirps of the furniture.
   Listening is a patented device whose manifold uses have scarcely begun to be explored,
   that one should practice on as many occasions as are deemed profitable. Bore your friends,
   wine them, show them a grand time: other, more auspicious
   occasions are sure to be evoked; nights when, from the grandstand, tremendous plumes
   of steam plummeted straight into the basalt sky. Days of conversation, and, at the end,
   a feeling of progress in sorting out mutual feelings and actually partly
   resolving certain discords came to seem as though it were happening
   and the treehouse was split apart by rays plunging out of the incandescent
   core of tangled concerns and resolves and the handcar of an important relationship
   was steered onto the right track out of the city into a shadowed, mostly empty
   peripheral zone of tears for anointed and angry memories, defused now,
   ready for twilight. It’s something Eagle Scouts used to discuss
   by the campfire, a page that somehow got ripped out of the record, to be
   as though it had never been. Just because cows and horses stand around much as they always have,
   it is as though we were contemplating a set of sealed instructions:
   now the bridge will never be built,
   if that is all time had in the wallet at his back. Scaled-down surprises
   here and there, a puttering about in dust, and once again it seems as though it
   were all up to us. Well, why not? The gravel underfoot is a little finer
   this time round. And nobody yells at you.The words have, as they
   always do, come full circle, dragging the meaning that was on the reverse side
   all along, and one even
   expects this, something to chew on. I’m rubber
   and you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you; in which gluey
   embrace I surrender. We are both part of a living thing now.
   

 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-20 09:47:49 | 显示全部楼层

   十年后,他跌跌撞撞或变得困惑。
   这次郊游没有其他人,所以为什么他
   总是庄严地舞动着手臂?和墙说话?每当有人
   走过来对他好一点时,他就好像以前从来没有见过一个人的脸;
   眼睛水分过多,鼻子也一样,这些话就像是他强迫它们出来后
   切碎的棉绒。把这样的意义拖在人们身后已经够
   糟糕,但把它放在人们身边更糟糕,比知道该做什么。
   最后,记忆变成了一个被传递的
   对象,用来点燃鉴赏力的展示;因此,
   人们可以带着雄心壮志和驱动力住在同一所
   房子里,但仍然可以享受孤独感觉的奢侈:哦,住口,没有人
   想孤独。而且,你知道,即使偶尔接受邀请
   也要赤脚苦干,独自一人,除了来自
   更随便的熟人的随便问候。
   
   人们所爱的东西与从事这项工作的
   精力之间存在的差异越难解释,理解
   或欣赏这种稀薄得惊人的稀粥就越难
   这种稀粥服务于它日常的饥饿,让它
   显示心满意足的迹象。我想,我猜想如果一个人
   出生并成长在一个荒岛上,不知道
   什么更好,甚至有什么不同,那么他可能会
   与容纳他的四面墙重合,并没有看到任何异常,没有
   任何怪诞,结果。这堆冰冷的灰烬,我们称呼
   过去的一个更好的词,不会像这里那样
   影响地平线,让人们注意到
   与它相似的形状,从而将它们释放到
   我们集体记忆的血液中:这里是鸡笼,那里是烟囱,
   更远处是一个地下实验室。那么,这些事情就不会
   使人沮丧(或,就像有时会发生的那些,使人得意的事),而生活就是这样:
   一句天国的箴言导致地球上的恍惚。然而,有人指责
   地平线没有更好的东西可以提供。“我命令了那个吗?”
   当账单来的时候,试图向管理层投诉
   但在那时,吉格舞,或别的什么,是起来了。是的,在我的时代
   我见过许多优秀的年轻女孩走上了这条路,后来想知道
   出了什么问题。我看到孩子们,他们在很小的时候
   就被从家里带走了,像“小内尔”一样到处游荡,
   不知道他们从来不会被强迫这样做。啊
   天国,人们躺在吊床上看书喝水,
   听不到恐怖的低语,因为它逐渐上升
   分贝级别。然而,我看到你不确定在哪里定位我:
   我在这里。我对你的思念比你可能意识到的要多,
   是的,一个比你对“我”的思念更多的景象。这提醒了我:
   我们什么时候在一起?实际上我的意思是---不只是为了
   喝一杯和抽一支烟,而“实际上”
   是以一种有意义的意义重大的方式侵犯对方的隐私
   后来我们双方都会因此而得到补偿,因为
   尽管我神气活现,吵吵嚷嚷,但我没有达到目标,
   没有真正的家,也没有人居住,除了你
   我可能有永远失去你的危险,当一条蓝鱼
   从船的甲板上滑下,像一条金枪鱼挣扎时,但是说,你知道所有这些。
   你认为我是个什么样的笨蛋?我想要你的
   关注,而不仅仅是你的眼睛和脸。我想告诉你
   我有多爱你。我是一股尝试的液体,但是在船内脏的
   深处,我们听到了一些东西,你不同意吗,这
   告诉我们我们在哪里偏离了航线,我们必须做些什么才能
   回到航线上,现在已经太晚了,所有的
   桅杆都像苹果花一样长出,撞到了礁石上:我想
   继续一段时间,无论如何,但是想知道在这种情况下,这是否
   会像在让你喘不过气来的大雨中
   踏上一段漫长的旅程。连一步都不可能
   我认为,现在。我再也没有精力
   在窗玻璃上呼吸,这样霜冻就会把它变成
   雕刻的钢制花环,像一个
   全神贯注的对话者一样吸引人。不,今天
   这里很阴沉;风的服务只是提醒人们其他可能的
   开始和结束,如果人们可能再次从这条路经过。
   
   我懂了。
   我试试另一张票。同时感谢风琴:它
   无害的和弦在铁路附近把我扫离了我的脚
   而且---令人愉快---明天和以后的每一天都会重新绽放。
   我以为没人再需要忏悔者了,但我猜我错了,
   所以,老树桩,我要离开到明天或下周初的某一天,我的意思是
   我还能说多少,出卖自己,不否定
   我想说的话的积极意义,我想说的话现在已经微妙地
   变回了一个基本的规则或人们不太想听的其他东西:
   我们如何成熟,和迷失,然后又长高变瘦,用我们的思绪
   分散我们的注意力,但不太多,于是走近蹒跚的
   路基,慢慢地,但不是暂时地,把一只鞋底放在另一只鞋底前面,
   然后披棚,毛茛和蓝山的环抱起伏着
   进入视野,仿佛在说,但这就是我上次问你的
   现在你将被迫给出一个不同的答案
   即使风已经减弱。我想我看到那边有人。
   不,只是风在怂恿树木
   与黄昏作战,我仍然可以
   看到怎么还是你在那里,只是因为这样的差异,我几乎
   没有时间相信我的空间。但是我们现在知道了,让它对我们
   是真实的,为了请求,为了乞讨,仅仅为了再一次。
   
   
   
   A decade later he stumbled or became confused.
   There was no one else along on this outing, so why was he
   always flailing his arms majestically? Talking to the walls? Whenever someone’d
   cross over to be kind to him it was as though he’d never seen a human face before;
   the eyes were runny, the nose ditto, the words were like chopped cotton wool
   after he’d forced them out. To drag meaning like this behind one is bad
   enough, but to have it beside one is worse, worse than knowing what to do.
   Finally, the memory became an object
   to be passed around for displays of connoisseurship to ignite; thus,
   one can live in the same house with one’s ambitions and
   drives and still have the luxury of feeling alone: oh come off it, no
   one wants to be alone. And even, you know, accept the occasional invitation
   but also slog on unshod, solitary, except for casual greetings from
   even more casual acquaintances.
   
   Harder to explain is the disparity between what is loved
   and the energy with which one goes about doing it, and harder still
   to understand or appreciate the astonishingly thin gruel
   which serves its hunger de tons les jours and with which
   it gives every appearance of being satisfied. I suppose if one
   were born and grew up on a desert island, knowing
   of nothing better or even different, one might coincide
   with the four walls that contain one and see no anomaly, no
   grotesquerie, in the result. This mound of cold ashes that we call
   for want of a better word the past wouldn’t inflect the horizon
   as it does here, calling attention to shapes
   that resemble it and so liberating them into the bloodstream
   of our collective memory: here a chicken coop, there a smokestack,
   farther on an underground laboratory.These things then wouldn’t
   depress (or, as sometimes happens, exalt) one, and living would be just that:
   a heavenly apothegm leading to a trance on earth. Yet one scolds
   the horizon for having nothing better to offer. Did I order that?
   And when the bill comes, tries to complain to the management
   but at that point the jig, or whatever, is up. Yes I’ve seen many fine
   young girls in my time take that path and wonder afterwards
   what went wrong. I’ve seen children, taken from their homes
   at too early an age, left to wander about like Little Nell,
   not knowing that they were never obliged to do this thing. O
   paradise, to lie in the hammock with one’s book and drink,
   not hearing the murmur of consternation as it moves progressively
   up the decibel scale. Yet I see you are uncertain where to locate me:
   here I am .And I’ve done more thinking about you than you perhaps realize,
   yes, a sight more than you’ve done about me. Which reminds me:
   when are we going to get together? I mean really---not just for a
   drink and a smoke, but really
   invade each other’s privacy in a significant way that will make sense
   and later amends to both of us for having done so, for I am
   short of the mark despite my bluster and my swaggering,
   have no real home and no one to inhabit it except you
   whom I am in danger of losing permanently as a blue fish slips off
   the deck of a ship, as a tuna flounders, but say, you know all that.
   What kind of a chump do you think I am, anyway? I would like your
   attention, not just your eyes and face. I would like to tell you
   how much I love you. I’m a sap for trying, but down deep
   in the bowels of the ship we hear something, don’t you agree, that
   tells us where we went off course and what we must do to
   get back on it only now it’s too late, all the
   spars have erupted like apple blossoms, hitting the reef: I would
   like to go on for a while anyway, but wonder under the circumstances whether
   it wouldn’t be like setting out on a long journey in rain so heavy
   it takes your breath away. Even one step is out of the question,
   I think, now. I no longer have the energy to breathe
   on the windowpane so that the frost will transform it into garlands
   of chiseled steel that draw one out
   like a rapt interlocutrix. No it’s
   heavy out here today; the wind serves only to remind one of other possible
   beginnings and an end, if one were likely to pass this way again.
   
   I see.
   I’ll try another ticket. Meanwhile thanks for the harmonium: its
   inoffensive chords swept me right off my feet near the railroad
   and---nice---are returning to bloom tomorrow and each day after that.
   I thought nobody needed a confessor any more, but I was wrong I guess,
   so, old stump, I’m off until tomorrow or some day early next week, I mean
   how much more can I say, giving myself away, without negating
   the positive meaning of what I wanted to say and which has now subtly changed
   back to an elementary precept or something else one doesn’t much want to hear:
   how we flowered, and lost, and rose up thin again with our thoughts
   to distract us but not too much and so approached the shambling
   roadbed and placed one sole in front of another, slowly but not tentatively,
   and then the lean-to, the buttercups and the ring of blue mountains hove
   into view as though to say but that’s what I asked you last time
   and now you will be forced to give a different answer
   even though the wind has dropped. I thought I saw someone over there.
   No, it’s just the wind egging the trees on
   into battle with dusk, and I can
   still see how it’s still you there, only with such a difference I almost
   didn’t have time to trust my space. But we know now and have had it true
   to be us, for the asking, for the begging, for the just one more time.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-20 22:17:29 | 显示全部楼层

   冬天通常下钢琴破布的缓慢暴风雪,而在夏天
   或类似的一些季节,木薯地上的龙胆树影看它们自己
   好得足够吃,楼下的储物柜里总是放着一面
   有“那”拇指指纹的袖珍镜子,羞耻的源泉,但我怎么能
   否认我的真实出身和天性,即使这会让我以后陷入
   很多麻烦?无论如何,没有人注意到任何事情
   女佣推着婴儿车,警察拦下了汽车,快到春天了
   或者没到,但是光秃秃的树看起来奇怪地有刺,也许“那”
   是什么东西,似乎开始下雨了。我坐在这里
   绞着手,但是,如果“我”这次是
   死去的幽灵,它能做什么好事,尽管
   令人安心的活动围绕着我?如果我要被抛弃,那么
   “在哪里”?我必须有一个空间,甚至是一个消极的空间,一个
   为我的插槽,或者那里有?但是如果所有的空间都包含在我里面,那么
   我就没有空间去,我甚至不在这里,现在,也不能加入任何
   合唱团或俱乐部,事实上,我是周围一切的木屑,但甚至也没有人可以
   对此授权。“我收集的信件”不知何故会让我
   觉得维护了我,但即使在那里,洋葱皮也不能被撕开,而且我继续
   成为用看不见的墨水写的附言,直到从现在几个世纪后的某一天
   它们打开了一个时间胶囊,热情的新鲜空气将涌出,通知
   世界,人们可以从及时上床的午睡中起来。伟大的公寓
   正面将把他们的头放在一起,日落看起来将是一场巨大的大火,
   但以什么代价来证明这一点?那些想听这个故事的孩子们
   现在在哪里?为什么,他们中最年轻的一位几年前
   在西海岸突然去世了,任何人都应该记得,而缓慢的
   冰川急流通过管道有效地填满了最细微的发际
   裂缝。它的工作完成了。我们现在都生活在过去。因此,孩子们
   必须仍然坚持在某个地方,尽管没有人确切知道
   在黑暗中会走到哪里,走多少路,走什么路。只有傻瓜,和被砍掉的脑袋,才知道。
   
   因此,我的老母亲即使成为一个壁龛,她,也,不愿意逃避:
   只要它还将继续下去,就不会这么糟糕,古老的格言说。而这
   其他三四个人就是由此而来的。没有人请他们进来,但他们不管怎样还是进来了,
   准备玩。不知怎的,有一章是关于这个的。这一切
   归结为保持安静和玩得开心。只要你不虐待
   如此文明地站在它们壶中的橘子树,嗯,那么下次一切都将也属于你
   让我们为那些从未赢得过任何东西的人而听这个,他们的时代如潮水般
   来来去去,身后留下了好奇的骨头,他们从来没有被欺骗,从来没有
   撒谎,没有告诉任何人真相。在这些人的背后,是
   一个又一个的闯入者,一个庞大的框架,太轻率以至于被嘲笑。
   香蕉僵硬地站在周围,全神贯注。这是
   我曾经知道的灰色道路吗?如果是的话,标准持有者在哪里?为什么
   我们的价值已经丧失?谁来为这任何一个买单?
   波茨维尔市对你这样水准的人来说太小了。很多花
   生来就完全不可见地脸红,把它的香味浪费在阴凉的
   章鱼馆外的北极空气中,然后是一些。
   

   In winter it was generally a slow blizzard of piano rags, while in summer
   or some such season gentian shadows on the tapioca fields looked themselves
   good enough to eat, and always in a locker downstairs was this pocket
   mirror with the thumbprint on it, a source of shame, but how
   can I deny my true origin and nature even if it’s going to get me into a lot of
   trouble later? At any rate, no notice was taken of anything and
   maids pushed their prams and policemen stopped cars and it was getting to be spring
   or it wasn’t, but the bare trees looked oddly barbed, and perhaps that
   was something, and it seemed to be starting to rain. I sit here
   wringing my hands but what good does it do
   if I am die ghost this time despite
   the reassuring activity that surrounds me? And if I am to be cast off, then
   where? There has to be a space, even a negative one, a slot
   for me, or does there? But if all space is contained within me, then
   there is no place for me to go, I am not even here, and now, and can join
   no choir or club, indeed I am the sawdust of what’s around but nobody can
   even authorize that either. My Collected Letters will I somehow
   feel vindicate me but even there the onion skin cannot be split and I’ll go on
   being a postscript written in invisible ink until some day several centuries from now
   when they open a time capsule and enthusiastic fresh air will rush out to inform
   the world and one can rise from one’s nap in time for bed. The great apartment
   fronts will put their heads together and sunset will seem an enormous conflagration,
   but vindicate one at what price? Where are the children now who wanted
   to hear that story? Why, the youngest of them passed away years ago
   on the west coast surprised that anyone should remember and the slow
   torrent of the glacier got piped in efficiently to fill the slightest hairline
   fissure. Its job is done. We all live in the past now. And so the children
   must still hang on somewhere, though no one is quite sure where or how many
   or what paths there are to be taken in darkness. Only the fools, the severed heads, know.
   
