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(美)约翰.阿什贝利诗歌草译

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 楼主| 发表于 2021-11-18 11:52:44 | 显示全部楼层
  
   
   快点---药。但是这座房子一点意义都没有,已经
   变成有限合伙人,在我自己被解职的过程中,我惊恐地看着
   它向我们走来,另一种无精打采的羽毛,
   浓缩在门窗周围,仍然有一种
   权威感,就像喉咙里的一根叉骨,那份摘要
   其完全的朴素,可以被
   视为美德。这是什么?一种寒透的
   孤立感,被玷污得超越了知识?是的,其他人的
   说法不同,他们的版本也是真相,或者说是真实的。
   这些人中的许多人都走进了
   他观察城市的房子,然后
   别的那些人在下面,但他们并不太重要。我在阳光下的架子上
   晒太阳,就像一个西红柿。“那”很重要。还有更多的人理性地发言
   这一事实很重要。他们开始大叫,尖叫的事诸如
   你出生在哪里,而且是谁让你开始的?事实上
   我现在支支吾吾的提出这个问题,答案来自各处,随机包括。
   一个冷酷无情的青少年打破了你不忍心看到的方程式
   结束前只有大喊大叫,其他人戳着
   旧箱子,想要一些存款,就像涂鸦艺术家,也在大喊大叫。
   我以为我对它有免疫力,曾经被蛰过一次,
   但我没有。我请求你,以一切合理的名义…
   
   其他人被枪杀了。正如我看到的,主要的困难是习惯于
   逐渐增加在光线中的增量,在傍晚走回家
   在办公室呆了一天之后,再回到
   公寓,即使是晚上。
   
   和增长的绿色。每年,春天的力量越来越强大,
   它前面的差异越来越小,在天文台的兵工厂里有相当规模的奔跑更引人注目。
   真理僵硬地坐着。它到底有什么贡献?
   没有魅力,当然。人们哭着吃了一点宝贵的面包
   参加十字军,而在他看到那突然前倾之前,其他一切都是“美好”
   或“有趣”的。真的看到了,那是在太晚的时候
   甚至对记忆和谣言,僵硬的舞会礼服,操纵者溜走,
   太晚了,也太好了。否则他们会跟着我们
   进入黎明,问我们误导性的问题,像骗子一样。嗯,
   我们中的一些人必须是。我们会关注。“立刻。”我问关于女巫,社会的事
   但你必须匍匐,找出他们把它放在哪里,他们下一步
   要去哪里,除非一个幸运的枯萎病作为副作用透露出
   我们正在导致的情况的主旨。是的,收获之家根本没有围墙。
   我在拐角处下车。我听到美国在下雪。我希望它
   正视我,而不是我的命运,面对下一次变化的可能性,但我们假装
   有理由看不清他们和我们之间的墙,不下台阶,成为像我们这样的
   机会主义者中的一员,因此这一点尤为重要
   在明天的决定,妥协之战之前。是的,你接管了。
   
   我一刻也不认为…抓住那像牛脖子一样的本质,毫无预兆地
   他攻击我。无情的瞬间,有些是金色的,令人感动。
   他的特遣部队自行加入。这几乎是懒惰的,火柱如何飘落
   下来,并继续在草地上燃烧,但这是一种
   玩笑,一种庆祝。一百年前的常春藤标记着表皮上的纹路
   在那里革命思想的节点开始形成,并且分裂,留下
   黑暗、顽固的负能量团,被限制在一个球中,表明
   它在不久的将来会有它的白昼---很快,请你注意---票据收藏家
   在一间外屋阅读,显然。接着,狼的一声呻吟,伪装成点名,
   炸毁了弹药库。到处都是假腿
   慈祥的老头儿站在雨伞下,温柔地问事情
   例如下一个揉成一团的纸团在哪里,我的儿媳,
   独居的,能从这个生病的庞然大物的崩溃中碰到什么利益,他
   在那个时代从来都不是特别爱交际,但现在想成为生日庆祝活动的一部分
   就像国王和王子一样。带着这种想法,我在草地上寻找
   即将到来的进步迹象。他们都回到自己的房子里
   这就是那天的一切。
   
   但我现在已经准备好了无人机,它淹没了对它自己
   存在信念的装饰音。只听一阵子就是在其中
   沐浴,就像在一个可能性中---第一个---不管怎样,你可以合上你的耳朵
   对后一段长篇大论,假设人们不想
   离开,直到突然出现的不自然光亮表明
   航行的最后一个阶段已经开始,我们现在正在经历一些
   以恶梦的形式出现的玩笑和启迪---你知道那一个,你害怕再次
   出现,其结果最后总是
   好的吗?此外,一个小学生代表团来感谢你,
   感谢拥有了它,并因此让另一代人成长
   不受官僚们的文明计划威胁,在未来几年里,每年
   大约。你看到这是你计划的一部分,和你一起孕育,
   因为你,在你中---不用担心它太刺耳,一些耳朵
   听不到,它保护我们,在仪式时期猛烈下降,并恢复
   一些人最初的尊严,像一件丢失的蕾丝洗礼长袍---此外,
   在那些日子里,它们不是很胖,或者有人不得不穿那些东西。
   当时有家庭教师和佣人,现在看起来几乎不可思议,几乎
   难以置信。也过着简朴的生活。简言之,世界是一个巨大的
   马戏场,在这里,人们可以目睹骄傲的行为,也可以瞥见
   对面的观众同伴,一切都变成了火焰般的歌声,挤进了
   充满活力的生活熔炉,悲伤的鸟儿
   离开了,再也看不见了。因此,当夜晚
   到来时,它呈现出一种狂欢般的纯洁,这被理解为一块碎片
   带着织物,暗淡,掩埋在喷雾中,就像有时可能出现的
   那样,直到真相将出现,喧嚣有它的一天,这是
   唯一正确的,我们应该思考它,回到它,有时,在其他时间。
   
    
  
  
  

   Quick---the medication. But the house had no sense at all, and having
   become a limited partner in my own disestablishment, I watched in terror
   as it moved on us, dull plumage of another kind,
   condensed around doors and windows, with a sense of authority
   still, like a wishbone in the throat, the docket
   whose very plainness might be
   adjudged a virtue. What is this? A frigid sense
   of isolation, tarnished beyond knowledge? Yes, and the others tell
   it differently, and their version too is the truth, or it is truthful.
   And many of these were going up
   into the house where he watched the city, and then
   these others were below, but they did not matter so much. I was basking
   on my sunlit shelf, like a tomato plant. That mattered. And the fact that there were so many
   more speaking rationally mattered. And they began to scream, shrieking things like
   where were you born, who got you started anyway? And in truth
   I fumbled the question now, and the answer came from all over, randomly inclusive.
   A ruthless teen dissolves equations you can’t bear to look at
   before it’s all over but the shouting, and others prod
   the old trunk, wanting some credit, like graffiti artists, shouting too.
   I thought I was immune to it, having been stung once,
   but I’m not. And I ask you, in the name of all that’s reasonable...
   
   Others were shot. As I see it the main difficulty is getting used
   to the gradual increase in light increments, walking home in the early evening
   after a day at the office, and being back
   in the apartment again, if only for the night.
   
   And the mounting green. Each year, spring is more powerful,
   gaps in its front are fewer, sizable runs on the arsenal at the observatory more remarked.
   And the truth sits rigid. What does it have to contribute after all?
   No charm, certainly. And precious little of the bread one weeps eating
   having taken the cross, and all else is “nice” or “interesting” in that lurch
   before one sees. Truly sees, that is when it is too late
   even for memories and rumors, the starched ballgown, the paymaster’s slips,
   and when it’s too late, it’s too good too.Otherwise they’d follow us
   into this dawn, ask us misleading questions, like liars. Well,
   some of us have to be. We’d see about that. “Anon.” I asked about the witches, society
   but you’11 have to grovel, to find out where they put it, where they’re
   off to next, unless a lucky blight disclose as a side-effect the thrust
   of its situation we’re leading down to. Yes, the harvest home had no walls at all.
   And I got off at the corner. I hear America snowing. I want it to
   confront me, not my fate, with the possibilities of the next change, but we pretend there are
   reasons not to blur the wall between them and us, not to step down, and become one in a group of
   opportunists like ourselves, and so matter peculiarly
   before tomorrow^ decision, the battle of compromise. Yes, and you took over.
   
   Not that I think for a moment that...And grasping that quiddity like an ox’s neck, without
   warning he came at me. Relentlessly the minutes, some of them golden,touched.
   His task force inserted itself. It was almost lazy how the spars of flame floated
   down, and continued to burn on the grass, but this was a kind
   of joke, a celebration. The hundred-year-old ivy marked the ridges on the tegument
   where nodules of revolutionary thought were beginning to form, and splinter, leaving
   the dark, obdurate mass of negative energy, confined in a ball, to point to
   having its day in the near future---quite soon, mind you---and bill collectors
   in an outer room Reading, apparently. Then a wolf-moan, in guise of roll-call,
   blew up the ammunition dump. There were artificial legs everywhere
   and kindly geezers standing under umbrellas, softly asking things
   like where is the next scrunched-up ball of paper and can my daughter-in-law, who lives
   alone, touch any benefits from the sick behemoth’s collapse, who was
   never particularly outgoing in his day but now wants to be part of the birthday celebration
   just as kings and princes do. And with that on my mind, I searched the grass
   for signs of the coming progress. And they all went back into their houses
   and that was all for that day.
   
   But I am prepared now for the drone that submerges grace-notes in the conviction
   of its being. To listen only for a moment is to bathe
   in it as in a possibility---the first one--- and you can shut your ears anyway
   from the tirade in its later stages, assuming one wants to
   not get off until the sudden unnatural brightness that indicates the last stage of the
   voyage has been inaugurated, that we’re in for some fun and enlightenment
   now which takes the form of bad dreams ---you know that one you’re terrified of having
   again, and it always turns out to be rather nice
   at the end? Besides, a delegation of schoolchildren has come to thank you for it,
   for having it, and thus allowing yet another generation to grow up unmenaced
   by the plans of bureaucrats for civilization a few years down the pike, every year
   or so. You see it is part of your plan, gestates with you,
   because of you, and in you---never mind that it’s too shrill for some ears to pick up
   on, that’s what protects us during the periods of ritual slump and restores
   some of one’s original dignity like a lost lace christening-robe---besides,
   they weren’t very fat in those days, or somebody had to wear those things.
   There were governesses and servants then, which seems almost magical now, almost
   beyond belief. Simple lives were also led. In short the world was a great
   circus ring in which one could witness proud doings and glimpse one’s fellow
   spectators on the opposite side, and everything turned to song like fire, hustled
   into the furnace of energetic living, and the sad birds
   walked away, were seen no more. Thus evening
   when it arrived took on an orgiastic purity that was understood as of a piece
   with the fabric, dim and buried in spray as it might have appeared
   sometimes, until the truth will out, and vociferousness have its day, as is
   only right, and we should think about it, and come back to it sometimes, at other times.
    

  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-11-19 23:16:15 | 显示全部楼层
  
我现在发现这更深入,虽然更安静,准备这个
   太晚才意识到性与任何事情都没有什么关系,
   它是直接的,除非在它让你做一些你没有想到的事情的范围内
   因为它把你带到了一个你从未想过要去的地方,
   一个花园里安静的角落,以前没有被注意到,其完美的设计
   现在似乎不再是一种威胁,而是一种问候。
   我像往常一样匆忙赶路,无聊得没法注意到那些
   通过我身边的人平静自尊心的样子,也没法把我已经接受的东西像一滴雨一样
   轻易地归还,这是一种中立的仁慈的象征,它在某些角落
   等待着,倾泻着,那里的道路又被占用了
   像一辆穿梭车。总会有人分担负担;即使
   牛也是真的,因为它们在磨光的树叶下,早上悄悄
   向前走,或晚上回来,没有太多的骚动,也没有
   制造太多的东西。我们的梦想被扫描和溶解,在这些看似
   毫无意义的仪式中(除非重点是释放我们,当它们打破完美的设计,
   因为仅仅对称就是死亡,而它们的轮回将是这样,如果破碎的花环
   没有在它们无动于衷地经过的苏醒中隐现的话)。但我走到了那里,
   把公正的美德归因于支撑着我一段时间并让我
   轻松倒下的迷信的线圈:狐狸甚至懒得对之
   费心耸耸肩的一串葡萄,穿过金色的尘埃云,
   叮当声自武器和笨拙的归还,在老汉和女孩
   都在一样玩耍的中间距离发出,而阴影爬行,永远无法靠近到足以
   爆发我们今天拥有的神话,也无法爆发要演奏的音阶。
   
   不管怎样,这不会让我看起来很可笑---关键是,我可以轻松应付
   即使没有兔子和木头精灵的帮助,如果不是我自己理解的东西,
   我拒绝的东西,没有插入猫科动物的敏捷和皮毛,就在致命的
   坡度前,我退后一步,凝视着,在那一刻,我看到自己在访问自己,
   和不少的我在一起,在一条急剧后退到远处的路上,它刺入蓝色的
   奇异的峭壁,城堡栖居在上面,还有蜂窝状的石窟。我本可以很容易地
   错过它,盲目地到达我的目的地,在这个房间里
   我招待了一个陌生人,随着暮色的加深和寂静的降临,
   从来都不知道我自己的两只鞋,它们是什么做成的,
   当它们摩擦山和丘陵,寻找它们所从属的那个人,而不是搁置在这张朴素的木桌下。
   其他的东西会有效地打破
   分配的联系链条,它也会起作用---只是不要试图把它当作一种冲动,真诚
   来传送。城市中有太多的地方为此仍然站着
   疮必须在记忆中燃烧,红得如罗根莓,为杠杆
   取消支点,让一个没有任何东西的新时代开始存在,
   吸引尽可能少的注意力,
   让一切都能活着
   公平对待那些让我们运动的神!赫斯帕里德斯!
   
   现在任何一天你都必须开始沉浸在,
   诗歌中,为此,必须为坟墓做准备,倾斜沙堆的
   行走,被清理了枯藤茎的瓦砾墙。但是,如果
   诗歌完全是另一回事又如何,而不是这紫色的天气
   伴随着一个神贴上的眼睛,看到
   里面和外面?如果这只是一种小小的、另一种生活方式,
   就像在风中,会怎么样?或者让我们现在听到的各种沉寂的声音
   休息,记录下任何生物为了瞬间召唤它的灵魂所付出的努力,然后
   安静下来,希望已经发生了足够的事情?有时我们确实是这样
   看待它的,就像动物会爬起来,移动到某个地方,然后又落在
   某个地方,我们听到它,尤其是我们看到了它---一些白帽凝结
   在一片铅灰色的水域中,我们意识到了这一刻
   已经完成了它的分享,我们将不再需要这一批洞察力。
   但其他时候,这一切都匆忙地进入了前景,压伤了一个人的脚趾,这是一个
   类似于穿什么的问题,然后我们退后,困惑,我们知道我们
   不够聪明,以至于我们永远无法预测刚刚实施的
   所有审判,忘掉了即将到来的那些人,当我们和我们的同类被遗忘在
   某个时间的垃圾场,带着石头莲花和铁肩章,他们称你为
   一个车夫和商人,是的,这就是命运为最有能力的人所保留的,
   甚至;他们称你为领袖,你就在这里,和我们一起在鬼魂王国;只是不要
   在你的就职演说上耽搁太久:其他人正等着登上讲台。
   
   然而,也有别的时候就像在采石场,没有风的萌动;没有
   任何迹象表明这一点;诗歌几乎不会从藤蔓上滴落,天气极其压抑,但
   你确实知道某些东西在你身上起作用;另一些东西:带走死亡,仍然
   需要做出巨大的改变。我们知道这十年不合适,
   我们对此无能为力,除了发誓,但它“会”,它必须发誓。一只苍蝇
   死了,然后呢?我们是谁,推测那些会比我们活得更久的美味悖论,
   卷入街头的事情,挤压一个粉刺直到一些非常浓的令人满意的
   脓流出来?那时需要我们吗?几乎是偶然地,巨大的猛犸象
   和九头蛇的纸板剪纸出现在翅膀上,人们知道,没有做任何功课,
   这些拼写将以点连接在一起的形式出现,而偶然的
   旋风蒸发了情绪和表达的强度,这是占星家的错误;
   在这里,它坐在一个门阶上,等待“五分钟后回来”的租户实现
   在它的苏醒中伴随所有的诉讼和下流的百分比,但这没关系,
   它是一条河流,人们必须跟上它。
    

  
  
  

   I now find it deeper, though quieter, to prepare this
   and have come belatedly to realize that sex has very little to do with any of it,
   that is directly, except insofar as it makes you do something you hadn’t thought about
   because it brought you to a place you hadn’t thought of visiting,
   some quiet corner of a garden, unnoticed before, whose perfection of design
   no longer now seems a threat, but rather a greeting instead.
   I was hurrying on my way as usual, too bored to notice the look of calm selfesteem
   of those who circulated near me, nor give back what I had accepted as readily
   as a drop of rain, token of the neutral benevolence that waits and pours
   at certain corners where the road is taken up again
   like a shuttle. There will always be someone to share the burden; even
   oxen are true, as under burnished leaves they sidle
   forth at morning, or return at evening without much commotion, without
   making too much of it. And our dreams are scanned and dissolved in these seemingly
   pointless rituals (unless the point is to release us as they smash the perfect design,
   for mere symmetry is death, and their rounds would be that if shattered wreaths
   didn’t loom in the wake of their indifferent passage). But there I go,
   attributing impartial goodness to the coils of superstitious industriousness that shored
   me for a moment and let me down easy: bunches of grapes
   the fox didn’t even bother to shrug at, passing into the golden dust-clouds,
   the clank of arms and clumsy restitutions, of that middle distance
   where old man and girl alike play, and the shadow can never creep near enough
   to explode the myth of the day we have, the scale to be played.
   
   No matter that it didn’t make me look ridiculous---the point is I could easily have managed
   that without assists from bunnies and wood-sprites if something not of my own construing,
   something I rejected, hadn’t interposed a feline quickness and fur just before the fatal
   gradient, and I stepped back and stared,and in that moment saw myself on a visit to myself,
   with quite a few me’s on a road receding sharply into a distance spiked with blue
   fantastic crags that had castles perched on them and were honeycombed with grottoes. I could as easily
   have missed it and arrived blind at my destination, this room
   where I entertain a stranger as dusk deepens and silence settles in,
   and never known my own two shoes, what to make of them,
   as they scoured hills as well as dales in search of the person they
   belonged to instead of staying parked under this plain wooden table.
   Something else will break fruitfully
   the allotted chain of associations, and it will serve as well---only don’t try to pass it off as
   an impulse, sincerity. Too much of the city remains standing for that
   and the canker must burn in the memory, red as loganberries, for the lever
   to cancel the fulcrum, for a new age of nothing to come into being,
   attracting as little attention as possible,
   that all may live
   to do justice to the gods that set us in motion! Hesperides!
   
   Any day now you must start to dwell in it,
   the poetry, and for this, grave preparations must be made, the walks of sand
   raked, the rubble wall picked clean of dead vine stems, but what
   if poetry were something else entirely, not this purple weather
   with the eye of a god attached, that sees
   inward and outward? What if it were only a small, other way of living,
   like being in the wind? or letting the various settling sounds we hear now
   rest and record the effort any creature has to put forth to summon its spirits for a moment and then
   fall silent, hoping that enough has happened? Sometimes we do perceive it
   this way, like animals that will get up and move somewhere and then drop down
   in place again, we hear it and especially we see it---some whitecap curdles
   in a leaden expanse of water and we are aware this moment
   has done its share, that we shall not be needing this batch of insight again.
   Yet other times it all comes stampeding into the foreground, crushing one’s toes, a question
   like the question of what to wear, and then we fall back, confused, we know we are not
   smart enough, that we can never anticipate all the trials that will have been administered
   just now, forget those to come when we and our kind have been forgotten
   in some memorial dump of time, with stone lotuses and iron epaulets, and they called you
   a wheeler and dealer, and yes that is what fate reserves for the most capable,
   even; they called you a leader and here you are, with us in the kingdom of ghosts; only don’t
   tarry too long with your inaugural address: others are waiting to mount the lectern.
   
   Yet there are other times as in a quarry where no breeze stirs; nothing
   indicates it; poetry scarcely drips from vines, the weather is hugely oppressive, yet
   you do know something is at work in you; something else: take death away and still
   a vast alteration remains to be made. We know this decade doesn’t fit,
   that we can do nothing about it except swear, yet it will do, it will have to.A fly
   dies, and then? Who are we to speculate on the delicious paradoxes that will outlive us,
   embroiled in street things, squeezing a pimple until some richly satisfying
   pus comes out? Were we needed then?Almost casually, gigantic cardboard cutouts
   of mammoths and hydras appear in the wings, and one knows, not having done one’s homework,
   that the spells will materialize as dots joined together, and the casual
   whirlwind that vaporizes moods and intensity of expression was an astrologer’s error;
   here, it sits on a doorstep, waiting for the “back in five minutes” tenant to materialize
   with all the lawsuits and indecent percentages in its wake, but that’s no matter,
   it’s a river and one must keep up with it.
    

  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-11-20 22:37:35 | 显示全部楼层
   还有一次我只是坐在,横档上。
   一些孩子在玩球。我问这意味着什么,我们
   什么都不做,满足于让别人做事情和玩耍,
   就好像这是为了我们。他说,毫无疑问。我说我要打个盹,
   我现在最想要的是有人来和我一起玩;
   然后我决定要不要。她说,但这都是某种爱的埋伏的一切。
   男孩子们不跟你玩,他们得跟自己玩。你应该从中找到
   某种信息,当天气把你带走了一天
   送你回家,就像是从一次钓鱼旅行中回来,没有人能说
   你有什么不同,也没有人能注意到眼神不同的闪烁。但一切都变了
   即使你和他们不愿意承认。
   你现在是个成年人,但必须坐在浴缸里。我同意是这样的,
   但说我总是想象事情会是这样的
   因此这不是一个惊喜吗?事情不应该按照计划
   发生,因此当它们这样发生时,这是宇宙中的一个小错位;时钟
   被延迟了一毫秒,这导致了一些现象,与它们通常的进程背道而驰,
   所以我应该被洗清所有的罪责。即使不然,
   到了某个地方,忘了人们的演讲不是那么盛大或独特的场合;
   它就像象棋。同样的事情在如此不同的伪装下一次又一次地发生,
   但你认为你在跟上它们。这有助于缓和
   个人良知,并像钟形罩一样有效地抑制
   人群的怒吼。我在某些水里洗了水壶,然后
   用布把它擦干净。我又在想我们周围继续的一切
   痛苦和死亡,尤其是在医院里。不知怎的,那个精神上弱智的
   女人的脸又浮现在我脑海里。“哦,不,又不是你!”但她一直在
   静静地自言自语,她根本听不到我说话
   我们之间隔着厚厚的玻璃隔板。但即使
   她能做到这一点也不重要;这听起来像是安慰
   或是同意(所以尝试这些也没有意义,它们已经
   变成了静态的。最好不要听到)。但是你永远不能长久
   忽视这样一个人带给你的痛苦,世界上
   所有的愿望只会让事情变得更糟。是的,不幸的是,你也是一个偷窥者,
   你纯洁的欲望几乎不能摆脱
   这一切。你是一个有良心的偷窥者,任何人都应该是的最后的东西,
   我发誓。试图用像“爱人”这样的古语词来掩盖你的足迹是没有用的;这种意义
   被扼杀了,你会有叠句提醒你。当然,但我反正只是
   漂流着,有点走调,没有什么可怕的事情发生在我身上。在跑步机上
   就不一样了,我应得到的回报是看到闪亮的眼睛,
   知道它们是对着我的。我应如何实现我的承诺,如果让我走
   或不让,但在现在的形势下这只是一个小小的灾难
   无关紧要。我只想呆在家里,也许会有一些活泼的或有旋律的东西
   出现,谁知道,在这期间,我可以在不给别人带来不适的情况下
   刺激自己。当天气稍有好转时,在一条黑暗的河岸上,
   可以看到的东西比最初明显多了一点。鹅卵石的呻吟声
   被水下逆流来回拖曳,起初似乎是暂时的,但很快
   就变成了永恒的,并没有让我不高兴,不过是
   公共海草按预定的合适间隔堆积
   一样,尽管它们当然不是,不过是这些房子
   不规则地沿着这条街道交错着,与这一切相隔不远,但也不是
   离得太远。59岁的时候,我刚刚做了第一个噩梦,醒来时意识到
   东西不想和我握手的平凡性;在我看来
   这是令人愉快的。
   “在这里等一下,我马上回来。”她背过肩
   喊道。事情有规律地各从其位已经
   有一段时间,但这不是其中之一:“看,实际上
   剩下的海岸多么少。”但这不是真的,有一个宽阔的架子
   上面溅满了漩涡,向很多方向伸展,在柔和的
   遮掩的阳光下闪闪发光。她是否认为,你也会
   回到她对事物的看法上来,当我们接触,互相
   瞥一眼时?或者这次肯定不会有
   任何续集?但是歌曲,是的。它们互相
   层叠。天快黑了,我担心。
   我们应该回去,尽管直到你---她---回答了
   奇迹之谜才回去,为什么它每年
   都在这个时候达到顶峰,然后停止说话,沉默甚至延伸
   到永远那么远,伴随着讲述的泪水和黄昏。告诉我,我
   曾经到过你身边,像这样说话,你接受了我进入你,我和你
   住在一起吗?哦,我们从来不是一对,但最后
   天窗的光芒刺穿了悲伤,混乱的号角:你可能想
   重新整理事实,既然它们越来越少。所有这些都指向唯一一个
   犯罪者,而那个人就是---一声枪响。闯入者蔓延
   在他的新裤子里,外表上带着无助的表情,就像是从户外冲进来的一样,
   看到了真相,承认了;但肯定还会有更多的事情发生,墙上的
   污点在歌唱,墙被压垮。这一切都取决于我们共谋者:更多的
   甚至连叔叔和婶婶都不能问。蒙着面纱的日子变得苍白,即使
   它排进了我们集体无意识的捕捉池:我们到底是谁
   至少感觉到了这种方式,为什么有人问?一个谜。办事员
   把钢笔削尖并收起来。但至于明天回来,那真是太好了,
   而且在接下来的日子里,损失应该更加明显
   烧伤也更加严重。那个人在岸上盖的石头房子,站长
   在里面。
   

