每天，我开车都经过
我未婚妻父亲的墓。
她一岁时失去他。
他是我们亲密的陌生人
我们的守护天使，
就漂浮在我们头顶上的
一位拉.夏加尔。
我为爱的日课去找他。
他摸着我的手
带着死者
对生者的慈爱
而我也这样摸着她的手
她知道我去了哪里。
在婚礼上，
他要把她交给我。
他要举起这酒杯为我们祝酒
将会是一个盈满了阳光的大酒杯
听见他的话越发清楚
因为他们不在场，而
刻石为记
Every day, I drive by the grave
of my fiancee’s father.
She lost him when she was one.
He’s our intimate stranger,
our guardian angel,
floating a la Chagall
just above our heads.
I go to him for love-lessons.
He touches my hand
with that tenderness
the dead have for the living.
When I touch her hand so,
she knows where I’ve been.
At the wedding,
he’ll give her away to me.
And the glass he’ll raise to toast us
will be a chalice brimful of sun,
his words heard all the more clearly
for their absence, as stone
is cut away to form dates.
“Guest of Honor” by Philip Dacey from Church of the Adagio, © Rain Mountain Press, 2014. Reprinted with permission.