   So my old mother became a niche in time, and she, too, preferred not to get out of it:
   as long as it was going to be, it wasn’t this bad, says the antique adage. And these
   three or four others came of it. No one asked them in but they came in anyway,
   prepared to play. And somehow a chapter was written about this. It all
   boils down to keeping quiet and having a good time. As long as you don’t abuse
   the orange trees standing in their pots so civil, well all will be yours next time too
   and let’s hear it for those who never won anything, whose time came and went
   like the tide leaving curious bones behind, and they were never cheated on and never
   lied, without telling anyone the truth.And behind these, interlopers
   and more interlopers, a vast frame of them, too facile to be derided.
   And bananas stand around stiffly, at attention. Is this
   the gray way I once knew? And if so, where are the standard bearers? Why
   have our values been lost? Who is going to pay for any of this?
   Pottsville is too small for a man of your caliber. Full many a flower
   is born to blush unseen, and waste its fragrance on the arctic air
   outside the Shady Octopus saloon, and then some.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-21 10:54:46 | 显示全部楼层

   如果一切都要重组,那么接下来的日子里那些迷人的不规则
   可能还是过去的好,哀歌的歌声阻塞了入口
   同时减弱了滴水,就像老汉,三角形斜边一般,触到了
   一个控制很快就会烧光的末端,包围了
   下降的城镇,一切一起冲进,那些
   互相憎恨的人突然找到了流口水拥抱的好理由。
   是在人们自己的内裤中,还是在
   通往职业成功的捷径上自立谋生感到更有趣,所有的展馆都在振动,
   所有的舷窗都在闪闪发光,直到物品沉入河口,记忆
   已经变成了尸体,当我们站在那里讨论新闻的时候,一些
   更大、更丰富的东西的难以控制的轮廓正在努力理解
   它自己(它将在几年后出现在我们周围,到那时
   我们将有什么面孔?谁来照顾协会总部
   而且,仍然更可能的是,和我们一起回到窄轨铁路轨道上,它
   穿过黄色的荚莲和掩埋的煤渣偷偷溜走,好像在一开始
   就指向罪恶的手指,这仍然是婴儿的起源,学习哭泣
   因为灯吹灭了,黑暗像一层快速的油膜,接近
   地平线效果的明亮裂缝?)。没有两个员工知道这一点。
   
   我想,这一点一直对我保持隐藏:
   可爱的溃疡一直在那里,愿意花一刻钟的时间给你们所有的
   “麦布女王”,或者打开一只靴子生锈的鞋跟走开,吹着口哨
   进入天空如此阴暗的部分,因为我们这个可怜的地球
   被认为几乎不适合消费;圣诞灯,每一盏都闪烁着,在各自倾向于
   有益于整体的颜色胜利中;每天晚上,星星等等
   都会产生,作为对未除草的智力的一种小恩小惠,尽管还有
   更多的东西有待于读入它们;北极熊,在动物园的北极区放松在
   各自的浮冰上,或者把它滚进绿色的、油腻的水中;手里拿着铅笔的
   人们;本周精选的色情诱惑包括细高跟鞋
   和橡胶迷你裙;不知载着什么货物的车在夜里轰隆而过;门廊上的
   薄荷酒;人们所能得到的最奢侈的悬疑小说
   赞美的收藏品,出自于梦中的黄昏,像一条大河的
   蜿蜒流动,每一点都是毫无意义和不祥的;最后选择
   洗罪,每一种都不一定适合例子;也就是,因盗窃针头
   而被电刑;加重过失杀人罪的愚蠢眼泪;一条用于亵渎神灵的
   野猪牙齿项链;在前额增加线条,用于偷猎,或说教;一个
   抚摸女儿最好的朋友乳房的人的前草坪上的泥喷泉;
   而且,对于那些谨慎的雄心勃勃的人来说,这是一个单调的地平线。当这一切
   钻入我,我开始醒来,然后重新考虑,然后冲到电话前
   给我的经纪人打电话,但为时已晚:蜥蜴永恒的尾巴上的一个意义的
   小骨点击进入位置,变得纯洁而不可及,而我,我
   傻乎乎的,同时意识到这是多么激动人心,以及多么幸运
   在银行关门和市场暂停运营的情况下,成为第一个与披露在一起的人。
   
   
   If all is going to be reorganized, the charming irregularities of the days
   ahead may as well go too, the song of plaintive songs choke off the ingress
   while alleviating the drip, as the old man, hypotenuse-like, touches
   an extremity that soon burns out of control, surrounds
   the town on the down and all rush together, those who
   hated each other suddenly finding good reason for the slobbering embrace.
   Whether it’s more fun to feel in one’s own underpants
   or strike out on the highroad to professional success, all pavilions a-flutter,
   all portholes glinting, before the thing sinks in the mouth of the river, memory
   has been transformed into corpses and while we stand discussing the news the unmanageable
   outline of something much bigger and more profuse is struggling to understand
   itself (it will be years before it gets around to us and by then
   what faces will we be? Who’s going to take care of the association headquarters
   and, likelier still, revert with us to the narrow-gauge railroad track that steals
   through yellow viburnum and buried cinders as though to point the finger of guilt
   at the very beginning, the origin that is still a baby, learning to cry
   as the lights are blown out and darkness like a swift film of oil closes down
   to the brilliant crack at the horizon’s outcome?). No two employees know it.
   
   I thought, and this much remained hidden from me:
   the beloved canker that was always there, willing to give you all of “Queen Mab”
   for a quarter, or turn on the rusty heel of one boot and be off, whistling
   into such nether parts of the sky as are deemed scarcely fit for consumption
   here on our poor earth; the Christmas lights, each blinking in the triumph of its
   individual color toward the benefit of the whole; the stars and so on brought forth
   each night as a sop to the unweeded intellect, though much
   more remains to be read into them; polar bears, relaxing each on his floe in the arctic section
   of the zoo or rolling off it into the green, greasy water; people with pencils
   in their hands; a selection of erotic attractions for this week including stiletto heels
   and rubber miniskirts; carloads of whatever thundered past in the night; juleps
   on porches; and the most extravagant collection of whodunit compliments one
   was ever gifted with, out of the nightfall of a dream, freeflowing as the meanders
   of a great stream, and every bit as meaningless and ominous; and finally a choice
   of purgations, each not necessarily appropriate to the instance; i.e., electrocution for the theft
   of a needle; simple tears for aggravated manslaughter; a necklace of boar’s teeth
   for blaspheming; added lines in the forehead for poaching, or preaching; a fountain
   of mud on the front lawn of one who fondled his daughter’s best friend’s breasts;
   and, for the discreetly ambitious, a monotonous horizon. As it all bore in
   on me I started to awake, then thought better of it, then rushed to the phone to call
   my broker, but it was too late: an osselet of meaning in the lizard’s tail
   of eternity had clicked into place,become pure and unattainable, while I, goof
   that I am, simultaneously realized just how sensational it was and how a fortune could
   be made by being first with the revelation as the bank closed its doors and the market suspended operations.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-25 22:42:59 | 显示全部楼层

   没错,它们设法拯救了希特勒的大脑,在它和英式蛋糕一起
   毁灭世界之前 (只要看看牛奶罐,你就会发现为什么。)但有时候
   逃避治疗可能不是最好的摆脱方法。当然,你感觉
   很好。今天,明天也是。到下个星期,你的感觉
   比你很久以前好多了。随着药物逐渐消散,幸福感
   占据主导地位,后代的仲裁者。只有在你死后很长一段时间
   你如此忙碌的生活才会被转嫁给腐朽的基石,而它正是
   秘密,其中的驱动力:当时每个人都认为是好东西。
   随着含水层的枯竭,砾石慢慢下沉,那些
   不知情的人将开始在睡梦中翻腾;他们将逐渐明白
   (在“奶酪,主要是烤奶酪”的梦中)巧妙的理论如何存在缺陷;事实上
   正是这些缺陷产生了令人眼花缭乱的水银光泽,吸引了
   这么多这么久。如果是这样的话,为什么要在布满车辙的山羊小径上停留
   从那里,即使是最近的山麓小山也被笼罩着,被雾气,从视野?这些动物
   不可思议;甚至还有一只叫布鲁斯的狗。人们可以重新组织环境,但要慢慢地,
   慢慢地,当然也没有成功的积极保证;人们
   应该把它看作是一首技艺高超的旋转歌曲,它坚韧的颤音预示着蜘蛛网椽间
   会有小的失调,但也许没有太多的东西可以为
   野天鹅编织单臂睡衣,你的兄弟们:只要
   试着忘记通往完美的
   缓慢的上升之路,让它的镜像
   在你心中苏醒,安装它真正敏感的表面,在夜晚
   在灵巧的梦和充满悲哀的糟糕刷子中。对黑暗的恐惧导致了它,
   但到那时,它已经在周围存在,并且已经被带到了午餐中。
   你认为这和以前发生的事情有什么联系吗?
   也许没有。也许什么也没有,但巴塔哥尼亚人会喜欢它,他们所有499500人。
   
   毫不迟延导致这些谈判的
   主题。他们都想一直收集,但因为
   这是不可能的,仅仅逻各斯就足够了。
   很遗憾,因为最近没有人看到它。其他人挤满了开幕式,希望
   能瞥见一眼,但大多数人看到了闭塞的移居国外的贱民
   代表,甚至
   决定不去尝试。直到今天,没有人知道这个东西的形状或重量,
   这是诚实的事实,被扔出法庭,展览擦伤,
   被裹着。还有关于我们如何用完它的故事。
   
   因此,“让小与少结婚,”他们尝试得更好,追随得
   更差,他们拖曳的脚步被遗忘,徘徊在牛排上分析
   最新的调查结果。
   我的生父想得够多了,看到我被安置,要求
   从名册上删除名字,要么是因为粗心大意,要么是故意伤害:“我们会”
   看到事情完成!而且,当我问她关于她的车的事时
   一个安静的疲劳时刻悄悄溜走了,留下了流干的面孔,快乐的时刻
   没有被审视。都是因为我告诉他应该换衬衫。他发疯了
   走了出去,我有三十年没有再见到他了,那时我们两人都已经相当老了
   但仍然相当有魅力,有些人甚至说更是如此。我
   提醒他衬衫的事,他只是笑了笑,说超市现在就卖
   而且你不必担心有一点灰尘,这是生活的调味品,他说。
   我们把西伯利亚留给了
   我们,留给了几个亲爱的朋友
   但它的官僚作风和后勤都打败了我们,为什么我们被繁文缛节
   束缚了两年半,在那之后我只想离开,没有
   地方值得这么担心。此外,家里非常非常安静,混乱,非常
   感谢。然而,我仍然对他对我的看法耿耿于怀,我认为我正在成为一个
   我甚至不认识或不想了解太多的人,我所有的
   似曾相识之感都是他可能想到的。尽管如此,生活还是相当吸引人
   周围有很多好人。大多数日子都吃得好
   放松,人们可以通过出去看电影
   或者和那个特别的朋友聊天来稍微改善自己的心态;在
   你知道它之前,是时候刷牙睡觉了。那么为什么,这种空虚感
   会像一个你见过几十次的陌生人一样不断地出现,通常都会
   失去焦点,站在公共汽车的后面,或者在报摊上寻找硬币?我
   相信这一切都是巧合,但它
   确实有一种让事情嘎嘎作响的方式,比如不断穿过房子的气流,文件
   沙沙作响,人们的眼睛吸引到时钟。那有什么
   好紧张呢?我们都知道,我们必须活一段时间,然后
   不幸的是,我们必须死,在那之后,没有人知道会发生什么。账目各不相同。但是,我们
   大多数人都觉得,在那之后的大部分时间里,我们会感到舒适,并且(无可否认)
   我们做了几件好事,因此得到了赞扬,没有人会对那些
   我们宁愿拉下帷幕的事情大惊小怪,此外,我们看不出
   它们有多少错,每个问题都有两面性。然而事实
   让人们着迷,我们变成了那些只满足于完全可靠的
   信息---事实---的人之一,如果真有这样的事情的话。我们的旅程
   像冰块一样从我们流过,也许正是我们静止不动。
   哦这么多,上帝监管一切,但仍然留下来奉承人们
   无害的特质,这些东西让我们成了我们,这正是
   我们正在褪色的东西,就像标牌上的油漆,不管人们多么假装它和昨天
   一样。孩子们和我们交谈---“这”,当然,肯定是一个加号?
   
   
     
   True, they managed to save Hitler’s brain before it destroyed the world
   with zuppa inglese. (Just look in the milk can and you’ll find out why.)But sometimes
   walking away from a cure may not be the best way to get rid of it. Sure, you feel
   fine. Today, and tomorrow as well. By next week you’re feeling better
   than you have in a long time. And as the medication gradually dissipates, the feeling of
   well-being takes over, an arbiter for generations to come. Only long after your death
   will the life you so busily led be imputed to the cornerstone of rot that was
   the secret, driving force in it: something everyone at the time found to be OK.
   And as gravel sinks slowly with the aquifer’s depletion, those
   not in the know will begin to stir in their sleep; it will gradually dawn on them
   (in dreams of “cheese, toasted mostly”) how the ingenious theory was flawed; indeed
   it was flaws that produced the dazzling quicksilver sheen that attracted
   so many to it for so long. If that’s the case, why tarry on rutted goat-paths
   from whence even the nearest foothills are shrouded, by mists, from view?The animals
   are incredible; there’s even a dog named Bruce. One can retool the context, but slowly,
   slowly, and of course there is no positive guarantee of a successful outcome; one
   should think of it as a virtuoso spinning-song whose relentless roulades promise minor
   disturbances among the cobwebbed rafters but perhaps nothing much to weave
   one-armed nightshirts with for the wild swans, your brothers: only
   try to forget the slow upward
   path to perfectness and let its mirror-image
   come to install its truly sensitive surface within you, during the night
   of deft dreams and bad brushes with dolor. Fear of the dark causes it,
   but by then to have been around and been of it will have carried over into lunch.
   Do you think there’s some connection between this and that which happened before?
   Perhaps not. Perhaps there is none, but the Patagonians will like it, all 499,500 of’em。
   
   Without further ado bring on the subject of these
   negotiations. They all would like to collect it always, but since
   that’s impossible, the Logos alone will have to suffice.
   A pity, since no one has seen it recently.Others crowded the opening, hoping
   to catch a glimpse, but the majority saw the occluded expatriate ragtag
   representation and
   decided to not even try. To this day no one knows the shape or heft of the thing,
   and that’s the honest truth thrown out of court, exhibiting abrasions,
   muffled. And the story of how we ran out of it.
   
   So, “marrying little with less,” meliora probant, deteriora
   sequuntur, they footdrag in oblivion, lingering over steaks to analyze
   the latest inquiry.
   My biological father thought enough of it to see that I was posited, demanding
   names omitted from the roster, either from carelessness or intent to harm: we'll
   see that the thing gets done! And moreover, as I was asking her about her car
   a quiet moment of fatigue slipped in leaving faces drained, moments of pleasure
   unexamined. It was all because I told him he should change his shirt. He got mad
   and went out and I didn’t see him again for thirty years, by which time both of us had aged
   considerably but were still reasonably attractive, some might even say more so. I
   reminded him of the shirt thing and he just laughed, said supermarkets sell them now
   and besides you shouldn’t worry about a little dirt, it’s the spice of life, he said.
   And we had set aside Siberia
   for us and for a few beloved friends
   but the bureaucracy and the logistics of it all defeated us, why we were tied
   up in red tape for 2 1/2 years and after that I just wanted out, no
   place is worth that much worry. Besides it’s quite quiet and confusing at home, thank you
   very much. Yet I was still hung up on his idea of me, I thought I was becoming that person
   I didn’t even know or want to know very much about, and all of my
   deja-vus were ones that could have occurred to him. Still, life is reasonably absorbing
   and there’s a lot of nice people around.Most days are well fed
   and relaxing, and one can improve one’s mind a little
   by going out to a film or having a chat with that special friend; and before
   you know it it’s time to brush your teeth and go to bed. Why then, does that feeling
   of emptiness keep turning up like a stranger you’ve seen dozens of times, out-of-focus
   usually, standing toward the rear of the bus or fishing for coins at the newsstand? I’m
   sure it’s all coincidence, but it
   does have a way of rattling things, like a constant draft through the house, rustling
   papers, riveting one’s eye on the clock. So what’s
   to feel nervous about? We all know that we have to live for a certain time and then
   unfortunately we must die, and after that no one is sure what happens.Accounts vary. But we
   most of us feel we’ll be made comfortable for much of the time after that, and get credit
   for the (admittedly) few nice things we did, and no one is going to make too much
   of a fuss over those we’d rather draw the curtain over, and besides, we can’t see
   much that was wrong in them, there are two sides to every question. Yet the facts
   fascinate one, we become one of those persons who are only satisfied with thoroughly
   reliable information---the truth, if there ever could be such a thing. Our journey
   flows past us like ice chunks, maybe it is we that are stationary.
   O so much God to police everything and still be left over to flatter one’s
   harmless idiosyncrasies, the things that make us us, which is precisely
   what is fading like paint on a sign, no matter how much one pretends it’s the same
   as yesterday. And children talk to us ---that, surely, must be a plus?
   