   Another time I was just sitting, on a rung.
   Some kids were playing ball. I asked what it meant that we
   never did anything, were content to let others do things and play,
   as though it were for us. He said, sure thing. I said I’d had a nap,
   what I wanted now more than anything was that someone would come and play with me;
   I’d then decide whether to or not. She said, but this is all some kind of love ambush.
   The boys don’t play with you, they have to play with themselves. You’re supposed to find some
   kind of message in it, when the weather takes you away for a day
   and delivers you back home, as though from a fishing trip, and no one can say
   you are any different, or notice a different twinkle in the eye. But it is all changed
   even though you and they would prefer not to admit it.
   You’re a grown man now, but must sit in a tub. I agreed that it was so,
   but said I’d always imagined that this was how things would be
   and therefore wasn’t it a surprise?Things aren’t supposed to happen according
   to plan and thus when they do it’s a small dislocation in the universe; clocks
   are delayed a millisecond and this causes phenomena to run counter to their usual course,
   so I should be washed free of all blame. And even if it were otherwise,
   arriving someplace and forgetting one’s speech isn’t such a grand or unique occasion;
   it’s like chess. The same things happen over and over again under such different guises,
   but you think you’re keeping up with them. That serves to salve
   the individual conscience and suppress the crowd’s roar as effectively
   as a bell-jar would. I washed the jug in some water, then
   wiped it clean with a cloth. I was thinking again about all the suffering and dying
   that goes on all around us, in hospitals especially. Somehow the face of the mentally
   retarded woman came back to haunt me. “Oh, no, not you again!” But she was all the time
   talking quietly to herself and couldn’t have heard me anyway
   with that thick partition of glass between us. But even
   if she could have it wouldn’t have mattered; it’d have sounded like consolation
   or agreement (so there was no point in attempting these either, they’d have
   been transformed into static. Best not to hear). But you can never ignore
   for long the pain that comes over you from such a person, how all the wishing
   in the world would only make things worse. Yes, and you are a voyeur, too,
   unfortunately, and the purity of your desire could hardly be extricated
   from all that. You are a voyeur with a conscience, the last thing anyone should be,
   I swear. No use trying to cover your tracks using archaic words like “leman”; the sense
   kills and you have the refrain to remind you. Sure but I was just drifting
   anyway, faintly out of tune, nothing scared could have happened to me.On a treadmill
   it would have been different, I’d have had the reward of seeing shining eyes,
   knowing them directed at me. How I’d have fulfilled my promise if I’d been let go
   or not, but that’s a small cataclysm in a landscape now
   that’s no matter. I just want to be left at home---maybe something perky or melodic
   will come along, who knows, and in the meantime I can irritate myself without causing
   discomfort to others.As on a darkling strand when the weather improves a bit,
   there was a little more to be seen than was apparent at first. The groan of pebbles
   lugged back and forth by the undertow, which at first seemed temporary and quickly
   turned out to be eternal wasn’t made to displease me, no more than were
   the hanks of pubic seaweed deposited at intervals that might well have been
   predetermined, though of course they were not, no more than were the houses
   irregularly staggered up the street that led away from all this, but not
   too far away. I had just been having my first nightmare at the age of 59, and awoke refreshed
   to the ordinariness of the way things didn’t want to shake hands with me;it
   was pleasant in my sight.
   “Wait here a moment, I’ll be right back,”she called
   over her shoulder. Things had been regularly falling into place
   for some time, but this wasn’t one of them: “Look how
   little shore there’s actually left” But it wasn’t true, there was a broad shelf
   spattered with puddles of water extending quite a ways, glittering
   in the softly veiled sunlight. Does she think you too
   are going to come around to her notion of things, when we touch, and glance
   at each other? Or will there positively not be any sequel
   to it this time? But songs, yes. They cascade
   into one another. It’s getting dark, I fear.
   We should go back though not until you---her---have
   answered the riddle of the miracle, why it crests
   just at this point every year, and then ceases to speak, and the silence extends it
   even as far as the forever with telling tears and twilights. Tell me, did
   I ever come to you, talking like this, and you received me into you, and I dwell
   with you? O we were never a couple, but at last
   the lantern-light pierces the horn of distress, of mayhem: you may want to
   rearrange the facts now that they’re getting scarce. All this points to only one
   perpetrator, and that person is---and a shot rang out. The intruder sprawled
   in his new pants, a helpless look on his visage, as when one from outdoors rushes in,
   sees the truth, and confesses; but surely more is to come, the stain
   sang in the wall, and the wall buckled. And it was all up to us coconspirators: more
   even an uncle and an aunt couldn’t ask.And veiled day paled, even
   as it drained into the catch basin of our collective unconscious: just who were
   we to feel this way anyway, and why had anyone asked? A mystery. The clerk
   sharpened his pen and put it away. But as for coming back tomorrow, that was wonderful,
   and also in the succeeding days ahead when the losses should be more acutely visible
   and the burns too. The stone house man had built upon the shore, with the station-master
   in it.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-11-21 22:15:17 | 显示全部楼层
  

   说到疲倦的树液紧接着来到了你的门前。
   你有什么权利认为自己只不过是一个极端古怪的东西,虽然
   不是过于自我中心的性格,其疏忽罪并没有遗漏太多,
   其个人代词的失误可能确实有助于增加
   工人阶级中默默的怨恨和艰难?如果我想,一分钟我会...然而,
   回忆你今天是多么不想起床,床是多么温暖舒适,你
   不可能真正从一个无产阶级开始,因为他们习惯于非常辛苦的
   苦工,所以(你会想)感觉不到那么多。此外,他们从未读过亨利.詹姆士的小说。
   只是为了争论,让我们说我一生中从未做过一天
   诚实的工作。这几乎不是什么令人心碎的新闻,不是什么
   重大的担忧。呼叫投篮
   是我干得很多的事情,我在这里告诉你,作为裁判,太多
   是不够的,冷漠必须被人禁锢
   否则宇宙就会出轨。此外,也许他们确实感觉得较少,正如婴儿
   和智力迟钝者所说的那样。我首先关心的(无论如何)是建立
   一个研究等级系列,导致人们所说的炼金术完美,
   我能做到。它的编造过程持续了近一辈子,
   留下我,最终,让我无法执行最平庸的行为,比如把鞋带
   打成双结,也很容易受到怀疑论者的嘲弄
   他们宁愿死一千次也不愿接受
   我煞费苦心阐述的学习课程。对我来说,悲哀地说,
   我永远无法给自己的实验提供客观、科学评价的
   天赋。除此什么都可以!所以我觉得我
   在十九世纪的大厅里徘徊太久了:它的展品、
   护身符、偏见、错误的程序和命中注定的探险对我来说
   太熟悉了;我必须用我的手遮住我的眼睛远离光,即将到来的
   二十世纪爆炸的光芒。没有人问我是否想在这里出生,
   我是否喜欢这里,但这几乎不能作为一个借口,把一个虚假的“做梦”宫殿制成
   类似存在的东西。入口不显眼,更像是一个岗亭,
   但内部的巨大规则性,被装饰物的供应所破坏,是
   (然而)我对坐着和舔着的历史的主要贡献。门上
   有一块风化板,难以辨认的字母被刮去痕迹。因此
   他还是个孩子,我们长大,认识他,至少有些人认识他,而且他
   和任何人一样公正,有时站在开阔的麦田上
   提供尺度
   给他的梦想,和一个广阔文明的梦想。
   我们现在可以在日常生活中不加思考地使用的设备中看到这些影响,
   在气候轻微变化的痕迹中,以及它对地理、道路
   和生产力不成比例的巨大影响。他的阶级应该有人
   让他当元帅。然而,他从来没有勇气追随他的天赋
   排除琐碎的干扰,他们也没有勇气在风停在他的船帆上时
   跟随他,他在船尾甲板上,喊道:“升起,
   你们解开了数百万的枷锁,在一切都为时已晚之前
   意识到你们的后果!”恐怕现在这都是礼仪史学家
   吃力不讨好的工作。垃圾和理解。当他们聚集在
   阳台上,有些好奇,只听到了向上的嗖嗖声!空气的,知道
   这一周的研讨会是如何因为我们无法控制的情况而取消的,
   但出于泄愤,实际上。他的还是教务长的?当他们说,“它发出嗡嗡声吗?”
   他回答说,是的。安排的工作结束。许多人已经
   踏上了回家的路,出发去温暖的浴室和好影片。其他人
   注意到了气氛的变化:确实更轻了,但更薄了?
   所以你告诉自己,你要展示自己,对自己说不
   在证人被拉进来认罪之前。它工作得很好---你“是”怎么管理它的,
   亲爱的?我的意思是,能够在任何地方进出。在这种情况下
   它回到了飓风。当我们最后一次往里看的时候,虽然
   天花板的固定装置上悬挂着派对彩带,但一切
   似乎整个都在摇摆。现在,玛莎的孩子占据了舞台的中心位置。
   侦探小说?我不知道,但是让我们来听听:“第四次想让你
   去洗衣服的地方,在其头上有令人讨厌的问题。
   我的意思是,什么是贻贝?”于是,它向下延伸到装货和卸货,
   以及相当荒凉的外部。对一些人来说,它会导致眼睛抽筋。但今天
   最大胆的字行是塞德里克的“嘿,我们是怎么走这条路的,满眼都是?谁的臀部错误
   让它在诺沃克搁浅,如果你只要有一个天线外接主线路,中心的
   场合,然后猛追它,像一只头昏眼花的魏玛猎犬,然后瞎摆弄它,因为
   它是我们的,挖掘?当然,在我第一次被‘黏液覆盖’之后,而且
   被你,很多年我变得越来越沉默寡言。这件案子解决前拖在法庭。我凭什么权利
   想象你,在这个春天的白昼?”大多数情况下,其他事都更加隐秘,或者是,
   直到这个新的炸弹袭击了看台。现在,充满悔恨,我们问自己
   我们能做些什么来防止这场灾难。但是,什么都没有,
   当然,除了等待它出现,一个滴水的遮阳篷下,在海滩上。
   马龙强加给它的“优雅”正朝着18世纪心灵所珍视的
   那种普遍化的方向发展,而现代气质却发现
   它如此不合时宜。很明显,我们在某种程度上受到了责难,我们无法知道它
   除了占卜或求助于骗子之外,这个,最好
   马上说,完全不可能。但当恐惧降临
   人们忘记这样的决心。我曾
   下决心不暴露自己是一个暗探。我以前曾坐在一把金属椅子上,
   但一直假设随着年龄的增长,一种混合蔓延的和平与尊严
   会出现。即使在我四十多岁晚期,我也耐心地等待着
   这一刻。晚饭后,她扮演克杰鲁夫。我们喝着茶,互相看着。
   我发现雷声中内在的
   危险性质很吸引人,当然,它的确在闪电中,
   我一点也不喜欢。我现在就脱下夹克,然后离开。
   另一天,我们阅读雷霆自己准备好的声明。
   效果令人目瞪口呆。我确实总是获得那种感觉
   那就是,准备好了,除了这个,通常跟一段附言
   关于决定改弦易辙,放弃邪恶快乐,从今天起。
   这是,然而,另一回事。我可能再也不会说真话了,
   知道这是由错误的格言和“纲要”混合而成的,这一尝试
   应该足够好。你的努力得到了A,但通往地狱的路是用善意
   铺成的。但我会接受不利因素,
   谢谢。我善于在压力下工作,
   正如我们的确都必须如此。
   
  
  
  
   
   Speaking of which the weary sap next comes to your door.
   What right have you to consider yourself anything but an enormously eccentric though
   not too egocentric character, whose sins of omission haven’t omitted much,
   whose personal-pronoun lapses may indeed have contributed to augmenting the hardship
   silently resented among the working classes? If I thought that for a minute I’d... yet,
   remembering how you didn’t want to get up today, how warm the bed was and cozy, you
   couldn’t really begin with a proletarian, accustomed as they are to backbreaking
   toil and so (you’d like to think) don’t feel it that much. Besides they never read Henry James’ novels.
   Just for the sake of argument let’s say I’ve never done an honest day’s work
   in my life. It’s hardly heartbreaking news, not
   a major concern. Calling shots
   is something I’ve done a lot of, and I’m here to tell you as referee that too much
   isn’t enough, and that coldness must get boxed out by somebody
   or the universe would get derailed. Besides, maybe they do feel it less, as infants
   and the feeble-minded are said to. My first concern (in any case) was to build up
   a graduated series of studies, leading to the alchemical perfection of one who says,
   I can do that. The fabrication of it lasted early a lifetime,
   leaving me, at the end, unable to perform the most banal act such as tying my shoelaces
   in a double knot, and vulnerable to the japes of skeptics
   who would have preferred to die a thousand deaths rather than undertake the course
   of study I had so painstakingly elaborated. And as for me, sad to say,
   I could never bring myself to offer my experiments the gift of objective,scientific
   evaluation. Anything rather than that! So I feel I have
   wandered too long in the halls of the nineteenth century: its exhibits,
   talismans, prejudices, erroneous procedures and doomed expeditions are but too familiar
   to me; I must shade my eyes from the light with my hands, the light of the explosion
   of the upcoming twentieth century.Nobody asked me whether I wanted to be born here,
   whether I liked it here, but that’s hardly an excuse for cobbling a palace of mendacious reves
   into something like existence. The entry is inconspicuous, more like a sentry’s box,
   but the grand regularity of the insides, spoilt by a provision of ornament, is
   (however) my main contribution to the history of sitting and licking.Over the door
   a weathered board scratched with impossible-to-make-out letters, and for this
   he was a child and we grew up knowing him, at least some did, and he
   was fair as any, and stood in open cornfields sometimes
   to give the scale
   to his dreaming, and the dreams of one vast civilization.
   We can see the effects now in devices we use in everyday life without thinking of them,
   in traces of the slightly altered climate and the disproportionately enormous effect it has had
   on geography, roads and productivity.Someone in his class
   should have made him a marshal. Still, he never had the courage to follow his bent
   to the exclusion of petty distractions, nor they to follow him when the wind stood
   in his sails, and he on the poop deck, calling, Arise,
   ye unchained millions, and realize your consequences
   only before its too late! I’m afraid it’s all busywork
   for the historian of manners, now. Trash and understanding. When they collected
   on the balcony, some curious, it was only to listen to the upward whoosh! of air, to learn
   how the week of seminars had gotten canceled due to circumstances beyond our control,
   but out of spite, actually. Whose? His or the provost’s? When they said, Does it buzz?
   he replied, yes it does. And there was an end to making arrangements. Many had
   already mounted the homeward trail, headed for a warm bath and a good flick. Others
   noted a change in the atmosphere: surely it was lighter, but thinner?
   So you tell yourself you’re going to show yourself and say no to yourself
   before witnesses are dragged in to recant. It works so well---how do you manage it,
   dear? Being able to go in and out at any point, I mean. In this case
   it’s back to the hurricane. When we last looked in though
   there were party streamers suspended from ceiling fixtures, and everything
   seemed to be in full swing. Now, Marsha’s baby occupies center stage.
   Whodunit? Dunno. But let’s listen in: “For the fourth time I want you
   to go over there where the washing is and stand the nasty question on its head.
   I mean, what are mussels?” And so it goes, down to the loading and unloading,
   the pretty bleak exteriors. For some, it causes eye cramps. But the boldest line
   on today is Cedric’s “Hey how’d we get this way, eyeful? And the fault of whose buns
   ran it aground in Norwalk, if only you’d had an antenna out for the main, the central
   occasion and dash after it like a slaphappy Weimaraner and diddle it, cos
   it’s ours, dig? Of course, after I was ‘slimed’ for the first time, and by
   you, no less, I became increasingly withdrawn for years and the case dragged
   through the courts before finally being settled. And by what right
   do I imagine you this spring day?” Mostly the others are more secretive, or were,
   until this new bombshell hit the stands. Now, full of remorse, we ask ourselves
   what we could have done to prevent the calamity. But there was nothing,
   of course, beyond waiting it out, under a dripping awning, on the beach.
   The “elegancy” which Malone imposed upon it was in the direction of that generalization
   dear to the eighteenth-century heart, which the modern temperament finds
   so uncongenial. Clearly we were to blame in some way we cannot know
   other than by divination or recourse to charlatans, which, I’d better say
   right off, is totally out of the question.But when fear pelts down
   one forgets such resolves. I was ever
   determined not to reveal myself a stoolie. I had sat in a metal chair before,
   yet had always assumed that with age a mingled straggling peace and dignity
   came along. Even in my late forties I patiently awaited
   this. After dinner she played Kjerulf. We sipped tea, looking at each other.
   I find appealing the quality of danger
   inherent in thunder, though of course It’s actually in the lightning,
   which I don’t much like at all. I’ll take my jacket off now, and be off.
   Another day we read the thunder its own prepared statement.
   The effect was stupefying. I always do get that feeling
   of being prepared for anything but this, usually followed by a postscript
   about deciding to mend my ways, abjure evil delight, from this day forward.
   This, however, was something else. I may never speak the truth again,
   knowing it to be compounded of false mottoes and apercus,and that trying
   should be good enough. You get A for effort, but the road to hell is paved
   with good intentions. But I’ll take the blight,
   thanks. I’m good at working under pressure,
   as indeed we all must be.
    

  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-11-25 22:27:49 | 显示全部楼层
  

   当然,当其他人离开的时候,他还在忙着。一些保护措施。
   我们刚好有时间出去。我把温度计放错地方了。还有药片。我拿
   你的甜蜜生活打赌我必须这么做,赶上一些事情,因为在法律面前我们不都是
   平等的吗?我该给他多少原谅?道德问题
   从来都不是我的强项,但我无论如何还是希望传递肉汁,因为在那里
   我成功了。再也不要来这里了。倾听政治
   或有人提交了这个词,然后就像从一口井里涌出
   出现了,没有人再适合伸展。旧炸弹
   有它的发言权,我不知道它们允许那样,我还是认为
   它们过时了,在50年代的某个时候。但对我来说,最后一场战争
   是第二次世界大战。我以为青春从那时开始,还会继续,但对于印刷业来说
   我将成为合法行为的“诽谤罪”,所以我假装它不再像我的青春,
   事情已经成熟并苍白。我和一两个朋友,我们很好地
   聚在一起讨论它,每月不超过一次。你看,
   这里的颜色也在黑暗中,只有你不能看到它们,只是感觉它们。
   不要触摸。但在某种程度上,这些比别的更令人满意,
   尽管也更为折衷。我是说“忙碌”吗?是的,它们也是…
   
   小麦是老汉的颜色,知更鸟...嗯,这就是我要
   提供给你的;我想现在没什么区别了,因为你有一些新的东西
   我的目录里没有。一些甜的东西,翻过来的,解开纽扣的东西。
   但是现在你已经不能忍受剂量,不能
   像一大块木头或一个大的破真菌那样坐在阳光下;哪一个
   都几乎无关紧要。看,我和你一样,是个信徒。同时,我想相信那些
   无穷无尽的事物,即使我们不能每天都看到它们,它们是
   无色表面的颜色,这表面我相信我曾经
   在里面居住过,或者曾经居住过。我的政治不重要。应该是
   我的手指---在这里我会站在我的立场上。我想一次又一次地
   告诉你们,我们是数字化的东西,没有其他形式存在,至少如果它存在的话
   它是作为另一个伟大的功能,现有的表格,它们已经被出版了,
   似乎,在一些地方。除了在无尽的酷热和寒冷中生存,我没有
   别的愿望。只要一美元,我就可以把它寄到给你的邮件里,
   我的小册子,但是这么多其他人想要它却摒弃了它。但我在
   想你,无论如何,不会离开,以免别人比我
   更迟钝,我不相信自己会离开
   除非坐在每小时一到两英里的压草机上,这
   意味着我们必须改变,当我们到达那里时,如果我们累了,或者被某个
   稻草老板雇来,然后被送到石头堆里去,因为我们的痛苦,我们
   让活泼的别人谈论我们自己的才能,他们是
   如何坐着一辆木头车从迦南下来的,而这一切都是一个冰冻的垃圾场。
   你们任何人为什么不想和我一起回来,
   我看到的地方,从筑巢的地方,树在哪里?我工作了很长时间……
   但其他人来了,工作做得快多了,我几乎
   上气不接下气,安排和他们一起回家过夜。
   我喜欢周围有更多的孩子,
   但又是这样,并非所有事情都是正确的,基础附近必须
   有一个小洞,所有人都必须相处融洽,不要试图用任何东西
   覆盖它。披肩或头巾当然会有帮助。
   但是,如果没有人看到,如果没有人
   出席,同时大坝的一些水
   溢出,即使它甚至滚到你的脚边,又有什么关系呢。那么你
   对此说什么,有什么要求?如果在这个社会中有理想,就让他们说
   或者事后保持沉默,因为任何工作都无法完成,直到
   在这里的任何人用我和一个女服务员
   都能理解的方式解释技术语言。最近,我们得到的帮助
   如此少,人手如此少,以至于甚至相当重要的原木
   都不请自来地滚进了壁炉,我
   再也不会去拧了,尽管那里可能有错误,直到
   用彩色蜡笔刻在墙上的时间。而一个远方的
   姐妹来接手,护理你恢复健康
   和你那个时代的异端,把一个兴趣放在所有其他兴趣之前:保持安静!不要说话!很快
   这是每个人的工作,有义务在没有其他人的时候
   有一支劳动力在这里。平静,和一丝呼吸:这就是他们
   想要的一切;没有理由为他们的叫喊
   而兴奋。可怜的小家伙们得到了一些关注;也是一样,
   你可能会想,一旦他们从噪音和事故中
   恢复过来一点,就会被送到山上;哦,今天什么样的
   灾难离我们更近,其他一些人如何应对
   在此时,在副总统到这里之前?外面
   有什么警察在一起说话?在葡萄凉亭下?啊,很好,现在和以往相比
   不再是一个季节;今年必须被洪水淹没,然后
   取决于谁能上场。莫里斯舞
   被取代了,其他的,想加入的人,不能。这就是我们雾凇的全部,
   我们这些奔跑、跌倒、起反应的人。万一毛口的外衣被夸大了
   我们可以唱小歌剧,或者让柔顺的高尔夫球手复活,
   人们也可以在虚荣中试着用手抓住其他一切。
   与此同时,肉已经准备好并分开了。
   是时候爬上去,把梯子拉上去,在也希望加冕的观众
   最近的口头攻击中解释要点。这就是它真正的一切:
   为什么,那么,它会被断章取义地炸开花?再过十年,不会有决斗,
   媒体上也不会有石头般的沉默,只有一点阳光和皱着眉头
   在重新站立,经过真正的遗忘之前。但与此同时
   它扭曲的头在游荡;永远不可能有和平解决,只有进一步的
   报复和神经兮兮,每天都是凝滞的黎明,没有人记得
   我们为什么愤怒,只有必须实施严格的报复。即使是那些
   在开往新自由港的轮船甲板上的人,他们的石防波堤以前也不会
   知道这个秘密,就像是在欢乐,和问候中梦游的人:我们说过
   就在这里结束了吗?而晚春和充满希望的夏天的天空,在战争
   和占领时期一如既往地被深深浸透,承诺不会很快解开
   从一代蹒跚到另一代秘密的苦难,尽管它确实承诺了
   很多,在大气和轻松休息方面,因此可能会减轻
   未来悬崖居民的负担,当它被看到和被印刷,我们所有的关心
   是古雅的时代错误或复古时尚的提示脚本。然而它们也是,追随者,
   随着时间的流逝,迷失在日益狭窄的峡谷中,不愿意
   将宫廷历史学家的职位让给更年轻、更肮脏的客户,
   因此历史不断萎缩,尽管人们仍能显著感觉到健康且完全适应
   一个比以往任何东西都更加颓废的时代的生活。世界提供的
   这些风格化的花卉图案并不意味着被消费,无意识地,
   在华尔兹舞曲结束和时尚重新开始之前;这也不是
   对失去了它们的一个人的评论,在暮色中没有记忆地到达,
   这无论如何都不会让任何人幸免。来自沿海省份的光点
   让这一切变得令人不安的真实:任何人都必须死
   这样我们才能留在这里,浑身湿透但还活着,幸运的是
   能够在善良和晚期帝国徽章中
   从远处思考我们的死亡,这是另一种文明的金渣
   而不是我们不久前吞下的文明。
   然而,它的虚荣心不原谅任何人,还有其他的棍子来捍卫
   人们的秘密倾向,而不是一束希望,被移植,从未适应,
   最终背叛了你。孩子们今年长得多快啊!
   没有不被击败的恋人?没时间回技术学院?那么
   你应该承诺不寻求赔偿。魅力现在无法包容你。
   向所有人道歉,和那些阻碍我写作的
   任何东西的绿色,比如偏见。“为什么”抓住那只老虎?或者在午餐前
   表演另外六幕,而所有的写作都是在人们的膝盖上把一些东西
   推开,比如三明治,有效地组织优先事项?但至少在这种情况下,它进行得很顺利
   直到漫长,下午晚些时候庄严的街道首先通向
   一阵颤抖,在它的另一边,一艘荒谬地躺在雪地里的船旁边,就像一个路标。
   然后,最后,这一年的换档到达了我,尽管我知道
   为你脸上的任何爆炸做的准备已够了。不过,
   没有人再逗我开心。我现在想,另一段时间,这一切
   就会更少。以前我有不同的看法。但我们现代人必须在我们的言行上
   “留下我们的印记”;没有某种评论,我们什么都
   不能放过。即使是像水一样的乡村过失也会挑起我们
   吹毛求疵的挑剔,然后当我们停下来过夜时,我们不知道
   自己在哪里。它可以是美国的一个,也可以是欧洲的一个国家。
   但是,我们对秘密占据我们的东西感到非常愤怒,以至于对一个人眼中的
   蛆虫、耳朵里的跳蚤没有任何区别:所有这些基本上都在点燃最近
   更大的火灾,在其中,我们认为我们将看到自己的命运:我们的命运和死亡
   是一体的。当一个闪光的东西靠近时,冲出来迎接它,半立着
   带着担忧歇斯底里地大笑。“这是我的送魂者;我命令它!”但是所有
   写在长腿爸爸倾向于聚集的地方的边缘。当我们需要
   更古怪的处方,我们会让你知道。同时,做那些
   什么都不会失去的人中的一个。把你的想法组织成随机的线条,然后
   沿着这条路,把它们标出页码。你在每座小山上都能看到风信子和牛蹄草;甚至
   蜻蜓也会成为一个奇迹的东西,只要
   你不要靠得太近,让水全部从中流过。到底怎么回事!我们
   在这里度过了美好的时光,我们的满足穿透了天堂的顶峰,只有
   少数人需要被麻醉或说服。只要我们在这个星球上
   兴奋就不会停止。即使是车库也可能是个合适的地方;机械师
   从汽车下吹出的口哨声会加到暂停的恐慌,并
   在杂草中做鬼脸。只要我们永远都不是我们要成为的人
   束缚的存在和刀边上的生命就有它自己的一点报酬,
   使一只脚陷入某人制造的误解的平衡
   如此脆弱。另一方面
   远离它是面对严肃和根本决定的严肃而美好的态度
   这些都是很久以前在星星的托儿所的大使们的童年时代
   达成的,我们无法避免在这些的印象。它来接我们,带我们去
   参加典礼。
   
  
  
  
   
   Sure, he was still at it by the time the others left. Some protection.
   We had just time to get out. I had mislaid the thermometer. And pill. I bet
   your sweet life I had to do it, to come up with something, for weren’t we all equals
   under the law? And how much should I let that excuse him? Ethical questions
   were never my strong suit, but I wished to pass the gravy anyway, and in that
   I was successful. Never to come round here again. Listen to politics
   or someone filing on the word, and then a gush as from a well
   occurs and no one is fit to stretch anymore. The old bomb was
   having its say, I didn’t know they allowed that, I thought it was still
   that they outmoded it, sometime in the fifties. But to me, the last war
   is World War II. I thought youth began then, is still going on, but for printing that
   I’d be “libel” to legal action, so I pretend it’s not like my youth anymore,
   that things have grown up and gray. One or two friends and I, well we
   get together and talk about it no oftener than once a month. You see,
   the colors are in here in the dark too, only you can’t see them, just feel them.
   Don’t touch. But these are in some way more satisfying than the others,
   though also more eclectic. Did I say hectic? Yes, they are that too...
   
