AN INTERNATIONAL POETRY JOURNAL IN ENGLISH & CHINESE
Spring 2015 | Issue 8
Jane Hirshfield is the author of eight books of poetry, including The Beauty; Come, Thief; After; and Given Sugar, Given Salt. She has edited and co-translated four books presenting the work of poets from the past, and is the author of two major books of essays, Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry and Ten Windows: How Great Poems Transform the World. Her books have been finalists for the National Book Critics Circle Award and England’s T. S. Eliot Prize; have been named best books of the year by The Washington Post, San Francisco Chronicle, Amazon, and England’s Financial Times; and have won the California Book Award, the Poetry Center Book Award, and the Donald Hall-Jane Kenyon Prize in American Poetry. Hirshfield has received fellowships from the Guggenheim and Rockefeller foundations, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Academy of American Poets. Her poems have appeared in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, The Times Literary Supplement, The Washington Post, The New York Times, Harper’s, Poetry, Orion, Discover, The American Poetry Review, McSweeney’s, The Pushcart Prize Anthology, and eight editions of The Best American Poetry. A resident of Northern California since 1974, she presents her poems in universities, literary centers, and festivals throughout the United States and abroad. She is a current chancellor of the Academy of American Poets.
美國詩人簡·赫斯菲爾德是八部詩集的作者,包括《美》、《來吧,小偷》、《之後》、《加點糖,加點鹽》、《內心生活》、《十月的宮殿》等。曾編輯並與人合譯了四部過去時代詩人的作品集。散文著作主要有兩本,《九道門:進入詩歌的記憶》和《十扇窗:偉大的詩歌如何改變世界》。她的書曾入圍美國國家書評圈獎和英國T.S.艾略特詩歌獎決選名單,被《華盛頓郵報》、《三藩市紀事報》、亞馬遜網站和英國《金融時報》評為年度最佳圖書,亦曾獲加州圖書獎、詩歌中心圖書獎、唐納德·霍爾—簡·凱尼恩美國詩歌獎。赫斯菲爾德還得到過古根漢基金會、洛克菲勒基金會、美國國家藝術基金會和美國詩歌學會的獎勵。她的詩歌見於如下書刊:《紐約客》、《大西洋月刊》、《泰晤士報文學增刊》、《華盛頓郵報》、《紐約時報》、《哈潑雜志》、《詩刊》、《獵戶座》、《發現》、《美國詩歌評論》、《麥克斯威尼》、《手推車獎年度詩歌》,以及八種《美國最佳詩歌選》。她1974年定居加州北部,經常受邀在國內外高校、文學機構和詩歌節朗誦。現為美國詩人學會理事。
I WANTED ONLY A LITTLE
I wanted, I thought, only a little,
two teaspoons of silence—
one for sugar,
one for stirring the wetness.
No.
I wanted a Cairo of silence,
a Kyoto.
In every hanging garden
mosses and waters.
The directions of silence:
north, west, south, past, future.
It comes through any window
one inch open,
like rain driven sideways.
Grief shifts,
as a grazing horse does,
one leg to the other.
But a horse sleeping
sleeps with all legs locked.
我只要少許
我想要的,我以為,只有少許,
兩茶匙的寂靜——
一勺代替糖,
一勺攪動潮濕。
不。
我要一整個開羅的寂靜,
一整個京都。
每一座懸空的花園裏
青苔和水。
寂靜的方向:
北,西,南,過去,未來。
它鑽進任何一扇窗
敞開一寸的縫隙,
像斜落的雨。
悲痛挪移,
彷彿一匹吃草的馬,
交替著腿蹄。
馬睡著時
腿全都上了鎖。
THE PROMISE
Stay, I said
to the cut flowers.
They bowed
their heads lower.
Stay, I said to the spider,
who fled.
Stay, leaf.
It reddened,
embarrassed for me and itself.
Stay, I said to my body.
It sat as a dog does,
obedient for a moment,
soon starting to tremble.
Stay, to the earth
of riverine valley meadows,
of fossiled escarpments,
of limestone and sandstone.
It looked back
with a changing expression, in silence.
Stay, I said to my loves.
Each answered,
Always.
諾言
留下來,我
對瓶中花說。
它們鞠躬,
頭更低了。
留下來,我對蜘蛛說,
蜘蛛逃走。
留下來,葉子。
它變紅,
為我和它自己感到難為情。
留下來,我對我的身體說。
它像一隻狗那樣坐著,
順從片刻,
又立即開始發抖。
留下來,大地上
溪谷間的草地,
鑲嵌化石的崖坡,
石灰岩和砂岩。
它們回望向我
變幻著表情,保持沉默。
留下來,我對我的愛說。
每一個都回答,
永遠。
A PERSON PROTESTS TO FATE
A person protests to fate:
“The things you have caused
me most to want
are those that furthest elude me.”
Fate nods.
Fate is sympathetic.
To tie the shoes, button a shirt,
are triumphs
for only the very young,
the very old.
During the long middle:
conjugating a rivet
mastering tango
training the cat to stay off the table
preserving a single moment longer than this one
continuing to wake whatever has happened the day before
and the penmanships love practices inside the body.
一個人向命運抗議
一個人向命運抗議:
「你致使我
最想要的東西
最遙不可及。」
命運點頭。
命運有同情心。
系上鞋帶,系上襯衫鈕扣,
是一種凱旋,
僅僅對那些年幼者
和年老者。
而在這漫長的時間中:
給一顆鉚釘變位
精通探戈
訓練一隻貓不跳上桌子
儲存起比此刻更長久的一瞬
持續喚醒前一天所發生的
還有愛的書法在身體裏踐行。
THE ONE NOT CHOSEN
Third sister,
aunt one forgets to send a card to.