   
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-28 22:10:40 | 显示全部楼层
(英文部分前面又有一部分发不出来,不费那事了)

   现在是疯狂的频率。一名男子,带着他的孩子去看
   球赛,回来后被发现在朋友家打牌。春天,苹果树枝的
   尖端擦过预告片,是时候进步美食的知更鸟
   围成新一圈,并回复感谢信了。在露天的
   健身房里,穿上你的裤子从来都不是问题,我们都到了某个地方,成为
   某个人。那些透视太模糊了,无法拍摄,人们感谢
   发明它们的棒球运动员。不活动对这些人来说是一种糖浆,他们一些人,
   他们依靠不信任,最终惊奇地发现他们的土地被一群牦牛
   过度放牧,每只四足动物与最近的邻居之间的距离
   几乎相等,在眼睛所能看到的地方,拉布拉多和更远的
   进入乌拉尔的黄玉微光的地方。哦,有些人会说
   你不能相信它们,更不用说看到它们的到来,更不用说避免
   与人类未来不和谐的暗示冲突。即使它花哨的外表
   也不像人们一开始可能得出结论那样
   毫不妥协,然后它们就有烟灰缸,而且可以看到,没有人对它们提出
   特别的要求,只要它们继续活着,而在四月份
   这似乎不是不可能的壮举。对于那些居住在某个城市或郊区的人
   来说,甚至更是一个戏弄---如果“他们”被纳入调查范围,而且,
   如果是这样,他们是谁?摄影画廊等待被压扁的鸭子,也许。
   如果一个人横渡大海
   来到码头,他的甜心几年前在那里告别了一个人,却发现
   她在那里迎接一个人,不是所有这些变化,又如何?如果双方的父母都表态这是
   一对合适的婚姻,那么你为什么在那里,另一个联盟被神圣化了,另外
   两个人被从孤独中驱赶到彼此怀抱的互惠曙光中
   似乎在很久以前,消息传遍了整个大地,普通人
   开始欣赏、品味并重新回到狭隘,他们自己纤细存在的像贮藏室的
   难题中,并感谢曾经有一些事情可以讨论,然后
   互相达成一致。一个和一些势力签订的协议---它毫不逊色,就是说
   一个好协议。因此,在所有的时代,讨价还价都在进行,
   吹响号角,以某种奇怪、愚蠢的方式,我们每个人都因此变得更加强大。我们
   沏了茶,然后喝了。这是一个可敬的例子,说明羞耻感是如何消失在
   尘土和困惑中。那后果。如果一个行政人员
   可以从黎明到黄昏整天在他的栖木上摇摇晃晃,鹪鹩
   可以对他说,你为什么不开始一次有组织的郊游,别再
   愚弄你自己了,这个世界局势不是胡说八道,尽管“现实政治”可能也不是
   准确的术语,那么为什么要像一颗很久以前安放的定时炸弹一样爆炸
   并且可能不再具有可操作性呢?但你看,我们中的
   许多人都像那只鸟,我是说,那个人,只有少数人的生活
   能与严肃的暗示产生共鸣。这么多被挂在外面变干了,或者,更准确地说,腐烂了。
   而这些旁注---为它们还有什么其他的词呢?---是文本的实质,
   不被允许融入其中。一个人可以像鬼魂一样
   沿着走廊走,发现门对他关着,那么
   看不见又有什么好处呢?这一切都表明了我们的父母是如何教会我们很多事情的,
   包括正确的一件,我们应该轻轻地
   解开,就像一条打结的鞋带,然后在螺旋状图案中出现了一点轻松的表情,
   还有许多事情,一些刚开始的事情,还有。然而,在这一时期的浅滩上
   每个人都认为自己是正义的、失落的,这种视角只是一种
   向各个方向的方式,人们必须有一个计时器来阐明事实上
   不存在的分叉,但就像一根金牙签一样,它们只是在手上看到它们
   被谈论,也许一些俱乐部会邀请他们中一人发言。这是一种
   奇怪的清除了木兰和生石灰的空气,任何人
   都可以被叫来就坐。最好是享受它,
   而不是出现在一个不成文的部分,就像一个守财奴或拾荒者很少会认真被看作
   一个人,但正好许多人可能害怕的那样。我们生活在一个恐怖
   像面包果一样开放的时代,人们“必须”采摘和选择---种子,箴言正好
   不那么多。每个人都必须投票。每个人的投票都必须被接受,进入
   倾斜的广播塔,它在一场混合着恐怖和放松的恐惧的黑暗突袭中正在倒塌,为了
   人们的最大利益:要完成更多的事情将是一个笑话,但男孩
   仍然站在那里,没有离开;以任何
   其他标准来看,这都是一次不幸的经历,然而,人们将坚定、驯服、积极地
   寻找旧药方,在门前的木头上
   懒散地抓挠自己的首字母,然后才
   离开,当载有那天日期的报纸终于到达时,在另一个城市里
   成为另一种东西,而公民们,感到困惑,仍在为其事务奔走
   把新情况的新闻带到难以接近的这乏味的
   无价值的宇宙的角落,但成为某个人
   并不是他们的首要任务:在下午晚些时候变得高才是。
   这些人的傲慢!周围的任何人都理解,这
   包括我们大多数人:大律师…出于人们的孤独,很难不原谅
   一个渴望被人看见的女孩,和一个只想独处的男人。森林的
   颤抖在很多时候保护着我们,但是当人们被
   随意地推到聚光灯下的那些瞬间,哦,天哪!我希望我有更可观的话要说---
   我的角色不能被改写吗?但不久就结束了。而森林出现
   似乎更像一种商品,人们可以在某个地方生活,并围绕自己系上绳子。
   编年史,如果有的话,会把这转化为魅力和金黄,钢琴的两个
   相邻的键一个接一个地按下。人们的谦虚---
   很好,都在这里,在这个马尼拉纸文件夹里。我想说的是,深处的
   树,美丽之树,失落的承诺和希望之树
   它们仍在远方飘荡,不知为什么你知道…但最终它被虐待了,
   快乐的时刻疾驰着悲伤,但也许它们总是如此。
   也许关于有一些这事说了很多,因此
   与正在发生的其他事情不协调,就像动物园里的一只金丝雀。我说
   为什么要做保证,如果可以在不事先通知的情况下撤销,如果恳求
   变成了评论,你知道他说了什么,他说,好吧,期望那些对你来说是合理的
   但是如果其他人不上心的话,那么就不合理,就这样!我被
   压垮了。那个我以为理解的人。但没关系,他可以继续付钱,
   而我几乎不是一个人,虽然很寂寞。然而,当我开始
   感到沮丧时,我可以像其他人一样坚持,把我的牌放在桌子上:看,
   就这么说,都在这里,写在这本书上。所以我从来不会完全不知所措,
   只是有点不安,翻来覆去,有时。在其他国家的
   竞争对手粪池中,他们可能认为他们的情况更好,但我知道,这里的
   不确定性是纯粹的。因此,我经常在下午请假,阅读、写作或长时间
   专心地盯着窗外。然后你下午
   拿来茶,也就是说你煮了茶,然后喝了。哦,太遗憾了,天哪,什么事情
   都没有真正实现。但出于同样的原因,我被解除了多重责任,
   被允许委托给权威,在我意识到这一点之前,我的情绪
   已经变化,就像一张被撕破的马戏团海报,在反向摄影中再次变成崭新,
   这些时刻当然很重要,从积极的意义上说,它已经半途而废。
   被近视困扰着的人仍然喜欢它,在人生的秋天,他会有些无拘无束地喋喋不休
   在摒弃他对已经逝去的
   书籍是朋友的前英雄时代的一切准确认识之前。大自然
   希望你这样做。没有哪次地震是如此之小,以至于不在不断增长的
   反对风暴中登记,当山体崩塌在瓦砾中,电将天空一分为二,而且
   从地球表面深处的洞穴中爆发出刺耳的咆哮声时。但我
   胜过我的故事,我们谈论的是你,一个流浪者,是如何喜欢它的,
   以及如何逃脱。哦我亲爱的,我试过了。但是如果你感兴趣的话
   你可以浏览一下这个目录,谁知道,也许会想出一个解决方案,适用于
   你的复杂情况,只是可以想象的是,或者你认识一个更见多识广的人,
   在更高的视野遥远而严峻的层次上,
   大地蓝如钢铁。






  And these marginalia---what other word is there for them?---are the substance of the text,
   by not being allowed to fit in. One can proceed like a ghost
   along corridors and find that doors are closed to one, and then
   what good is being invisible? It all goes to show how our parents taught us many things,
   including the right one, that we should untie
   gently, like a knotted shoelace, and then little expressions of relief occur in the whorls,
   and many things, incipient ones, besides.Yet on the shoals of this time
   everyone believes himself righteous and lost, that the view is only a way
   in all directions, and one must have a timepiece to unravel ramifications that
   in fact do not exist, but like a gold toothpick are merely on hand to see that they
   get talked about and maybe some club will invite one of them to speak. It is an air
   strangely purged of magnolias, and quicklime, and anyone
   can be called to take a seat. Best to enjoy it,
   not turn up in the unwritten part as a miser or scavenger few would have taken seriously
   as a person, but just as many might have feared. We live in an age when terror
   opens like breadfruit and one must pick and choose---the seeds and proverbs just
   aren’t that numerous. Everybody must vote. Everybody’s vote must be accepted into the
   tilting radio tower that is collapsing in one’s own best interest in one dark swoop of mingled horror and
   relaxed apprehension: to accomplish anything more would be a joke, yet the boy
   still stands there, hasn’t gone away; by any
   other standards a misadventure yet one is going to be firm and tame and positive
   in searching out the old prescription, scratching one’s
   first initial idly in the wood of the door and only then
   going away, to be something else in some other town when newspapers bearing
   that day’s date finally arrive and the citizenry, perplexed, still goes about its business
   carrying news of new situations into inaccessible corners of this bland
   and stultified universe, only to be someone
   isn’t then their top priority: getting to be tall in late afternoon is.
   The arrogance of these people! Anyone who’s been around understands, and that
   includes most of us: barristers...Out of one’s loneliness it’s hard not to forgive
   the girl who longs to be seen, and the guy who wishes only to be left alone. Forest
   dithers protect us a lot of the time, but for those moments when one is thrust willy-
   nilly into the spotlight, then oh dear! I wish I had something more sizable to say---
   couldn’t my part be rewritten? But that’s over too before long. And the forest comes to
   seem more like a commodity,somewhere one can live and tie rope around oneself.
   The annals, if there are any, transform this into glamour and chrysoprase,two
   adjacent keys of a piano pressed down one after the other. And one’s modesty---
   well it’s all here, in this manila folder. I was going to talk about that, tree
   of the deep, tree of being beautiful of, of lost promise and hopes
   that still flutter in the distance, and you know somehow...But in the end it got mistreated,
   the happy moments streaked with sadness, but perhaps they always were.
   Perhaps it says a great deal that there were any, and so
   out of tune with the rest that was going on, like a canary in a zoo, and I said
   why give any guarantees if it can be rescinded without notice, if entreaties are to
   become comments, and you know what he said, he said, well, it’s reasonable for you to expect that
   but it’s not unreasonable for anyone else to pay it no mind, so there! I was
   crushed. The one person I thought understood. But it’s all right, he can go on paying,
   meanwhile I am scarcely alone, though it is lonesome. However, when I start
   feeling blue I can just stand up like everyone else and lay my cards on the table: look,
   it says so, it’s all here, written in this book. So I’m never completely at a loss,
   only a little disconcerted, thrashing about, sometimes. In the rival cesspool
   of other nations they may think they have it better, but I know that here the
   uncertainty is pure. And so I often take the afternoon off, read, write or gaze
   intently out of the window for long periods of time. And then you take tea
   in the afternoon, that is you make it and then drink it. Oh I’m so sorry, golly, how
   nothing ever really comes to fruition. But by the same token I am relieved of manifold responsibilities,
   am allowed to delegate authority, and before I know it, my mood
   has changed, like a torn circus poster that becomes pristine again in reverse cinematography,
   and these moments of course matter, and fall by the wayside in a positive sense.
   Perplexed by myopia one still enjoys it, and in the autumn of life cackles somewhat unrestrainedly
   before writing off one’s accurate perception
   of all that has gone before in the heroic period when books are friends. Nature
   wants you to do it. No seism infinitesimal enough not to register in the growing
   tornado of disapproval when mountains crash in the rubble, electricity bisects the sky, and
   shrill ululations burst forth from caverns deep in the earth’s surface. But I’m
   getting ahead of my story, we’re talking about how you, a wanderer, like it,
   and how to escape. Oh my dear, I’ve tried that. But if it interests you
   you can browse through this catalog and, who knows, perhaps come up with a solution that will apply
   to your complicated case, just conceivably, or perhaps you know someone better informed
   in the higher echelons where the view is distant and severe,
   the ground blue as steel.









 楼主| 发表于 2021-9-29 21:55:14 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-9-30 22:33 编辑


  
   II

   但是音乐是多么微不足道。所有这些。然而,正是在这里,性别的一部分开始
   出现并变得模糊。两性的
   不同成员似乎从未受到伤害:他们的性别是如同在溪流上
   平静漂流的生活,他们可以像小船一样
   互相挥手,加入开玩笑中,永远不会被忘记。可能
   一扇门沿着墙远远打开,让一个后来悄悄
   离开的情人进来。可能还有比这更多的一切,
   但如果我们甚至能破译公正的人想要我们做的事情,那么剩下的事情,
   贫困和免责声明?谁能穿过山羊光泽看到山地狂
   却从不承认自己早年隐藏的错误,曾经留下一个孩子受冻过一次?
   当他们彼此稍微挪动时,新的、好的真理和其他的、年长的
   不太好的,开始出现在他们穿越太空的自行车道
   旅程中,在这地球上。一个是一个西班牙码头工人的女儿,
   一个笑着的女孩,当她,说实话时,故意朝它吐口水。另一个,
   也很年轻,正在全盛的“魔鬼的美丽”中,有充分的理由走上前去,抓住
   一只胳膊,碰巧一只胳膊肘搁在一张报纸上,把东西挠得
   痒得半死。在滑梯的间歇中,或者滑音,确实会听到
   很多笑声,只是好像你没有这么做,是山脊另一边的
   男孩再次顺从了他们的热情。月亮突然决定下落
   孩子们缠着他们的父母要更多的鞭炮,在裂缝里,眼睛最近
   向外窥视的那地方---哦,厌倦的英雄,
   为什么不回地球一会儿?我们原谅了你
   被解释成疏忽而不是仇恨的东西,因此作为回报,我们
   应该被你的膝盖教导。后来,当她来扔掉桌上的残羹剩饭时,那是
   一小块避难所,故意为你搭起,让你
   来来去去去很多次都没有注意到,把你的外套吊在肩上
   当你走着在尘土中寻找哨子时。但那天
   一切都是粉红色。结果是使研究沉默,
   故意从文件中删除。
   如果一个男人想要这个,并且得到了它,那我们这些其他的
   默默等待食物
   就像一种药物被植入了一个人的腹部的异教徒呢?迟早,男孩和女孩们宣称,会有
   这样的人,像这样的关心可以移交给他,
   一个女人被要求看穿,分析,和纠正错误的电路
   这样做会把我们带回到我们很久以前
   迷失的记忆港湾,但这是梦中的一个错误。
   这个公式现在被重新构造。
   从过去很久的时代威严,它歪曲了
   一个礼貌的借口,即使按照它的标准来说也很小,但对我们来说是活的,一个粗糙、干燥、错误的棱镜。