   The wheat was the color of old men, the robin...Well these are what I had got
   to offer you; I suppose it doesn’t make any difference now because you have something new
   that was not in the catalog I have. Something sweet, turning over, something unbuttoned.
   But now there is no dose you can tolerate, no
   sitting in the sun like a chunk of wood or a large broken fungus; it scarcely
   matters which. See, I’m like you, a believer. At the same time I want to believe in things
   that are endless, even though we don’t get to see them every day, that are
   what color is to a colorless surface, which I believe I have inhabited
   once, or once upon a time. My politics shouldn’t matter. It’s my finger
   that should---it’s here I’ll take my stand.I want over and over
   to tell you what we are is digital, that no other form exists, at least if it does it
   is as a function to the other great,existing forms, and they are already published,
   it seems, in places. I have no desire other than to survive the endless extremes
   of heat and cold. For a dollar I could put it in the mail to you,
   my little tract, but so many others wanted it and spurned it. But I’m
   thinking of you anyway, shall not go away, lest another be duller
   than I’m, and I’m not trusting myself to get away
   except on a lawn roller moving one to two miles per hour, and that
   means we shall have to change when we get there, if we’re tired, or be hired
   by some straw boss and be sent to the rockpile for our pains, our talents
   in getting lively others to talk about ourselves, how
   they came down from Canaan in a wood car, and all was a frozen dump.
   Why don’t any of you want to come back with me,
   where I see, from nesting, where the tree is? Long I’ve labored...
   But others come along and do the job so much quicker, I’m almost
   out of breath, and arranged to go home with them for the night.
   I’d like more children around,
   but that’s it, not everything can be right, there must be a small hole
   near the base, and all must get along, and not try to cover it
   with anything. A shawl or turban would of course help.
   But what does it matter if no one sees,
   if there is no one to take attendance, and meanwhile the dam is overflowed
   by some water, even as it comes rolling even to your feet. And what do you say
   about it then, what ask for? If there are ideals in this society, let them speak
   or afterward hold their peace since no job is going to get done until whoever
   is here has explained the technical language in ways that I
   and a chambermaid can understand.We’ve had so little help,
   of late, been so understaffed, that even quite important logs
   have rolled into the fireplace unbidden,and I
   was never going to screw again, though there may have been error there, until the time
   inscribed in colored crayons, upon the wall. And a distant
   sister comes to take over, nurse you back to health and heresy
   of your time, put one interest ahead of all others: staying still! Not talking! Pretty soon
   it’s everyone’s job, the obligation to have a work-force be here
   at times when no one else’s is. Peace,and a thread of breath: that’s all
   they want; there^ no reason to be excited
   by their shout. And the poor little ones get some attention; it’s as well,
   you might think, and are sent off to the hills
   once they have recuperated a bit from the noise and accident; oh what
   disaster is closer to us today, and how do some others cope
   in the meantime, until the vice-president can be here? And what cops
   are talking together outside? Under the grape-arbor? Ah well it’s no more of a season
   now than it ever was; this year has got to be flooded out, and then it’s
   up to who can play. The morris-dances
   are superseded, and others, who wish to join in, cannot. That is all what our rime is about,
   we who are running, falling, reacting. In case the coat of burrs got overstated
   we can sing operetta, or resurrect pliant golfers,
   trying one’s hand too at vanity in order to catch everything else.
   Meanwhile the meat has been prepared and divided.
   It was time to climb up, to pull the ladder up, having construed pith in the latest verbal
   assaults from onlookers who wished to be crowned too. And that was really all it was about:
   why, then, did it get blown out of context? In another decade there’d be no duel,
   no stony silence in the media, only a little sunlight and frowning
   before standing up again, past true forgetting. But in the meantime
   its warped head wanders; there can never be a peaceful settlement, only further
   reprisals and squeamishness, each day a curdled dawn, and no one remembers
   why we were angry, only that a strict vengeance must be enacted. Even those
   on the deck of a steamer departing for new free ports whose stone breakwaters will not have learned
   of the mystery before are like sleepwalkers amid the gaiety, the greetings: did we say
   it was to end here? And the sky of late spring and promising summer, deeply
   saturated as always during times of war and occupation, promises no quick unraveling
   of the skein of secret misery lobbed from generation to generation, though it does promise
   much in the way of atmospheres and easy repose, and so may lighten the
   burden for future cliff-dwellers, when it shall be seen and printed that all our care
   is quaint anachronisms or prompt-scripts for retro chic. Yet they too, followers,
   become lost in ever-narrowing canyons as day wanes, unwilling
   to relinquish the post of court-historian to a younger and grubbier clientele,
   and so history constantly dwindles, although one can still feel remarkably fit and well-adjusted
   to life in an era more decadent than anything that has preceded it. These stylized
   floral motifs the world offers aren’t meant to be consumed, mindlessly,
   before the waltz ends and fashion begins again; neither
   is it a comment on one to have lost them, to arrive without memory at twilight,
   which in any case spares no one. Blips from the maritime
   provinces made it all disturbingly real: that anyone should have to die
   so that we may stay on here, sodden but alive, fortunate
   to be able to contemplate our mortality from a distance amid kindness
   and late imperial emblems, golden dregs of another civilization
   than the one we gulped down just a short time ago.
   Its vanity pardons no one though, and there are other cudgels for defending
   one’s secret inclination than wisps of hope, transplanted, never acclimated,
   that betray you at the end. How fast the children have grown this year!
   No lovers undefeated? No time to return to the technical college? Then
   you should have made a promise not to seek redress. The charm can’t contain you now.
   Apologies to all and sundry, and for the green that impedes
   whatever I do in my writing, like a bias. Why hold that tiger? Or perform six other
   acts before lunch, when all writing is putting aside something
   in one’s lap, like a sandwich,juggling priorities? But at least in this case it went well
   until the long, late-afternoon-solemn street led first
   to a shiver beyond it and next to a ship absurdly bedded in the snow, like a guidepost.
   And then, finally, the year’s shifting gears got to me, though I know
   enough to be prepared for whatever explodes in your face. Still,
   nobody amuses me anymore. I think now that in another time less would have been made
   of all this. Formerly I was of a different opinion. But we moderns have to “leave our mark”
   on whatever we say and do; we can let nothing pass without a comment
   of some kind. Even rural lapses like water provoke us
   to exquisite nitpicking, and then we don’t know where we are when we stop
   for the night. It could be one of the United States, it could be a European country.
   But we are so riled at what has come secretly to possess us that it can’t make any difference
   to the maggot in one’s sight, the flea in one’s ear: all is basically kindling for the late
   greater conflagration in which we think we shall see our destiny: our fate and death
   as one. And when a shining thing approaches, rush out to meet it half-cocked
   and laughing hysterically with worry. “This is my psychopomp; I ordered it!” But all that
   is writing at the margin where daddy-long-legs tend to congregate. When we need
   wackier prescriptions, we’11 let you know. Meanwhile, be one of those
   on whom nothing is lost. Organize your thoughts in random lines and, later
   down the road, paginate them. You’11 see bluebells and cowslips on every hill; even
   dragonflies will have become a thing of wonder, as long
   as you don’t get too close, and let water run through it all. What the hell! We’re
   in here having a fine time, our satisfaction pierces heaven’s summit, and there are only
   a few more who need to be drugged or convinced. As long as we’re on this planet
   the thrill never ceases. Even a garage can be a propitious place; a mechanic’s
   whistle from under a car can add to the spectrum of consternation suspended, and
   making faces in the weeds. As long as we are never who we are ever going to be
   the bind obtains and life on the edge of a knife has its own kind of remuneration,
   so tenuous is the balance that keeps one foot caught in a misunderstanding
   of someone’s making. On the other
   hand to walk away from it is the grave good face to austerity and fundamental
   decisions that were reached long ago in the childhood of ambassadors in the nursery
   of stars, and we can’t avoid our reflection in these. It’s come to get us, to take us
   to the ceremony.
    

  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-11-27 22:23:28 | 显示全部楼层

   那么对于“新奇”,所有人都订阅,尽管有一些保留。我们在赫尔基默
   已经住了一段时间。肥硕的、莴苣色的茎秆散发出的宁静丰富
   是一个东西,一个避风港,然而在想象中,搭扣总是松的,
   有什么东西抓住了。人们可能,真的,越来越喜欢有海鸟羽毛作为绵延数英里的
   边缘的岛屿,以及外观光鲜的腹地。但是放弃
   已经提供的东西不是一个人的方式。类似地,当一个喝醉的对话者
   把你和你最好的朋友搞混时,问题不在于是否继续陷入
   误解,而在于如何扩大框架
   或多或少像我们之前坐的那样将我们分组。
   那时没有光泽。但是,吹牛者
   和呆子,二者的暗示,让一个真正的选择元素似乎
   被隔绝了,在那里,靠近树根,就像一首挽歌的阴影成扇形散开
   在炉渣上,直到今天仍然巨大。正如一个人能记住一个
   外来词,但在自己的语言中不能记住它的同义词一样,它成为了一个人智力的
   误导性指数,只是有点太壮观了,不能带回家
   放在那里展出。我和州长手下人交谈过
   但尽管我可以用任何语言让自己理解,但希望所提供的东西
   没有基础,当事情进展顺利时。进一步的谈判毫无用处。
   此外,朱砂岬现在似乎不是一个交汇点;
   除这个之外的奖杯将在时机成熟时被谈论,
   再令人望而生畏的航行也不会动摇新成员的决心;与此同时,新闻集团
   为我和我的懦弱的同伙所倡导的废除法案的微不足道的努力而欢呼,然后
   决心推进批准程序。而且,不幸的是,我们都长得很像;因此,
   没有人认真地对待我们,也没有人把鸡肉三明治塞给我们。这是一个悲伤的日子的一切,
   尽管在我们回家的范围内,这是一个快乐的日子,尽管并不情愿。“不情愿地,
   啊女王,我离开你的海岸。但是她看到我们没有一个人空手而归;我仍然拥有
   那份纪念品,因此不能谴责命运把我带到这一关口,独自一人,
   无人照顾,还有大约四十英里的路要走,在我称我的旅程已经结束之前。
   有些人嘲弄我们,有些人在我们背后扔鹅卵石。但我们
   几乎没有注意到这些人,扣进我们的座位,嘲笑着这个梦,它把我们带回到
   真正恐惧的基础上,在那里这个故事必须存在,如果它对其他人来说真的很重要。
   这当然与我们无关;我们认为我们是其他人,通过
   一堵不时裂开的水墙
   观察我们堪称楷模的冒险经历,揭示这次操作的真实性质,那不是
   一个娱乐场所,而是一片沼泽,从里面人们浮现,
   在长时间躺在草地上之前,了解人们的方位,确实做任何事情
   来赢得时间,愚弄我们的狱卒,直到那一刻变成夜曲并沉淀
   无毛的水滴,它会充分满足我们,送我们回家,咕哝着
   风和诸如此类的东西。在这种特权的态度中,革命的火花声称了
   它的权利;一道粉末在那里燃烧,就在凉爽的拱门从一个
   通向另一个的前一刻,山坡上的景色像沐浴在硅酸钠中一样
   摇曳,似乎是永恒的。但这是州长的伎俩,让你犯错误,
   让你承认他已经知道的事情,在不知所措地
   回到你的壁龛之前。所有这些官员在这里都有股份,而且这也是
   他们的策略,给你足够吊死你自己的绳子;如果你想用它编
   一个梯子,为什么那也没关系,只要有人看到了它并写下了它。所以
   十六年来,我说一个我从未见过的国家的话来让选民们眼花缭乱;他们知道我
   胡说八道,但认为人们做梦的时候一定是这样,但我更黑暗的
   目标从未浮出水面。当我在沙滩上被放出被告知可以跑的
   “那”一天,没有人能记得我的名字;当我意识到我已经超出了
   他们的小武器的范围时,我可以放松和闲逛,或者,随着情绪的发展,
   把我的脸埋在我的手中,试着回忆它是什么,三角墙现在让我痛苦的是什么,或者
   我应该如何关心这次跨越不断缩小的圈子,好像
   我要进入它们,不会让敌人听到关于我或我以前交往的人的
   任何进一步的困境,只要每个人都保持沉默,作为
   他们讨价还价的一部分,我也梦想着,轻率地,因为我不想让
   风景和野兔记住它们曾经见过我,如果有人问我。我帮助促成的
   具有里程碑意义的决定敲响,在过去作为我的商标的茅草和灰泥的
   几年里;每个人都认识我,我只需走过一个洞
   它就被命名为我希望出版的生活的一部分。不,有些人
   对此不高兴,也不满足于折磨我,事实上,这让我意识到
   没有什么不同,没有其他方式可以让我继续成为
   曾经的我,但我平静的自我中心的回声也在他们身上翻滚;
   就好像我从来没有抓住过我抽奖券的空白存根,在我的镇静中
   我说的任何奇怪的事情都被翻转,被揭露成了另外一个事实真相的反面,
   在这样的智慧中,我能够在将近一个年头里生活,在我的
   守车中,没有人怀疑我的策略或致命的智慧;他们还有其他事情要做,
   而且很明显,我不是这样一个坏类,我们都应该互相产生好感
   这样做就满足了命运为我们准备的锁链,即将
   到期的票据。我嘲笑
   水池里漂浮的树叶,它们也是我的奖赏,有一天
   我们所有人都会诚挚高兴地聚在一起,为了它能做的事,然后,我的计划
   会更好地制定,我们周围人的女儿们
   也会特别茁壮地成长,在变化的过程中,我会被带进糠秕的云中,这
   将是我的赔偿,除了我真正想做的事情之外,
   这些事情总是可以安排的,而且不管怎样,它未来会更好
   如果我能把脚从踏板上移开,把它们放在那里一会儿。
   看它,一切都变好了,人人都认出了它。历史学家们有他们的说法,
   只是现在对它做得太多了,有失败,还有对不记得的
   恐惧。所以它不会消失。
   
   To the “newness” then, all subscribe, albeit with a few reservations. We have been living
   in Herkimer for some time. The quiet plenitude exuded by fat, lettuce-colored stalks
   is one thing, a haven, yet always in the imagination a hasp is loose,
   something catches. One might, it is true, have preferred isles edged for miles and miles
   with seabirds’ feathers, and a smartlooking interior. But to give up what
   has been offered is not a man’s way. Similarly, when a drunken interlocutor
   gets you and your best friend mixed up, the question is not whether to proceed into
   the misunderstanding, but how to extend the frame
   more or less grouping us as we sat before.
   There was no luster then. But the suggestiveness
   of both, blowhard and gawker, made it seem that a real element of choice
   were sequestered, down there, near the root, as the shadow of an elegy fanned out
   over the slag, enormous to this day. And just as one can remember a foreign
   word but not the synonym for it in one’s own language, it became a misleading
   index of one’s intelligence, just a little too imposing to be taken home
   and placed on exhibit there. I talked to the governor’s men
   but though I could make myself understood in any language, it was without the foundation
   that hope supplies when something is going well. Further negotiations were useless.
   Besides, it seemed that the cinnabar headlands were not now a convergence;
   that trophies other than this one would be talked about when the time came for that,
   that no more daunting voyage could have shaken the recruit’s resolve;meanwhile the press-gang
   cheered on the puny efforts at repeal that I and my wimpish cohorts advocated, then
   resolved to push through the ratification process. And, unfortunately, we all looked alike; hence,
   no one took us seriously or thrust chicken sandwiches on us. It was all a sad day,
   though a merry one insofar as we were going home, albeit unwillingly. “Unwillingly,
   O queen, I left your shore.Yet she saw that none of us left empty-handed; I still have
   that souvenir, and therefore cannot decry the fate that brought me to this pass, alone,
   untended, with still some forty miles to go before I can call my journey ended.
   There were some who mocked us, and some that threw pebbles at our backs. But these
   we scarcely noticed, buckled into our seats, laughing at the dream that took us back to the
   foundations of real fear where the story must be lived if it is to matter at all to others.
   That of course was no concern of ours; we thought we were the others, observing
   our exemplary adventures through a wall
   of water that splits from time to time, revealing the real nature of the operation, that it is not
   a place of entertainment, rather a swamp, from which one emerges,
   before lying on the grass for a long time, getting one’s bearings and indeed doing anything
   to buy time and fool our jailers until the moment that becomes a nocturne and precipitates
   the glabrous drop that will satiate us and send us home, muttering
   of the winds and suchlike. Inside this privileged attitude a revolutionary spark asserted
   its rights; a trail of powder blazed there where but a moment before cool arches
   led from one to the other and the view of hillsides wavered as in a bath
   of sodium silicate, and seemed permanent. But that was the governor’s trick to trip you up,
   make you confess what he already knew, before returning
   overwhelmed to your alcove. All these officials had a stake in the matter, and it was
   moreover their tactic to give you rope enough to hang yourself; if you wanted to braid a ladder
   with it, why that was all right too, provided somebody saw it and wrote about it. So for
   sixteen years I dazzled the constituents with sayings of a country I had never seen; they knew I
   raved but thought it must always be so when men dreamed, but my darker
   purpose never surfaced. And on the day when I was set free on the sand
   and told to run no one could remember my name; as soon as I realized I was beyond
   the range of their small arms I could relax and saunter, or, as the mood progressed,
   bury my face in my hands trying to remember what it was, what gable had afflicted me now, or
   how I should be caring about the move across the ever-shrinking circles, as though
   I was going to enter’em, and not let the enemy hear of any further predicament
   regarding me or those I formerly associated with as long as everyone kept silent as
   their part of the bargain, and I too dreamed, loosely, because I didn’t want the
   landscape and hares to remember they’d once seen me if asked. And the landmark decision I
   helped instigate came tolling through the last several years of thatch and plaster and was as
   my trademark; everybody knew me and I had only to walk through a hole
   for it to become named as a piece of the life I was hoping to publish. No there were some
   who were unhappy with this, and not content with tormenting me, actually made me see
   there was no difference, no other way I could have gone on being
   what once I had been. But the echoes of my calm egocentricity rolled over them too;
   it was as if I had never held on to the blank stubs of my raffle tickets; in my composure
   anything odd I said turned over and was revealed as the reverse of a truth that was something else,
   and in such wise I was able to live for close to a year, in my
   caboose, and no one suspected my ruse or fatal intelligence; they had other things to do,
   and besides it was obvious I wasn’t such a bad sort, we should all have to cotton to each other
   and in so doing satisfy the chain destiny had prepared for us, the note
   about to fall due. And I laughed
   at the leaves floating in the cistern, that they too were my reward, and someday
   all of us would come together in joyful earnest, for what it could do, and then my plans
   would be better laid, and the daughters of those that were around us
   would thrive specially too, and in becoming lead me into the cloud of chaff that was
   to be my recompense, besides anything I really cared to do,
   which could always be arranged, and anyway the future would be better for it
   if I could just take my feet off the pedals and keep them there awhile.
   And behold it all became good, and everybody recognized it. And the historians have had their say,
   only now is too much done about it, and there is defeat, and fears about not
   remembering. And so it will not pass away.
    


 楼主| 发表于 2021-11-29 21:56:34 | 显示全部楼层
  

   
   V
   
   你什么都不需要,但所有人都必须提供说明。
   我说我在森林里打猎。一个男人怎么能
   能吃得饱饱的,却仍然在他周围发现空虚和困倦,
   如果他必须这样去坟墓,无人看管?当然,也有
   一些亮点,当你听到这些人中间的
   笑声时,它不仅仅制造了一个装饰性的真理,一个骑士精神的
   邀请,被我们深思熟虑的文明的垃圾场火堆所包围,它(文明)
   带着一些东西追求它---比如说,发明邻里关系?
   然后,这位微微化装的客人离开了,留下了她
   没读过的长文。在它里面对我们来说有什么东西?从这所学校里吸取了一种
   没有推动行动的哲学。一种暂时搁置的事情。但是,如果人们
   一直跟踪它,就会是某种事情,有人起草
   一份备忘录。但是他们很快就发现了交通将承受什么
   很快就睡在它中间,下一次行动的呼吁被认为是过时的
   没有人会相信你代表了正确的事业。每片织物
   都钉在地上;环状的草
   侵入它的东方极端;甚至这些标准也必须推迟到
   以后。飞机库变得让人无法忍受地热,而且气味很难闻。
   与此同时,新的绿色悄无声息地、无形般瀑布般地落下。
   有人说了些什么。你说得对。但没有两个人
   能就这意味着什么达成一致,就好像我们是上帝能发明的
   每一次幼稚的无线通信尝试的传声筒,
   因此回到我们的食堂。但我不知道,如果我
   不多闲逛一会儿会如何,如此一来,推力
   这一次会被赐给我,当然也是作为公众的
   存储库,我会用它来促进所有男人和女人的利益,
   而不仅仅是一些人的利益。它留下了同样的信息。就好像
   它从来没有收到我以前的信息。当然,我还没有妥协
   但在那些凶猛的屏幕上,有太多的东西本应该
   作为一个例子来隐藏更多的东西以生存,然后让它摆脱控制,并被
   再次放下,如果我自己愿意的话,而不是像一朵雏菊一样
   在淤泥上徘徊。拿出我的三轮车转一圈,趁没人看见我之前
   把它还给我。然而,正如我所说,我不知道。小便池旁的老人们
   争吵着,不想让消息传出去。我与某个过去的所有联系都被切断。
   我把我一直在读的那本书《折叠式加座小屋边的散热器女孩》放下,
   就像给那些癖好的给予者的很多礼物,而这些癖好一旦被采纳
   就会像糠一样在有车辙的土地上撒下,在漩涡中
   累积,我想我怎么也无法描述最近的
   这些日子。我好像经历了一次健忘症的发作。
   现在我准备再次戴上手套,但这不是太晚了吗?
   我自己判决的大赦或健忘症甚至不适用于
   一个人,和我,在这种情况下,我们不是都可以
   逃课吗?然而州政府议会证明了我的身份;我成了一个恶毒的公民,
   甚至不应该为愚人在上帝知道的
   不可想象的贫民窟中所隐藏的疾病负责,因为只要我选择占据我的座位
   与永恒的法律和秩序的力量合作,但又不愿意
   与朋友、邻居、勤务员、动物园里的长颈鹿妥协,
   即使现在他们仍然用不屈的腿向我走来,
   虽然他的设计还很不清楚。从快乐和不邪恶的
   任何事情,通向:门廊的设计非常明显,你知道
   滑动门意味着什么,因此排水沟会将雨水引到
   可怜的土地上,转过身来,吸收听到真相的讲述的
   震撼,再次,在六月初令人难忘的一天,
   这将是我们所需要知道的一切,从内到外倾听争吵,然后
   将它们颠倒过来,这样抽象的争论就再一次纯净而公正,对许多人来说是一种快乐。
   我幸运多了,不过,比他们,他们白天能看到我在哪里蹒跚
   晚上能在树篱之间止住。就像
   远远悬挂在城市街道上方,如果你不失去耐心而破坏它
   这是一种宁静。千真万确,当我离开时,其他的乐趣开始了,一种对我揉皱和扔掉的
   日子富有想象力的回收,然后它们
   过时的恶作剧似乎变得清晰,很好地呈现,专注,被裁剪;我身上没有一个“谨慎制图员”能
   对这一点吹毛求疵。除此之外,在户外说点什么也不错。一个
   像胎记一样的借口出现并绽放,仍然游过
   不同文明的层次,游向太阳湖。我可以把我的购物车推过
   小门,仍然在那里,摆脱困境。我不介意被迷住,即使是
   相当长的一段时间,但这就像和一个自动化的石头圣徒玩
   三子棋游戏;里面的假橙色调很强,我来了,我
   记得,主要是为了看看自己的倒影。现在,我在哪里?我该在哪里
   把那张重新接纳的票交给那些游泳者,他们此时正
   三三两两地涌出。“教我们如何打开这样一本书。”我们给了他们咖啡
   当它来得不够快的时候。从那以后,东西似乎取走,尽管我感到一阵刺痛:
   这一次,它会为我,和他们做这件事吗?我们会被迫分开吗?
   如果会,梯子的哪一半还站着?你不会想听的。回廊
   仍然延伸,越来越深入到我们开始的日常生活的
   梦想中,在那里我们仍然生活,在户外,在云层下,以一种像十九世纪
   博物馆里图片的模式堆积着:请原谅我们
   在永恒织物中轻浮的针脚,只要别人
   能看到真相并不是多么不公正,并相应地做出证词,规范
   我们现在无法控制的道路,对一只想听的耳朵
   集中礼貌地说话,但一旦我们完成了
   我们必须说的话(我们没有什么可说的),那一刻和任何后续的想法都会像
   用蒸汽铲一样被铲起来,放在“那里”,不会看不见。
   有争议的人有时和我们在一起,就像一个光滑的帕凡舞,在光亮但深广的
   波涛汹涌的水面上。如何让它继续运转
   不管怎样,当一切都在剧烈地颤抖,空气和里面的一切?我们不应该
   抛弃他们吗?但是没有,这些都是
   不得要领的过分挑剔的警告,为了检验一个,在这条蜿蜒的公路
   巨大的灰色织物中:不要让它表面上的尊严欺骗你,而且
   他们是自由的,可以并且确实说了任何他们想对你说的话;这并不
   意味着你必须做出相应的回应,但这会有所帮助。有人在做这件事,
   夏天供暖,冬天空调,每一个邮件上
   都会有慰问笔记到达;火山的
   顶部已经成功地粘上了,谁能说我们没有
   被邀请?毕竟,邀请函,也到了,上面优美地
   刻着你的名字。像火石上的火
   撞得太快这样的想法似乎很重要:你的房子还是我的房子,
   这一次?我真的认为轮到我了,但变化不允许你正常地沿着一条小路前进;要走的路
   太多了。我想这就是我的意思。为什么我担心,
   一直,我的意思是,尽管我知道这是多余的,你会因为它
   或其他任何事情而爱我,只要我能整理出把我们聚集在一起的线索
   并为进一步的鉴定目的染色它们,但你
   不必保持那种普遍性。有时候一些异常现象
   是有帮助的,五彩纸屑在一些谈话的缝隙中
   消失了,然后你不得不重新回到开始
   全部重新开始,但这很正常,这不是恐慌的原因。外面的人
   比以前多了。如果你能在这样一个春天的早晨
   建设性地、痛切地思考,并且真的想提前知道结果,并且能够
   接受侵入,多姿多彩的困难有时也会带来所有的
   幸运发生,以及意外的快乐等等,那么没有理由不为
   外在的结果感到高兴,突然的
   山的面孔,突然滑向
   某处或其他地方。这一切都会让我们弯曲
   在一起更近,在天堂里,我想那就是你想的。看到这些
   磨光的石头了吗?我想要它们,我想要你拥有它们。是时候了,现在。
   
  
  
  

