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我过得像一位布满灰尘的天使--迈克尔.布鲁门萨尔

已有 14413 次阅读2014-11-20 10:29 |个人分类:Michael Blumenthal|系统分类:诗歌

浑浊的水冲洗了我,
烟尘涂在我巨大的翅膀上,模糊着我的双眼,
狂怒的血流遍我的血脉,
淹没美德和得体的平地,
毁坏了这结构,泛滥于这些房屋,
粉碎窗户,我因我的行为变得沉重,欲望的火,
一直背叛,背叛,更伤人,受伤,
轮到我面对无论任何可能性,
坏爸爸好爸爸没有信仰的萨提尔,
一直彬彬有礼,宽容,和善,伤着感情,
嫖客放逐爱国的浪子。
我摇晃过白桦树,在悬铃木下
做爱,在垂柳下流泪,
我因欲望颤抖
在山梅花树旁(我对任何人都多么善啊,
我问,是否我对自己不够好?
为什么对着一个无形的上帝祈祷
是否我不能取悦这令人心动的肉体?)
除此之外男人还能要求他的肉体什么
而只能对着一切坦白?悲伤的鸟儿,
这个人,只有在放逐中快乐:
一种语言的混乱,一种斑驳的颤抖的需要,
灰尘仍然聚集在这些折断的翅膀上--
黑暗,饥饿,摇曳的煤烟。
And the muddy waters have washed over me, 
coating my large wings with soot, clouding my eyes,
and the raging blood has coursed through my veins, 
flooding the flatlands of virtue and decency, 
ravaging the structures, inundating the houses, 
shattering the windows, and I have grown heavy 
with my deeds, and light with desire, 
been and betrayed, wounder and wounded, 
taken my turn at whatever was possible, 
bad father good father infidel satyr, 
been decent, forgiving, tender, wounding, 
whoremonger exile patriot rake. 
I have shaken the birches, made love  
under the sycamore, wept beneath the willow,  
I have trembled with desire 
beside the mock orange (What good am I 
to anyone, I ask, if I’m not good 
to myself? Why pray to an invisible God 
if I can’t please the beckoning flesh?) 
And what more can a man ask of his body 
but that it confess to everything? Sad bird,  
this human one, but happy in exile: a confusion  
of tongues, a mottle of trembling needs, 
the dust still gathering on these broken wings— 
the darkness, the hunger, the flickering soot.

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