   
   或者站着:好吧,降低茶袋放进杯子,直到有东西
   出来,垂直,但与此同时,在寒冷的温度下,站在紧贴的泡泡泡纱里
   等待你决定的僵尸会怎么样?当诅咒
   降临,你准备好处理它了吗?道歉不再重要;这是
   一个咬掉末端,吐出来,然后通过一个小管子吸入毒液的问题
   如果你想走那条路。否则,无精打采的萎缩岁月可能是你的命运
   尽管无疑还有更糟糕的。选择一个频道,探索,记录它---
   请在你的报告中考虑“所有的”证据,当你写它的时候:
   你会发现你的故事与任何诚实的人的故事没有太大的不同,也没有更少的
   离奇和引人注目:它总是一个野蛮的仪式吗?难道没有这样的时代
   在童年,一个人觉得中立,一个害羞的评估者毫无危害地凝视着
   反射的地球,当你回头时,片刻之后,可怕的冲突
   没有消失,但你不知何故被分开了,一个有事情要做的人?如果
   这种紧迫感在以后的几十年里被稀释,为什么要妥协?因为这些其他人
   用语言和事物对事物和人开战,接下来是否你的工作
   受到轻视,你不能自由地清理你的办公桌?沉闷的
   新闻纸来回地吹着,其两张突然被抛到六层楼高的地方
   然后又落回来,沉得像铅锤:这和你
   有关系吗;更重要的是,你还活着与它隔绝吗?老食尸鬼
   将不得不受到嘲笑,在黄昏时分,在人们面对空无一人的
   体育场,光秃秃的树枝颤抖的幽灵之前。你在医院的朋友
   怎么样:你给他打电话了吗?从这里到旅程的终点有多少座桥?
   越过井,沿着墙,人们静静地爬行。就业困难:我的意思是
   我很难长时间地保持一个工作,不是说我效率不高,而是,好吧,
   很容易不理解,完全拥有一个人的无知觉
   然后拒绝离开,一个住在自己房子里的擅自占地者。即使到这场小争吵
   解决的时候,也将会发生很多事情。不可能
   跟上时代的步伐,但我们仍然会想起翅膀。

   那些无声、雄辩的色彩
   多么柔和;甚至格子呢都像是微妙的暗示。人们在树下
   烘烤着,懒得注意时间的流逝,直到
   警报响起,公园变得疯狂,然后呢?与此同时,关于保留和
   再融资旧记录的决定已经达成,果然,当人们刚气喘吁吁地
   回到家时。他们说现在没人确实会跟你说话。因为在黑暗中
   你知道一些事情,却没有说出来,尽管在那一点上,树下的黑暗空间
   是无法忍受的,它们的体积只不过像破碎的夜光中的外壳。最好
   早点而不是晚点流亡,你想,什么也没说,但这个想法
   变成了一个战斗口号,很快每个人都试图断开他的生活,把它
   封闭起来,没有成功。这个想法是你在一次高中表演中想到的。
   你并不羞于相信这一点---为什么你要这样?这样,一个领域
   被整理出来了;所有的外皮、阴影和小铃铛都被计算在内,在不断上升的阴影潮中
   清清楚楚地涌进并宣布:这里是另一个
   接受命令的地方,如果方便的话来自的地方;只是
   还没死,下一幕我们需要你;它适合每个人。


  

  

   II

   But how trivial the music. All this. Yet it is where part of the gender first starts to
   emerge and become a blur. The various members
   of both sexes never seem to get hurt: theirs is a life that drifts peaceably along
   as on a stream and they can wave
   to each other like boats and join in the fun and never be forgotten. Possibly
   a door opens far down in the wall to admit a lover
   who as silently departs later. Possibly there is more to it all than this,
   but if we can decipher even what the fair-minded man wants us to, what about the rest,
   poverty and disclaimers? And who sees the mountain-mad man through goatshine
   and never confesses to an early blunder concealed, to having left a child in the cold once?
   And as they marginally edge each other, new and good truths and others, older
   and not so good, begin to appear along the bicycle-trail of their itinerary
   through space, here on earth. One was a Spanish longshoreman’s daughter,
   a laughing girl, who, when told the truth, deliberately spat on it. Another,
   young too, and in the full flower of “the devil’s beauty,” had good cause to come up and grab
   an arm, an elbow resting on a newspaper as it happened, and tickle the thing
   half to death. And in the interval of slide, or portamento, a lot of laughing does
   get to be heard, only it’s like you’re not doing it, it’s the boys
   on the other side of the ridge obeying their zeal again. The moon abruptly decides to set
   and kids pester their parents for more firecrackers, in the crevices, where eyes
   lately peeked out---O bored hero,
   why not return to earth for a while? We have forgiven thee
   what was construed as negligence rather than rancor, so in return we
   should be taught by thy knee. Later when she comes to throw out the table scraps there it will be,
   a little sliver of haven made and purposely rigged for you
   to come and go many times without noticing, slinging your coat over your shoulder
   as you go along looking in the dirt for a whistle. But that day
   it was all roses. And it turned out that the inquiry was silenced,
   deliberately erased from the file.
   And if a man wanted this, and got it, how about the heathen rest of us
   who wait in silence for food
   as though a drug got planted in one’s abdomen? Sooner or later, boys and girls declare, there
   will be someone on whom a care like this could devolve,
   a woman made to see through, analyze, and correct the errant circuitry
   and in doing so bring us back to the harbor of recollection
   from which we strayed so long ago, but it was a mistake in a dream.
   The formula is now reconstituted.
   From the awfulness of times long gone by it wrests
   a polite excuse, small even by its standards, but alive to us, and harsh, dry, a wrong prism.


   Or stand: all right, lowering the teabag into the mug until something
   comes of it, is plumbed, but meanwhile what of zombies standing around in clinging seersucker
   in frigid temperatures, awaiting your decision? When the curse
   arrives, are you prepared to deal with it? Apologies don’t matter any more; it’s
   a question of biting off the end, spitting it out, and sucking the poison through a small tube
   if you want to go that way. Otherwise, listless years of atrophy could be your fate
   though there are undoubtedly worse ones. Pick a channel, explore, document it---
   please take all the evidence into account in your report, when you write it:
   you’ll find your story isn’t so different from any honest man’s, nor less
   bizarre and compelling: was it always a savage rite? Weren’t there times
   in childhood when one felt neutral, a shy appraiser gazing unendangered into
   the reflecting globe, and when you turned back, moments later, the horrible clashes
   hadn’t gone away, but you were somehow separated, a person with things to do? And if
   the urgency thinned out in later decades,why be compromised? Because these others
   were waging war on things and people with words and things does it follow that your employment
   was slighted, that you weren’t free to clean out your desk? Sullen
   newsprint blows back and forth, a double sheet of it is suddenly tossed six stories high
   and drops back, heavy as a sinker: does this have something
   to do to you; more to the point, are you alive severed from it? The old ghouls
   will have to be derided before one faces up to the specter of the empty stadium
   at dusk, bare branches aquiver. How about your friend
   in the hospital: did you call him? How many bridges between here and the end of that journey?
   Over wells, along walls, silently one creeps along. Employment is difficult: I mean
   it’s difficult for me to hold a job long, not that I’m not efficient, it’s, well,
   so easy not to understand, to take full possession of one’s unawareness and
   then refuse to leave, a squatter in one’s own house. And so much will
   have happened by the time even this minor wrangle is settled. It’s impossible
   to keep abreast of the times, and yet we still think of wings.

   How soft were those mute,
   eloquent colors; even the plaids were like subtle hints. One baked
   under trees, too lazy to notice the fading hour, until
   the alarm sounded, the park went berserk, and then? Meanwhile a decision about keeping and
   refinancing the old records had been reached, sure enough, just as one arrived home out
   of breath. They said no one will ever speak to you now. Because in the dark
   you knew something and didn’t tell it, though the darkened spaces under the trees were at that
   point intolerable, their bulk like mere hulls in the shattered night light. Better
   to go into exile early rather than late, you thought, not saying anything, but the notion
   became a battle-cry and soon everybody was trying to disconnect his life and seal it
   off, unsuccessfully. The idea had occurred to you during a performance of a high-school play.
   You weren’t ashamed to take credit for it ---why should you be? And thus a field
   got sorted out; all the husks, shadows and little bells counted and clear in the rising
   tide of shadow that steeped and proclaimed it: here was another place
   to take orders in, to be from if convenient; only don’t die
   yet, we’ll need you for the next act; it suited everybody.




  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-1 21:15:43 | 显示全部楼层

   不在议程上的是刚从囚禁中释放出来的海鹦
   刺耳的尖叫声---但我们会接触到这一点, 稍后。现在的消息
   是通货膨胀。如何防止它?有哪个世界强国如此愚蠢,以至于认为自己
   一定有答案,或者说答案确实存在?你可以打赌没有,
   这并不是很多墨水和新闻纸在接近讨论这个问题时
   不被咀嚼的原因。那些宁静的声音,在这座充满传奇色彩的
   哥特式大教堂里一层一层地响起,没有人听到就消失。没有人认为是它们的时刻,
   因此,当一个人变得更加疲惫,他会
   在气喘吁吁、萎缩的中午,在一棵高大的榆树下和午餐一起沉落。
   是否有人可能自我推销过度,
   如果是这样,还有多少例子?温斯洛小姐刚刚告诉我们你们的岛
   其鸬鹚和---呃---其他问题。当地人
   对你的所作所为有何看法?还有什么办法可以在一切都
   太迟之前逃离屠宰场吗,除了在爆炸的干草堆里?但是我超越了我自己---我会
   做任何事---就是说,尽我所能---以避免出现不公平的现象,只是请,
   请呼叫那些长矛运输机,或者你点名它们的任何事情。
   一旦两人互相陷入了谎言,它们就成了他们神圣的
   信任。他们听着,伸出触角,在暗示下撅着嘴,但女妖们
   在适当的时候利用了这种情况。一旦信任的气氛被摧毁
   只有复仇的欲望才能取而代之---或者人们会让我们相信。
   放学后我把这件事告诉了一些家长。就在十年前
   正好这里站着一个长方形的木制收费亭。现在没有
   任何痕迹表明这里曾经存在过的任何东西。有点让你想知道
   你走后“这个”地方会是什么样子。哦,你不必向它
   扔骨头,服务员们已经够没礼貌了---不过,在我离开这里之前
   我必须去看看那些被称为蚂蚁人的人之一,最好快点。但不要
   把我们拖回水坑,我可以在这片弯曲的铝片上好好看
   我的倒影。我的头发,今天,梳得很漂亮。我运气好,我想,两个
   医药人要来喝茶,他们的推荐信已经寄出了,
   所以两年来,出于虚荣,我在凳子上换了个姿势,假装对一切都
   漠不关心,尽管我知道,在我内心深处,这不是
   赢得他们,或我,信任的方式。既然是时候颁发奖品,为什么
   恰恰没有任何进取心留下,只有喘息,所以我们都必须留下来,然后不满意地
   离开。抱怨天气没有好处;
   结果总是一样,让我们
   依稀感到不满意。
   他们是骄傲的一对:一天没有受伤。
   有趣的是,他没有做他说过的所有事情。
   这并不能解决质量上乘的检查和种子播种后
   滚动的问题。他应该感到更焦虑吗?不。产生
   信任?这取决于谁的。几个路障中的任何一个都可以阻止任何
   正在逃跑的东西,而她(穿着绿色衣服)正在做一件巧妙的工作,分散停车场很多服务员的
   注意力。第二天早上,我们发现自己面临着
   熟悉的问题:沙漠太多,时间太少。朋友们---你知道这种感觉---
   会坚持要知道这是谁的故事。最好告诉他们。但是等一下
   你不能联系某件事,然后把它和某个特定的人联系起来。没有工作
   说你应该这么做。但是,带着沉重的花环,我们被警察跟着
   走进了一个栽赃的店面。在这里一切都结束了。不那么快---我们可能会有其他信息
   来免除工薪阶层向你那
   腐烂的俱乐部支付会费的责任,它有着所有亲密的标志和不屈不挠的
   喜悦的颤抖。以为你拥有我。你将面对纳粹德国空军---独自地。现在外面
   有个年轻女人说她有一些关于巴特菲尔德夫人的重要信息。
   年轻的小姐,这是个骗局吗?那些整天钻孔的蜘蛛呢,那些
   花了那么多时间的演习呢,法官从来没有抽出时间来寄存支票
   宾果游戏之夜进入破坏状态,它伴随着湿透的雨声、百叶窗漏水声、
   关键的油布情感剥落、废弃的派对装饰物、一个说他是11号的女人
   和其他游荡者的声音,无精打采的,太暴露以至于无法报道?烟囱似乎要倒塌,
   伪装成一个事实,那就是一座污泥的山正在这个
   歇斯底里的小镇上移动,所有装饰华丽的栋梁都处于危险之中,只是现在没有人
   停下来想一想,更大的西南面转向了人们
   和所有人,他们,被死亡的沉默迷住了,确保其接缝
   笔直。似乎只是几分钟后,但实际上可能更像是
   几年后,这位福音传道者获利并低声说:他的整个
   城镇都有意义,他的亲戚们都享有尊敬的地位,那么
   会有什么麻烦呢?不,墙上没有敲门声,没有
   那样的事。从最远的紫色悬崖缠结的角度来看,这次操作
   是成功的,它有时会向人们闪过,远在山谷的另一端,仿佛透露出
   一个欣喜若狂、深藏其中的信息。这是我们必须付出的代价,
   它似乎说,尽管未来所有的债务都会很乐意被遭受,但人们
   “现在”必须承担利息支付的负担,否则课程中会出现
   这样的恐慌,即只有年纪最大的人才想出去,其他人
   被他们有权在我们这个时代阅读的书籍
   所阻碍或弹劾。我只想对你说,不要因为歌手们
   对这部难受的唱词不负责任就斜视他们,记住每个
   都必须通过这些比喻才能到达这里,现在他们的音乐让人赏心悦目
   也让人耳目一新,他们肯定已经校准了他们对我们的渴望;
   未来会有更多的惊喜,精心呵护的幻想会扩展,随着
   他们渴望的头发绽放,将欲望变成一种骗局,爱变成它自己的优势。
   不过,来瀑布全息图屏幕后面跟我说话吧,但不要
   太远,以免抢劫者怀疑我们,孩子们会承受我们的负担,我们唯一的
   秘密。因为托儿所有他们的通讯社,就像大蒜在别的东西中
   驱赶吸血鬼。今天一棵树和我们说话。它所说的是,不要
   投入微生物滋生的水域太深,可能会有一个替代计划
   让我们拯救更多的生命,从而在简单的图表上成为我们自己
   各种各样的复活。把它钉在这里,它说,这个地方是最有价值的,最不
   拥挤,带着大便和歇斯底里的飞行阶梯上的其他梯级
   从杂志的版面到廉价店的奖杯,这是你的秘密,被
   又勉强又放松的记忆所困扰,只要它想把你带走。但要当心
   它没困扰你的那一刻:乌托邦可能会
   在那一瞬间崩溃,你可能会醒来发现你拥有的比你曾经想要的更多,
   但到那时,梦想正在以慢动作自行降临,或者有人正在拆除它。
   
    
   