   
   V
   
   Nothing is required of you, yet all must render an accounting.
   I said I was out hunting in the forest.How can it be that a man
   can sup his fill, and still all around him find emptiness and drowsiness,
   if he must go to the grave this way, unattended? Yet certainly
   there are some bright spots, and when you listen to the laughter
   in the middle of these it makes for more than a cosmetic truth, an invitation
   to chivalry ringed by the dump fires of our deliberate civilization that has
   got some things going for it---that invented neighborliness, for instance?
   Then the paltry painted guest goes away, leaving behind the screed
   she omitted to read. What’s in it for us? Out of this school was sucked a philosophy
   that didn’t impel to action. A back-burner sort of thing. But if people had but
   kept track of it that would have been something, someone could have framed
   a memorandum. But they quickly find out what the traffic will bear
   and are soon asleep in the midst of it, and the next call to action is considered passe
   and no one will believe you represent the right cause. A piece of webbing
   is nailed to the ground; ring-grass
   invades its orient extremity; even these criteria have to be put away
   until later. The hangar gets unbearably hot and very smelly.
   Meanwhile the new green cascades silently and as it were invisibly.
   Something has been said. You’re right about that. But no two people
   can agree on what it means, as though we were sounding boards
   for each childish attempt at wireless communication the gods can invent,
   and so return to our refectory. But I didn’t know but what if I
   didn’t hang around a little longer the thrust
   would be vouchsafed to me this time and of course as its public
   repository I would use it to further the interests of all men and women,
   not just some. And it left the same message. It was as though
   it never got my previous message. Sure, I’m still not yet compromised
   but there was so much in those fierce screens that ought to have lived
   as an example to conceal more and then to have it break out of control and be put
   down again if ever I could will myself to wish it, instead of lingering
   like a daisy on muck. Take out my tricycle for a spin and return it
   before anyone missed me. Yet, as I said,I didn’t know. The old men at the urinal
   spat, not wanting word to get out. All my links with a certain past were severed.
   I let fall the book I had been reading,The Radiator Girls at Strapontin Lodge,
   as so much gift to the giver of idiosyncrasies which when adopted
   sift down like bran on rutted earth to accumulate
   in whorls, and I thought how I could give no account
   of these latest days. It was as though I had gone through a bout of amnesia.
   Now I was ready to put the gloves on again, but wasn’t it too late?
   Wasn’t the amnesty or amnesia of my own decreeing and applicable not even
   to one, to me, and in that case weren’t we all excused
   from class? And yet the board of governors certified me; I became a vicious citizen,
   not even to blame for what ills dunces harbored
   in God knows what unimaginable slums, for as long as I chose to occupy my seat
   cooperating with the forces of eternal law and order yet unwilling
   to compromise friends, neighbors, orderlies, the giraffe at the zoo,
   who even now moves toward me on unbending legs,
   though his designs are far from clear.From whatever is happy and not
   unholy, lead: the plan of the porch is quite an obvious one, and you know
   what sliding doors mean and wherefore gutters conduct rain
   to the abject earth, and turn around and absorb the shock of hearing the truth
   told, once more, on an unforgettable day in early June,
   which shall be all we need ever know of hearing quarrels inside out and then
   reversing them so the abstract argument is pure and just again, a joy to many.
   How much luckier I am, though, than they, who can see where I’m stumbling to during the day
   and can rein in at night, between hedges. It’s like
   dangling far above the city streets, a kind of peace if you don’t spoil it
   by losing patience. Sure enough, other fun began while I was gone, a kind of imaginative
   recycling of the days I’d crumpled and tossed out, and then their
   dated shenanigans came to
   seem crisp and well-presented,focussed, cropped; none of the “careful draftsman” in me could
   cavil at that. Besides it was nice just being outdoors with something to say. An excuse
   like a birthmark arose and flowered, still swimming upward past
   the layers of the different civilizations, to Sun Lake. I could trundle my shopping cart past
   the wicket and still be there, off the hook. I don’t mind being mesmerized even for
   fairly long periods but this was like playing tic-tac-toe with an automated
   stone saint; the mock-orange note in it was strong and I’d come, I
   remembered, chiefly to see my own reflection. Now, where was I? Where’d I put that
   ticket of readmission to the bathers, who by this time were streaming out
   in twos and threes. “Show us how to open a book like that.” We gave them coffee
   when it didn’t go fast enough. Things seemed to pick up after that, though I felt a twinge:
   was it going to do it for me, this time, and them? Might we be forced to split up,
   and if so, which half of the ladder is left standing? You don’t want to hear it. And still
   the cloister extends, deeper and deeper into the dream of everyday life that was our
   beginning, and where we still live, out in the open, under clouds stacked up in a holding pattern
   like pictures in a nineteenth-century museum: forgive us
   our stitch of frivolity in the fabric of eternity if only so that others
   can see how shabby the truth isn’t and make their depositions accordingly, regulating
   the paths over which we have no control now, speaking out of concentrated
   politeness into an ear which wishes to hear, but once we have finished
   what we had to say (and we have nothing to say) the moment and any afterthoughts are scooped up
   as though by a steam shovel and deposited over there, not out of sight.
   And the contentious are sometimes with us as a smooth pavane on glassy but profoundly
   turbulent waters. How to keep it going
   when all is trembling violently anyway, the air and all things in it? Shouldn’t we
   abandon them? But no these are
   pointlessly fussy caveats sunk, so as to test one, in the great gray
   fabric of the unwinding highway: don’t let its apparent dignity fool you, and besides
   they’re free, and can and do say whatever they want to you; that doesn’t
   mean you have to respond in kind, but it helps. Someone is working on it,
   providing heat in summer and air conditioning in winter, and get-well
   notes arrive in every post; the top
   of the volcano has been successfully glued back on, and who is to say we aren’t
   invited? The invitation, after all, arrived too, that was your name
   beautifully chiselled into it. And ideas like fire
   struck too quickly from flint seem to matter: your house or my house,
   this time?I really think it’s my turn but the variations don’t let you proceed along one footpath normally; there are
   too many ways to go. I guess that’s what I meant. Why I was worried,
   all along, I mean, though I knew it was superfluous and that you’d love me for it
   or for anything else as long as I could sort out the strands that brought us together
   and dye them for identification purposes further on, but you
   didn’t have to remain that generalized. A few anomalies
   are a help sometimes, confetti that gets lost in the cracks
   of some conversation and then you have to take it back again to the beginning
   and start all over again, but that’s normal, it’s no cause for alarm. there are
   more people out there than before. If you can think constructively, cogently,
   on a spring morning like this and really want to know the result in advance, and can
   accept the inroads colorful difficulties can sometimes make as well as all the
   fortunate happening, the unexpected pleasures and all that, then there’s no reason not to
   rejoice in the exterior outcome, sudden
   mountain-face, the abrupt slide
   into somewhere or other. It will all twist us
   closer together, under heaven, and I guess that’s what you came about. See these
   polished stones? I want them and I want you to have them. It’s time, now.
    

  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-3 22:22:07 | 显示全部楼层
  
就这样,真的。所有的绒毛如何插入星光室中的钻石
   有助于令人信服的阅读,就像标题“眼中钉,”尽管归入它的东西,
   例如,“南希的吊坠”,是一个明显混合的袋子。正确的行走必须被中止
   纠结的希望必须恢复到它在尽责奉献的等级中的正确位置
   这样它才对“像我们这样的人”有根本意义,被踢到车厢的
   后部。我们谈论的是猫。我说你应该有一只
   与其说是为了陪伴,不如说是为了不让它从袋子里出来的极端迫切需要,
   如果你有幸也有一只的话。你总是感谢
   我的建议,即使我看到它们没有润色得太好,这就是
   其中的一次。我们又聊了一些关于猫和其他宠物的事
   然后以一个和蔼可亲的音调,我称之的一个,分手了。在接下来的
   几个星期里,没有任何消息,广播里什么都没有,我们称之为无线的东西。你可能会想到
   像“搜寻失踪女孩”这样的诗行可能出现在报纸上,但实际情况
   并非如此。一场对峙。一个含义如此奇怪的幽灵,它违抗
   …分类。否则,他的豆子是如何烹调的
   对他来说完全没有区别。事实上,他似乎每天都对周围的环境
   失去兴趣。我记得在我的一份报告中包括了这一点。如果他要指甲锉
   那就是开玩笑地戳枕头,或者偶尔帮他擦指甲,
   但从来不锉指甲。有一次,我甚至看到他倒着看侦探小说。
   我太烦恼,没有把“那些”包含在我的报告中,正如你可能想象的那样。他暗地里
   哄骗我们;年长的护士更容易受到影响。如果他想
   停止旁观,在替补席,那对我来说没关系,但我不明白为什么“我”应该期望
   签署释放他的命令。除此之外,我有别的,更重要的,事情要做,此外。
   修好那块漆只是其中之一,但你明白我的意思了,
   我恐怕,那么我传统上也是一个放纵、温和的人,
   如果天气好的话,我不想下午去打高尔夫球
   因为在这片寒冷的土地上很少。当我问起有人带来的
   新监视器,我不期望同一天会有启示说有必要规划
   人们的领土,但它来了,除此之外口袋里带着一场飓风。
   当没有人赌马时,有马要喂,
   马夫的住处要收拾得井井有条,制服要熨---这一切都像
   很多深情的孩子一样涌上我的心头。幸运的是,面对
   时间的要求,我已经足够大,能够保持理智。即使是电脑
   有时也会被激怒。现在我对“轻松生活”更感兴趣,
   尽管我比以往任何时候都更感到需要保持形象,用最新的电子“意外收获”
   给邻居留下深刻印象。然而,我一刻也没有放弃
   我的防御。我是一些人会称之为“冷酷”的人,尽管
   我真的是一只藏在朴素外表下的小猫咪。说到猫,你最后一次
   和一只猫说话,叫它的名字是什么时候?在外面的大草原上一切都太安静
   虽然我们彼此都认识,并不时分享
   应对孤独和不忠的记忆和策略。从某种意义上说
   这是一种生活,或者说,你会毫不费力地意识到这一点,但我想知道,
   它们最终会如何适合我?我的鸟笼会不会披上
   一些昂贵的“自由”面料,暗示永恒的和平,就像我已经习惯了
   活泼的茶话会和展品一样
   有些太过吸引人了,但是当你
   思考它,一点布丁有什么毛病?撒上椰子,也许?
   然后在晚上你开始工作,但你不能想得更清楚。
   在这里,没有雾气来告诫人们,也没有椒盐卷饼棒,
   人们非常清楚自己想要成为什么样的人
   并且可以想象在任何地方都有一种更奇特的存在。这必须在这里中断
   因为事情确实中断了:这很有趣。爱,
   人类的台球桌。
  
  
  
   
   So that’s it, really. How all that fluff got wedged in with the diamonds in the star chamber
   makes for compelling reading, as does the heading “Eyesores,” though what comes under it,
   e.g.,“Nancy’s pendant,” is a decidedly mixed bag. The proper walk must be aborted
   and tangled hope restored to its rightful place in the hierarchy of dutiful devotions
   for it to matter at all to “the likes of ” us, and get booted to the rear
   of the compartment. We were talking about cats. I said you should have one
   not so much for companionship as for the extreme urgency of not letting it out of the bag,
   if you should be so lucky as to possess one of those too. You always thank me
   for my suggestions even when I can see they haven’t gone over too well, and this
   was one of those times. We chatted some more about cats and other pets
   and then parted on an amiable note, what I would call one. And all during the succeeding
   weeks there was no word, nothing on the radio, what we call the wireless. You’d think a line
   like “HUNT missing girl” might have turned up in the papers, but the actual situation
   was otherwise. A standoff. A phantom so strange in its implications it defies
   ...classification. Otherwise, how his beans were cooked
   made absolutely no difference to him. In fact he seemed to lose interest in his surroundings
   daily. I remember including that in one of my reports. If he asked for a nail file
   it would be to stab playfully at the pillow, or occasionally to clean his nails,
   never to file them. Once I even saw him reading a detective novel upside down.
   I was too upset to include that in my report, as you may imagine. And secretly he
   wheedles favors out of us; the older nurses are more susceptible. If he wants to
   wind up sidelined, in the dugout, that is OK with me, but I don’t see why I should be expected
   to sign the warrant for his release. I have other, more important, things to do,besides.
   Getting that bit of lacquer repaired is just one of them, but you get my drift,
   I fear, then too I’ve traditionally been the indulgent, mild-mannered one,
   who thought nothing of taking an afternoon off to play golf if the weather was right
   as it is so seldom in this inclement land. When I asked about the new monitors
   someone brought in I wasn’t expecting a sermon on the necessity of staking out one’s
   territory the very same day, but there it came, with a hurricane in its pocket for good measure.
   And when no one was betting on horses, there were the nags to feed,
   the grooms’ quarters to be kept in proper order, liveries to be pressed---it all came
   gushing down on me like a bushel of affectionate children. It is lucky I am
   old enough to keep my head, faced with the demands on my time. Even a computer
   would get riled sometimes. Now I am more interested in “easy living,”
   though more than ever feeling a need to keep up appearances, impress the neighbors
   with the latest electronic trouvaille. Yet I never let down my defenses
   for a moment. I am what some people would call “hard,” though
   I’m really a pussycat underneath the austere facade. Speaking of cats, when was the last
   time you spoke to one, calling it by its name? Out here on the prairie things are much too quiet
   though we all know each other and share memories and stratagems
   for coping with loneliness and disloyalty from time to time. In some ways
   it’s a life, or something you’d have no difficulty recognizing as such, but I wonder,
   how are they going to fit me in at the end? Will my birdcage be draped
   with some expensive Liberty fabric to suggest eternal peace, just as I was getting used
   to the lively round of tea-parties and exhibits
   some are over-attached to, but when you think
   about it, what’s wrong with a little pudding? Sprinkled with coconut, perhaps?
   And then in the evening you get down to business, but you can’t think clearer then.
   Here there is no mist to admonish one, no pretzel sticks either,
   and one knows very well what one wants to be
   and can imagine a fancier existence anywhere. This has to get broken off here
   for the reason things do get broken off: it’s amusing. Love,
   The Human Pool Table.
    

  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-4 19:05:14 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-12-4 22:14 编辑




   有时,为了激发对其他标题的兴趣,我们
   尝试鼓励不同的角度,比如近东有围墙的,秘密花园,
   整天都落在盆里的蓝花楹花瓣。一小时一小时地,
   像洋葱皮一样一个接一个地剥落,但总有更多:
   一些曲线在前方。事实上
   我们从来没有看到过能看到的所有
   有利于商业的东西:公众不断回归
   在品牌忠诚度迅速削弱的这些日子里,所以你可以说:我打了他,
   我的竞争对手,现在我准备再次与他做生意:这
   就是我们所处的有趣的气候,一切
   冲击一分钟,下一分钟则一切充满微笑和惊喜。我想我会有东方鸡肉沙拉。我会
   打赌,七个客户中你没有一个,能够识别出这一点,尽管全世界都知道,
   这是我手中掌握的成功的一把非常小的钥匙。当这个怪人
   回来的时候,我会粗鲁地再次提出这个问题,你就会明白。这里更
   凉爽;光线在窗户上形成了一层薄膜
   我第一次把它当作窗帘,不会磨损的皮疹。等等,现在
   他准备谈生意。先生,我掌握了
   你可能极感兴趣的真相,这是一件相当重要的事情。
   你能感受到,当湖水上涨,天鹅扑腾着翅膀离开
   去执行各种荒谬的任务,或者当电话铃响,你在拿起听筒之前
   听到他的声音,说:是我,我很高兴等着
   直到你有了不同的心情,因为这真的让一切变得不同;没有人
   会打电话给默默离去的女人,但在深夜里
   有横流的泪水,似乎有人分享你的神经质
   围绕接下来可能出现的尴尬停顿,一个激烈的行动计划到来:
   在不打搅勺子的情况下将桌布从满载的桌子上拂下只是其中的一部分。
   放弃强迫性洗手等习惯是另一个。因为你不知道
   他们的要求有多苛刻;只要他们在汽车港口,没有任何东西可以更接近你
   即使他们也无话可说
   也无法证明他们的存在。
   其他的乐趣是折叠枕头,悲伤地凝视着电子钟的表面
   这时一切都很自然地跳开了,可以看到
   潦草写着的人们在广场上向不同的方向踱步;有时
   一个人会抓住另一个人的头,然后放手:这是我的《经历
   奏鸣曲》,我为你写的。事情是这样的:第一个主题被宣布,
   然后被玩味了一会儿,然后去坐在那里。第二张脸很快就
   出现,看起来没有第一张那么吸引人,但当你了解它之后,你会发现
   它更深刻,不知何故更人性化,就像一位老太太平凡的面孔,她见多识广
   但从未对发生在她身上的任何事情发表过意见:事实上,
   这很特别。然后,手稿中出现了一个空白:
   它最后的片段似乎越走越远,就像
   海滩上的房子,一个人正乘着一艘疾驰的摩托艇离开:等等,尽管!
   我们不是正在接近它们吗?当然---我们一直在四处
   绕圈子,现在我们已经到了解决问题的地方。现在的风险
   很高,但你无法从事物阴郁的气氛中分辨出来:无聊的乌鸦、幼苗。
   然后,是什么激情
   让你跪下?突然间,你的整个脸都被泪水浸透,虽然没有人
   看见你哭泣。这种事让我回顾了到目前为止我的整个行动计划;四处寻找
   一块手帕给某人,对一个人有影响,我认为,你不认为吗?
   这将意味着熬夜,这反过来会打乱
   明天布局良好的计划,然后突然一切都以高潮,或白内障结束。
   我想这本应如此,尽管我现在不能确定,发生了这么多;
   它在录音带上会更好看,反正是我想放的地方,所以我想
   我们现在可以回家,每个人都到自己的床上,因为我们每个人都有一个:这就是“所谓的一夜”的意思。
   但我从来没有想过要打扰任何事情,也没有想过要伤害你的一根头发:那对我们的开端来说
   是错误的,没有什么能经得起那些,我的意思是没有什么好处。

   随着它的建立,权力也发生了变化,但在
   同一个方向上,它在很久以前就不经意地瞄准了,在我们中的任何一个人都参与到
   我们现在考虑的生活中去之前,当它自由时。这种压力仍在增长,稳步地,
   尽管有许多场景是为了喜剧调剂而上演的,而且经典的议程仍在
   重新制定,当人们聚在一起时。不完全是二十世纪晚期的恐慌,但它几乎
   无法证明的简单区别却令人清醒。所有我们认识的人和我们
   唱的歌都站在我们这边,不知不觉地
   和我们一起沉入《老家庭周》。除非不是这样。我们看不到这些问题的
   根源;它们比我们长得快;这使得教堂的眼睛在最后睁开时
   更加明亮。与此同时,在纽约肮脏的天空上,一种怀疑像宝石一样
   悬挂着,一种忧郁的瓜色,可能是天堂里哀悼的
   正确阴影,使我们所说的一切都背着我们挖坑。为什么,就在那里,“非书面的”过程中,
   只有我感觉不太好。我只想专注于那些你从来没有
   被允许培养一种口味的国家,但我没有理由去任何地方,
   站在你的立场上,每个地方似乎都像其他每个地方一样
   非常乏味,我已经习惯了生活,就像牙痛;我能忍受
   即将到来的一切,但这并不意味着我不必喜欢它。有些早晨是非常愉快的:
   佛罗伦萨的奇迹从天上滴落下来,当小爱神带着野餐篮降落到
   上釉的草地上,我不必问你认为灯塔,或金发仓库
   有多近:你会在里面找到我。要求太多
   想要被爱,只是一点点,然后满足于那些?当然不是,
   但是到处都是警察。你甚至不能点一杯酒而不会感觉到其中一个人在你脖子上
   呼吸。你毫不吝惜地道歉,你像那个可笑的傻瓜。
   哪里写着男人下午必须不戴帽子出门?





     Sometimes to stimulate interest in other titles we
   try to encourage a different angle such as the Near East with its walled, secret gardens,
   jacaranda petals that fall all day into the basin. And the hours,
   peeled off one after the other like onion skin, yet there is always more:
   some curve up ahead. In fact
   we never see all there is to see
   which is good for business too: keeps the public returning
   these days of swiftly eroding brand loyalty, so you can say: I beat him up,
   my competitor, and now I’m ready to do business with him again: such
   is the interesting climate we live in, all
   shocks one minute, all smiles and surprises the next. I think I’ll have the chicken salad oriental. I’ll
   wager you haven’t one client in seven who can identify this, though the whole world knows of it,
   this quite tiny key to success I hold in my hand. When the codger
   returns I’ll brusquely bring the question up again and you’ll see. It’s cooler
   over here; the light forms a film at the windows
   I first took for a curtain, a rash that won’t wear off. Wait, now
   he’s ready to talk business. I have, sir, a handle on the truth
   that could be of keen interest to you, a matter of considerable importance.
   You can feel it when the lake is up and swans go flapping off
   on various absurd errands, or when the phone rings and you hear his voice
   before picking up the receiver, saying, It’s me, I’m glad I waited
   till you were in a different frame of mind, for truly this makes all the difference; no one
   calls the woman who walks silently away, but later in the night
   there are twists of tears and it seems as if someone shares your nervousness
   about the awkward pauses that might ensue and has arrived at a plan of drastic action:
   whisking the tablecloth off the laden table without disturbing a spoon is only part of it.
   Giving up habits like compulsive handwashing is another. Because you have no idea how
   imperious their demands are; nothing can get closer to you as long as they are in the car-port
   even though they too have nothing to say
   and cannot justify their existence.
   Other pleasures are folding the pillow and gazing mournfully into the face of the electric clock
   when everything springs apart quite naturally and scrawled forms of people
   are seen pacing the square in different directions; sometimes
   one will hold on to another’s head and then let go: it’s my Sonata
   of Experience, and I wrote it for you. Here’s how it goes: the first theme is announced,
   then fooled around with for a while and goes and sits over there. Soon the second
   arrives, less appealing than the first or so it seems but after you get to know it you find
   it deeper and somehow more human, like the plain face of an old lady who has seen much
   but who has never been known to utter an opinion on anything that happens to her: quite
   extraordinary, in fact. Then comes a hiatus in the manuscript:
   the last bits of it keep seeming to move farther and farther away, like houses
   on a beach one is leaving in a speeding motorboat: wait, though!
   isn’t that them we’re approaching now? Of course---we had been going around in a circle
   all the time, and now we have arrived at the place of resolution. The stakes are high
   now, but you couldn’t tell it from the glum air of things: bored crows, seedlings.
   And then, what passion
   brought you to your knees? Suddenly your whole face is bathed in tears, though no one
   saw you cry. This kind of makes me review my whole plan of action up to now; fishing around
   for a handkerchief to hand someone does that to a person, I think, don’t you?
   And it will mean staying up later which in turn will screw up
   tomorrow’s well-laid plans, and then suddenly everything ends in a climax, or a cataract.
   I think this is the way it was supposed to be, though I can’t be sure now, so much has happened;
   it will look better on a cassette, which is where I wanted it anyway, so I guess
   we can go home now, each to his own bed, for each of us has one: that’s what “calling it a night” means.
   But I never meant to disturb anything, or harm a hair on your head: that would have been false
   to our beginnings, and nothing could stand up to that, nothing good I mean.


  As it builds, the power changes too, but in the
   same direction it was carelessly aimed in long ago, before any of us got involved
   with what we now consider our living, when it was free. And the strain grows, steadily,
   though there are many scenes played for comic relief and the classic agendas are still
   re-enacted when people get together. Not quite late-twentieth-century panic, but sobering in its
   simple difference which can scarcely be demonstrated. All the people we knew and the songs
   we sang are on our side, sinking imperceptibly
   along with us into Old Home Week. Except it’s not. And we cannot see the bottom
   of these issues; they have outgrown us; which made the eye in the church shine even brighter
   when it finally opened. Meanwhile, over the scruffy skies of New York, a doubt hangs
   like a jewel, a melancholy melon-color that could be the correct shade of mourning
   in heaven, pitting all that we said against us. Why, it’s right there in the proces verbal,
   only I don’t feel too good. I just want to be absorbed in countries you were never
   allowed to develop a taste for, yet I have no reason to go anywhere,
   to be at your side, every place seems as mortally insipid
   as every other place, and I’ve got used to living, like a toothache; I can stand
   what’s coming, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to like it. Some mornings are quite pleasant:
   a Florentine wonderment drips from the sky as putti with picnic baskets descend
   to the enameled sward, and I don’t have to ask you how near you think that lighthouse is,
   or the blond warehouse: you find me in them. Is it asking too much
   to want to be loved, just a little, and then to be satisfied with that? Of course not,
   but the police are everywhere. You can’t even order a drink without feeling one of them breathing
   down your neck. And you apologize profusely, like the ridiculous twit you are.
   Where is it written that men must go out in the afternoon without a hat?





