I
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
There in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.
These boys of light are curdlers in their folly,
Sour the boiling honey;
The jacks of frost they finger in the hives;
There in the sun the frigid threads
Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves;
The signal moon is zero in their voids.
I see the summer children in their mothers
Split up the brawned womb's weathers,
Divide the night and day with fairy thumbs;
There in the deep with quartered shades
Of sun and moon they paint their dams
As sunlight paints the shelling of their heads.
I see that from these boys shall men of nothing
Stature by seedy shifting,
Or lame the air with leaping from its heats;
There from their hearts the dogdayed pulse
Of love and light bursts in their throats.
O see the pulse of summer in the ice.
II
But seasons must be challenged or they totter
Into a chiming quarter
Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars;
There, in his night, the black-tongued bells
The sleepy man of winter pulls,
Nor blows back moon-and-midnight as she blows.
We are the dark deniers, let us summon
Death from a summer woman,
A muscling life from lovers in their cramp,
From the fair dead who flush the sea
The bright-eyed worm on Davy's lamp,
And from the planted womb the man of straw.
We summer boys in this four-winded spinning,
Green of the seaweeds' iron,
Hold up the noisy sea and drop her birds,
Pick the world's ball of wave and froth
To choke the deserts with her tides,
And comb the county gardens for a wreath.
In spring we cross our foreheads with the holly,
Heigh ho the blood and berry,
And nail the merry squires to the trees;
Here love's damp muscle dries and dies,
Here break a kiss in no love's quarry.
O see the poles of promise in the boys.
III
I see you boys of summer in your ruin.
Man in his maggot's barren.
And boys are full and foreign in the pouch.
I am the man your father was.
We are the sons of flint and pitch.
O see the poles are kissing as they cross.
1
我看見夏日的男孩在毀滅
金色的家園無比荒涼,
沃土凍結(jié),沒有一絲的豐盈;
他們攜著妙齡少女,
熱情融化冬日里冰封的愛情,
他們洶涌的波濤淹沒滿艙的蘋果。
這些光的男孩,累積幾多的荒唐,
攪酸沸滾的蜂蜜;
他們在蜂巢里撥弄嚴(yán)寒的霜凌;
陽光下幾絲寒冷的疑慮和幽暗
養(yǎng)育他們的神經(jīng);
一輪信號月消失在虛幻里。
我看見夏日的孩子在母胎中
撕裂強(qiáng)壯子宮的風(fēng)風(fēng)雨雨,
神奇的拇指劃分出白晝和黑夜;
在日月分割的濃蔭深處,
他們涂抹自己的堤壩,
仿佛日光涂抹他們脫落的顱殼。
我看見男孩一個個成了無名之輩,
隨種子的變換漸漸成熟,
熱情的跳躍或許讓空氣殘缺;
三伏天涌動的陽光和愛情
從心里向喉口驟然迸發(fā)。
哦,看那冰雪中夏日的脈動。
2
但是,季節(jié)必須接受挑戰(zhàn)或墜入
一處鐘聲齊鳴的地方;
在那兒,我們搖響星星,死亡般準(zhǔn)時;
冬日里的男人,昏昏欲睡,
在夜晚,扯動黑舌的喪鐘,
女人吹動風(fēng),卻吹不回午夜的月光。
我們是黑色的反叛者,讓我們
從夏日的女人召喚死亡,
從痙攣的情人處,召喚強(qiáng)悍的生命,
從漂浮大海的白凈尸體上
召喚戴維神燈上眼睛明亮的蠕蟲,
從種植的子宮里召喚稻草人。
我們這群夏日男孩,在呼呼生風(fēng)的旋轉(zhuǎn)中,
海藻般的鐵綠植物,
舉起喧囂的大海,放飛一群群海鳥,
撿拾世上球狀的波浪和泡沫,
讓潮汐窒息沙漠,
為扎一只花環(huán),梳理鄉(xiāng)間的花園。
在春天,我們用冬青枝纏繞前額,
嘿,還有鮮血和漿果,
快樂的鄉(xiāng)紳被釘上樹干;
濕漉漉的肉肌在此枯干而亡,
熱吻在無情的采石場裂成碎片。
哦,看孩子們信誓旦旦的愛情柱。
3
夏日的男孩,我看見你們在毀滅。
男人在蛆蟲遍布的荒野。
而男孩的袋囊鼓鼓,非同凡響。
我是男人,你的父親也是。
我們是燧石和瀝青的子孫。
哦,當(dāng)他們穿過,看愛情柱在親吻。