   Not on the agenda was the piercing squeal of puffins
   newly released from captivity---but we’d get to that, later. Now the news
   was of inflation. How to combat it? Is there any world-power so stupid it thinks it
   must have the answer, or that an answer actually exists? You can bet there isn’t,
   which isn’t a reason for a lot of ink and newsprint not to get chewed up in the approach
   to an argument on the subject. Those peaceful voices, rising tier on tier
   in the storied gothic cathedral, go unheard. Nobody thinks it’s time for them,
   and so, when one has become a little more exhausted, one
   sinks down with one’s lunch under a lofty elm in the breathless, shrunken noon.
   Did one perhaps oversell oneself,
   and if so how many instances are left? Miss Winslow was just telling us about your island
   and its cormorants and the---er---other problems. How do the natives feel
   about what you’re doing? Is there any way to escape butchery
   before it’s too late,except in the exploding haystacks? But I get ahead of myself---I’ll
   do anything---that is, anything I can---to avoid the appearance of inequity, only please,
   please call those spear-carriers or whatever you call them off.
   Once two were saddled with each others lies which became as a sacramental trust
   for them. They listened, they put forth feelers, pouted on cue, but in due
   course banshees exploited the situation.And once the climate of trust is destroyed
   only lust for vengeance can take its place —or so one would have us believe.
   After school I told some of the parents about it. On this site
   exactly ten years ago stood an oblong wooden toll booth. Now there’s not
   a trace to indicate anything ever existed here. Kind of makes you wonder how
   this place will look when you’re gone.Oh you needn’t throw bones
   at it, the attendants are churlish enough---still, I’ve got to see one of those
   so-called ant men before I leave here, which better be quick. But don’t drag us
   back to the water hole, I can see my reflection just fine in this bent
   piece of aluminum My hair, today, is beautifully combed. I am on a roll, I guess, and two
   medicine men are coming to tea, and their letters of recommendation have already been mailed,
   and so for two years out of vanity I shifted my position on the stool,pretending indifference
   to everything, though I knew, in my heart of hearts, this wasn’t the way
   to gain their trust, or mine. And now that it’s time to give out prizes, why
   there just isn’t any gumption left, only wheezes, so we all must stay and then go
   away unsatisfied. It was no good grumbling about the weather;
   it always came just the same, and left us
   feeling vaguely unsatisfied.
   A proud pair they were: unscathed for a day.
   Interestingly, he hadn’t done all the things he said he had.
   Which doesn’t solve the problem of white-glove inspections and seeds that roll
   after they have been planted. Should he have been feeling more anxiety? Nah. Generating
   trust? Depends on whose. Any one of several roadblocks could have deterred whatever
   was escaping, and she (in green dress) was doing a masterful job of distracting the parking-
   lot attendant. On the morning of the following day we found ourselves confronted with the
   familiar problem of too much desert and too little time. Friends---you know the feeling---
   are going to insist on knowing whose story it is. Better tell them. But wait
   you can’t relate something and then connect it to some specific person. No job
   says you ought to. But, heavy with garlands, we were being followed by the police
   into a set-up storefront. Here, it all ends. Not so fast---we may have other information
   to absolve wage-earners of paying dues
   to your rotten club with all its intimate signs and shivers
   of remorseless joy. Thought you had me. You’ll face the Luftwaffe---alone. Now there’s
   a young woman outside says she has some important information about Mrs. Butterfield.
   Young lady, is this a trick? What about the spiders that drilled all day, maneuvers
   that took up so much time the judge never got around to depositing the check and the
   bingo night went kerflooey, what with the sounds of drenching rain, leaks in the shutters,
   pivotal oilcloth sentiments peeling, junked party ornaments, a woman who says he’s a size 11
   and other gadabouts, listless ones, too revealing to report on? The chimney seemed about to collapse,
   disguising the fact that a mountain of sludge was moving on
   the hysterical town, all of whose gaily decorated ridgepoles were in danger, only now no one
   stopped to think about it, the more massive southwestern face being turned toward one
   and all, who, mesmerized by the silence of death, made sure their seams
   were straight. It seemed but a few moments later though actually it was probably more like
   years that the evangelist profited and whispered: all of his
   town made sense, his relatives enjoyed positions of respect, and so
   what trouble could there be? No, there is no knocking in the walls, nothing
   like that. The operation is a success from the point of view of the furthest tangle
   of violet cliff-face that sometimes flashes toward one, far across the valley, as though revealing
   an ecstatic, deep-buried message. This is the price we have to pay,
   it seems to say, and though all future debts will have been incurred gladly, one must
   shoulder the burden of the interest payments NOW, otherwise there’ll be such a scare
   in the curriculum as only the oldest ones will want to get out, the others
   impeded or impeached by the books they have a right to read
   in this our own time. Only I say to you, don’t look askance at the singers
   just because they’re not responsible for the awful libretto, bearing in mind the tropes
   each had to traverse to get here, and now their music delights the eye
   and the mind as well as the ear, they have surely calibrated their longings to us;
   there will be more surprises to come and the well-nursed fantasy expands, blooms
   with the hair of their yearning, turning desire to a trick and love to its own advantage.
   Yet come speak with me behind the screen of the waterfall’s Holophane, yet be not too
   distant lest the muggers suspect us and the children bear away our burden, our only
   secret. For nurseries have their news agencies as surely as garlic repels vampires
   among others. Today a tree talked to us.What it said was don’t
   plunge too deeply into the microbe-infested waters, there may be an alternate plan
   which will allow us to save more lives and so become our own resurrection of sorts
   on the simple chart. Pin it here, it says, this place is the most valuable and least
   congested with shit and other rungs of the ladder of hysterical flight
   from the pages of a magazine to the dime-store trophy that is your secret, haunted
   by memories both reluctant and relaxed, as long as it wants to take you away. But beware
   the instant in which it doesn’t: utopias can crumble
   in that split-second, and you may wake up finding you have more than you ever wanted to own,
   but by that time the dream is falling in on itself in slow motion or someone is dismantling it.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-2 10:32:09 | 显示全部楼层

   在阴影草坪这里,问题总是:哦,他们现在在做什么可怕的事情?
   假装什么?愚蠢的提议被提前,然后他们就胡说,
   这会行不通。这行不通。我想,并不是说任何人都是我所称之为自负的,或
   开朗的。有一个确定的图像…但它在1971年就消失了。从那以后就
   没有人回来。有一条小道通向它,叫做“滨海大道”。他们在小群体中
   出现,从围墙最后一次粉刷开始,并忙于讨论---谁知道,
   也许会出现一个有趣的想法,但墙上的笔迹似乎表明并非如此:
   回到你的抽象,它说,生活
   恰好还不需要你。我坐在车里
   突然间,我可以看到我走过的整个路程,雾气笼罩的目的地
   再次变得清晰起来,就像过去几周里的多次一样。我想我应该
   锐化我的外表,因为那样处于光明中,处于生命中,是的,我也在
   谈论新衣服。他穿了一套黑色西装---
   那就是那些线投射的形象?艺术与休闲---80美元!我肩上的声音
   平静如我的满足:让它越过。也许不是完全
   从头开始的康复治疗,也许只有几次表面接触
   就会产生翻天覆地的影响,在这种情况下。正是你能做什么比整个画面
   更重要,但是我们长得越大,就越不习惯死亡的想法---
   很抱歉我带来了这个话题---我们变得。我们准备了我们的方式。秋天的
   气息又是浩瀚的,我们在其中看到模糊但好心的
   预兆,然后就忘记了。这就是我们的剪影投射在看不见的自然上的方式
   诱惑人们从树叶堆的顶端下来。到那时天黑了,
   当然。人们的轿车不按预定时间,而且后视镜易碎,太过
   抛光而不能发光,只能足够明显看到一个人
   脸上的毛发。这会削弱
   我们的自尊形象吗?黑暗中我们在哪里?你能看到吗?肯定吗?
   
   “现在不太好”,因为深蔓越莓色的浆果
   虽然干枯无知觉,但仍然逗留在树上---肯定要到夏天?但是
   岁月流逝,我必须完成我的故事,我忘了
   添加角色。啊,但它会改变
   它的负面性质,加入一些我们完全不需要的东西,
   尽管它是巨大的。仍然,尽管现在树叶只在树枝穿行,
   总得有人照看它。我从来没有仆人。总是,我习惯于
   自己打扫卫生,即使别人不习惯。见鬼,这些
   是什么怪事?我忘记了背后的路,忘记了故事的来背后,
   也许是为了更好,因为我神清气爽,什么也记不起,
   很久以前,在七月的某个晚上
   发生的事。我们隔着
   浅浅的泻湖互相呼唤;这似乎有帮助。现在删除
   复仇主题,让它好起来一次。生活是一个刺绣框架,你放进去的东西
   就留在那里,有很多种设计,照字面有数百万种
   以及它们的组合---全部。所以,也许1658年在纽伦堡发生的事情
   对我来说很重要,但无疑
   举证责任不依赖于你。宝贝,这就是我能为你做的
   一切,现在我必须走了,但是想想
   聚集在永远遥远的地平线上越来越小的云层:你想要
   我们的遗产吗?或者你应该投资什么?当卷须
   一根接一根松开,还有什么可说?我能
   在滑雪照片上看到你,当你在洗衣房后面像过去一样头晕目眩,一尘不染,
   然而我们对彼此说的每一句话都很重要,牵扯着,我不知道,像一张纸
   从物质中离去,然后你以后会得到什么?
   我呢,嗯?
   
   我希望我能在过去的日子里听到鸟的歌唱,
   你知道,曾经有的那种。似乎每根刺都被点燃。
   这里离我们想象中错过的那种
   广阔的气氛很远。只有一个闷闷不乐的服务员
   穿着一件脏兮兮的白夹克,砰地一声把你面前的咖啡杯摔下来,然后走开。
   有人在一个星期天告诉我这件事。到了星期一,这些狗回来了,正在为一些用过的
   粪便,一半在水里,而打架。哇!多蠢的事。我只听说他过去常走到
   另一栋楼后面,没人知道他。但他不能肯定。它就像一只鸡。
   我肯定巴布斯记得我们过去惯于争论的时间。
   但现在这已经是古老的历史,虽然。而且,就像历史一样,它也有着明确的兴趣,
   就像底比斯。奇怪的是,教授,我只是在
   谈论它,为了让它不再完全错误,你走过来问我
   我的原理如何,我脱口说出了真相。一切都好。它不会被分割,
   也不会被几个参与者分割,无论如何。
   
    
     
   Here at Shadowlawn the question is always: O what awful thing are they doing now?
   What make-believe? Idiotic proposals are advanced, then they blab it,
   it won’t work. It doesn’t work. Not that anyone is what I would call conceited, or
   outgoing either, I guess. There’s a certain image...But that went out in 1971.No one has
   been back there since. A small road leads to it, called “the esplanade.” In small groups
   they recur, since the fence was last painted, and are up to discussing it--- who knows,
   maybe an interesting idea will emerge, yet the handwriting on the wall seems to indicate otherwise:
   return to your abstractions, it said, life
   has no need of you just yet. I was sitting in my car
   and suddenly I could see down the whole distance I had come, and the fog-shrouded destination
   became clear again, as it has so many times over the past weeks. I thought I should
   sharpen my appearance, for that way lies light, lies life, and yes I am
   talking about new clothes as well. He wore a black suit---
   that’s what image those threads project? Arts & leisure---80 bucks! As quiet as my
   contentment is the voice at my shoulder: make it over. Perhaps not a total
   from-the-ground-up rehab, perhaps only a few cosmetic touches
   would have an earth-shaking impact, in this instance. It’s what you can do that matters
   more than the whole picture, but the older we grow, the more unused to the idea of dying---
   and I’m sorry I brought the subject up--- we become. We are set in our ways. The breath
   of autumn is vast again, we see vague but kind-hearted auguries
   in it, then forget. It’s the way our silhouette gets projected on invisible nature
   that seduces one to come down from the top of the leaf-pile. By then it’s dark,
   of course. One’s sedan’s not on schedule, and the rear-view mirror is brittle, too
   polished to shine, just visible enough to see the hairs
   on one’s face by. Is it going to cripple
   our image of our self-esteem? Where were we in the dark? Can you see it?Positive?
   
   Not so nice now, as the deep cranberry-colored berries linger
   on the trees though shriveled and cold--- surely not till summer? But that’s
   ages away and I have to finish my story, and character
   is what I forgot to add. O but it will change
   the negative nature of it, put in something we don’t need all right,
   gigantic though it be. Still, and though the leaves are only threaded on the branches now,
   someone has to look after it. I never had a servant. Always, I was accustomed
   to doing my own cleaning, even as others were not. Heck, what creeps
   are these? And I forgot the way back, forgot the back of the story,
   perhaps for the better, since I was refreshed and could remember nothing,
   nothing of what happened so long ago, on a certain evening
   in July. We called across
   shallow lagoons to each other; it seemed to help. Now to expunge
   the revenge-motif, and get it all right for once. Life is an embroidery-frame, and what you put
   into it gets left there, there are so many kinds of designs, literally millions of them
   and the combinations of these---well. So perhaps what happened at Nuremberg in 1658 is
   of some importance to me, but surely
   the burden of proof doesn’t rest on you. It’s all I can do
   for you baby now that I have to get going, but think
   of the diminishing tiers of clouds clustered to the ever-more-distant horizon: do you want
   our heritage? Or should you invest in something? And as one tendril
   after another unclasps, what more is there to say? I can see you
   in the ski-picture, as dazed and clean as in the old days behind the laundry,
   and yet each word of what we said to each other matters, pulls, I don’t know, away
   like a sheet from the substance, and what are you going to get after that?
   What me, huh?
   
   I wish I could hear birdsong in those old days,
   you know, the kind there used to be. It seemed every thorn was alight.
   Here there is nowhere near the expansive atmosphere
   we imagine we miss. Only a sullen waiter
   in a soiled white jacket who slams down the coffee cups in front of you and then walks away.
   I was told about it on a Sunday. By Monday the dogs were back, fighting over some used
   excrement, half in the water. Wow. What a dumb thing. Only I hear he used to go behind
   the other building, and no one knew him. But he can’t say for sure. It’s like a chicken.
   I’m sure Babs remembers the time of the arguments we used to go through.
   That’s ancient history now, though. And, like history, it has a definite interest,
   like Thebes. Curiously I was just talking
   about it professor, to get it not quite wrong again, and you came up and asked me
   how my theorem was and I blurted out the truth. It’s all okay. It’s not going to be divided,
   not divided up among several participants anyway.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-5 08:46:39 | 显示全部楼层

   当我走出房间时
   决定走另一条路。
   它令人吃惊的新鲜感蒙蔽了我
   欺骗门框的多个角度的灯光
   面对我。一种风化的木瓜
   被要求包括在内。冬天过后,圆圆的灌木
   被适当地拆开,你是如何拥有这些的?我母亲
   在城市上空啜饮着一杯白兰地,把
   镶嵌的钟声赶走到它们的位置;今年
   每次有多远,有多少气球能看到晨光
   人们必须有一个挂在上面的钉子,和一些可以在上面行走的东西,
   但情况并没有变得更糟,
   从马懒洋洋但突然抽动的尾巴到
   从马厩里飞出苍蝇之间的时间:
   从你身边匆匆走过的家伙们,
   他们正在把你,从目录中带出来,到
   令人讨厌的约会。会议。是不是曾经有一只猫头鹰这样叫,
   让我们放学晚了,我们多么喜欢它,瞬间
   就在彼此的怀抱里,一只瘦小的猫头鹰叫了下来,那是一股空气波
   把这个地方带走了。而你和我,在我们的太阳套装里,
   我们一定掌握了很多外国舞蹈,
   在集市上被人看到很夸张,因为他们中的一个或多个在选区外
   认出了我们,并且为了填料布,一卷
   从梳子刷着的头发,我们不受处罚地下车,这就是
   我们想要看到的一切。但在黑暗中,你会看到更多,
   尤其是如果你是个孩子,本能地知道那里发生了什么,
   那些纸板火柴是如何向后弯开的,他们都学到
   什么样的疣,在旧金山的
   薄雾笼罩下。我说你是我的老师施密特先生,
   我是讨厌鬼和学生,你毕竟是
   你所打算成为的一切,这是真的,不是吗?这成真了,看?他的小狗眼睛
   评估我,我马上就被说服,从那天起
   永不向前看,向后想,无论下雨
   或好天气,从我第一次
   亲吻你身上的国王那选定的一刻。什么样的反射!
   拥有这个我们很幸运
   然而人们不想去,找
   借口不去,在门框里扭着脚趾。
   你过奖了我,我在梯子上
   比其他任何一个学生都高,当我到八岁时,直得
   就像谷仓里的两根树枝,在爱之后,
   水退去了,离开了。
   现在是时候了。但我致命的羞怯又一次
   战胜了我。我急忙跑了出去,扑倒
   在街上。你看,我不会是一个好男孩。
   他们刚来。把我带走了。现在,我愉快地
   朝着表面倾斜,想着一个美好的、肥胖的梦:哦,再次
   被困在那里。但是消防车
   不让我,砰砰的一声冲向岩石上的
   震荡,一个破碎的底座这里,
   我们站在这里,微风宜人,所以让我们
   慢慢来,再唱一首歌,眼睛滚动,
   “随意漫游,无始无终”:
   