 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-6 22:04:01 | 显示全部楼层
  

   在现实世界中,事情进展得和预期的一样好,也就是说,
   不太令人满意。我们在我们的计算中被欺骗了,
   但仍然可以挽救一些东西,比如体面的报酬和自尊。但在许多方面
   现在的情况有所不同。甚至海岸线也发生了变化,
   围绕长期经营的主要对抗的保护性真空包装也不再是
   强制性的。其中一个人坐在一种曾经是厨房餐桌的格子图案旁,
   此时外面的蜂箱爆炸了,嗡嗡的昆虫声使空气变暗了,我们以为我们知道
   高中毕业的那一年,但一切都在一种烦躁的恍惚中暂停着。
   只是,我知道我想去哪里:去南方的一些山,那里覆盖着松林
   和蔓生植物。在那里,沉默使你愿意去做你想知道的事,而又
   完全不知道它是否好的事。
   在这里,曲线优美的岩石挥舞着我们;“把我放下!”的尖叫声
   在这场愚蠢的泰坦之战中,仅仅是优雅的音符。奇怪的是,一些便利设施确实存在,
   似乎足以揭穿如此多发恶臭的混乱的谎言,因为它没有颠覆
   一切,因此可能不是它在天空中的旗帜所宣称的那样:
   通过小溪散步,例如。然而,通过使所有生物都变成不同的东西,
   而不一定是它们的反面,所提议的分岔及时地导致了不可能的
   极端,人们永远不能省略预期的温和结果,这归因于产生它们的
   中心梦幻般的想象。波浪,就像地图上的天气气流,
   在我们上方飘荡凝结,就像“天空中长着天鹅翅膀的马,
   鬃毛中带着夏天的音乐”,免除了地图向自己呈现的所有责任,
   作为阅读向导,取而代之的只是提供点燃了精神手淫的
   空洞熏香,很久以前,这是面包,是现在的宫殿,
   一个无法照顾自己的时代。每年夏天都明显减少,但里根
   政府坚持说,我们不能上天堂,如果不在死亡谷的地板上
   喝烧碱,只要其他人付了房租,有地方可以不假思索地去,
   在关闭所有业务的大幕后,没关系,我
   喜欢裸体做家务,看不出有什么不对,
   也不觉得羞耻。政府离开后我会没事的;它的
   警察国家可能不承认我,或者,如果承认,可能只是耸耸肩。我到底想要什么,
   无论如何?除了兑现我的联邦保险单,就这些。但和往常一样,生活是一个黑鸟
   缓慢飞翔的梦,那些来到你家门口需要帮助或只是
   想攻击你的人的梦,于是他们可以走开,说已经取得了联系,这是
   你在桶里的日子。
   无论如何,我们中那些在事情结束之前确实控制了
   我们个人事务的人显然不会作证。我们会说什么?
   我们面对着怪物,眼球对眼球,先眨了眨眼睛,但只是
   在一段适当的时间过去之后,然后在抛出窗外成为问题之前
   才被免除完成检查的责任?我原以为我知道你和
   每个人都能对我做的一切,但这一间断是独特的,我不知道如何像盲文一样
   阅读它,必须永远留在我的恳求后面,玩忽职守,
   直到一个孩子向我解释这一切。如果还不晚的话
   我会在山景下哭泣。但是说,
   你要去哪里,为什么要走那条路?哦,我会没事,如果
   你闭嘴,不要看太多狗的照片。毕竟,
   那笨蛋说他想把它带走,而且在后院里,所以我怎么知道
   即使是这种看似放纵的行为也会有地狱般的代价?十四年后
   我是怎么逃走的?恐怕这是你必须为回答的人保留的一个,再说,
   我的时间到了,没有太可怕的事情发生,只有云、风、石头,有时
   还有远处的引擎,在晨雾中呼啸着,在其他人起床之前,但我能看到它。
   它隐藏地展开。“但是有梦要卖,你确实买了厄运:”
   不是男人走路,女人坐在卫生间,大号演奏者拧下
   乐器的吹口吹进去,不是花盆里盛开的杜鹃花;而是三个警察和那个男人
   搔着腹股沟,转身对一个你看不见的人说些什么;那些
   在野餐会上走到你跟前的女人,等着你亲热地
   吻她们的脸颊;里约的行进乐队,和新奥尔良的行进乐队,他们
   对音乐非常熟悉,边走边演奏;你称之为紫罗兰二重唱队员的
   非洲紫罗兰,白色、粉色和蓝色,在北方的窗户里表现得很好:这些,为了克服你的困难,
   你可能已经掌握并完成了很多其他的事情,不仅仅是把自己从一个
   稍有任性的孩子变成一个成熟而有教养的成年人,有很多
   值得称赞的书,还有更多的项目正在进行中;还有一个被睡眠污染的
   不吸引人的梦想家,他在这些东西躲避他时抓住它们,在其他东西
   没有躲避他时抓住它们,一直在嘴里痛饮着一个的味道。健忘,
   你挂上听筒让别人通过:在你的花园里
   可能不仅有很多混乱,而且也有一些注意力集中的东西在生长,现在飘忽不定,
   因为缺乏来自你的方向而挣扎。我们甚至在从这里成扇形散开的
   高大房屋中也能看到:每间都有它的家人
   他们与你关系不太大,但休战提供给了他们,他们错过了它
   因为对你的考虑不当;然后,在靠近城镇的山谷中
   倾斜而下的黑暗森林中,城镇的空旷地带你可以居住
   只要占有它们,在谈话中;浩瀚的、灰绿色的海洋不时打断
   飞驰的白浪,这是一个谜,而且将永远保持如此,但你本可以
   在适当的时候向那些人讲话,至少,在一些记得的地址中
   包括他们,这样就为你别的徒劳行为保留了一点正义,召唤出
   昏昏欲睡的灵魂,“出自地狱黑暗的阴霾,天堂的蓝色大厅”,适应它们,即使
   你坐在我身边,阅读或听音乐。因此,时候放松一下
   即使如此。很滑稽,不是吗?你名单上的最后一件事,现在
   正在接近它,即使下午为晚上腾出空间,那时我们所有的
   愿望都会平静下来。如果没有邮件到来,没有母鸡咯咯叫,
   那么这一切就好像发生了一样。为什么?因为它已经完成了。难道你没有
   看到光,正看到光吗?现在你看到了,现在你没看到,
   大概是对的,放弃了所有的欲望,所有的希望。
   有试穿新衣服的时间。
   然而,那些鬼魂仍然对你叫醒他们感到愤怒,如果这是你干的。
   “梦到一个梦去撬动”---要去的路,托马斯.L。重要的不是呕吐物如何
   在道路上结壳,爵士曲弯曲的卷轴如何受到惩罚——天哪,这是你的时间,
   所以变换你的衣服,弄好。“这是某事的一个例证”。
   人们从来都不想谈论的东西---巨石阵。去年,是幽灵的
   呼吸让你心烦,合并它---不会有第二次机会
   除了一位老汉说的,静静地坐在咖啡桌旁,眼睛挡住了光线。
   一阵留声机音乐不时地转向进入百叶窗。在那些日子和
   那个时候,你必须有一个姐妹和一个兄弟,并且知名。现在,任何人都
   可以玩,但是风险,唉,要高得多。很少有人
   能承受得起损失。然而,你会看到兄弟,和儿子们,陷入它的诱惑中,
   用新衣服换食物,简言之,做所有你被警告过的事情,
   比如和陌生人交谈。我喜欢这样。我只希望他们中有更多的人听我说,但他们
   也有自己的事情要处理,尽管看起来很稀奇,即使你一看到他们中的一个
   就流口水,而他却匆匆忙忙,毫无感觉。他们晚上回来,
   一旦他们知道他们已经拥有你,或者可以拥有你,然后开始不受约束地
   争吵。您想要一件胸饰前襟与此一起穿吗?当然你不想要,
   但这并不能阻止他们中没人尝试扮演开膛手,比正在拉的大便
   更像反着拉出的大便,那么他们就“确实”站起来了,这可能是一个地狱般的景象,
   特别是对于那些不习惯它的人来说。我喜欢坐在这里“休息”我的眼睛。
   通常我的预感是好的,但上周他们中的一个来了,他们总是
   向你要些东西,乞求一点果酱或一些绳子,一旦你给了
   你就在他们的力量范围之内。但你知道“那些”。然后,有趣的事情正式开始,雨从四面八方
   飘下来,砧板的声音,你机械地想到玛丽.斯图亚特和
   简.格雷小姐,当然,手拿着帽子,紧握着你的额发 。我不知道这座城市的
   雾气和烟雾已经笼罩了多久,可怕的热气,从下水道中冒出来,
   看起来像是新烤的黄油面包卷的气味。然后你必须再去
   填写一份新的申请表,因为它们错放了第一份。
   “我们夜莺
   发自内心地大胆歌唱,所以请听我们说”:
  
  
  
      
   In the real world things were going along about as well as could be expected, that is,
   not quite satisfactorily. We were deceived in our reckoning,
   but could still salvage some things like a decent emolument and self-respect. But in many ways
   things were different now. Even the coastline had changed,
   and the protective vacuum-packing around long-established major confrontations was no longer
   mandatory. One sat at a kind of grillwork that used to be the kitchen table,
   while outside hives exploded and buzzing insects darkened the air and we thought we knew
   the year we graduated from high school,yet everything was suspended in an agitated trance.
   Only, I knew where I wanted to go: to some mountains in the south covered with pine forests
   and creeper. There, the silence causes you to will what you wanted to know without
   exactly knowing if it was OK.
   Here, curvaceous rocks brandish us; the squeals of “Put me down!”
   are mere grace-notes in this battle of stupid titans. Strangely, a few amenities do survive,
   enough to seem to give the lie to so much stinking chaos which, since it hasn’t overturned
   everything, is therefore perhaps not what its pennant in the sky proclaims it to be:
   walks by creeks, for instance. Yet by enabling all creatures to become something different,
   not necessarily their opposite, the proposed bifurcating leads in time to impossible
   extremities one could never apostrophize anticipating a benign outcome due to the dreamlike
   imaginings at the center that produced them. Waves, like weather currents on the map,
   drift and coagulate above us, like “the swan-winged horses of the skies,
   with summer’s music in their manes,” absolving the map of all responsibility to present itself,
   to be read as a guide, and offering in its stead only the inane fumes of incense
   spiritual masturbation set alight, long ago, and this is the bread, the palaces of the present,
   a time that cannot tend itself. Each year the summer dwindles noticeably, but the Reagan
   administration insists we cannot go to heaven without drinking caustic soda on the floor
   of Death Valley as long as others pay their rent and have somewhere to go without thinking,
   behind the curtain of closing down all operations. It’s all right, I
   like doing the housework naked and can see nothing wrong with it,
   nor do I feel ashamed of it. I’ll be all right when the government goes away; its
   police state may not recognize me, or, if it does, may just shrug. What can I want,
   anyway? Besides cashing in my federal insurance policy, that is. But as usual life is a dream
   of blackbirds slowly flying, of people who come to your door needing help or merely
   wanting to attack you so they can go away and say contact was made and it’s
   your day in the barrel.
   Those of us who did manage to keep control over our personal affairs
   before it was all over are obviously not going to testify anyway. What would we have said?
   That we confronted the monster eyeball to eyeball and blinked first but only
   after a decent interval had elapsed and were then excused from completing the examination
   before defenestration became an issue? I thought I knew all about you and everything
   everybody could do to me but this hiatus is sui generis and I know not how to read it
   like braille and must forever remain behind in my solicitations, derelict in my duties,
   until a child explains it all to me. And then I’ll weep
   at mountainscapes, if it isn’t too late. But say,
   where are you going, and why do you walk that way? Oh, I’ll be all right, provided
   you shut up and don’t read too much into the dog’s picture. After all,
   the mutt said he wanted it taken, and in the backyard, so how was I to know
   there’d be hell to pay for even this seeming indulgence? And how did I get away
   after fourteen years? I’m afraid that’s one you’11 have to save for the answer man, besides,
   my time is up and nothing too terrible has happened, only clouds, wind, stone, sometimes
   a distant engine, purring in the morning fog, before the others are up, but I can see it.
   It unwinds shelteringly.But there were dreams to sell, ill didst thou buy:
   not the man walking, the woman sitting on the toilet, the tuba-player unscrewing the mouthpiece
   of his instrument and blowing into it, not the azaleas blooming in tubs; but the three policemen and the man
   scratching his groin, turning to say something to someone you couldn’t see; the women
   who wandered up to you at a cookout,waiting for you to give them an affectionate
   peck on the cheek; the marching band in Rio, and the one in New Orleans, who knew
   the music very well, and played it as they walked; the African violets you called violettes
   du Cap, white, pink and blue, doing nicely in a northern window: these, for your trouble,
   you may have mastered and accomplished much else besides, not least turning yourself from a
   slightly unruly child into a sophisticated and cultivated adult with a number of books
   to his credit and many more projects in the works; as well as the unattractive dreamer,
   stained with sleep, who grasps at these as they elude him, and grasps at still others
   which elude him not, all the time swilling the taste of one in his mouth. Forgetful,
   you hang up the receiver allowing others to get through: in your garden
   there may have been much confusion but also attentive things growing, now cut adrift,
   floundering for lack of direction from you. And we see it even in the tall houses
   that fan out from here: each has its family
   who are not much concerned with you, but to whom a truce was offered, and who missed out on it
   because of misplaced consideration for you; and then in the dark forests that slant down
   ravines quite close to the town, whose emptiness you could have peopled
   merely by taking them up, in conversation; and the vast, greenish-gray seas punctuated
   with scudding whitecaps that are a mystery and will always remain so, but you could have
   addressed yourself to that, at least, included them in some memorial address
   at the proper time, and so saved a speck of righteousness for your otherwise unproductive antics, summoned
   dazed spirits “out of hell’s murky haze, heaven’s blue hall,” accommodated them even
   as you sat beside me, reading or listening to music. Thus, it becomes time to relax
   e’en so. Funny, isn’t it? The last thing on your list, and now
   it is being approached even as afternoon makes room for evening, when all our
   aspirations shall be quietened. And if no post arrives, no hens cluck,
   then it shall be just as if it had happened.Why? Because it’s completed. Don’t you
   see the light, seeing the light? Now you see it, now you don’t,
   is about right, having given up all lust, all hope.
   There is a time for trying on new clothes.
   Yet the spirits are still angry that you woke them, if that’s what you did.
   Dreaming a dream to prize---way to go, Thomas L. It matters not how puke-encrusted
   the areaway, how charged with punishments the jazz-inflected scroll---this is your time, by golly,
   so change your clothes and get it right. THIS IS AN ILLUSTRATION OF SOMETHING.
   What people never really wanted to talk about---Stonehenge. Last year it was a phantom’s
   breath upset you. Incorporate it---no second chance will be given
   but what an old man said, quietly sitting at a coffee table, eyes shielded from the light.
   A blast of gramophone music veers into the shutters from time to time. In those days and
   in that time you had to have a sister and brother and be known. Now anyone
   may play, but the stakes, alas, are much higher. Few
   can afford to lose. Yet you see brothers, and sons, caught in the lure of it,
   swapping new clothes for food, in short doing all the things you were warned against,
   like talking to strangers. I like that. I only wish more of ’em would listen to me, but they
   too have their business to attend to, curious as it seems, even as your mouth waters
   at the sight of one of them, who hurries on, unfeeling. It’s at night they come back,
   once they know they’ve got you, or can have you, and then the caterwauling begins
   unchecked. How would you like a plastron front to wear with this? Of course you wouldn’t,
   but that don’t keep none of them from trying to play the Ripper, more shitted against
   than shitting, so then they do rise up, and it can be one hell of a sight,
   especially for those unaccustomed to it. I prefer to sit here and “rest” my eyes.
   Usually my hunches are good, but last week comes one of’em, and they always
   asks you for something, begs a little jam or some string, and once you give it
   you’re in their power. But you knew that. Then the fun begins in earnest, blows rain
   down from all over, chopping-block sounds, you think mechanically of Mary Stuart and Lady
   Jane Grey, holding on to your forelock, cap in hand, of course. I don’t know how long
   the mist and smog have overlain this city, the dreaded heat, rising out of the sewers,
   that can seem like the odor of fresh-baked buttered rolls. Then you must go to it again
   and fill out a new application, for they have mislaid the first.
   We nightingales
   sing boldly from our hearts, so listen to us:
    

  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-7 00:21:15 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-12-7 11:20 编辑



   首先,一个萨克斯管四重奏告诉我,我们太多地活在
   别人的思想中,有太多未担保的资金存放在那里。

   你为什么在这里?你为什么尖叫?

   只有那一个告诉我一个新下的猫头鹰蛋是对抗
   牢骚的君主,现在我发现你也在这里。我已经发现你了。你似乎
   确信凶手是我们中的一员。为什么?是一个溺水的处女
   告诉你的吗,或者是一个叫蒂姆的马夫,或者是一只手拿着钩子的
   独眼干草打捆机?或者是别的东西---你
   从遥远的地方收到的一些信
   在那里,一切都是和平的,在松树的保护伞下,一条蛇仍然
   守护着金苹果?你把它封起来,
   穿过水面把它送回去,作为对那些
   不可知的东西的叹息吗?
   我会对你完全坦诚。尽管太阳易碎的烧焦的
   内脏已经掉落在那边山峰的后面,但还没有人走出来宣称
   职员答应的惊人数目。你知道,从来没有一个吟游诗人曾经
   背弃过誓言。直到今天,就是说。当松散的窗帘错乱地
   落下,我查明一只脚踝的轮廓,和切肉刀
   含铁的闪光。去找法官!告诉他你告诉我
   和你女儿的事!乞求他的怜悯!那么,如果你敢
   环顾四周,看看你突然产生出的对真诚的适应给人留下了什么样的印象。我敢和你打赌
   没有人离开房间,工具箱是空的!继续!试试看!里面最后一个
   是烂苹果,或者一只---一只鲣鸟。这是我最后的提议。把我拴在铁床上
   电击我,所以帮帮我,这就是你要从我身上得到的,让我的动脉硬化成
   黑曜石,当他们将,让大部分空瓶子
   流干,直到里面一滴也不剩。既然凶手被抓住了
   你可以把地图还给伊斯巴克先生。

   一点厌恶,
   一股谨慎的风,像猫一样
   轻轻地填塞你的腰,
   有说服力地劝说你停火,在里面人们可以读到
   很多,如果人们完全清醒并意识到,在其中明亮的火焰中
   地狱的蓟闪闪发光,一个里格左右的距离。玛丽,把那不在场证明
   留到你的自传里。给我端上新鲜饮料,我不喝了。
   他们越来越接近你在名单上的名字;现在,
   没有任何东西能去除这个污点。在老街区散散步怎么样?
   埃莉诺也在这里。你还记得埃莉诺。所以,很好,很容易,
   直到它变成像蛆,或鼻涕虫一样的东西,一种不成形和可怕的东西
   你可以顶嘴,甚至对之尖叫着谩骂---你有时间。与此同时,我们的球
   和驴开始蹒跚前行。但是爸爸们很渴望。
   他们都喜欢。也在宠物动物园里的那笨蛋,
   谁,什么,它是?



   两天前的晚上,我在抱怨我们最近的天气,
   抱怨怎么没有人能对它做任何事情---很像我喜欢的一样---
   我仍然很高兴,但今天发现干旱已经秘密安装了好几个星期:
   我们才刚刚开始感受到它的冲击。当然,会采取措施

   但这几乎不是问题的关键。它不会因此而更喜欢你。
   那泥浆呢?如果我们失去了它,我们就失去了一切。
   区别将不再模糊。生活中应该没有什么东西可以设法摆脱,
   没有什么软泥可以掉回。我们需要水,天知道,但是淤泥---到处都是,
   就像空气,一想到没有它甚至更可怕。
   就像一个必须很快被抛弃的家,它的地毯和墙纸看上去
   有点痛苦,没有我们地球将继续,留下我们在太空中等待
   一个永远不会到来的连接。不管怎样,我们应该活下来---我们一直都是这样---但泥浆和化妆品的
   代价是多少。必须采用
   不同的称呼方式。礼仪将变得苍白,一个人的生活情节
   就像一层薄薄的薄膜,其中,人们仍然可以识别
   把我们带到这里的形状,并引诱我们继续,但也更强大,到生存事业,
   这将破坏我们的普通聚会。
   我现在住在海底。
   但我仍然能感觉到一个陌生人
   即使在遥远的地方
   并数着仍有待正式定形的离别线索。

   后来,当我们在没有屋顶的室外房间里
   静静地远远交谈时,她发现了
   我的爱人:“嘿!即兴表演者!看来上帝的愤怒
   使我们俩都带入一根钉子下。我有我的钱。而你,我想,会飞过它
   像昔日我们一起知道的多风的三月和令人窒息的
   八月,也不会对曾经过去的它们感到遗憾,而是说,
   如果不是一些线,那就是一个象征,一张
   轻拍和爱抚的优惠券?难道这就是你对轻拍和爱抚的感激,
   像其他终有一死的蠢人一样死去吗?
   为什么,啊最亲爱的,不能保持你的双腿,
   那对神圣的双腿,对神圣的我来说是神圣的?” 为什么,那么,要冒险?
   为什么要追求它?不管怎样,我把它留在地下室了。
   所有这些时间都很烦躁,来来回回,首先等待
   第二天在街上看到结果。就像碰巧,是一位穿着
   黄色衣服、腿很好的女士,她转向我说:“你没有更好的事要做吗?”
   我想对她回嘴说:“是的!这些就是那些东西!让我们
   讨论一下你的腿!”但我知道她无法想象她自己
   会比分配的空间填满更多,一个给她,一个给她自己,
   所以我什么也没说,她继续走。“你”
   明白它,不过,不是吗?我的意思是,物体,包括人,如何可以是一个东西
   而意味着别的东西,因此这两个东西微妙地断开?我看不出
   一堆属性是如何用围裙带子松散地绑在标有“人”的衣架上
   四处走动的。这撞击我的心灵。不过,我知道你想解释它。
   是的,我喜欢它,但这并不意味着…




   First, a saxophone quartet told me we have lived too much
   in the minds of others, have too much unguaranteed capital on deposit there.

   Why are you here? Why did you scream?

   Only that one told me a new-laid owl’s egg is sovereign
   against the gripes, and now I find you here too. I have found you out. You seem
   convinced the killer is one of us. Why?Did a drowned virgin
   tell you that, or Tim the ostler, or the one-eyed hay-baler
   with a hook for a hand? Or was it something else---some letter
   you might have received from some distant land
   where all is peace under the umbrella-pines and a serpent guards
   the golden apples still? Seal it didst thou,
   to send it back across the water as a sigh
   to those unknowable?
   I’ll be perfectly frank with you. Though the sun’s crisply charred
   entrails have slumped behind yonder peak, no one has stepped forward to claim
   the amazing sum promised by the clerk. You know not one minnesinger has ever
   reneged on a pledge. Until today, that is. When by the loose curtain’s distracted
   fall I spy the contour of an ankle, and the ferrous glint
   of a meat-cleaver. Go to the judge! Tell him what you have told me
   and your daughter! Implore his mercy! Then if you dare
   look round to see what impression your sudden fit of sincerity hath produced. I’ll wager you
   no one leaves the room, and that the tool chest be empty! Go on! Try it! Last one in’s
   a rotten apple, or a---a booby. That’s my last offer. Chain me to the iron bedstead
   and electrocute me, so help me, that’s all you’re going to get out of me, harden my arteries
   to obsidian as they will, let the mostly empty bottles
   be drained till not one drop remaineth in them. Now that the killer is caught
   you can return the map to Mr. Isbark.

   A little loathing,
   a cautious wind that pads softly
   like a cat about thine loin
   and argues persuasively for a cease-fire,in which one might read
   much if one were wide awake and made aware, in whose bright fire
   hell’s thistle gleams, a league or so away. Marry, save that alibi
   for your autobiography. Serve me fresh drink^ I’ll drink on’t.
   They were getting closer to your name in the list; now,
   nothing will remove that stain. So how’s about a walk around the old neighborhood?
   Eleanor’s here too. You remember Eleanor. So, nice and easy,
   until it becomes something like grub, or a slug, something shapeless and horrible
   you can talk back to, even scream invective at---you’ve got the time. And meanwhile our balls and
   asses got to shamble on. But the daddies were keen on it.
   They all liked it. Yon dork in the petting zoo,
   Who, what, is it?



   Two nights ago when I was complaining about all the weather we’ve been having lately,
   and about how no one can do anything about it---much as I’d like to---
   I was still happy, but today it turns out the drought has been secretly installed for weeks:
   We’re only beginning to feel the brunt of it. Of course, measures will be taken

   but that’s scarcely the point. It won’t like you any better for it.
   And what about mud? If we lose it, we lose everything.
   Distinctions would no longer get muddied. There’d be nothing in life to wriggle out of,
   no ooze to drop back into. We need water, heaven knows, but mud---it’s so all over the place,
   like air, that the thought of its not being there is even scarier.
   Like a home that must be abandoned quickly, whose carpets and wallpaper get that faintly
   distressed look, earth would go on without us, leave us waiting in space
   for a connection that never comes.Somehow we’d survive---we always do---but at what cost
   of mud and cosmetics. Different forms of address
   would have to be adopted. Manners would become pallid, and the plot of one’s life
   like a thin membrane in which one can still recognize the shapes
   that brought us here, and lure us on, but stronger too, to survive business,
   and that would wreck our average partygoing.
   I live at the bottom of the sea now.
   But I can still sense a stranger
   even when far off
   and count the threads of partings still to be formalized.

   And later when we stayed talking quietly apart
   in the roofless outdoor room, she had discovered
   my beloved: “Well! Improvvisatore! It would seem God’s wrath
   has taken us both down a peg. I have my money. And you, I suppose, will wing it
   as in the past of windy Marches and stifling Augusts we have known
   together, nor regretted them once past, but say,
   if not some thread, a token then, a coupon
   for pats and fondlings? Was this thy gratitude for pats and fondlings,
   to die like any other mortal ass?
   And why, O dearest, could^t not keep thy legs,
   that sacred pair, sacred to sacred me?” Why, then, risk it?
   Why go after it? Anyhow, I left it in the crypt.
   And all that time was much fussing,to-ing and fro-ing, and above all waiting
   to see the result on the street next day.As it happened, it was a lady
   in yellow, with nice legs, who turned to me and said: “Haven’t you anything better to do?”
   I wanted to cry back at her: “Yes! And these are those things! Let’s
   discuss your legs!” But I knew she couldn’t imagine herself
   filling more than the allotted space, one for her and one for herself,
   so I said nothing, and she resumed her walking. You
   understand it, though, don’t you? I mean how objects, including people, can be one thing
   and mean something else, and therefore these two are subtly disconnected? I don’t see how
   a bunch of attributes can go walking around with a coatrack labeled “person” loosely tied
   to it with apron strings. That blows my mind. I see that you want to mean it, though.
   Yes, I love it, but that doesn’t mean...







