It happens. Will it go on?——
這事發(fā)生了。還會繼續(xù)嗎?——
My mind a rock,
我的頭腦,一塊巖石,
No fingers to grip, no tongue,
沒有手指可抓,沒有舌頭,
My god the iron lung
我的上帝,鐵似的肺
That loves me, pumps
喜歡我,仿佛
My two
兩只
Dust bags in and out,
垃圾袋呼進呼出,
Will not
不會
Let me relapse
讓我舊病復發(fā)
While the day outside glides by like ticker tape.
而白晝消逝像報價機紙帶。
The night brings violets,
夜晚帶來紫羅蘭花,
Tapestries of eyes,
綴滿眼睛的掛毯,
Lights,
一盞盞燈,
The soft anonymous
溫柔匿名的
Talkers:‘You all right?’
說話人:“你沒事吧?”
The starched, inaccessible breast.
硬挺,不可接近的胸脯。
Dead egg, I lie
已死的家伙,我整個
Whole
躺在
On a whole world I cannot touch,
我無法觸及的整個世界,
At the white, tight
躺在我,睡椅
Drum of my sleeping couch
白色繃緊的突起物上
Photographs visit me——
照片讓我回憶——
My wife, dead and flat, in 1920 furs,
我的妻,已死的矮個,身穿二十年代的皮草
Mouth full of pearls,
滿嘴珍珠,
Two girls
兩個女兒
As flat as she, who whisper‘We’re your daughters’.
與她一樣矮,低語“我們是你的女兒。”
The still waters
靜止的水
Wrap my lips,
覆蓋我的雙唇,
Eyes, nose and ears,
雙眼,鼻子,雙耳,
A clear
一張透明的
Cellophane I cannot crack.
玻璃紙,我無法撕裂。
On my bare back
在我裸露的背上
I smile, a buddha, all
我微笑,一尊佛像,所有的
Wants, desire
欲望,渴望
Falling from me like rings
從我身上落下,仿佛光環(huán)
Hugging their lights.
擁抱它們的一盞盞燈。
The claw
木蘭的
Of the magnolia,
瓣爪
Drunk on its own scents,
醉于自己的芬香,
Asks nothing of life.
不向生活索求。
(1963/01/29. pp.266—267. No. 217)
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