    
   It was decided to proceed another way
   while I was out of the room
   The startling freshness of it blinkered me
   opposing me to many angles of lights
   that fell before the door frame. A weathered quince
   asked to be included. Round shrubs duly unwrapped
   after winter and how do you get hold of these? Sipping a glass of brandy
   my mother high above the city shooed
   inset chimes to their places; how far
   and how many balloons see the light of morning each time this year
   and one must have a peg to hang it on, and something to walk upon,
   yet it got no worse,
   the time between the horse’s lazily but abruptly twitched tail to
   the flies from off the stable:
   fellows who hurry by you,
   they are taking you, out of the catalog, to
   obnoxious rendezvous. Meetings. Was it ever a catbird that called thus,
   got us late after school, how much we were loving it, instant
   in each other’s arms, and one thin one called down, that was a wave of air
   to take the place away. And you and I, in our sun-kit,
   we must have mastered many foreign dances,
   been seen tall at the fair, for one or more of them to recognize us outside
   the precinct, and to have got off scot-free for a wad
   of cloth, roll of hair brushed from the comb, that’s
   all we were meant to see. But in the dark you see more,
   especially if you’re a child, and know instinctively what goes on there,
   how matchbooks are bent open backwards, what warts they all
   came to learn, in thin haze
   out over San Francisco. I said you are my teacher Herr Schmidt,
   I am the toad and pupil, you are after all all
   you set out to be and it’s true isn’t it? It’s come true, look? And his puppy-eyes
   appraised mine, I was won over instantly, from that day
   never thought forward, looked backward, rain
   or shine, from that anointed moment
   I first kissed a king in you. What reflections!
   We are lucky to have this
   yet one doesn’t want to go, makes
   excuses not to, toe twisting in door-jamb.
   You flattered me I was higher up on the ladder
   than any of the other pupils, and when I came to be eight, straight
   as two twigs in the barn after love,
   the waters receded and left.
   Now’s the time. But my fatal shyness overcame me
   once again. I hurried out, threw
   myself down the street. You see I wasn’t going to be a good boy.
   They just came. Took me. Now I angle pleasantly
   toward the surface, thinking a good, fat dream: oh to be stuck
   in there again. But the fire-engine
   won’t let me, the banging hurtling toward a concussion
   on rocks, a broken pedestal and here,
   here we stand, the breeze is pleasant so let’s take
   our time and sing one more song, eyes rolling,
   and roam at will, timeless:
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-8 22:10:21 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-10-8 22:19 编辑


  
   的确,我毫不怀疑就是如此。
   哦,我不知道,你呢?
   是什么让窗户制造者独立进行,如果不是
   这个嘴唇的神圣季节,
   灰色的湿气艰难地挤压着我们。我们从来都不是
   凭我们自己。因为有人颁布法令让我们不凭我们自己。而在这种
   反响的冰封口袋里,仍然不意味着是我们自己,直到
   一些残忍的陌生人迫使我们成为自己,然后离开。啊,但是,什么新的
   问题,出租车,花了好几年的时间得到解释,而水仙花,早就死了,继续
   向一边枯萎。同时,同样的胶片带
   被无休止地投射在人们的额头上。人们已经看过很多次!
   然而,人们敢于承认有一些细节,每一次,以前都避开了人们,
   比如摆在桌子上的书的书脊上的标题:《驯悍记》(1)。一旦
   掌握了所有这一切,仍然可以远远到人们
   非常想知道的苍白真空中去训练。这是一种奇怪的熟悉,就像一个伐木工人
   在孤独的树林里吃面包:啊我的朋友和姐妹们,难道你们
   从来没有采取过知道的,成长的立场吗?熟悉的面条提供了。
   人们想,不是喜欢,而是住进,事物的结构中,这是
   第一个重大错误,从这一错误开始,所有其他的,到最小的
   灰尘,小孩鼻子上的一串鼻涕,都以轻快的军事方式前进,在
   三月的一个寒冷的下午鼓励着一些人。他们说的关于你的话永远不会重现;
   这位姑娘,在停顿的最低点中,占据着另一个主题。这是珠宝。
   或者是一次突进无法解释的外部的袭击。我们的眼泪永远都不够多,
   事实上,那么为什么要为太阳指向
   这些尖锐的表面而感到遗憾呢?曾经,鲸鱼是友好的,之后再也不会有其他的
   悲伤。你只需要选择,确保所有的选择都是错误的,然后你自己
   隐私的天空就会在你身上塌落,崩溃,就像睡觉一样舒适。在那片遥远的
   森林里,没有什么可以单独活着,它是梦想。是一个难题,对于人们来说。
   对于一个将一个中立的记忆换为另一个的人来说。

   (1)《驯悍记》:莎士比亚的戏剧之一。

   人们在深渊上方成扇状散开。这是春天,警告:
   鲱鱼可能永远不会再出现,如果一件灰色西装在你眼前鼓起来,一定要
   再次接受它:其他的可能会被发现很缺乏,淘金热已经恢复,歌剧
   曾经再次受欢迎。当我去看电影的时候,黑暗中静得
   让人难以置信,只有鸟儿在偷看,沉默的人转过身来,人们
   眼镜的铬角不准确地暗示着三十年代,到军团对自己的出生地的
   半无知,更不用说金属屏。人们为别人做了那么多;一定吗?
   没有一丝薰衣草、卷云,柑橘的味道?不,但是旅鼠小跑回来,你可以亲眼看到
   在那里投资了多少潜力,以及结果如何。
   是时候独自出去走走了,如果常年的痛苦不是你的盘碟,
   那就炖点别的---灵气,或者林波舞。任何事情,只要它不是由邻居造成的
   他们现在破坏你生活的潜力比将来任何时候都大
   只要你让他们逃脱处罚,并且不愤怒于放弃
   继续逃跑的爪子。和你的园丁聊聊,看看
   那些明亮的嫩芽,忘记你会活得很长,一切都茁壮成长,迅速地,以同样的速度。
   或者明亮的部分可能会中断,留在
   草坪上的反光片无法活着看到新的,泥土花朵的曙光,
   但又被要求重新开始,因为迟钝
   还不够迟钝,我们希望这些石头有持续的时间,即使在日落时
   疲劳覆盖在岛上,
   火烈鸟们为了逃脱的奢华而互相倾覆。

   我会用昆虫
   挖洞的木头装配风景,住在某处一个洞里
   以免令人愉快的反常现象把促进和平的自以为是的字谜强加给别人和所有来客,
   把它封在箱子里,撕开,把生命的粉末撒在死木屑上
   看着它眨眼,然后用我的拳头尽我所能使劲敲打着
   牧羊姑娘和她的朋友鹈鹕商人的传奇故事:他们是如何在彼此
   不再了解很久之后成为朋友的,当时他们俩都是盲人,生活在
   克来芬公园附近的某个不太致命的肮脏环境中:当秋天闪烁,在
   未吃完的午餐上弯下腰,它的支撑早就建立。从淫荡的
   “另一个女人”渐渐部分地变为地狱本身,这远比你想象的
   更深远、更美丽,不是第一步,
   而是更像纪念碑顶部出现的东西,让你看到
   最广阔的东西,如果不是最不凝块的前景和地点
   对你的存在没有价值判断,因为事实上你存在,虽然
   如果你不是一个人,像门楣一样
   无辜的话,可能会有。回到过去,他们哭泣,其他人;有必要为了
   冲走像其曾经所是的现在,但人们不能嫉妒他们的痛苦,在高速风中分崩离析的感觉
   或惊讶于自己的保证被忽视。这应该属于人们
   行为重要性的早期宏伟构想,而现在
   几乎任何投入都是可疑的,即使是最具成本效益的投入,因此似乎其他男人的
   花园获得了所有的水分和阳光。另一方面,我们只有
   一个没有实际价值的观念,那就是留下来,包括在褶饰里,人们永远不会厌倦
   这种反向运动,即使人们害怕站着不动的后果
   变得像墙上的一个老石印画。


  
  

   indeed I have no doubt it can be so.
   Oh I don’t know, do you?
   What is it makes the window-maker go off on his own, if not
   this sacred season of lips,
   gray moisture that squeezes down on us so hard. And we are never
   on our own. Because someone decreed we were not to be. And in glacial
   pockets of this repercussion were still not meant to be ourselves, until
   some cruel stranger forces us to be, and leaves. Ah, but then, what new
   problems, taxis, taking years to get an accounting, while daffodils, long dead, continue
   to droop sideways. Meanwhile the same film strip
   is projected endlessly across one’s forehead. One has seen it so many times!
   Yet one dares to admit there are details, each time, that escaped one before,
   like the title on the spine of the book laying on the table: The Taming of the Shrew. Once
   mastered all this can still instruct far into the pale vacuum
   one wants so much to come to know. It is strangely familiar, like a woodcutter
   eating bread dans un bois solitaire: 0 my friends and sisters, haven’t you
   ever taken the position that what knows, grows? And familiar noodles are served.
   One wants, not to like, but to live in, the structure of things, and this is
   the first great mistake, from which all the others, down to the tiniest
   speck,bead of snot on a child’s nose, proceed in brisk military fashion, encouraging
   to some on a chilly afternoon in March. What they have to say about you never recurs;
   the fraulein, in the nadir of a pause, takes up some other subject. It’s jewels.
   Or a foray into the unexplained outside.We can never have tears enough,
   in fact, so why regret the sun’s pointing
   these acerated surfaces? Once, a whale will be kind, and no other grief can exist after
   that. You just have to choose, making sure all the choices are wrong, and the sky then
   of your own privacy caves in on you, collapses, is comfortable as sleep. In that distant
   forest nothing can live separate, and it’s a dream. A difficulty. For one.
   For one exchanging one neutral memory for another.

   And one fans out over the abyss. This is spring, the warning:
   herring may never happen again, and if one gray suit bulges before your eyes be sure
   to take it in again: others may be found wanting, the gold rush having resumed, and operas
   are once again in demand. By the time I got to the movies it was incredibly
   quiet in the dark, only birds peeped, the silent man turned, and the chrome angle
   of one’s glasses inaccurately suggested the thirties to legions half-ignorant of their own
   birthplaces, let alone metal screening. One has done so much for others; must it be?
   No hint of lavender, of cirrus, of citrus? No but the lemmings trot back, you can see for yourself
   how much potential was invested there, and what came of it.
   It’s time to swing out on one’s own and, if perennial pathos isn’t your dish,
   make a stew of something else---nimbus, or limbo. Anything so long as it’s not caused by neighbors
   whose potential for wrecking your life is greater now than at any point in the future
   provided you let them get away with it and are not angry to relinquish
   the paws that go on escaping. Talk it over with your gardener, see
   the bright shoots, forget that you will live long, that all thrives, apace and at the same rate.
   Or bright facets could interrupt, reflectors
   left out on lawns not live to see the dawning of new, earthen flowers
   and yet be called to resume again, for dull
   is not dull enough and we wish these stones to have duration even as fatigue palls
   on the island in the sunset,
   and flamingos fall over each other in the luxury of getting away.

   I would assemble
   landscapes from insect-tunneled wood and go live in a hole somewhere
   lest pleasant anomalies impose bumptious charades promoting peace to others and to all comers,
   seal it in a chest, rip it open, scatter the powder of life on the dead sawdust
   to watch it blink, and then pound with my fists as hard as I can on the saga of
   the sheepgirl and her friend the pelican merchant: how they became friends long after
   ceasing to know each other, when both were blind and living in unfatally dingy
   circumstances somewhere near Clapham Common: when autumn flickers, curves in
   on the unfinished lunch, may it rest established early. To graduate
   from sultry “other woman” parts to hell itself, which is infinitely more far-reaching
   and beautiful than you might ever imagine, isn’t the first step,
   but something more like the emerging at the top of the monument, that lets you see
   in the vastest if not the least clotted vistas and places
   no value-judgment on your being there, on the fact of your being there, though
   it might if you weren’t alone, innocent
   as a lintel. Back into the past, they sob, the others; it’s necessary in order to
   flush out the present as it were, yet one can’t envy them the pained, coming-apart-in-high-velocity-winds feeling
   or be surprised that one’s reassurances are ignored. That would belong to an earlier
   grand idea of the importance of one’s actions, while now
   almost any input is suspect, even the most cost-efficient, so that it seems other men’s
   gardens get all the moisture and sunlight.We on the other hand have
   only sterile notions of staying included to ruffle through, and one never tires
   of this retrograde motion, even as one fears the consequences of standing still
   and becoming like an old chromo on a wall.




  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-9 21:38:51 | 显示全部楼层

   然而,还有别的
   几十人经历过它,没有附加任何耻辱感,只是一次又一次地滚动,像一块
   永远不会停止滚动的大理石一样,而我们现在这里,仍然这样做,只是告诉我们的对话者
   越来越缺乏耐心,并且永远渴望结束运转,
   狗咬狗,在广告上没有说太多,比如说
   你在想什么,你来自哪里;更多建议
   来自头发蓬乱的陌生人。
   所有人都在晚上把自己锁在里面,
   拼命地诱惑,在那里转半圈看看谁在树后面
   如果同样无效的话,可能会被认为更合适。在你的谈话中的热情,你下次怎么继续?
   我花了半毛钱告诉他
   我会离开
   并也去
   旋紧你,只是还没干完,我们
   文明真正的支柱会崩溃,奥西里斯将不得不再次惩罚
   那些在我们的阴影下跳吉格舞的粗心大意者,我们这些信任的守护者,必须
   以某种方法找到丢失的钥匙,而此刻它正在一个麻风病人的掌握中
   他玩弄着它,不是故意的。
   
   苍蝇仍然用它们的教训来课我们的税:我们什么时候会放弃?为了降落在那片
   荒凉海岸的碎片上,人们被迫抛弃某些
   深受喜爱的财产,包括,恐怕,那把钥匙。啊,只要人们属于某些东西,
   生活可能会更艰难,但我们有力量去赞同它们
   想让我们说的任何话,我们最终会有竞争,当然,也很狡猾,抽象地
   从不同的角度来看指控的钟面,谁知道,如果有人
   逃跑,另一个人的恶心 会加重多少?也许不多。也许如果你
   有一点同情心,在你的院子里,事情会变得更陈腐,平静的
   原始契约不会倾覆它,导致遥远的利益和前提。
   我告诉过你,他的名字叫马克斯,你是一个有想法的人,否则,好,
   就也是舷墙,更快地放弃与被钉在出发码头上的
   轮胎的亲吻,我们所有的计划和弹药都被破坏,就在这个
   坚固的度假胜地的门口,那里两人但不能更多
   可以躺在一起,报复声溅入夜幕。它一定是从
   那边来的,那些干草。给它们更大的力量,因为这似乎永远不会
   在一个下午发生。当我们点燃对那个古老过去的兴趣时,人们
   听到了多么令人惊讶的颤音,多么热气腾腾的沼泽花伸展;毛茸茸的
   海洋生物入侵皇家场地,下周时钟将精确地
   敲响十二点,你将摆脱一个漫长棘手的义务。
   从那时起,我也睡得更好了,但是你的鞋子没有得到适当的喂养,在
   任何一个被称为喝的东西上都有斑点,诅咒它,水槽里
   没有水。是的,但是马说他不想要任何东西,而且
   他的马具撕破了,很生气,
   这是勤劳的人的格言。哦,我们早就知道她的足迹
   花费了她和其他人多少钱,现在是决定性常识的时间,只是
   没有什么比这它想要被提醒的更确定了。也许它根本不知道。也许
   我们是出于内疚而推断出来的,现在我们在奔走,天哪,展开的
   风景是如何转向过去的。甚至是我们
   想要开始这场比赛吗?这可能是为了其他人,一切都是为了他们,
   所以人们被轻松地被宽恕了,或者看起来是这样,带着一个谴责
   和一个惊人的梦?一开始我就告诉某些人
   我不会比我最近的邻居玩得快。现在看看
   他变成了什么。我可不想在终点线落得一副
   看起来不干净的样子。我去。我晚点来。你们都在一个拥挤的漏斗底部着陆
   所以无论什么玩笑裂开,都与你的防卫相吻合。不是每个人天生就穿
   我们选择的衣服。颜色,漂洗,坚持,退回;粉红色是为你的,
   不只是洗刷和绝望地希望进入别的东西,在任何情况下
   它可能是从来没有打算被理解的,它微笑着,从
   永远荒芜的三月初挽救它所能挽救的一点点。只有两个;
   托词只包括两个;它结束了;我们迷失在
   习惯中,在毛地黄帐篷里微笑;但是鸽子们请求允许在我们身上编织
   像赞美诗,有时太阳很好,但它似乎不会
   像一首歌那样消失,后面留下一条略微凹陷的小路。我们可以跟随,
   但地平线上满溢的湖水更有可能加入我们,如果我们
   不赦免自己,毫无顾忌地做梦。所有的借口都及时地融合在一个拱门中
   其拱顶俯瞰天空,而且
   我们必须有耐心,如果我们要生活在那么远的地方,自己承担费用,这一次,而不是那次。
   
    
   And yet, dozens
   of others experience it, no stigma is attached, only rolling over and over like a marble
   that can never stop rolling and here we are, still doing it only advised of our interlocutor’s
   growing lack of patience, and permanently eager for the end of the run,
   dog bite dog, it doesn’t so much say it on the advertisement as
   what do you think, where do you come from; more doses of advice
   from shaggy-haired strangers.
   And all lock themselves in at night,
   desperately vamping where a half-turn to see who’s behind in that tree might
   have been deemed more appropriate, if equally ineffective. What brio in your chat, how do you keep going next time?
   And I told him for half a
   dime I’d quit
   and screw
   you too, only that’s not done, the very
   pillars of our civilization would crumble and Osiris would again have to punish
   the unwary who danced jigs in our shadow, we the keepers of the trust who have to
   somehow find the missing key that at this moment is within the grasp of a leper
   who plays with it, not knowing.
   