 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-7 22:37:44 | 显示全部楼层
  

   
   一个叫克里斯汀的女孩问我为什么我在办公室里有这么多麻烦。
   只是我不喜欢接受下级的命令,而且
   还有这么多其他的,更好的事情要做!当航海家镇定地
   睡觉,漂浮,并互相吮吸阴茎时只是其中之一。
   旅游是另一件。迪纳尔!有过这样的地方吗?当你累了
   但还没有准备好回家时,你可以再次成为那个,把你拖到
   这里的人。我们在月光下坐在汽车的座位上
   做爱,除此以外没有太多。我是唯一的一个!
   这些冒险经历在我独自一人的时候就在我脑海中闪过
   我想我已经经历过了。但是你需要一个观众
   让它们达到第三维度。庄园里的幽灵
   不行,没有学龄前孩子。那天晚上在车里,虽然…
   然后我们爬下了一些岩石。那里有一个女孩谈到金融,谈到它将如何
   成为下一个最重要的事情。我什么也没说,但我想知道,当这种情况
   发生,我是否可以把我的故事带在身边,也许可以把它们读给其他人听
   他们会理解它们,在新的金融时代,能够更好地接受
   未来事物,像我这样的。假露珠点缀着她的睫毛,
   我意识到我们在这个时代并不比在其他任何时代好,也许
   除了冰河时代。如果我们总是要为彼此做事情如何
   那么我们为什么一定会错过重点,因为发生的事情,发生在拖车里
   我们真的比以往任何时候都不了解对方,这
   应该是我们的树,我们发生的碎片的东西。
   我的“身份”,在法语单词的意义上。每个人如何接受我
   如何知道他们会看到一个美好的景象。忘了它。这些都不重要
   除了我作为我对于别人是什么的东西。树木四处漂浮。阴茎勃起
   以及用它们干什么。但这是安排好的,所以你不能开始玩。
   知道这些规则并没有帮助,事实上,如果你不知道就更好。你必须
   已经在它“里面”。如果你不在,你可能会很快死去,或者花费未来的几十年
   碎裂。甚至和你自己脱节。
   我怎么能告诉他们这些…或者《没有监护的女郎》是我最喜欢的音乐片段?
   对不起。看,伙计们。为了不打搅我脆弱的生态平衡
   我可以给你讲一个故事。表达将恰到好处,因为它将调整到
   形式的要求,而形式本身将是永恒的,尽管
   迄今为止未受到质疑。它将把我们带到现在附近,
   虽然一些美丽的古语将被允许在其中飘荡---“抱怨”,
   就是一个。你会惊奇于你会因此而多么感动,但
   不会被诱惑去挑作者的毛病,因为做了如此出色的工作,这让
   他心甘情愿但却气喘吁吁的读者当旁观者,就像人们在乡村街道旁
   等待数小时,看越野自行车骑手穿着黄色
   或银色的制服疾驰而来,一切都结束得如此之快,以至于你都不能确定
   自己是否看到了,然后回家吃一盘普通香草冰淇淋。那些咬着我的声音,
   那些想成为追星族的人四处潜伏,在签名或是你的一根头发后,毫无疑问。
   事实上,没有必要担心作者的柔情,因为他一溜烟地走过
   看不到羞耻感,也没有必要担心他受伤的虚荣心,不是说你已经
   不够爱他,比任何作家应得的更多。他不会为此感谢你。
   但你也不要介意,因为他的文学作品将履行它的职责
   把你轻轻地放在一个新的地方,然后飞驰而去,在你
   有机会感谢它之前。我们给他找了一个新名字“作家”似乎
   完全不合适;然而它正在写着,你在知道它之前就读过了。此外,
   如果没写,它就不会做出意想不到的事情,这样做证明了它正是
   要做的一件事情,如果它发生在你身上,但不是
   你想象它会成为的那样,为什么这仍然
   被称为完成交易的一部分。他这样做
   就消除了你对他的永久债务。你自由了。你现在可以走了。
   但是最后一个单词总是作者的,所以你可能想更多点栖身于
   根据内容调整的形式的完善,反之亦然,朱庇特!畜栏的
   大门是开着的,他现在就在里面,在畜栏里一圈一圈地跑来跑去
   以一种阵发性的到达吸引着那小观众中的每一个成员的注意力。
    

  
  
  

   
   A girl named Christine asked me why I have so much trouble at the office.
   It’s just that I don’t enjoy taking orders from my inferiors, and besides,
   there are so many other, nicer things to be doing! Sleeping while the navigator
   is poised, adrift, and sucking each other’s dicks is only one.
   Travel is another. Dinard! Was ever such a place? And when you are tired
   but not yet ready to return home, you can be that person again, the one who dragged you
   here. And we made love on a car-seat
   in the moonlight, except there wasn’t much of it. And I was the only one!
   These adventures had passed through my head while I was alone
   and I thought I was having them. But you need an audience
   for them to reach the third dimension.Spooks in the manor
   won’t do, no pre-school-age children.That night in the car, though...
   Then we clambered down some rocks.There was a girl there who spoke of finance, of how
   It’s going to be the next most important thing. I said nothing, but wondered if I could
   take my stories with me when that happens, maybe read them to others
   who would appreciate them in the new financial age that offers better reception
   to things of the future, like mine. False dewdrops starred her eyelashes,
   and I realized we were no better off in this age than in any other, except
   perhaps the Ice Age. How if we are always going to be doing things for each other
   why then of course we’ll miss the point, since what happens, happens off in a trailer
   and we really know no more of each other than ever, and that is what
   ought to be our tree, our piece of happening.
   My standing, in the French sense of the word. How everybody accepts me
   and knows they are going to see a nice sight. Forget it. None of it matters
   except what I am as I am to others. Trees floating around. Hard-ons
   and what to do about them. But it is arranged so that you cannot begin to play.
   Knowing the rules doesn’t help, in fact it’s better if you don’t. You have to
   be in on it already. And if you aren’t you can die very quickly, or spend the decades
   shattered. Out of touch even with yourself.
   How can I tell them that.. .or that La Fille mal gardee is my favorite piece of music?
   I’m sorry. Look guys. In the interests of not disturbing my fragile ecological balance
   I can tell you a story about something. The expression will be just right, for it will be adjusted
   to the demands of the form, and the form itself shall be timeless though
   hitherto unsuspected. It will take us down to about now,
   though a few beautiful archaisms will be allowed to flutter in it ---“complaint,”
   for one. You will be amazed at how touched you will be because of it, yet
   not tempted to find fault with the author for doing so superlative a job that it leaves
   his willing but breathless readers on the sidelines, like people waiting for hours
   beside a village street to see the crosscountry bicycle riders come zipping through
   in their yellow or silver liveries, and it’s all over so fast you’re not sure
   you even saw it, and go home and eat a dish of plain vanilla ice cream. Noises that bit me,
   would-be fanciers skulking around, after an autograph or a piece of your hair, no doubt.
   And indeed there’s no point in worrying about the author’s tender feelings as he streaks along
   and sees no shame in it, nor any point in your concern for his injured vanity, not that you don’t
   already love him enough, more than any writer deserves. He won’t thank you for it.
   But you won’t mind that either, since his literature will have performed its duty
   by setting you gently down in a new place and then speeding off before
   you have a chance to thank it. We’ve got to find a new name for him “Writer” seems
   totally inadequate; yet it is writing, you read it before you knew it. And besides,
   if it weren’t, it wouldn’t have done the unexpected and by doing so proved that it was quite
   the thing to do, and if it happened all right for you, but wasn’t the way you
   thought it was going to be, why still
   that is called fulfilling part of the bargain. And by doing so
   he has erased your eternal debt to him.You are free. You can go now.
   But the last word is always the author’s so you might want to dwell a bit
   more on the perfections of form adjusted to content, and vice versa too, by Jove! The gate
   to the corral is open, and he’s in there now, running around and around it
   in a paroxysm of arrival that holds the attention of every last member of that little audience.
    

  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-8 11:18:27 | 显示全部楼层



   我们对这种语言很感兴趣,你称之为呼吸,
   如果呼吸是我们要变成的东西,我们认为是的,左撇子说。有时向她
   扔一根骨头,有时表达,有时表达一些轻微的关切,这种方式
   被旅行者如此挖空,以至于变得大而空。它会导致死亡。
   我们知道,在有限的时间内,我们只想摘下向日葵,
   把它从它站立的地方,高傲地,竖直地,运到平房的蓝天下,抓住太阳,
   把它带到里面,就像所有其他的都陷入了共同的模式一样。这一天的
   开始并不吉利,但当它继续时,情况有所好转,直到睡觉的
   时候,人们才发现我们俩很成功,我和你。
   我们早期在沟通上失败的尝试无论如何早就死了。
   然而,在出发之前,我从空中祈祷过一些礼貌,确实就像我的祖先所做的那样
   这并没有伤害到他们。我故意忍住咨询“我”,

   因为“对自我的崇拜”是一个死东西,一片废墟。那就是通向我的东西。
   一大早,人们急于想看看夜间发生了什么变化,于是停下来屏住呼吸。
   我们现在看到,存在物的年龄越大,它就越带着
   你身边的蜡烛变成你。如果我像我的祖先那样继续下去
   我们现在可能都在四处寻找一个逃避死亡的地方,
   因为他已经变得更老更聪明了。但是,如果请求上帝允许我活到我的命名日
   我将在她额头上放上手镯,她变成我的诗歌,给她看
   她微笑时的牙齿,就像阳光刺穿雨滴。在我床上用手指画画
   她解释这一切是多么必要,我在去洗澡的路上没有崩溃
   多么好,后来,当许多被认为
   还活着的人死去时,太阳
   仅仅出来了一会儿,拍着向日葵

   它须发斑白的头。它喜欢我现在的样子,想着向日葵。
   因此,我们都应该集中精力于成为更多的“我”,
   因为正如没有太阳任何人都无法生存一样,太阳
   会从天上坠落,如果我们抬头仰望,仍然固执己见,没有看到死亡。
   你决定在一周中的哪一天决定开始你的旅程并不重要。那一天
   终将到来。一旦你跑开,它依然会存在。你决定
   抓住的气息就在那一天的斜坡尽头到来,当她的
   视力不再那么清晰的时候。不管怎样,你还是向她道别,因为前方的路
   闪闪发光。你不需要看到它的那一天。虽然数百万人已经死亡
   但重要的是,他们没有结束这场战斗,在我找到你之前,
   警告你,你会受到什么
   对待,如果发现有多于一人占居了那同一张床。

   这就是我们如何在苏格兰詹姆斯六世曾经睡过的
   那张著名的床上过夜的经过。它的头上刻着皇家
   向日葵,在一阵流星雨中。我说的是“帝王”,尽管白天
   他和其他任何国王一样是一个国王,也许只是稍微体面一点。第二天早上,太阳
   鞭打深红色的窗帘,我就像死了一样。虽然我的死
   会鼓励几个人,但那不是当时,也不是现在发生的,那个我
   就像我喜欢称他的,仍然在闲逛,很少关心其他人,过去的一封
   死信,在他关注的范围内。所以我写信给她
   问她是否关心
   他做事的方式,她是否知道其他人在类似情况下
   做了什么来阻止他。她的回答,在深夜给了我,当外面的树梢上
   没有一丝风吹拂,使我措手不及。“如果他

   既不向你道歉也不抗议,那么对他来说这是件好事。相反,
   对你来说,它是个坏兆头。如果我是你,我会从早到晚
   躺在床上,等待,至少直到太阳
   从我们的天堂消失,并降临到赫克托那些在死者之家畏缩的人身上。
   收获季节不会有好运,不会有天平倾斜,而他却屏住呼吸。”
   我感谢她的使者,踮起脚尖走了出去,并没有告诉他我对她的看法。
   多么了不起,人们一旦确定了行动计划,无论是白天
   还是最黑暗的午夜,总有人会试图让你泄气,说死亡
   是一种可能的副作用。然而,我不能,也不会,解雇我心爱的儿子。我决不
   沿着大海前进,除了我,没有人能把我的想法弹开。
   所以我们俩一起骑马。几乎是下午晚些时候,我们到达“向日葵”,
   作为这座巨大的、腐朽的公寓楼的命名。一位著名的建筑师曾经







We’re interested in the language, that you call breath,
   if breath is what we are to become, and we think it is, the southpaw said. Throwing her
   a bone sometimes, sometimes expressing, sometimes expressing something like mild concern, the way
   has been so hollowed out by travelers it has become cavernous. It leads to death.
   We know that, yet for a limited time only we wish to pluck the sunflower,
   transport it from where it stood, proud, erect, under a bungalow-blue sky, grasping at the sun,
   and bring it inside, as all others sink into the common mold. The day
   had begun inauspiciously, yet improved as it went along, until at bed
   time it was seen that we had prospered, I and thee.
   Our early frustrated attempts at communicating were in any event long since dead.
   Yet I had prayed for some civility from the air before setting out, as indeed my ancestors had done
   and it hadn’t hurt them any. And I purposely refrained from consulting me,

   the culte du moi being a dead thing, a shambles. That’s what led to me.
   Early in the morning, rushing to see what has changed during the night, one stops to catch one’s breath.
   The older the presence, we now see, the more it has turned into thee
   with a candle at thy side. Were I to proceed as my ancestors had done
   we all might be looking around now for a place to escape from death,
   for he has grown older and wiser. But if it please God to let me live until my name-day
   I shall place bangles at the forehead of her who becomes my poetry, showing her
   teeth as she smiles, like sun-stabs through raindrops. Drawing with a finger in my bed,
   she explains how it was all necessary, how it was good I didn’t break down on my way
   to the showers, and afterwards when many were dead
   who were thought to be living, the sun
   came out for just a little while, and patted the sunflower

   on its grizzled head. It likes me the way I am, thought the sunflower.
   Therefore we all ought to concentrate on being more “me,”
   for just as nobody could get along without the sun, the sun
   would tumble from the heavens if we were to look up, still self-absorbed, and not see death.
   It doesn’t matter which day of the week you decide to set out on your journey. The day
   will be there. And once you are off and running, it will be there still. The breath
   you decide to catch comes at the far end of that day’s slope, when her
   vision is not so clear anymore. You say goodbye to her anyway, for the way
   gleams up ahead. You don’t need the day to see it by. And though millions are already dead
   what matters is that they didn’t break up the fight before I was able to get to thee,
   to warn thee what would be done
   to thee if more than one were found occupying the same bed.

   Which is how we came to spend the night in the famous bed
   that James VI of Scotland had once slept in. On its head the imperial sunflower
   was inscribed, amid a shower of shooting stars. I say “imperial,” though by day
   he was a king like any other, only a little more decent perhaps. And next morning the sun
   came slashing through the crimson drapes, and I was like to have died. Although my death
   would have encouraged a few, it did not happen then, or now, and still that me
   as I like to call him saunters on, caring little for the others, the past a dead
   letter as far as he’s concerned. So that I wrote to her
   asking if she cared anything about the way
   he was going about it, and did she know what others had done
   to stop him in similar circumstances.Her reply, brought to me late at night, when no breath
   of wind stirred in the treetops outside, caught me unawares. “If to thee

   he offers neither apology nor protest,then for him it is a good thing. For thee,
   on the contrary, it augurs ill. If I were thee I’d stay in bed
   from dawn to evening, waiting, at least until the sun
   disappears from our heavens and goes to hector those cringing in the house of the dead.
   There can be no luck in harvest-time, no tipping of the scales, while yet he draws breath.”
   I thanked her emissary and tiptoed out without telling him what I thought of her.
   How extraordinary that as soon as one settles on a plan of action, whether it be day
   or darkest midnight, someone will always try to discourage you, citing death
   as a possible side-effect. Yet I could not, would not, dismiss my beloved boy. No way
   would I proceed along the sea with no one to bounce my ideas off of but me.
   And so we two rode together. It was almost late afternoon by the time we reached “The Sunflower,”
   as the gigantic, decaying apartment complex was named. A noted architect had done





 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-8 23:26:34 | 显示全部楼层

   把它做得很好,用开放的空间,公共托儿所,人行道。然而,当他这样做了,
   没有人喜欢它。人们拒绝搬进来。它是冷冰冰的,没有人情味的。对你来说,
   然而,它似乎是一个天堂。长长的,疏远的走廊,太阳
   在规则的时间间隔穿过,它就像一个小屋一样令人困惑;死气沉沉的
   网球场和了望台似乎是死神送给你的礼物
   让你在等待时分心,总是等待她的
   抚摸。这就是说,晚上有很多事情要做,而在白天
   长长的午睡中人们做梦,不沉思,感觉相当好。没有猪的气息
   搅动阳台前小院里生锈的杂草。像我一样
   你也选择了在这些事情上做一个也许比担保的情况更好的解释;无论如何,床
   总能解决一切问题,至少目前是这样。我出去摘了一朵向日葵
   但它是空的,鸟儿把所有的种子都吃光了。当然,有一种方法

   可以避免感到孤独“且”为人们自己感到难过,但直到今天,在我面前
   还没有打开任何一条路,那些事的两个方面我“都”有,尽管人们会怀疑。已经完成的事情
   已经完成了,他们说,但我还是忍不住想,在不同的一天,你是否会
   转过身来,走回我脸朝下躺在床上的地方
   告诉我所有的爱,你对我所有的尊重,就像你内心对我的一片光芒,
   我们本应去分析我们的情况,把细节加起来。 “你的”呼吸
   是你自己的私有财产,当然,你对我的呼吸关心很少,
   但如果她的父亲出现在新闻中,这么多其他官员结果都死了,
   也许几年时间后,我们会忘记这一切,生活,向日葵
   和太阳,在雨旱季节,它们像在非洲那样,永远不要害怕太阳。
   它被写着,在非洲拇指钢琴上弹奏,那些
   去你那里,又回来,却不记得的人,被指定为孤独、不愉快的死亡,

   那些你拜访的人,即使可能死,也从不抱怨。
   因此,紧迫的是,我们所有的,追求者和被追求者,都必须以共同的方式前进,
   因为这是瞒骗死亡的唯一途径,尽管他可能一点也不聪明。对你,
   我说,站着,就像在梯子上摘杏子;你应该背对着太阳,
   一切都会过去的。你会满意的,你会看到。无需摇动向日葵的
   外壳以获得干燥的果仁。事实上,所有的草早已枯死;
   荆棘树枝的伸展角在稀树大草原的呼吸中几乎没有
   不规则的猛推。如果我一瞬间想到,一周中的
   某一天清楚地说明是我的保护日,或者我自己的恶行会从我身上滴落下来
   像水从鸭子背上滴落一样,那么我肯定做了任何一个正直的牧师都会做的事情:
   我将一束束新鲜的芸香和蚊子草放在床边装满水的玻璃罐里。
   我用棍子指着她,不是指她的罪,而是指她那羞涩、封闭的女性之花,她那

   皱巴巴的天鹅绒峡谷,有通向它的终端,除非她的
   父母在这件事上有发言权。我们两人几乎都活到了死亡,
   但仍然没有任何东西能庇护我们对向日葵的渴望;
   即使在晚上,你也能听到它永远不安的呼吸声
   它使生活成为某个郊区铁路上的一个车站。
   你做了你所做的太不幸了;我,与此同时,躺在床上
   听到了临近的一天的隆隆声的前锋。
   “这是我的一天,尽管它也属于许多死去的人。
   我说这话并不是出于占有的精神,只是作为一个事实。事实上,我把它传给你
   就像我之前几代有抱负的恋人和作家所做的那样。
   瞧,这就是对我所做的,写在我身上的。把它从我身上拿走。”
   她站起来,开始跳一点舞,然后突然停了下来,注意到太阳

   已经过了天顶,正在宽慰地等待一个替代太阳。
   在我们整个一生中,我仍在继续努力取得进展,尽管对她来说
   我所做的事情从来没有多大意义,但我以任何方式这样做,为你。
   在人们周围搔搔痒,肯定会发现一些古老的方式;
   同时,我有合理的好食物、衣服和快乐,晚上在一张
   对我来说似乎很漂亮的床上度过。我们曾经笑过;我们每一次
   呼吸,都会有一些新的有趣的东西指向我们的道德,点缀着这一天,
   直到最后地球躺在在炎热的烘烤中,向日葵
   笑到了最后。“强壮啊,你已经过了青春年华!当你死了
   我们将再次交谈,看看你如何理解人们称之为死亡的东西,
   这实际上只是上帝对他人、对太阳
   和对我所做的事情的一个影子。”


   it right once, with open spaces,communal nurseries, walkways. Yet when he had done,
   no one liked it. People refused to move in. It was cold and impersonal. To thee,
   however, it seemed a paradise. The long, alienating corridors which the sun
   sliced through at regular intervals were as confusing as a casbah; the dead
   tennis-courts and watchtowers seemed a present sent by death
   to distract you while you waited, always for her
   touch. That said, there was plenty to do at night, while during the day-
   long siesta one dreamed, and brooded not, and felt fairly good. No hog’s breath
   stirred the rusting weeds in the little yard in front of the veranda. Like me
   you too chose to put a better construction on these things than perhaps the case warranted; at any rate, bed
   always solves everything, at least for the time being. I went out and plucked a sunflower
   but it was empty, the birds had eaten all the seeds. Surely there’s a way

   to avoid feeling lonesome and sorry for oneself, but up until today, no way
   has opened before me, I’m both those things, though one would suffice. What’s done
   is done, they say, yet I can’t help wondering whether, on a different day,
   you might have turned around and walked back to where I was lying face down in bed
   and told me all the love, all the respect you had for me, that was like a shining in you at me,
   and we could have gone off to analyze our situation and add up the particulars. Your breath
   was your own private property, of course, and you cared little for mine,
   but in the case of her father being in the news and so many other officials who had turned out to be dead,
   perhaps in a few years’time we would have forgotten all that, to live, sunflower
   and sun, in periods of rain and drought, as they do in Africa, and never fear the sun.
   It is written, and played on the African thumb-piano, that those who to thee
   go, and return, unremembering, are earmarked for a lonely, unpleasant death,

   and those to whom thou goest never grumble, even at the prospect of death.
   Therefore it is urgent that we all,pursuers and pursued, be moving in the common way,
   for that is the only way to outwit death, none-too-clever though he may be. To thee,
   I say, stand, as though on a ladder picking apricots; your back should be to the sun,
   and all will pass. You’ll be satisfied, you’ll see. No need to shake the sunflower
   husk for dried kernels. Indeed, all the grasses are long dead;
   the reaching angles of the thorn-tree branches barely jerk erratically in the breath
   of the savannah. If I thought for one instant that the day
   of the week spelled out protection for me, or that my own misdeed would trickle off me
   like water from a duck’ back, sure and I’d have done what any decent-minded preacher would have done:
   I’d place bunches of fresh rue and meadowsweet in glass jars filled with water near the bed.
   I’d point with my stick not at her sins but to the shy, closed flower of her womanhood, her

   puckered glen of swansdown, and there would have been an end to it, unless her
   parents had some say in the matter. We two have lasted almost until death,
   and still nothing shields us from the aspirations of the sunflower;
   even at night you can hear its ever-unquiet breath
   that makes of life a station on some suburban railway.
   Too bad you did what you did; I, meanwhile, was lying in bed
   and caught the rumble of the vans of approaching day.
   “This is my day, even though it belong as well to many who are dead.
   I say it not in a spirit of possessiveness, only as a fact. Indeed, I pass it to thee
   as generations of aspiring lovers and writers before me have done.
   Look, this is what was done to me, written on me. Take it from me.”
   She stood up and began to do a little dance, then as abruptly stopped, noting the sun

   had passed the zenith, and was waiting to be relieved by a replacement-sun.
   In all our lives I still continue to try to make headway, and though to her
   what I do never makes much sense, I do it any way,for thee.
   Scratching around one is sure to uncover bits of the ancient way;
   meanwhile I am reasonably well-fed, clothed and happy and spend nights in a bed
   that seems beautiful to me. We used to laugh; with every breath
   we’d take, some new funny thing would point a moral and adorn the day,
   until at last the earth lay baking in the heat, and the sunflower
   had the last laugh. “Be strong, you that are now past your prime! When you are dead
   we’ll talk again and see how you understand this thing men call death,
   that is in reality but a shadow of what God has done
   to others, to the sun and to me.”



 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-9 14:08:41 | 显示全部楼层
  
   我醒了,但我仍在做梦。似乎所有的一切都自始至终是我
   命中注定的,当我在恐惧中,独自旅行,太阳总是
   和我一起旅行。晚上睡觉时,人们害怕弄湿床
   但为了弥补这一点,他用手指着我们最终的死亡
   就像老师用魔杖指着黑板上问题的答案一样。他的方式
   像狐狸一样神秘。他让矢车菊和向日葵盛开,
   然后让它们慢慢滑进遗忘。为什么?如果我知道答案,我会告诉你,
   但是既然你受了很多苦,我会赐予死的方式
   是我们梦想的一种照亮,一种快乐的,不负责任的感觉。她在她的
   渴望中意识到了很多,并且会把它告诉我们,但是呼吸
   消失了。不过,总有一天,不太远,我们所做的一切
   都会返回吸引我们;我们可以回去,品尝,随时重复。

   所以暂时,尽管明天是我们的日子,
   但阳光照耀着那些陷阱。你可以拥有我
   无论我是什么,或者我想成为什么,我会用我取代你,把你介绍给太阳。
   当夏天呼喊,人们希望他们只有一种方式,
   夜晚太浓,白昼几乎没开始被破坏,我会猜出你
   关于我们来这里之前听到的事情,已经做了多少。
   然而,这个故事的寓意是,无处不在的向日葵
   知道这个秘密并关心它。就像铰链上的门,于是他在床上
   转啊转,在他的转动中,打开了死亡生锈的挂锁,
   它飞开了,我立刻就被赦免。带我进去,教我她的
   方法,但首先是不要让我死去:
   我活着,尽管我只吸了一点气。

   她告诉我的故事仍在我心中酝酿,尽管她已经死了
   几个月,就像躺在床上。我们过去所做的事,我对你,
   你对我,仍然重要,但太阳无情地指向死亡的道路,
   尽管它只是他的,而不是我们的道路。太阳把你
   带到她身边的方式很有趣。当你停下来呼吸,
   记住它,现在它已经完成了,种子在向日葵中闪耀。

   就这样离开它,然后它就被稍微搁置。这是一个丢失的增量,
   但只要没有人意识到它丢失,平静就占了上风。当他们这么做,它正在通向
   它自己背后的数字的道路上,这很好。因此,当人们关心,有些人甚至哭泣,
   人们意识到这是一个经典的,甚至是一般的,案例,很快
   他们把注意力转移到了这件事的其他方面。从来没有人解释过,一个训练有素的
   长期存在的竞争对手是如何以那种方式将自己挡在这事外的,没有任何
   自利的证据,除非在热爱太阳方面构成了一个。他们避开了
   这一个,它的心里没有爱
   也没有自怜,它自己去了,然后走下了通往地窖的
   几级石阶。在这里,至少,有一种支配的平静,比它陪伴了这么长时间,
   整整一个季节,冷漠的乞丐和摇头族的泥沼要好,恶化了
   那个季节的讨嫌气氛,在它结束时在这里没有得到承认:它是一种
   没有人用的货币。如果这留下了一个像帆船一样的东西,具有纹理和色调
   一个见过很多,仍然想帮忙的人的纹理,为什么一切更好:人们可以走得
   更远,结果更糟,比想象这样一次旅行的可能性,一次“商务旅行”
   在任何给定时刻都会一直很有趣的。所以,尽管茎上长满了
   蛾子,乱蓬蓬的花朵明年八月可能会颤抖,这是过去的东西;太阳
   清除了它心中所有的消极思想,给予
   镇静,带着一个拥有太多的人的慷慨,并
   使人们重新审视自己的态度。也许得到一些雨?
   果汁冰糕现在比以前更值得称道?因此,这种小的、零碎的伸直暴露出
   大片的关注,在许多情况下,太阳的坚挺
   会导致这些关注在到期日之前蒸发掉。一块猎犬形状的云碎片突然
   上升到令人印象深刻的天空中心,在它后面
   卷起自己,消失在远处,甚至当它前进
   承载海峡沿岸的消息。这是我们在这里感兴趣的
   发展的一种原型,在橱窗里,女孩们不断地走过。一定
   有什么事情发生了,超出了它们反转
   并变成的只是碎片的转折点。但要弄清楚这是什么,
   我们应该被迫放弃这一有利位置,如此
   深地为其战斗,几乎没有取得胜利。


  
  
  
I awoke, yet I dreamed still. It seemed that all had been destined for me
   all along, and as I had traveled in fear, and alone, always the sun
   traveled with me. At night one sleeps in fear of wetting the bed
   but he makes amends for that by pointing to our eventual death
   as a teacher would point with a wand to the solution of a problem on a blackboard. His way
   is as inscrutable as a fox’s. He brings to full bloom the cornflower and the sunflower,
   then lets them slip into oblivion. Why? If I knew the answer, I wouldst tell thee,
   but since thou sufferest much, I’ll vouchsafe that the way of the dead
   is as a lightness to our dreaming, a sense of gaiety, of irresponsibility. She in her
   longing realizes much, and would tell it to us, but the breath
   is gone. Still, there’ll come a time and not too far off when all we have done
   returns to charm us; we can go back, taste, repeat it any day.

   So for the moment, although tomorrow is our day,
   the sun shines through the meshes. You can have me
   for anything I am, or want to be, and I’ll replace you with me, introduce you to the sun.
   When summer calls, and people wish they only had a way,
   and nights are too thick, and days have barely begun to be spoiled, I’ll riddle thee
   about what we heard before we came here, how much is already done.
   The moral of the story however is that the ubiquitous sunflower
   knows the secret and cares. As a door on its hinges, so he in his bed
   turns and turns, and in his turning unlocks the rusted padlock of death,
   that flies apart and at once I am shriven.Take me in, teach me her
   ways, but above all don’t leave me for dead:
   I live, though I draw only a little breath.

   The story that she told me simmers in me still, though she is dead
   these several months, lying as on a bed.The things we used to do, I to thee,
   thou to me, matter still, but the sun points the way inexorably to death,
   though it be but his, not our way. Funny the way the sun
   can bring you around to her. And as you pause for breath,
   remember it, now that it is done, and seeds flare in the sunflower.

   And left it that way, and then it kind of got shelved. It was a missing increment,
   but as long as no one realized it was missing, calm prevailed. When they did, it was well
   on the way to being a back number of itself. So while people cared, and some even wept,
   it was realized that this was a classic, even a generic, case, and soon
   they called attention to other aspects of the affair. No one ever explained how a trained
   competitor of long standing would just bar itself from the case that way, there being no
   evidence of self-interest, except insofar as loving a sun constitutes one. They shied away
   from this one, and it was with no love
   or self-pity in its heart that it betook itself then down the few stone steps leading
   to the crypt. Here, at least, peace of a sort reigned, better than the indifferent bog
   of schnorrers and nay-sayers it had kept company with for so long, a whole season, and the unlovely
   atmosphere that had soured that season at its close was not recognized here: it was a currency
   no one had any use for. If this left one like sailcloth, with the grained and toned
   texture of one who has seen much, and still wishes to help, why all the better: one could go
   farther and fare worse than entertain the possibility of such a journey, a voyage d’affaires
   that will consistently be fun at any given moment. And so, though stalks heavy with the
   mothy, mopheaded bloom may tremble next August, that is a thing of the past; the sun
   purges its mind of all negative thoughts, granting
   equanimity with the largesse of one who has too much, and
   causes people to re-examine their attitudes. Maybe get some rain?
   Are sherbets more glorious now than formerly? So this small, piecemeal uncurling exposes
   vast sheets of preoccupations that the sun’s firmness can in many cases
   cause to evaporate before their expiration date. A hound-shaped fragment of cloud rises
   abruptly to the impressive center of the heavens only to fold itself
   behind itself and fade into the distance even as it advances
   bearing news of the channel coast. That is the archetypal kind of development
   we’re interested in here at the window girls move past continually. Something
   must be happening beyond the point where they turn
   and become mere fragments. But to find out what that is,
   we should be forced to relinquish this vantage point, so
   deeply fought for, hardly won.


  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-9 22:53:39 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-12-10 14:54 编辑


  

   VI

   是的,其他人齐声说,一旦
   他们找到你,我们会留意必定很好地利用。大海
   如此黑暗,啊,收割机,他们有没有可能把你和我带到一起
   在这么长时间后,却在瞬间分离?这一定有目的,
   一些想法隐藏在空白中,包括你对我
   能力的负面评估的规则长方形,像建筑物的积木?但是不,
   它说,请坐,你让其他人烦恼。我的伪善言辞,
   我想,是因为我口吃?哦,很好,我会和平地离开,但是当你下次看到我,
   装配着镍甲,准备与那些追随者作战时---谁的
   不重要---你会在我身上突然发现一张令人震惊的温和的便条,它是我
   为这样一个场合保存的,“我”
   可以继续住在这里,我不介意空虚,但你
   必须用令人满意的唠叨来充实你的生活。然后,就像月亮的斗篷
   放牧一些遥远山麓的山雀,我们将建设性地
   相互接触,你的能量将流入我,反之亦然,看哪,
   所有一切都将白费,战争、挫伤、贩卖和平:
   我们只有我们自己,只有我们自己该受责备。

   最棒的是桃子,唤起了战争的
   故事,呼唤模仿。但最棒的也是吐出深坑,零增长的
   理想,说到这点。我认为所有的男人都应该争论,然后让步,因为
   对某些事情真正下定决心需要时间。特别是
   哀悼日。
   然后,当有人来问你是否梳洗完毕,或者你是否愿意,
   整个协会的货运列车都启动了,在嘎嘎作响的轨道上
   优雅地缓慢前行,甚至不是说你是否“已经”下定决心了,确实
   很久以前就这么做了,谢谢你,但是好像它全都
   跑开了:跑到选美比赛,引座员,舞台管理员之间的
   激烈竞争。现在我想让它保持
   原样。我对我接触到的琐事非常讲究,
   但是因为这个我很久以前就因为厌倦而昏倒。这把我带给了你:“你”
   喜欢它吗?你能关心一下,如果你看到它的样本从一堆人中逃走
   去通知其他人,我们所说的和所想的未开化的灵魂已经通过了
   救赎和关怀,但是它们像夜风一样向这个方向
   闪耀,它们身上的露水是真实的,那些是
   眼泪?谁这么说的?我走另一条路。那时她会
   拥有我,没有求援,我们终究会幸福的,这就是一切,你会
   明白。

   
   现在它将永远不会有任何不同,但
   仍然需要注意的是,这些改变将如何影响你的工作。黄道带上空槽的
   预示既不好,也不预示其中心的巨大鹅卵石,但谁知道,带着耐心
   和一点渴望,人们走自己的路。从这里你可以看到这个小镇,
   熙熙攘攘地进行着各种令人昏昏欲睡的活动。广场上的旧卡车。
   在它上面有一些天空的光点,在太空中比较不同的深度,在锡箔纸的天空下
   感觉如何,似乎是空的,但它一直都是这样。
   渐渐地,头部出现在陨石坑的边缘,在阳光中被吸干。
   只是温柔、快乐的肥皂水,还有错过的时间:
   世界上所有的时间,他喜欢说,
   我也会反唇相讥,如果我逃走了,但不清楚我是否逃走了。我刚才
   跌跌撞撞地走进了一个废弃的猪圈,他们都在看着,这是任何人
   都在做的一切。如果我有书我应该在这里读。

   将这一反驳定性为“胡言乱语,”参议员大步急速穿过大理石圆形大厅,
   评论着当天发生的事情,没有漏掉一个节拍。我们已经看到,警察
   对你收取更多的费用,因为在温暖的户外生了一个宝宝。我们已经看到
   等待之地的生命迹象,但现在高兴还为时过早;我们会
   让你知道。其他人可能已经跟着他打开课程的拉链,这并不能解释
   雨天广场上的舞蹈乐队,也不能解释一个孩子毫无疑问的表情,他的洋娃娃
   排在第二位。在干草棚里,空气纯洁而清新
   我记得曾经所有的存在多么痛苦地期待,不管持续的时间
   像蜉蝣一样努力正好经过,而这在晚上多么让人心惊胆战,带着袜子
   和腋下除臭剂的臭味,所以那个绝望的小块土地似乎是个不错的地方。不管怎样,它
   考验了我们的勇气,不管它是什么。警告似乎从地下沸腾出来
   但很难知道它们是由什么组成的,甚至很难知道它们是为谁准备的。
   这是最后一班火车吗?放学回家的路没有通行证吗?也很难破译失踪者的身份,
   显然,就在今天早上,他还被人看见,在被赶走后转身离去。
   他们的头发总是有点更显乳白色,袖子更直。在丛林中
   卫生总是一个问题,但你可以在这里呆上几十年,永远不会显得
   脸红,或慌乱。涉及到表层土稀薄的东西。他们让你
   站起来,把你押走,没有人看起来害怕,只是觉得无聊,还有飞燕草的雄伟
   每年演出一次。茶点的基点是先到,先得。我们看到了笼子
   和它容纳的单调动物。我们看到了领导者
   稍远一点的房子。还有他树上编号的苹果。
   它只能是象征性的。
   我的意思是,它永远不会引起局外人的发言,
   只有重新思考和自我怀疑。为了让演讲(我指的是“生动的”演讲)
   在有意义的层面上发生,也就是说,在某人的大脑之外,必须诱发一种
   人工睡眠状态,首先。然后,测量反射性反应的技能
   必须得到严厉的磨练。最后,患者自动产生的,因此也是健康的,
   口是心非的冲动,必须梳理,一条一条地,以便
   可行的消极尝试,避免出现诸如被染成紫色的祭台这样的现象,它属于即将来临的
   暮色下的忧郁,可以测量,从真诚和有效性两个方面。这在技术上
   并不是不可实现事务的状态将使我们更接近,但只是一点点,带到一个有优势的点
   从这里,持续的,否定的(但在“被动”的意义上)灵魂外壳也许能
   提供一个关于它里面可能装着什么的概观,但我们的望远镜所能提供的视角
   将是发生在数万亿光年前的一个插曲,一个稍纵即逝的
   插曲,一些宇宙清唱剧中的一个优美音符,然后人们将试图从中推断出
   一种对随后发生的一切的感觉,以及它如何与今天的普通人的思维,
   饮食习惯,情绪爆发,等等一致。这一尝试当然是值得的,即使
   它只是证实了核心的黑暗主题,关于宇宙纯粹象征性,反功能性的
   本质,作为无数注定要创世的倡议的背景,它在宇宙中
   蓬勃发展,为核心概念提供堆肥,一个有点过时但仍在运作的
   调节体系,将我们组织在一个新的世界中一些秩序的外表,松散地捆绑着我们中的一些人,
   像稻草一样把我们中的其他人捆在一起,但总有一种联系,尽管有时是
   非常松散的一种,像一根卷须接触一根,一绺头发落在
   眼睛上,或者是一只嗡嗡叫的昆虫永不太远。尽管支持所有这些
   不同的、甚至是绝望的倡议的电枢已经开始
   表现出金属疲劳的迹象,尽管如此,它在执行功能和想象新功能方面
   仍然是健全和美丽的,在适当的时候,这是迄今为止任何人想到的最好的
   模型,就像一棵杨树弯曲再弯曲,并且在风停后总是能够
   挺直自己;总之它是我的家,只要你愿意呆在这里
   并遵守规则,你就可以在这里待上一段时间。然而,
   像某种疯狂的性吸引一样吸引我的双重冲动
   在这里是无法实现的。要想实现这一点,塑造人们必须能够构思出的一个
   独立于法律的线性空间,其中,人们对信息的迟钝姿态可以前进或后退
   而不从它们扎根的地方实际移动;换句话说,命运可能
   随时发生,消失或无限重复它自己,没有人会受到影响,人们
   真正的兴趣是定义我们的点,这条线,是无量纲的,没有欲望。
   因此,所有的事情都会同时发生而且在同一个平面上,存在,从
   因果链中解放出来,可以在与它自身无关的重要项目上工作,从而
   构思出一种不在任何地方的新建筑,一种对虚无的渴望,渴望对它自己的渴望,
   按照神学组织的游戏,有一个截止日期,面对大的对立面。而这些
   欲望,如果这是它们所是的,就已经存在了,没有礼节,没有实现的
   需求或可能性,就像低音单簧管对管弦乐队的意义一样,尽管我们当然会
   像现在这样相处得很好,因为人类的完全性不会
   被牺牲,相反,会被提升到第一桌,在那里它属于,
   每个人都可以自由得出自己的结论,并像作业一样把它们带回家
   如果星座保持不可更改,这是另一个问题,并且
   美的概念被废除,这是另一个可能更重要的问题。不管怎么说,
   这看起来是为所有这些的一个美好的一天,我邀请你开始加速你的录像机;
   谁知道会发生什么?同时,敏锐地、敏锐地观察你周围的事物;总有
   可能会有一些东西起源于一些东西,这是我们
   最美好的愿望,虽然它在这里说,我不应该这样说,不是现在,不是
   这个地方的木材和阳光,这个稳定或退休的房间或任何你想称呼它的东西。


  

  

   VI

   Yes, others chorused, and
   we’ll see to it that good use is made of it once they find you. Sea
   so dark, O harvester, is it possible they could have brought you and me together
   after so long, only to be separated in an instant? There must have been some purpose to this,
   some idea hiding in the vacuity, the regular oblongs that comprise
   your adverse assessment of my capabilities, like building blocks? But no,
   it says, please sit down, you’re upsetting the others. With my cant,
   my stammer, I suppose? Oh all right, I’ll go peaceably, but when you next see me,
   rigged out in nickel armor to do battle with the henchpersons—it doesn’t matter
   whose---you’ll descry in me a note of alarming mildness that I was saving
   for just such an occasion. After all, I
   can go on living here, and I don’t mind emptiness, but you
   must fill your days with satisfying chatter. Then, just as the moon’s cloak
   grazes the tits of some remote foothills, we’ll engage
   each other constructively, your energy will flow into me and vice versa, and behold,
   all will have been in vain, the warring, the contusions, the peacemongering:
   we’11 have only ourselves, and only ourselves to blame.

   Excellent is the peach, and stirring the tales
   of battle, the calls to emulation. But excellent also is the spat-out pit, the ideal
   of zero growth, when it comes to that. I think all men should argue, and then give in, for it
   takes time to really make up one’s mind about certain matters. Days of mourning
   in particular.
   Then when somebody comes to ask you if you have freshened up, or would like to,
   the whole freight train of associations is set in motion, lumbers gracelessly
   along the clacking tracks, and it isn’t so much as if you had made up your mind, indeed
   had done so quite some time ago, thank you, but as if it’s all off
   and running: the race to the pageant, stiff competition among the ushers,
   the stagehands. And now I want it to be the way
   it was. I’m very particular about the trivia I associate with,
   but for which I’d long ago have passed out from boredom. Which brings me to you: how do you
   like it, and could you care if you saw a sample of it escaping from the mass
   to go inform other, unenlightened souls of whom we spoke and thought were past
   redemption and caring but who shine like the night breezes
   in this direction, the dew on them is genuine, and are those
   tears? Who said it that way? I’ll go another way. And she’ll have me
   then, there’ll be no recourse, and we shall be happy after all, that’s all there is to it, you’ll
   see.



It will never make any difference now, but
   it remains to note how the change will affect your work. Empty slots in the zodiac
   presage no good, nor the giant pebble at its center, but who knows, with patience
   and a little hunger one makes one’s way. From here you can see the town,
   bustling with various kinds of sleepy activity. Old trucks in the squares.
   Above it a few celestial blips,comparing different depths in space, how it feels
   against a sky of tinfoil, and seemingly just emptied, but it has always been thus.
   Gradually, heads appear around the rim of the crater, blotted in the sunlight.
   Just gentle, happy suds, and the time to be missing:
   all the time in the world, he liked to say,
   and I’d recriminate too if I had escaped but it’s not clear that I have. I stumbled
   into an abandoned pigpen just now, and they are watching, which is all
   anybody ever does. If I had books here I’d read.

   Characterizing this rebuttal as “hogwash,” the senator strode swiftly through the marble rotunda,
   commenting the day’s happenings without missing a beat. We have seen that the police
   charge you more for delivering a baby when it’s clement outdoors. We have seen
   signs of life in the land of waiting, but it’s too soon to rejoice; we’ll
   let you know. Others may have been after him to unzip the course, which wouldn’t explain
   dance orchestras in the rainy plaza or the unquestioning look of one child whose doll
   came in second. In the hayloft the air was pure and fresh
   and I could remember how once all of existence was as painfully expectant, careless of duration
   as the mayflies trying to just get by, and how this curdled at evening with the smell of socks
   and underarm deodorant so that that desperate patch seemed a nice place to be. Anyway it
   had tested our mettle, whatever that is. Warnings boiled up seemingly out of the ground
   but it was difficult to know what to make of them, or even to know who they were meant for.
   Was it the last train? No pass to the way home from school? It was hard too to decode the missing,
   who had apparently been seen as recently as this morning, turning away after being turned away.
   Their locks are always a little more opalescent, their gussets straighter. Hygiene
   is always a problem in the jungle, but you can stay here for decades and never appear
   flushed, or flustered. Something about the thinness of the topsoil. They stand you
   up and march you away and nobody looks afraid, just bored, and the majesty of the larkspur
   performs annually. Refreshments are on a first-come, first-served basis. We have seen the cage
   and the humdrum animals it contains. We have seen the house of the leader,
   a little farther off. And the numbered apples on his trees.
   It can never be anything but symbolic.
   By that I mean it can never cause utterance in outsiders,
   only second thoughts and self-doubt. For the discourse (and by discourse I mean lively discourse)
   to take place on a meaningful level, that is, outside someone^ brain, a state of artificial
   sleep would have to be induced, first of all. Then the skills for measuring reflexive
   response would have to be sharply honed. Finally, the patient’s automatic, and therefore healthy,
   impulse toward duplicity would have to be sorted out, strand by strand, in order that the
   viable negative attempts to ward off phenomena like the empurpled dais of the approaching
   twilit gloom might be measured, both as to sincerity and effectiveness. This technically
   not unrealizable state of affairs would then bring us closer, but only a little, to a vantage
   point from which the abiding, negative (but in the sense of “passive”)sheathing of the soul might
   offer an overview of what might be mounted inside that, but the view our telescope afforded
   would be that of an episode which happened several trillion light-years ago, a fleeting
   one at that, a grace-note in some cosmic oratorio from which one would then try to extrapolate
   a sense of all that comes after, and how it jibes with the average mind of today,
   its feeding habits, outbursts, and so on.The attempt is certainly worth making, even
   if it only corroborates the central dark thesis about the purely symbolic, anti-functional
   nature of the universe as a setting for the countless doomed initiatives that flourish
   in it to supply compost for the core-concept, a somewhat antiquated but still functioning
   regulatory system that organizes us in some semblance of order, binding some of us loosely,
   baling others of us together like straw, but always there is a connection, albeit sometimes an
   extremely loose one like a tendril that brushes against one, a lock of hair that falls over
   the eye or a buzzing insect that is never too far away. And though the armature
   that supports all these varied and indeed desperate initiatives has begun
   to exhibit signs of metal fatigue it is nonetheless sound and beautiful in its capacity to perform
   functions and imagine new ones when appropriate, the best model anyone has thought up
   so far, like a poplar that bends and bends and is always capable of straightening itself
   after the wind has gone; in short it is my home, and you are welcome in it
   for as long as you wish to stay and abide by the rules. Still,
   the doubling impulse that draws me toward it like some insane sexual attraction can
   not be realized here. For that to take shape one would have to be able to conceive a linear
   space independent of laws in which blunted gestures toward communication could advance or recede
   without actually moving from the spot to which they are rooted; in other words, destiny could
   happen all the time, vanish or repeat itself ad infinitum, and no one would be affected, one’s
   real interests being points that define us, the line, which is dimensionless and without desire.
   Thus, all things would happen simultaneously and on the same plane, and existence, freed
   from the chain of causality, could work on important projects unconnected to itself and so
   conceive a new architecture that would be nowhere, a hunger for nothing, desire desiring itself,
   play organized according to theology with a cut-off date, before large facades. And these
   urges, if that’s what they are, would exist already without propriety, without the need
   or possibility of fulfillment, what the bass clarinet is to the orchestra, though of course we
   would all get along very much as we do now, since human perfectibility would not
   be sacrificed but on the contrary get promoted to the first desk, where it belongs,
   and everybody would be free to draw his or her own conclusions and take them home like homework
   provided the constellations remained inalterable, which is another question, and the
   concept of beauty were abolished, which is another and possibly more important one. Anyway,
   it looks like a nice day for all this, and I invite you to start revving up your VCR’s;
   who knows what may happen? In the meantime, look sharp, and sharply at what is around you; there is
   always the possibility something may come of something, and that is our
   fondest wish though it says here I’m not supposed to say so, not now, not
   in this place of wood and sunlight, this stable or retiring room or whatever you want to call it.




  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-11 11:24:24 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-12-11 13:08 编辑


   对不起,我放屁了。在那里,这更好。我真的感到轻松。

   当时,谁知道他们以后会变得
   多么乖戾,在什么情况下我们会再次相遇,
   还有那些以男孩冒险小说中英雄的名字命名的其他人会如何取代我们
   登上命运的危险陡峭扶梯,它只会蹒跚向上,
   永远不满足,永远找岔子?这群人中的一些人
   大约是对的。但是雨从不停。有些地方你开车经过
   有些人出来看看发生了什么,但最终这些只是
   效果。真正损害的外表都是憔悴和中庸的,无论社会
   接受它们与否,而且额外的权威还没有被蒸馏出来;
   这是每个人的,每个人都可以看到。我将向你展示少数专家的恐惧。此外
   最魁梧的男性不过是怀疑自己历史的侍女:
   他有权,对吗?所以也有别的一些权利,在继续等待的过程中。但在
   爱琴海的日出中,这种自得已经足够。我们到底是谁?谁需要深度?
   我一到这里就知道情况会更好。有签名要签,
   还有合同,很多都是一式六份,所以我知道在长途开车后
   我会好好休息一下,他们会让我平静下来,尽管不会忘记我。唉,
   多么稀少的家具,现在看来,这一切。查特顿阁楼?多难啊,要准确定位
   单个的,适度重要的事情,既然我们知道它的货运
   时间很长,其破译比以前任何实体
   难得多。但是当然!这就是解决办法!我们了解自己和过去的
   一切。我们不知道的一件事是,五分钟后它看起来
   有多傻,就像一个十八世纪的小天使在地球顶端上。你上我,我会
   治好你。你给我那个,我会给你这个。这一切如此重要,却又极度
   平庸,是不是,亲爱的?然后我们回家,事情就会结束,
   那些已经发现它的他们会把它从他们身上夺走,我们这些
   从来不知道我们朝向多好的事情的人会受到责备,并得到
   总督的关怀和奖赏,尽管我想我们必须站在外面。那就强化我的
   无知,我不会对任何人做任何事,但也不能因为这个原因
   孤立无援,不被希望鼓舞。在任何人鼓起勇气跳下去之前,三个季节都将过去,
   到那时,一种反常的
   秩序将统治,那些激励我们的人将在其中占据一席之地
   就像序曲一结束,就有迟到的人被引到歌剧的座位上一样。你不能
   把它装罐和卖掉,那是肯定的,但它是一种日用品,总有一天,所有人
   都会因为它变得更聪明。当你听到一个你几乎不认识的人去世的消息时
   那种自相矛盾的让你不知所措的强烈个人损失感将对它负责:你将
   被无罪开释,没有人会再嘲笑你,或者当提到你的名字时
   你会转身离开。同时,你会稍微高兴一点,当他们
   看到你在这个僵化的母系社会中的地位增强了多少
   由于你所做的一点点,努力谋生,保持你的幽默感,
   这,肯定,不总是容易的。无论如何,有人会在乎。
   他们应该更好。恐惧占了上风。世代就像燃烧着的大楼里的
   地板一样倒塌,而这一切都将以某种方式…“相称”。啊,是的。可以说,
   我们又富有又英俊。“然而”,
   我会独自面对世界。坏猫会想吃我的。汽车
   会碾过我。狗会追我。鸡,鹰,老虎,狮子…也许
   我最好和你一起去骑马。你当然明白。
   我当然不想住在标本剥制师旁边。盖尔小姐,我以后可能需要你。



   然后在车里他向我提建议。在后座。我们喝了献祭酒。
   它真“好”。下面我说的是,
   所有的男人都是流氓,但我认为我喜欢他们,
   如果他们是这样的话。然后我们出去了,一片云彩像魔术师的斗篷
   遮住了太阳。我永远不会忘记。我们走了
   一会儿,我试图解释我的尴尬
   倾向,即无法区分几年前发生在我身上的事情
   和最近的梦。从那以后,他冷静了一会儿。男人们
   似乎从来都不知道要忘却多少,然后,混乱,贪婪和自利占据了
   一点,在那里它们实际上相互取消了,人们
   饥饿是因为自己的贪婪,至少这是某些东西,现在,为什么没有人
   有什么不耐烦的事。它就像潮湿的天气。

   每个人都说不奇怪。它是找到你的一个小时。
   你,在过去如此迟来,你的评论永远不能
   被解释为历史的一部分,或者你是这么说的,这就是我们所想的。
   我只是一台复印机。你是历史,是书。我及时想到
   这会让你明白,所有人都会看到我们胜任什么。在过去,他们责备你:
   不再。我把你的东西,你的书和东西送来,早上我们
   再看一遍。首先好好睡一晚上觉。有些人认为
   开一张全额支票并交给你没什么了不起。我的意思是,我们在谈论
   取消债务,与未来的联系,黎明…嗯,我也这么想
   我仍然和那些想拥有你的人一起拥有它,它似乎,
   什么也不回报你。尽管如此,如果有可能达成某种协议
   或其他的,我认为我应该感到满意,他们也一样。在这里,它在酒吧里说
   我们要花多少钱,然后我们将与大本营和峰顶保持
   相等的距离,在我们的生活中有一些声音,未来对我们
   有多重要,对其他人也有多重要。孩子,我会这么说。与此同时,你
   认为他们会冷血地杀了我们吗?不,我不这么认为,而且
   这太危险了,我们在大河这边,他们
   在另一边。我很感谢你刚才说的话,但我永远
   找不到词语。

   哦,没关系。







   Excuse me while I fart .There, that’s better. I actually feel relieved.

   Who knew at the time how froward they would be
   later on, and in what circumstances we would be meeting again,
   and how others with the names of heroes of boys’ adventure novels would be replacing us
   on the perilously steep escalator of destiny that only lurches upward,
   ever unsatisfied, forever finding fault?Some of this crowd
   were about right. But it can never stop raining. There are places you drive through
   and people who come out to see what’s going on, but in the end these are effects
   merely. The truly vitiated look haggard and mean, whether they be socially
   acceptable or no, and still the perquisite authority hasn’t been distilled;
   it is everyone’s, for everyone to see. I will show you fear in a handful of specialists. Furthermore
   the burliest male is but as a handmaiden to the suspicion of his own history:
   he’s got it right, OK? And so have a few others, while the waiting’s been going on. But enough of
   this self-congratulation in Aegean sunrises. Who are we, after all? And who needs profundity?
   The moment I came down here I knew it was going to get better. There were autographs to sign,
   and contracts, many of them in sextuplicate, and so I knew I was in for a good rest
   after a long drive, and they’d leave me in peace, though not forget about me. Alas,
   how sparsely furnished it all looks now. Chatterton’s garret? And how much harder it is to pinpoint
   the single, modestly important thing, now that we know its freight would be
   long in coming, and much harder to decipher than any
   entity before now. But of course! That’s the solution! We know ourselves and everything
   of the past. The one thing we don’t know is how silly it’s going to look in about five
   minutes, like an eighteenth-century cherub atop a globe. You fuck me, I’ll
   fix you. You give me that, and I’ll give you this. It’s all so important yet so excruciatingly
   banal, isn’t it, darling? Then we’ll have come home and there will be an end to it,
   and they that have found it already shall have it taken away from them, and we who
   never knew what a good thing we were on to shall be reproached and rewarded
   with the viceroy’s attention, though we must stand outside, I think. Fortify my ignorance
   then, I shan’t be doing anything to anybody but must not for this
   reason stand alone, uninspired by hope. Three seasons shall pass before anybody gets up the nerve to jump,
   by which time a perverse
   order shall reign and those who have inspired us shall take their places in it
   like latecomers ushered to their seats at the opera once the overture is finished. You can’t
   can it and sell it, that’s for sure, but it is a commodity, and someday all
   will be wiser for it. And the paradoxically strong sense of personal loss that overwhelms you
   when you hear about the death of someone you barely knew will answer for it too: you’ll
   be exonerated and no one will ever make fun of you again, or turn aside
   when your name is mentioned.Meanwhile you’ll be slightly happy when they
   see how much your standing in this rigid matriarchal society has been enhanced
   by the little you do, trying to scrape out a living and keeping your sense of humor,
   which is, assuredly, not always easy.Anyway, someone will care.
   They’d better. And the funk take over.The generations collapse like floors
   in a burning building, and it will all somehow be...appropriate. Er, yes. We is rich
   and handsome, as it were. HOWEVER,
   I’ll face the world alone. Bad cats will want to eat me. Autos
   will run over me. Dogs will chase me. Chickens, hawks, tigers, lions... Perhaps
   I’d better ride up with you. You understand, of course.
   I certainly don’t want to live next to a taxidermist. Miss Gale, I may need you later.