   And flies still tax us with their lessons:when will we give up? In order to land on that shred
   of inhospitable strand one is forced to jettison certain
   much-beloved possessions, including, I’m afraid, that key. O if only one belonged to something,
   life would be harder perhaps but we’d have the strength to go along with whatever they
   wanted us to say and we’d have rivalry at the end, sure, but cunning as well in the abstract
   clockface of accusations from the various points of the compass, and who knows, if one got
   away, how much sicker the other would get? Perhaps not much. Perhaps if you had
   a little compassion in your yard things would grow staler and the calm
   of the original compact wouldn’t capsize it, leading to distant benefits and premises.
   I told you his name was Max you were the one who thought otherwise and well
   It’s just as well as the gunwale unkisses faster the tires nailed to the dock
   of departure and all our plans and ammo were scuttled, at the threshold
   of this adamantine resort where two
   can lie but no more, reprisals splash into the night. It must surely have come
   from over there, those dried grasses. More power to them, for what must never
   seem to have taken place on an afternoon once. As we kindle interest in that old past, what
   astonishing trills one hears, what blistering swamp flowers thrust open; furry
   sea-creatures invade the royal compound and next week the clock will strike
   exactly at twelve o’clock, you’ll be free of a long-tendered obligation.
   Since then I’ve been sleeping better too, but your shoes aren’t getting fed properly, there are
   spots on whatever one is called to drink, and curse it, no
   water in the watering-trough. Yes but the horse said he didn’t want any, besides
   his harness is torn and angry,
   a proverb for the industrious. Oh we’ve known a long time how much her
   trail was costing her and others and now it’s time for definitive common knowledge, only
   nothing is so sure anymore it wants to be reminded. Maybe it never knew at all. Maybe
   we deduced it out of guilt, and now it’s we on the run, my goodness how the unrolling
   scenery veers past. Was it even we
   who were meant to start on this race? Might it have been for the others, all for them,
   and so one is let off lightly, or so it seems, with a reprimand
   and a startling dream? I told someone at the start of this
   I wouldn’t play faster than my nearest neighbor. Now look
   what’s become of him.I wouldn’t want to end up at a finish line unwashed
   and looking like that. I go. I come later. You all land at the bottom of a crowded funnel
   and so whatever joke is cracked coincides with your defense. Not everyone was made to wear
   what we choose to wear. The colors, rinsed, insistent, return; the pink is for you,
   not just to wash and wish desperately into something else that in any case
   was probably never meant to be understood, and it smiles, and salvages
   what little it can from the eternal barren beginning of March. Just two;
   the alibi would only cover two; it’s over; we are lost
   in the habit, smiling in a foxglove tent;but the doves requested permission to weave over us
   like psalms and sometimes the sun is good, but it just seems like it won’t go away
   the way a song does, leaving a slightly hollowed path behind. We could follow,
   but the brimming lake on the horizon is more likely to join us if we
   don’t absolve ourselves, recklessly dreaming. In time all excuses merge in an arch
   whose keystone overlooks heaven, and
   we must be patient if we are to live that far, at our own expense, this time, without that.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-10 11:01:41 | 显示全部楼层

   打赌那里有一些东西掉下来了;然而,在关于新任命如此的大惊小怪中
   没有时间去辨别;那儿新来的人,人形机器人的睡眠
   像银锭一样洒落在清瘦的邻居身上,没有混乱,只有芦苇间的拨弄。
   最后一位可辨认的导师离开了;这取决于对他信众的遗骸进行重组,
   但留给他们自己的装置,其中许多逃离了相对安全的鸡舍,寻找
   二手车停车场、洗车场、免下车银行,比如说是为了把他们的头颅集中起来,
   我是我中队中唯一一个清点他们人数的人,当他们在单个文件中留下时,
   但却不能做太多,或者做记录,很快我也迷失了方向---好吧,不完全是这样,
   但结果总是有被束缚的期望,当你在一个方向上走得有点远,在
   另一个方向上走得不够远时,人们会准时在办公室墙上看到日历:想想,它说。
   就像一条哀婉的河流,我的生活已经远远铺开了这些,完全到了这地方,
   我已经征用了汽艇,但这一切都是徒劳的,这庆祝活动:听,
   孩子们现在怎么看你?突然间,每个人都变得更年轻,他们中的许多人也都
   不那么年轻了,谁,你认为,爱你?它是贝壳游戏的一个变种
   再次;并不是所有的场所都有自杀倾向,但是谁把骨灰拿出来,
   把钥匙留在哪里?穿过这个疯狂的小镇,他怒气冲冲地说:(“它行得通,它弯了,
   但它行得通!”)就像飞机的机翼,但我们一直知道它就在这里,我们确信,妈妈,稍后我会告诉你,
   与此同时,紫丁香灌木丛是一种承诺。不是吗?还有酒,
   噪音制造者,还有所有我们认为在空间铰链上很好的小东西:它们
   现在不是这样,是吗?还有所有的孩子,还有过来的人:在他们的时代
   现在是咸的,我们试图冲出我们的时代,我想,但动物们还是朝总部
   狂奔。我写那些的时候,我很沮丧。不要读它。但是,如果必须的话,请
   注意第四段中的
   我很兴奋的某些豁免:他们说它不应该进入,但我成功地解码了这个大帐篷
   以便有一天所有的孩子都能应该这样生活,拥有最终属于我们的东西,
   只有我成功了,一列火车呼啸而过:“那汉子”,它似乎在说。然后它过去了,
   当它被标记下来之后。我记忆中的一个痛处会以我能写的最快速度解开了
   我刚刚写下的东西;编织,它就会被解开;交谈,听众的反应
   会让你屏息以待,所以它是法令。我会再往前
   走远一点,到我最喜欢的地方去,哦,你会喜欢它,但是没有人能去。木乃伊
   这么说。我还得在阴影里呆一会儿,直到你明智地看到我是如何
   适应这里的,所以现在必须随时离开。
   我记得,箱子是蓝色的;现在
   远处只有几艘船,一面高高的旗帜在另一个方向
   向我招手。该死的,我会粘住这一个,这是他们
   一直想让我带的,我看不出为什么我要带另一个。我的孩子,
   你必须照你的意愿去做;否则会侮辱上帝的统治,你真的
   很在乎“他”,不是吗?只是不去想明天---
   你会看到,它不久就会到达并照顾它自己。与此同时,如果一顶新帽子
   看起来合适,那为什么不呢?哦,父亲,我正朝窗外看
   但这次时间似乎不太长,我们是否可以回到
   旧船舱,只是为了看一眼车道?但是,
   正如鹦鹉所说,这是另一个故事。迟早你会盲目地盯着铂金和
   余韵看,它们警告在隆隆的大雾中
   无法分辨它们,如果在日期不太近的将来
   一切都黯然失色,那么为什么说我是一个打领带的推销员,试图
   让你对这个新产品感兴趣,那会失去控制吗?科茨沃尔德是
   为我的,但不,他裤子里有名字标签,这根绳子在他身后
   飞进你被告知的地方将是一片空白,它是他的书房。老天保佑那些傻瓜,他们
   需要它,比我们更糟糕,但总是有一些好笑的事情作为灾难的短暂前奏,然后
   每个人都松了一口气;它仍然是一所高中;它不再有什么问题,
   树荫扮演一个水坑
   青蛙的眼睛从里面伸出来,如果真的是这样的话,这里是901个半麦金斯特里
   广场,你就是贾德森.L.惠塔克,啊,把这辆独轮车从我的视线中移开,埋在
   那边的高处,我的复制品变得如此不耐烦,而我,在光明中,
   是这个新发展的一切,除了被诱导与你一起来。虽然石头
   禁止它。不燃烧的火?
   告诉那片不再过早灰白的广阔路面,把它归档入
   “解释留下了很多无法解释的东西,”但留给我的是我的
   舞蹈,不被低估的那件,货摊上的瓷器。
   

   Bet there was some falling off there; still, amid the hoo-ha concerning new appointments and
   such there was no time to discern; new people there, android sleep rains down
   on pinched neighbors like ingots of silver, and there’s no mess, only a poking among reeds.
   The last recognizable mentor left; it was up to the remains of his flock to reconstitute,
   but left to their own devices many fled the comparative safety of the coop for used-
   car lots, car washes, drive-in banks, in order so to speak to get their heads together.
   I was the only one of my squadron to count them as they left in single file,
   but not being able to do much about it, or keep records, soon I too was lost---well, not exactly,
   but tethered expectations always result when you go a little too far in one direction, not
   enough in another, and betimes one spots the calendar on the office wall: think, it says.
   Like a plangent river my life has unrolled this far, to a fraction of this place,
   and I have commandeered motor launches, but it has all been in vain, this celebration: listen,
   what do children think of you now? Suddenly everyone is younger, and many of them not all
   that young, either, and who, do you suppose, loves you? It’s a variant of the shell game
   again; not all its premises are suicidal, but where is the one who takes out the ashes,
   leaves the key behind? Up through the frantic town he rages (“It works, it’s bent
   but it works!”)like the wing of a plane but we always knew it was here, sure we did, Ma I’ll tell you later
   in the meantime and lilac bushes are a kind of promise. Aren’t they? And wine,
   and noisemakers, and all the little things we thought good at a hinge in space: they’re
   not like that now, are they? And all the kids, and people who came over: now salted
   in their time, and we try to break out of ours, I guess, and still the animals stampede toward
   headquarters. I was depressed when I wrote that. Don’t read it. Still, if you must, take
   note of certain exemptions in the
   fourth paragraph where I was high: they said it shouldn’t enter, but I succeeded in decoding the big top
   so that someday all children should live like this, have what was at last ours,
   only I succeeded and a train roared by: that man, it seems to say. And then it is past,
   after it is flagged down. A sore spot in my memory undoes what I have just written
   as fast as I can write; weave, and it shall be unraveled; talk, and the listener response
   will take your breath away, so it is decreed. And I shall be traveling on
   a little farther to a favorite spot of mine, O you’d like it, but no one can go there. The mummy
   said so. I have to keep in the shadows yet a little longer, until you will wisely see how I
   fit under here and so must leave any day now.
   The boskets were blue, I remember; only
   a few ships in the distance now, and a tall flag beckons
   me in another direction. Dammit, I’ll stick to this one, this is the one they meant
   for me to take all along, and I don’t see why I should take that other one. My child,
   you must do as you wish; to do otherwise would insult God’s rule, and you do
   care for Him, don’t you? Only give no thought to the morrow---
   it will presently arrive and take care of itself, you’ll see. Meanwhile, if a new hat
   might seem appropriate, then why not?Oh father I was looking out the window
   but this time doesn’t seem such a long one, mightn’t we return
   to the old cabin, just for a glimpse of the driveway? But that,
   as the parrot said, is another story. Sooner or later you go blind staring at platinum
   and the reverberations that warned against it can themselves no longer be distinguished
   in the thudding and fog, and if all comes to be eclipsed at some
   date in the not-too_near future, then why does it say I’m a salesman with a tie trying to
   interest you in this new product, that can go out of control? It’s the Cotswolds
   for me, but no, he has the name tag in his pants and this string flying behind him
   into what you were told would be a void, which is his study. Heaven help jerks, they need
   it worse than we, yet always something funny acts as a short prelude to disaster, and then afterwards
   everybody is relieved; it’s still a high school; there’s nothing no longer wrong with it
   and the shade acts as a puddle
   from which froglike eyes protrude, if it is indeed this occasion, and this is 901 1/2 McKinstry
   Place, and you are Judson L. Whittaker, oh take this wheelbarrow far from my sight and bury it
   on yonder height, so impatient have my clones become, and I, in the light,
   of this new development am all but induced to come along with you. The stones
   forbid it though. Fire that does not burn?
   Tell it to the no longer prematurely gray slab of expanse, file it in
   “explanations which leave much unexplained, ”but leave me my
   dance, the one underpraised, porcelain object on the stand.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-11 22:01:17 | 显示全部楼层
在西区,问候语激增,
   我已经开始看起来更好。我什么时候不是
   一个准军事兄弟,在某种意义上?谁创造了这个绰号?因为我看到
   很远,在观察,生命的过程中,陌生的,痛苦的混乱,但它有
   一些不痛苦的表面和未密封的峰巅,或者颠簸,还有很多是未现世的和
   无知的,随着时间的流逝。这些文件现在在哪里?它们有可能就在这个时候
   被删除吗?手榴弹砰砰的一声,火箭把它们的不幸呕吐入天空,
   我们谁愿意承担查过什么东西的
   这一切责任?这就是为什么
   植入的卷心菜泪流满面地站在雾中,没有
   理由继续耕耘花园,一旦冬天开始,但
   还有什么别的事情要做,除了用自动手
   扫地,思考某些暗褐色的疏忽罪,如果暮色真的
   像你所所表现的那样是一颗宝石(别担心,雨
   不会抢走你独特的个性,尽管前几天
   我看到雨流下来,顺着你的衣服,你停了下来,似乎不知道想什么,但我,
   我在我的隔间里知道:受损的头发,破烂的膝盖骨,一两个
   丘疹,就像一个人打开窗户一样无意识地
   你提交了你的报告,法庭感到惊讶、空洞,在解雇令
   下达之前那一刻。出于尊重,我应该说我没有很近地看到你;
   你太沮丧,因为,不符合任何人对“人”的概念,但
   对它来说更生动;哦,你向他们展示了如何适应那桶被忽视的气质,并且
   仍然留有空间让他们每晚都带给房间的
   毁灭性的机智通道。如果在那之后睡眠变得更窄,它也会更尖,
   像耙子的牙齿一样倾斜,带来现在随时都可能
   出现的东西)而且,在地板上到处都是羽毛中,只有现在轮到女仆
   我们可能永远看不到她眼睛里一直在摸索的东西。不过,地板很可爱,充满了
   激情,充满了像新娘一样的美好想法,只是它说的关于我们的事情还没有来临。
   河外是洋红色的,一些阳光倒进去,被捕捉,我想
   这是它们(我们)的运气。同时我收到了你的明信片。我想告诉你
   我认为它不应该改变有多少,但是奶牛场(日记?)妨碍了,并交换了一些笔记
   当时的判决几乎是不可读的,接缝处被控告有防腐液,
   因为上面写着,任何不是胶水的东西都可以被如此临时征用,而且
   旅行变得更愉快,就在我们认为我们应该最后一次
   见到儿童害虫的突然决定之前。有那么一刻,当苹果灰
   挂在
   你的头发上时,你把那滑翔机移动了一英寸,以便
   在阴凉中。黎明,一个鸡蛋,只以它形状的理念来安慰人们。后来,我们
   变圆了,充满了恐惧:我们是否把这个形状
   与其他东西混淆了?如果是这样,它是一致的,或像一条裤子,在微风中
   摇摆?然后,当你归根结底考虑它,没有人再事关紧要。
   没有什么能比得上旧海滩。旧桌子。
   有一次,美女的蜂拥而至威胁到了我们的会面。弗雷德绕过了它。
   现在季节,“一个无限的节日欢乐,”正在步入正轨。我,也投了赞成票。
   但是,一种微妙的骚扰形式反超,通过破坏,每一项新的指控像其
   提交诉讼程序一样快。案件解散。那么,这是否真的无关紧要,
   或者女人生孩子就像水果吐出种子一样容易呢?
   万灵丹中的盐冲淡了疑虑和被忽视的标签
   警告,当被呼吁时,穿着西装出来,准备扮演一个理性的
   检察官,听喊声。到了傍晚,一根针落下,盲目的渴望
   像糖浆和牛奶一样一起冲:唯一的气质,起重机
   以巨大的锯的运动 将地平线与水分开,总是在朋友们的花环周围
   灌输敬畏之情,你的巨著也会及时告诉他们
   永不停歇。当然,最后的悲剧就足够了
   风必须减弱,它确实减弱了;一片叶子盘旋着落下,
   落在水面快速移动的镜子上,就像合唱团开始寻找希望
   在面对我们的黑色承诺中。每扇门下都渗着鲜血,现在告诉我们
   如果我们凭记忆能再次得到这条道路,那么就求助于玻璃公民。
   让贪婪的循环重新开始,它的纯粹诗意将赢得除少数
   观众外的所有观众,和那些选择不去探索我们所有人都要遵循的道路的
   仆人---我们会告诉他们怎么回事---几秒钟前
   刚刚开始下起雨来,就在我到达这里之前,我有些困惑,但现在我
   正在整理这块光秃秃的石头,就像很久以前的命令那样,
   而且什么也不能,真的,抱怨---抱怨我的头,像盒子一样方,
   傻瓜的工具容器?但正是我把它们带到了这里,
   教它们从土壤中勉强维持艰苦的生活。晚上是鸟鸣
   还是猫叫?不,我只是过着这样的生活。现在是修理的时候了,我不确定我是否
   必须被带到最愤怒的深渊的边缘,但无论如何,如果它不靠自己
   飞起来,懒惰会追上它,把树枝睡弯到地上。
   
    


   
  
   In the western districts greetings proliferate
   and I’m already starting to look better. When was I not
   a paramilitary brother in some sense?Who coined this nickname? For I see
   far, in looking, out over a life, the strange, wrenching mess of it, yet which has
   some undistressed surfaces and unsealed peaks, or bumps, along with much that was fey and
   witless as it went by. Where are those files now? Is it possible they can have been deleted
   in the very mouth of time? Grenades pop, rockets vomit their lucklessness into the sky,
   and which of us wants to bear the responsibility of having looked
   something up? which is why
   the implanted cabbages stand tearful out of the mist, there is no
   reason to go on ploughing the garden once winter has begun, yet
   what else is there to do, except sweep the floor
   with automatic hand, pondering certain dun sins of omission, if twilight really is a jewel
   as you turned out to be (never fear, the rain
   won’t rob you of your distinctive personality though I saw it streaming
   the other day, down your clothes, you paused and seemed not to know what to think, but I,
   I in my compartment knew: damaged hair, tattered kneecaps, a pimple
   or two, and as automatically as one uncloses a window
   you filed your report, and the court was amazed, emptied in a moment before
   the order of dismissal came. Out of respect I should say I didn’t see you very closely;
   you were too far down for that, not coinciding with anyone’s notion of a “person” yet livelier
   still for it; oh you showed ’em how to fit into the barrel of an ignored idiosyncrasy and
   still have room left over for passages of devastating wit that nightly
   bring the house down. And if sleep is narrower after that, it’s also more pointed,
   slanted like the harrow’s tooth, to bring up what may be coming along
   any second now) and it is, in feathers all over the floor, only now it’s the maid’s turn
   and we may never see what stays groping in her eyes. The floor is lovely, though, passionate
   and filled with bright ideas like a bride only what it says about us isn’t forthcoming.
   Outside the river is magenta and some sunbeams got caught upside down in it, just their
   (our) luck I guess. Meanwhile I have received your postcard. I wanted to tell you
   how much I thought it shouldn’t change,but dairies (diaries?) got in the way and exchanged notes
   at which time the judgment was all but unreadable, jointures charged with embalming fluid,
   for it is written that whatever is not glue may be pressed into service as such, and
   the trip gets merrier just before a sudden decision is reached concerning the child-pests
   we thought we’d seen the last of.And for one moment, when apple-dust
   hangs
   in your hair you move that glider over an inch, to be
   in shade. Dawn, an egg, comforts one only with the idea of its shape. Later we
   are in the round and full of fears: did we confuse that shape
   with something else, and if so was it congruent, or like a pair of trousers, wavering
   in the breeze? And then when you come down to it nobody matters any more.
   There is nothing like the old beach. The old tables.
   Once, an avalanche of cuties threatened our meeting. Fred bypassed it.
   Now the season, “a boundless and festive rejoicement,”is on track. I, too, voted for it.
   But a subtle form of harassment overtakes, by undermining, each new claim as fast
   as it is put in the docket. Case dismissed. Is it then true that it does not matter,
   or that women give birth to children as easily as a fruit disgorges its seeds?
   Salt in the cure-all dilutes both qualms and unheeded label
   cautions, and when called upon, comes outside in a suit, prepared to play the reasonable
   inquisitor, listen to shouts. Toward evening a stitch is dropped and the blindly desiring
   run together like syrup and milk: the only ethos, cranes
   severing horizon from water with the great sawing motion that always instills awe
   around wreaths for buddies, and in time your tome will tell them too
   about the never leaving off.Surely that last tragedy will be enough
   and the wind must drop, and it does; a single leaf falls circling,
   alights on the water’s swiftly moving mirror as the chorus picks up on hope
   in the black promise facing us. Blood oozing under every door, now tell us
   if we can get this way again by remembering and so turn to glass citizens.
   Let the cycle of greed begin again, the sheer poetry of it will win over all but a few
   viewers and those servants who choose not to look into the path being proposed for all of us
   to follow---we’ll tell them how---and it has just started to sprinkle
   a few seconds ago, just before I arrived here in some confusion but now am
   dressing the bare stone, as was long ago ordered,
   and can complain, really, of nothing---of my head, square as a box,
   receptacle for fools’ tools? But it was I who brought them here,
   taught them to scratch out a rough living from the soil. Of birdsong or caterwauling
   in the night? No, I was just living it.Now that it’s time for repairs I’m not sure I
   had to be brought to the very edge of the indignant abyss, but no matter, if it doesn’t fly
   off on its own, sloth will overtake it, sleep bend the branch to earth.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-10-13 22:57:31 | 显示全部楼层
  
   然而,我们总是担心一些抱怨,所以我们调整脸
   对那些被地板的力量折磨的、不受约束的侧卧者;
   
   为了收获或种植形状而不受限制的交叉农场。
   但是,“除非人们逗留,否则没有居住。”你害怕展示嫩枝。
   
   但现在,加糖的四月穿过闪烁,闪烁的暴风雨和黄色的
   羽毛可以想象地粘在头发上,人们返回天空,在什么条件下
   
   人们才能清理出瀑布?因为总是,黑暗的灵魂和纵容
   衬起面包车,因为它盘旋着越来越高,越过
   
   彩色木牛的床罩,到达大陆分水线。
   在这里,人们可以从挥舞的手势中得到一些安慰,它告诉我们太阳已经干枯到了什么程度
   
   自从我们开始攀登以来,我们脚下的危险已经收起。
   “太阳仍然高高挂在天上,”然而,一道狭长的流动花边形成了巨大的
   
   碟状平原的边缘,人们开始考虑其他情况:
   房子里的老人,漫长的一天离去;宠物和其他没意义的玩具的碳纤维,
   
   或者对一个戴着帽子的陌生人的动作,他认为他从某个地方认识你,但这几乎
   并不重要,因为你现在又和蔼可亲地分离了,永远,似乎,我们所有人身后
   
   留下的线索注定这次找不到,
   或者如果它们被找到的话,它就会像一只躺在那里的松鼠的东西,很久以前;但是,由于魅力永远无法
   
   从这些骨头中完全洗净,所以它适合于我们服从它,最后
   祝贺它有话要说而又不说,因为山洪磨损峡谷
   
   而不导致它的死亡,除非人们选择考虑无情的
   慢进程,它甚至记下了宇宙的智慧,在最稀有的间隔,表面上;
   
   安全地把所有的东西加进
   一块干草中,不允许任何一部分从中挤出。
   
   当火的思想最后一次在我们身上尝试它的形象时,一幅令人不安的
   毁灭画面从绿色黑板上的绿色粉笔中建造它自己,但对这些眼睛来说
   
   还不是这样,当白兰地酒瓶弯了,一码的印花棉布
   闷死校园,占据了它们在爆裂树木中的位置,但不能担保时,啊水烟袋。
   
   很久以前,地球就把这麦片食品视为不神圣的,或者至少是引不起食欲的。
   然后,人们开始一致说:为什么不牺牲一些
   普通的东西,比如发网,如果不起作用,人们可以考虑
   采取什么步骤,但通常情况下,只需要
   舍弃一些微不足道的财产就足够了。这就不会厌恶什么了,以后
   当细节需要被算出时,事实上在大多数情况下
   神会把它做成一份礼物给你,或者忘记它,转向他的事业,无感觉,
   甚至就像我们人类在陌生的土地上做的那样。当然,麻烦的少数
   原告有时会把他追回他的洞穴,而且,够奇怪,经常用酒宴
   来庆祝这一“胜利”,几乎没有人怀疑
   神多么喜欢等待,失去平衡地抓住他的敌人,然后,讼棍
   甚至他们同伙的悲哀,当他踩着复出的足迹时,鼻孔闪耀,只是
   这一次很有趣,似乎没有人急于挑起双方的敌对行动。
   鸣枪警告发射了几发,在空中,但即使是这些也可能很容易
   被汽车回火,或随意放鞭炮---之类的东西所造成。
   与此同时,神舔着他的伤口,拼命地容忍着:大约,至少,我们被教导
   要相信,盘坐在放射性尘埃掩体里,等待瘟疫、箭雨,或者
   厨师今天为我们激起的任何东西。
   但事实上,这种情况从未发生过。我们甚至觉得纯洁,并不是缺乏
   优点;我们的邻居对我们很好;甚至陌生人也会在街上体面地向我们敬礼,
   穿着漂亮,因为这的确是一个世俗的节日。
   呼喊着,营火冒出的烟几乎把它淹没。我们几乎接近稳定;
   有这么多的话要说,但水池包围了宝贵的物质,没有多少会逃逸。
   奇怪的是,在参天大树下,我们彼此显得更渺小,虽然伟大的种族点燃的希望
   燃烧得更为庄严,比持续了
   这么多世纪的伴随着战斧和九尾猫的点名前,
   在我们现在所要求的礼节被那位上帝,除露器,所接受之前,文明开始在尘土中
   卑躬屈膝地寻找撕破的香肠肠衣和虾块。但根据定义
   任何血统都是很长的,因此现在对一些被称为贵族的人来说,似乎
   整个闪亮的夜晚都被缝合在一起,以隐藏他们的葡萄酒污点
   甚至侏儒们也有某种内在的将拯救世界的贵族感
   当它真的开始崩溃时,就像,最后的报道,它还没有做到,锅炉板的
   矛盾被封为贵族,比如可以持续几千年而没有展示丝毫磨损的迹象,
   尽管我们只能为此感谢自己。当大会最终召开
   可能会有高射炮来承担这一得分。在这种情况下,我们总是可以以无知为借口,对法律,
   最高尚的,因为最朴素的,防御的无知,挖我们的脚跟,让悬崖
   自我解释,让蕨类植物从它的裂缝中喷发出来:我也
   在这里面无表情地,似乎很生气地站了很长一段时间,但尽管
   我觉得没有时间去恐吓别人,让他或她感到孤独,只是因为确实
   有一个地平线,但更喜欢在我的臀部休息,注视我的肚脐,看看它会
   带来什么好处。可怕的噪音是低级趣味的;然而,沉默必须被清理出来
   然而,它的路径回到了皱褶聚集的地方,每一条随机的皱纹
   都将以一种有朝一日征服世界的精神被愉快地探索。就这些。
   我再也没有更多的面包和奶酪给你了;这些天我算不上什么
   但床单叠在我的香柏木壁橱里,随着时间的推移叠起来,万一
   我用上它们;而你们,你们其他人,只需要像冰块一样从更大的冰山上逃出来就可以完成你的命运,那天在法庭上,
   猴子和小丑们似乎向你承诺了---或者这是一个恶梦?但现在,你的勇气
   肯定受到了考验;让燃烧的档案的香味
   再一次冲击我们的嗅觉,像春天可爱的沟壑中的葡萄风信子一样彻底。
   
   Yet always in fear of some complaint we adjust dials
   to those who lie on their side stricken with the power of the floor, uninhibited;
   
   uninhibited cross farms for gain or planted shapes.
   But, “no habitation unless one linger.” You were afraid of setting out shoots.
   
   But now that sugared April crosses blink, the shining squalls and yellow
   plumes imaginably stuck in hair, and one returns to heaven, under what conditions
   
   does one sort out the waterfall? For always, dark spirits and connivance
   underlay the people-mover as it spiraled ever higher beyond
   
   the counterpane of colored wooden cows, to the continental divide.
   And here one would take some comfort in the waved gesture that told how far the sun had shriveled
   
   since we began our climb, the hazards put away under our feet.
   “The sun was still high in the heavens,” yet a narrow ruffle of flux edged the huge
   
   saucer-like plain, and one began to think of other sets of conditions:
   the old people in the house, a long day away; the carbons of pets and other mooted toys,
   
   or motion at a stranger in a hat who thinks he knows you from somewhere, but it scarcely
   matters since you are separating amiably now again, forever, it seems, and the clues we
   
   all leave behind are fated not to be found this time,
   or if they are it will resemble something a squirrel laid there, a good while ago; but since charm can never
   
   be quite rinsed from these bones it befits us to go along with it, congratulate it
   at last for having had something to say and not said it, as torrents frazzle a canyon
   
   without contributing to its demise unless one chooses to consider inexorably
   slow processes that score even the cosmic mind at rarest intervals, and superficially;
   
   secure in the adding up of all things
   into a block of hay from which no strand is permitted to extrude.
   
   And while the fire-mind tries out its images on us one last time an unsettling tableau
   of doom constructs itself from greenish chalk on the green blackboard, but not yet
   
   for these eyes, while the brandy decanter is bent and yards of cretonne
   smother the schoolyard and take their place among the popping trees, yet unendorsably, O nargileh.
   
   Long ago the earth rendered this pablum unholy or at least unappetizing.
   Then the men began to speak in unison: why not sacrifice something
   ordinary, such as a hairnet, and if that doesn’t work one can consider what steps
   are to be taken, but usually it suffices to
   part with some insignificant possession.That leaves nothing to sniff at, later
   when details are to be worked out, and as a matter of fact in most cases
   the god will make you a gift of it or forget about it, going about his business, casehardened,
   even as we humans do in strange lands. Of course the troublesome minority of
   plaintiffs sometimes chases him back to his hole, and, oddly enough, often celebrates this
   “triumph” with a drinking feast, little suspecting
   how the god likes to wait and catch his enemies off balance, and then, woe to the litigious
   and even their associates when he hits the comeback trail, nostrils aflare, only
   it was funny this time, nobody seemed anxious to stir up hostilities on either side.
   A few warning shots were fired, in the air, but even these might easily have been produced
   by a car backfiring, or random firecrackers---that sort of thing.
   Meanwhile the god licks his wounds, fiercely abiding: or so, at any rate, we have been taught
   to believe, hunkered down in the fallout shelter, awaiting pestilence, a rain of arrows, or whatever
   the chef may have whipped up for us today.
   Yet in fact nothing of the kind has ever happened. We even feel pure and not devoid
   of merit; our neighbors are nice as pie to us; even strangers salute us decorously in the street,
   beautifully dressed, for this is indeed a secular feast day.
   Shouts, the smoke from campfires almost drown it out. We have almost leveled off;
   there is so much to say, but cisterns enclose the precious substance, not much will escape.
   Oddly, under giant trees we seem smaller to each other, though the hopes the great race kindled
   burn even more majestically than before the roll-call
   that went on so many centuries to the accompaniment of battle-axes and cats-o’-nine-tails,
   before such courtesies as we now command became acceptable to that god, the dew-weeper, and civilization began to grovel
   in the dust for torn sausage-casings and bits of shrimp. But any pedigree
   is by definition a long one, so that now it must seem to some called to be aristocrats as if
   the whole shining night were stitched together to hide their port-wine stains
   and even gnomes have some inner sense of nobility that will save the world
   when it does begin to fall apart as, at last report, it hadn’t yet done, the boiler-plate
   contradictions ennobled in it being such as can last millenniums without exhibiting the slightest signs of wear,
   though we have only ourselves to thank for that. When the convention finally assembles
   there may be flak to take on that score. In which case we can always plead ignorance of the law,
   that noblest, since most artless, of defenses, and dig our heels in and ask the cliff
   to explain itself and the ferns erupting from its crevices: I too
   have stood here faceless and seemingly angry for a long time, yet for all that
   don’t feel it time to intimidate someone, make him or her feel lonesome just because there is
   indeed a horizon, but prefer to sit back on my haunches, contemplating my navel to see what good
   if any will come of it. Frightening noises are in poor taste; silence must be sorted out
   however, its path followed back to where the tucks gather, and each random furrow
   be gaily explored in a spirit of setting out to conquer the world someday. That’s all.
   I have no farther bread and cheese for you; these days I count little
   but the linens folded in my scented cedar closets, folded up against time, in case
   I ever have a use for them; and you, you others, have only to break away
   like chunks of ice from the much larger iceberg to accomplish your destiny,that day in court
   the monkeys and jesters seemed to promise you---or was it a bad dream? But now, surely,
   your mettle has been tested; let the perfume of burning archives
   assault our olfactory sense once more as radically as the grape hyacinth in the fond gullies of spring.
    


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