   Then in the car he proposed to me. In the back seat. We drank sacrificial wine.
   It was so good. And underneath I was saying,
   all men are rogues, but I guess I like them,
   if that’s what they are. Then we went out and a cloud like a magician’s cape
   covered the sun. I’ll never forget that.And we walked on
   awhile and I was trying to explain my embarrassing
   tendency not to be able to distinguish things that happened to me years ago
   from recent dreams. He was cool for a while after that. Men
   never seem to know how much to erase, and afterward it’s bedlam, greed and self-interest take over
   to a point where they actually cancel each other out, and one is left
   hungry for one’s greed, at least it was something, and now, why no
   one has anything left to be impatient about. It’s like damp weather.

   And everybody said no wonder. It’s an hour to find you.
   You, so belated in the past, your comments could never be
   interpreted as part of history, or so you said, and that’s what we thought.
   I’m just a copier. You are the history, the book. In time I think
   it’ll get you straight and all peoples will see what we’re up to. In the past they chided you:
   no more. I’m sending for your things, your books and things, we’ll go over
   it again in the morning. First get a good night’s sleep. There are people who think nothing of
   writing out a check for the full amount and handing it to you. I mean we’re talking
   debts canceled, a link to the future, daybreak…Well I thought so too and
   still I’ve had it with those who want to own you, as it were,
   and give you nothing in return. Still, if it were possible to come to some agreement
   or other, I think I’d be content, and they too. Here, it says in the bar
   how much we’re going to spend, and then we’ll be equidistant from base camp and the
   summit and have some voice in our lives and how much the future matters
   to us, and to others as well. Boy, I’ll say so. Meanwhile, do you
   think they’re going to kill us in cold blood? Naw, I don’t think so, besides
   it’s too risky, and we’re on this side of the great river, they
   on the other. I’d like to thank you for what you just said, but I could never
   find the words.

   Oh, that’s all right.






 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-11 22:49:59 | 显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 2021-12-12 00:11 编辑


  
轻柔的雨,
   突然的阵雨。为什么不应该?
   在所有我喜欢的雨中,
   这个最有希望。不管怎么说,它在这里的
   干燥中。它喜欢我们说,“我们会帮你克服
   这一点,然后把舵柄还给你。其他人
   都是爱和情人,有时。”我们不会咬,
   不过,过去常常被欺骗。幸福结局
   只是等待你的认可,这一事实注定了它的失败;你将再一次
   并且最终勃然大怒,而且,不要对它进行太精细的解构,只有在一个
   没有人关心地观察的遥远未来才能得到救赎。现在到处都是
   没有人想看得比他或她的袖珍镜子更远这种事在四处游荡。有趣的是,某些自然
   灾害有时把人们聚集在一起,有时把他们分开。泛滥的“人云亦云”当然是
   当今的秩序,而且是一个如此高的秩序;人们可以看到自己被框起来、被显出轮廓、死亡,但
   仍然只考虑表面,边界;天堂
   已经向未知目的地升起,就像我们能坐在
   这里,我们所为。并非不冷。冰岛的光束从哪里来?但假设你认识某个人
   有既得利益,一种向你展示你的敌意最后如何终止的
   冲动,温文尔雅的总结,有勇气站起来这么说---“那么”
   我们不是团结了吗,难道一些事不是由于
   这个时间的到来,即最后一滴眼泪弄脏了橡木地板,烤天鹅,菠萝,
   未尝过味就被送走了。“那个”制造了我们中的多少人?
   两个,当然,但房间里有一些像花一样的东西,使它成为
   一个神奇的数字,混淆了计算,取消了报告,
   带来了其他未知形式的艺术元素,至少
   只要他们一直这样。没错,这把我们置入彼此的道路;我们再也不能
   瞄准墙上的那个目标,窗外的那个小山,似乎承诺了
   无限期的解脱,但至少,被装箱在里面,可以在家里挫败未知,发誓
   忠诚和这一次可能意味着它。与此同时,摇摇欲坠的古老的红色
   双层伦敦巴士游行迂回掠过窗口,像胜利的
   尖叫声,但事实上却自相矛盾:没有哪个狂欢节会像这样残暴,“而且”
   被冷落,至少在我看来是这样的。一个正好符合相反的另一个的
   思想空间;没有
   结局,也没有空白页。就我所关注的而言,它是一个平局,不错的一个
   如果你不去想它。
  
秋天的声音在丰富的,沉重的夏天里;
   水藻在池塘中闪烁。还有很多事情留下来要做,不是吗?
   我甚至还没有开始由内向外改变自己,甚至这
   不得不在非正式的开始之前。试着编那些我们曾经非常擅长的幼稚的
   旅游日程,你会明白。甚至我的日记也成了我的预兆,
   我知道我将如何继续写下去;否则它会
   失望。那些日子我们必须度过!下午在商店,
   当蓝色的夜晚,街道上方窗户上
   电视的颜色,出现,谁有力量
   根据预先存在的一套标准来判断这一切,然后与之生活在一起,
   更不用说享受它,努力让它成为一种永久力量,在人们的生活中和我们共享的
   那些中,在一段时间内,这个地球,以及那些果实的后果作出判断
   它可能不再存在,除了作为例子和越来越暗淡的例子?为什么
   这足以让你想离家出走,在午夜猛烈
   抨击自己:“为什么女孩离家出走”,“对玛丽.杜根的审判”:也许这些就是
   他们当时在剧院里说的话或在小说中写的话,这样
   人们就能“理解”,从而为自己省下很多麻烦
   和挣扎。在我们今天所走过的无原则的泥潭中,甚至没有人费心
   警告你白人奴隶制度的危险(举一个极端的例子),但话说回来
   没有人强迫你拯救自己。那太粗野。然而,如果能想到
   几年后人们可能会对此大笑一番,那就太好了,
   而这种保证正是我们今天所缺乏的。事实上,甚至没有人关心
   这一切是什么。他们只看到鞋革
   越来越薄地进入未来,无情的黎明
   逐渐变成黄昏,知道它们是由什么制成的,喜欢
   与否。这是每个人制成的东西,
   这并不令人震惊,发现现在,毕竟,像燃烧的
   温室里的玻璃一样易碎时。听外面的舞曲
   才是最重要的。事实上。长袜是次要的。

   这汤有一种奇怪的焦味,
   我想。你呢?

   否则,谁会相信我们,当我们
   回家品尝汤,喊一点,不想要太多?
   就像小女孩在像成年人一样说话时
   假装理解对方一样,我们看到生活
   在这条交替的轨道上是可能的,但并不是
   非常令人向往,尽管肯定是可能的。


  

  

   A soft rain,
   a sudden shower. Why shouldn’t it?
   And of all the ones I like
   this is the most promising. Here in the dry
   it is, anyway. It likes us,saying, “We’ll get you over
   this one, then hand you back the tiller. The others
   are all love and lovers, sometimes.” We won’t bite,
   though, having been deceived so often in the past. The fact that the
   happy ending’s only waiting your approval dooms it; you shall go off the deep end
   once more and ultimately, and, not to put too fine a deconstruction on it, be redeemed only
   in a distant future no one cares to look into. There’s so much of it going round
   now that no one wants to look farther than his or her pocket mirror. It’s funny how certain natural
   calamities bring people together at times, separate them at others. Rampant “me tooism”’s certainly
   the order of the day, and such a tall order; one can view oneself framed, silhouetted, dead, and
   still only think in terms of surfaces, boundaries; the very heavens
   have lifted off for destinations unknown, and as we can sit
   here, we do. It isn’t uncold. Whence comes Iceland’s beam? But suppose you know someone who’s
   got a vested interest, an urge to show you how your hostility is what’s aborting
   the final, suave wrap-up, with the guts to stand up and say so---then
   aren’t we uniting, and isn’t something due
   to come of it when the last tears stain the oak flooring, and the roasted swans,the pineapples,
   are sent away untasted. How many of us does that make?
   Two, surely, but there is something like flowers in the room, and that makes it
   a magic number, confounding calculations, canceling reports,
   bringing in other unknown elements that are a form of art, at least
   as long as they stay that way. True, that puts us in one another’s way; we can no longer
   aim at that destination on the wall, that hill outside the window, that seemed to promise
   indefinite relief, but at least, being boxed in, can thwart the unknown at home, swear
   fidelity and probably mean it this time. And meanwhile the tottering parade of ancient red
   double-decker London buses winds past the window like a shriek
   of victory but in reality contradicting itself: no carnival could be this atrocious and
   unfrequented, at least it seems so to me.And one fits exactly the space of the mind
   opposite one; there is no
   sequel and no blank pages. As far as I’m concerned it’s a draw, and a decent one at that
   if you keep your mind off it.




   Voices of autumn in full, heavy summer;
   algae spangling a pool. A lot remains to be done, doesn’t it?
   I haven’t even begun to turn myself inside-out yet, and that
   has to precede even an informal beginning. Try making up those childish itineraries we were once
   so apt at, and you’ll see. Even my diary has become an omen to me,
   and I know how I’ll have to go on writing it; it would be disappointed
   otherwise. And those days we have to get through! Afternoons at the store,
   and when bluish evening, the color of television
   in a window high above the street, comes on, who has the strength to
   judge it all according to a pre-existing set of criteria and then live with it,
   let alone enjoy it and aim it at being a force for good, in one’s life and that of those
   we share, for a time, this earth with, and later on to judge the after-effect of those fruits of it
   which may no longer exist except as examples and increasingly dim ones at that? Why
   it’s enough to make you want to leave home, strike out on your own
   at midnight: “Why Girls Leave Home,” “The Trial of Mary Dugan”: maybe these were the things
   they were saying then in the theater or writing about in novels so that
   people would understand and thereby save themselves a lot of trouble
   and floundering. In the unprincipled mire we walk about in today, nobody bothers even
   to warn you about the perils of white slavery (to cite an extreme example), but then again
   nobody is forcing you to save yourself either. That would be uncouth. Yet it would be nice
   to think that years afterward one might have a good laugh about it,
   and that assurance is precisely what we lack today. The fact is that no one even cares
   what’s it all about. They see only shoe-leather
   thinning into the future, and the inexorable dawn
   shading into dusk, and know that’s what they’re made of, like it
   or not. That’s what everybody’s made of,
   and it comes as no shock to find out that the present is, after all, brittle
   as glass in a burning conservatory.Listening to the dance music from outside
   is all that matters. Really. Stockings are of secondary importance.

   There was a strange, scorched taste to the soup,
   I thought. Had you?

   Otherwise who would believe us when we came
   home to taste the soup, and cry a little, not wanting much?
   Like little girls pretending to understand each other
   when they talk like adults, we’d see that living
   on this alternate rail was possible but not
   eminently desirable, though definitely possible.






  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-12 11:24:36 | 显示全部楼层
  

   啊,那年冬天,撕裂我的思想的是一首闪亮的诗
   我正要读、背诵、写:这是一首
   带有甚至更加激动人心的光环的上漆的东西,它写下了可能性
   在我们将要讲述的所有故事中,所有错误
   在我们身上,依次被我们和在我们周围的所有人
   承担,都不比我们幸运,也不比我们不幸运。

   努力招揽生意,人们开始漫不经心地解释
   自己的家庭和房子里的日期,围墙里
   可以看到一棵小梅树。强迫自己
   走的路。现在这些都过时了,而正是
   这里需要的东西。让我们把它们传递下去,而不分析它们,
   还有其他在这里唱歌的人,知道正义是神秘的,离开了那方式,

   一只飞蛾在屋子里唱歌的方式。放手,
   就像一指一指地松开。但我们告诉它我们想要它离开的方式。
   那你的故事怎么样?而那些火焰让你,变得
   比你想要的更好,仍然不值得为之而死?我放了一个广告,
   这是我的错,我该怎么离开?

   在那里---结束了。多么幸运的解脱。我一直很喜欢
   看到女人缝纫,冬青在屋檐下,有时是一种
   穿过黑暗用矛刺穿你的眼神:你是不可理解的一个人
   但我们现在有大量的人。我想我来自于是否看起来淫荡。
   不,但是前面有码头,和那个穿细条纹和常礼帽的
   男人。我们知道会有反响,但当他们到来时
   就像棉花糖一样柔软,而且是恭敬的,就像把梦
   放在一边,就像银行里的钱。

   时间是当天气似乎是一种放松的时候。今天,它一路
   被拧紧,就像罐子上的一顶帽子,但它反映了我们每个人
   身上的某些东西,我们一直试图找到的东西
   但没有很成功,因为狗在枯燥的下午
   来来去去---有人称之为“亲爱的,死去的日子”。

   就在那里,但有一个新的强度。一切都被美化
   为了人们更大的心灵安宁,里面的熔炉堆积
   为了更大的权威。我愿意
   在正面出现,“我”想要我们如此,在
   漫不经心的做爱中爆发,我想这是可能的。
   有什么问题吗?毫无疑问,它位于某些地方,沿着

   对这些微小的气象变化反应过度的道路,
   地平线的嘴唇有轻微的扭曲,或者
   可以看到任何东西的皱眉的幽灵,比如一只鸟的V字母
   散漫地消失在云中。同时,
   还有一些房间需要归回秩序。
   人们如何解释,由于从不回头看,人们总是
   向后看到了,围巾,看到从未有过的时代,
   把一只脚放在另一只脚之前只是
   无意识的引导者要跟随的一个标志,而人们的目的地
   是空栅栏,而不是这拥挤的过渡平台?所以,正是当孩子们

   忘记了成长的时候,他们才突然看到自己变老了,
   没有意识到更多?或者,当人们决定迁移出来
   从那村庄,它这些年来容纳他们,像一个地方
   而且毫无怨言地释放他们重新退回到
   我们成熟完整的织物的梦想中,
   现在我们有了一个,假设它仍然存在,在永久贷款上?

   我刷牙时发出的
   水的声音似乎是个好主意。后来,来源
   变得清晰,就像在一幅画中。没有人走到那一天。

   然而,只要别针还在,这里就是总有一天
   我会在的地方---不开玩笑。哦,我
   抱着你度过漫长的冬天,抓住你。

   钱币的胜利,骇人的命运的
   蛇和梯子,是最终接我们过去的东西,
   它的信息。有些日子风的确刮得更大
   但它对我们的情况有特殊的理解,那些倒逗号
   没有它似乎我们也可以工作。

  
  
  

   O in that winter what tore my thought was the shiny poem
   I was about to read and recite, and write: a lacquered thing
   with an even more exciting nimbus that spelt out possibilities
   in all the tales we were going to be told, all the wrongs
   inflicted on us and in turn by us on all those
   around us, neither more nor less fortunate than we.
   Trying to drum up business one begins explaining recklessly
   one’s family and the dates in one’s house, the little
   plum tree visible in the enclosure. The path one made
   forcing oneself. And now these are out of date and exactly what is
   required here. Let’s pass on them without analyzing them,
   and others who sang here, knowing justice mysterious, and out of the way,

   the way a moth sings in the house. A letting go,
   as finger by finger unclasps. But we told it the way we wanted it to go.
   So what about your story? And the fires that made you, better
   than you wanted, still not worth dying for? I placed an ad,
   it was wrong of me, and how should I go?

   There---it’s over. And what a blessed relief. I have always loved the
   sight of women sewing, and holly at the eaves, sometimes a look that
   spears you through the darkness: you are the unaccountable one
   but there are acres of us just now. And I thought I came of if looking lewd.
   No, but with the dock ahead, and that man in pinstripes
   and bowler. We knew there’d be repercussions, but they were soft
   as cotton candy when they came, and respectful, like dreams
   put away, like money in the bank.

   Time was when weather seemed a release. Today it’s screwed down
   all the way, like a cap on a jar, yet it mirrors something
   in each one of us, something we had been trying to find out
   without much success as dogs came and went across
   dull afternoons---the “dear, dead days” as someone called them.

   It’s there, but with a new intensity.Everything is landscaped
   for one’s greater peace of mind, the furnaces within banked
   for greater authoritativeness. I would like to
   come out on the plus side, I wants us to, and amid the
   explosions of careless lovemaking I suppose that’s possible.
   What’s the catch? No doubt it lies somewhere along the way

   of overreacting to these minute meteorological changes,
   a slight twist to the horizon’s lip or the ghost
   of a frown that could have seen anything, such as the V of a bird
   disappearing desultorily into a cloud. And meanwhile
   there are rooms to be put back in order.
   How does one explain that by never looking back one is always
   seeing backward, into the scarves, the times that never were,
   and that placing one foot before the other is only a sign
   to the unconscious guides to follow, and that one’s destination
   is the empty stockade, not this crowded landing? So it is when children

   forget to grow and they are suddenly looking at being older,
   not recognizing much? Or when people decide to migrate
   from the village that has held them all these years like a spot
   and uncomplainingly releases them to fall back
   into the dreams that are the very fabric of our maturing,
   now that we’ve got one, assuming it’s still there, on permanent loan?

   The sound the water made
   when I brushed my teeth seemed a good idea. Later the sources
   became clear, as in a picture. There was nobody to go to that day.

   Yet as long as the pins held, here was where I
   would someday be---no kidding. And O I
   held you through the long winter, held to you.

   The numismatic triumphs, the snakes and ladders
   of outrageous fortune were what finally put us across,
   its message. And some days the wind does blow heavier
   but it’s with special understanding for our case, those inverted commas
   without which we can^ function it seems.


  
  

 楼主| 发表于 2021-12-13 10:29:48 | 显示全部楼层
  

   晚上有一股大乐队的气味,人们站起来,
   自由走动。如果他们曾经
   来找我们,我们就在这里。谁不想呆在这里?
   是的,我对它思考得更多。我们要留下来。我们选择了。
   传递芹菜。

   然后他来旅行。你知道我的意思。
   这是最后一次向老听众宣讲的机会。回家,在许下许多多的承诺
   在下一次旋转前咨询自我之后。它消弱。我们每个人都有机会
   在这个面孔的城市里四处走动。现在它从我们互动的
   多面塔上进行单调的探测,
   也许。而这片树林的颈部已经被挑选。
   雨后,邋遢女人的光芒再次传播
   创造了所有的努力,就像沟渠只会
   在树上和视线中传播得更远,随着我扭曲的叙述的滴落,衰落着
   当一些人唱着内心的歌,而一些人,在一个家里,唱着持久的墙
   或风,生活在其中,爱着推荐给我们的谜语。

   同样是在海岸鼹鼠的作用下,海浪抛开了船,把它
   撞在了滑梯上。我们现在正处在一个更为真挚的时代
   由空缺定义它自己,这就是真正的以太。相反地,身体线条
   “使一切消失,像空气中的蒸汽”,擦亮曲线或海湾
   在某些被视为雄伟的时刻,或仅仅在安眠的时刻,一种永恒的,
   无线的情绪,善行可以从中坠落。而且主要是这样。虽然我知道
   门下有一声呻吟,一个秘密条约,计划诓骗已确定的
   秩序,在我们醒着、冷着、失去线索的夜晚。
   这就是说,和平萌芽的小玩意儿,是
   另一个营地的收藏品,或它的绳子以某种方式
   把我们拉得太紧?然后下一个东西爆炸了,
   像一支雪茄或一瓶花。留在橡胶般的尾迹中,人们仍然保持着
   打算既在前又在后环绕,不是在必要的期间,
   因为那里没有富有成效的休息,只有一场对立的游戏,摆着
   权利的姿势,为视而不见的快乐和紧张的修饰语,
   分组。沿着那片树林,你在靠近尽头的地方
   摆脱了一条小路,有些人在那里擦伤了,留下了
   大问题:你怎么逃脱?我们在等什么?像这样
   站着?当春天都过去了?你能让谁来改变它?

   你带着一个以前从未见过的家伙,像这样的天气,他一定
   会从我们不知道的无处不在的迟钝中推断出光明;
   它变成了一个建筑。因此,后来消息的强光看起来几乎是“自然的”,
   双手紧握的协议,一笔交易。在那个时间和地点。

   突然,他们都停止谈论它。然而我
   无法从我的脑海里消除。我昨天深在这里某个地方
   看到了它。结果,没人认为我正常,但我
   不在乎。每一个答案都可能被腌起来放在一边,以便毁掉,
   就像某种论文。只是为了破坏它。大量的思考进入它,从另一边出来。

   但我真的想回到这个私人倒钩上。为什么我要为它们哭泣?
   事实:人们让他们的门开着,甚至不冲马桶。
   事实:在这些方面彼此相爱更像是炮艇外交,而不像是
   肥皂剧,我,不在乎的人,总是被夹在中间。
   无论如何,我属于那里。我从某地到某地,在这些术语中思考。
   我就像一条束腰绳,可以系紧但从不系住。我试过友善和乐于助人,
   知道我曾经,但这是另外一回事。它是关于我的。所以我永远不会
   摆脱困境;我看着别人,反映出他们尴尬、害羞的笑容:好吧,
   我现在可以回家?但我知道,在我内心深处,我永远不会,永远不会想要,
   那是,因为我太尊重那些我们称之为“生活”的垃圾
   这些垃圾一直在流逝。尽管如此,我可能会被诱惑
   去爱或者一些事情,如果合适的人出现,或者时间合适;
   我知道我会。但到目前为止,我还不能被诱惑。我太单纯,就像诱惑
   本身的本性一样,而与此同时,粉丝们都退后,不知道该用什么来告诫
   玩家,而我却两手空空地坐在这里,胸中充满了
   无法解释的欲望和离合诗。我就这样继续下去。拿走我的眼镜。
   他对我说,我会投你一票。我们的道路很差。他笑着说。

   其他人为这个电话付费,这就是为什么在第一个地点
   没有留下一系列尊严,没有提到他们将如何重新开启
   一个一生中刚刚启程的人堵塞的职业生涯,他发现自己受伤了
   无法解释原因。到处都是血---没有伤口,
   只有流血的迹象。如果人们不想计算
   把每一刻都制成表格,用我无法理解的方式把它暴露在
   生活的石蕊下,那么海滩上的那些秃头男人就可以了,有些人可以
   兑现早晨的誓言,心不在焉地溜达到黄昏的
   足球场,让其他人孤独,作为一种消遣欢迎死亡,他们也可以轮流
   写下来。湖泊、浣熊和未被污染的月亮将是结果。
   事实上,现在每个人都发现自己低人一等:重复一遍,每个人。
   有动乱;球的影子继续存在。
   我留下,重复那些与我没有特别关系的标准。我
   在建筑物的侧面和车辆的背面写字,但仍然
   没有钉子把碎片和它附近的东西分开,也没有鱼游近另一条。
   我看到了这一切,我写作,但我什么也没看到。

  
  
  
  An odor of big bands in the night and one stands up,
   free to go. If ever they
   came looking for us, this is where we’d be. And who doesn’t want to be right here?
   Yes, the more I think about it. We’re going to stay. We’ve elected to.
   Pass the celery.

   Then the travel came at him. You know what I mean.
   A last chance to air the old mass. Going home, after so many promises
   to consult the self before the next spin. It erodes. We all had a chance
   at the city of faces moving around. Now it’s humdrum detection
   from a many-sided tower on which we interact,
   perhaps. And this neck of the woods is picked over.
   After a rain the slattern light spreads again
   creating all endeavors like ditches that only spread
   farther into the trees and eyesight as my wrenched narrative drips on, decays
   while some sing of the heart and a few, in a home, of lasting walls
   or winds, and live in and love the riddle that proposes us.

   Also by seacoast moles the wave gives up the ship, slams
   it against the slip. We are in more heartfelt times now that
   vacancy defines itself, that true aether.Conversely the body lines
   “evanish all, like vapours in the air,” burnish the curve or cove
   at certain times seen as majestic, or merely at rest, a timeless,
   unwired mood from which good can fall. And chiefly does. Though I am aware
   of a moaning under the door, a secret treaty, plans to shanghai the settled
   order during the night when we are awake and cold,losing the thread.
   This said, the bauble that peace sprouted, is
   it another camp collectible, or are its strings somehow
   drawn too taut in us? Then the next thing explodes,
   like a cigar or a vase of flowers. Left in the rubbery wake one still keeps
   meaning to be around both before and after, not during necessarily,
   since there is no fruitful rest there, only a game of opposites posing
   as right for the happy-to-be-blind and the tense modifiers,
   grouping. All along that stand of trees you shed a path
   adjacent to the end and some grazed there, mooring
   large questions of how do you get off and what are we waiting for? Standing
   like this? When all of spring is away? Who do you get to change it?

   You take a guy who’s never seen one before, a weather like this, and perforce he
   will deduce brightnesses out of the pervading dullness we never knew were there;
   it becomes a construction. So that the later glare of tidings seems almost “natural,”
   and the agreement that hands closed on, a bargain. in that time and place.

   Suddenly they all stopped talking about it. Yet I
   can’t get it out of my head.I just saw it here somewhere
   late last evening. As a result, nobody thinks I’m normal, but I don’t
   care. Every answer may have been salted and put away just so as to spoil,
   like a dissertation of some kind. A great deal of thinking went into it and out the other side.

   But I did want to get back to the personal barbs. Why was I wailing for them?
   Fact: people leave their doors open and don’t even flush the toilet.
   Fact: loving one another in these parts is more like gunboat diplomacy than it is
   like a soap opera, and I, who don’t care, always get caught in the middle.
   I belong there anyway. I’m going to someplace from someplace, and think in these terms.
   I’m like a corset string that gets laced up but never tied. I’ve tried to be kind and helpful,
   I know I have, but this is about something else. It’s about me. And so I am never
   off the hook; I look at others and reflect their embarrassed, sheepish grin: all right,
   can I go home now? But I know deep in my heart of hearts I never will, will never want to,
   that is, because I’ve too much respect for the junk we call living
   that keeps passing by. Still, I might be tempted
   to love or something if the right person came along, or the time were right;
   I know I would. But I can’t be tempted, so far. I’m too pure, like the nature
   of temptation itself, and meantime the fans stand back and wonder what to admonish
   the players with, and I sit here empty-handed, my breast teeming
   with unexplained desires and acrostics. I’ll go on like this. Take my glasses off.
   And he says to me, I’ll vote for you. Our roads are poor. And he laughed and said it.

   Others were paying for this call which is why in the first place
   no string of dignity remained, no mention of how they would reopen
   the clogged career of someone just starting out in life who finds himself injured
   and cannot explain why. There is blood everywhere---no wound,
   just the sign of bleeding. If one had thought not to count
   and tabulate every moment and expose it to the litmus of living in some way
   I can’t understand, then it would be all right for those bald men at the beach and some could
   redeem the morning pledge and saunter off distractedly into the football fields
   of dusk, and leave others alone, and welcome death as a diversion and they in turn could write
   this down. Lakes and raccoons and unspotted moons would be the result.
   As it is, everyone now finds himself inferior: repeat, everyone.
   There is unrest; the shadow of the ball carries over.
   I am left to repeat standards that have no particular relevance for me. I write
   on the sides of buildings and on the backs of vehicles, and still
   no nail divides the splinter from its neighbor, no fish swims close to another.
   I have seen it all, and I write, and I have seen nothing.


  
  

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