Boy on a bench, second smallest,
not quick, not precise, not cunning.
Culled chick, branch-bruised peach,
chair wobbly, unused, set in a corner.
For some, almost good, almost lucky
not to be chosen,
though equally accidental—
the thirty-year-buried land mine
chooses the leg of another.
(How the mouth struggles
to say it: lucky, good.)
Most are not chosen, most mostly watch.
So it must be.
The watched
(not escaping pride, not truly minding)
bemoan their responsibilities,
so many anxieties, demands, complications.
And still: any rabbit the center
of its own rabbit world,
its universe axis a nest of tamped-down grasses.
It looks out its ground-level eyes,
is warm, is curious, hungry,
its heart beats faster or slower
with its own rabbit fate.
A rabbit’s soul cannot help
but choose its own ears, its own paws,
its own startlement, sleepiness, longings,
it has a rabbit allegiance,
and the pink nose, which
could have been drawn in charcoal
by Dürer’s sister, but wasn’t,
takes in its own warmth and fur-scent,
glints pinkly,
pinkly alters the distant star’s light
in its own cuniculan corner
among vast and unanswerable worlds,
without even knowing it does so.
未被選中的一個
排行第三的姊妹,
寄明信片時遺漏的姨母。
替補席上的男孩,倒數第二個矮小,
不夠快,不夠准確,不夠機靈。
淘汰的雞仔,枝條刮傷的桃子,
鬆散的椅子,沒用了,擺在角落。
有時候,未被選中
稱得上好事,稱得上幸運,
儘管機會均等——
埋了三十年的地雷
選中了別人的腿。
(嘴巴猶豫著
說出:幸運,還好。)
多數未被選中,多數眼睜睜看著。
只能如此。
被觀看者
(免不了驕傲,但並不真的在意)
抱怨他們的責任,
太多焦慮,要求,太複雜。
不管怎樣:每隻兔子
都以兔子世界的為中心,
牠的宇宙中軸是一窩踩實的草。
牠用與地面齊平的眼睛眺望,
溫暖,好奇,飢腸轆轆,
心跳快慢
取決於個別兔子的命運。
兔子的心靈別無旁顧
只會遵從自己的耳朵,自己的爪子,
自己的驚愕,睏意,渴望,
牠擁有一隻兔子的忠誠,
和粉紅的鼻頭——
本可能被丟勒的妹妹
用炭筆描繪,但那並未發生,
牠吸入自己的體溫和毛皮氣味,
粉紅地閃爍,
粉紅地,改變著遠處的星光
在遼闊、緘默的世界上
安於兔子的一隅,
對此渾然不覺。
MY SKELETON
My skeleton,
who once ached
with your own growing larger,
are now,
each year
imperceptibly smaller,
lighter,
absorbed by your own
concentration.
When I danced,
you danced.
When you broke,
I.
And so it was lying down,
walking,
climbing the tiring stairs.
Your jaws. My bread.
Someday you,
what is left of you,
will be flensed of this marriage.
Angular wristbone’s arthritis,
cracked harp of ribcage,
blunt of heel,
opened bowl of the skull,
twin platters of pelvis—
each of you will leave me behind,
at last serene.
What did I know of your days,
your nights,
I who held you all my life
inside my hands
and thought they were empty?
You who held me all your life
in your hands
as a new mother holds
her own unblanketed child,
not thinking at all.
我的骨骼
我的骨骼,
你一度
在瘋長中疼痛,
如今
一年年
不知不覺縮小,
變輕,
為自身的專注
吸收。
當我起舞,
你也起舞。
當你折斷,
我。
它就這樣躺下,
走路,
攀爬累人的樓梯。
你的下頜。我的面包。
有一天,你,
你的剩餘,
將從這結合中剃淨。
不規則腕骨上的關節炎,
破裂的豎琴般的胸廓,
遲鈍的腳踵,
頭顱敞開的碗口,
盆骨上一對淺盤——
每一塊都將離我而去,
歸復寧靜。
我都知道些什麼?有關你的白晝,
你的黑夜。
我終生把你
攜帶在手
卻以為我雙手空空。
你終生把我
奉在手掌
像一位新生兒的母親
懷抱赤裸的嬰孩,
不必思考。
A PHOTOGRAPH OF A FACE HALF LIT, HALF IN DARKNESS
Even 3 + 2 is like this.
A photograph of a face half lit, half in darkness.
A train station where one train is stopped
and another passes behind it,
heard, but not seen.
A person proud of five good senses
lives without echolocation.
Dogs pity our noses
as we pity the bee that blunders the glass.
Take out every other word of the world,
what is left?
A half half darkness.
A station one is and passes.
We live our lives in one place
and look in every moment into another.
As on a child’s map,
where X
marks both riddle and treasure.
It is near, but not here.
照片上的臉一半在光裏,一半在黑暗裏
就像3+2那樣。
照片上的臉一半在光裏,一半在黑暗裏。
一座火車站停了一列火車,
另一列從後面開過,
聽見,但看不見。
一個人為他的五種感官自豪
但不用回聲定位法。
狗同情我們的鼻子
就像我們同情撞在玻璃上的蜜蜂。
從世界上每兩個詞中拿掉一個,
還剩下什麼?
一半黑暗的一半。
一座火車站和一座經過的火車站。
我們生活在一個固定地點
卻無時無刻不在向別處看。
就像在孩子的地圖上,
X
標誌著線索,也標誌著寶藏。
它很近,但不在這裏。
MOSQUITO
I say I
&
a small mosquito drinks from my tongue
but many say we and hear I
say you or he and
hear I
what can we do with this problem
a bowl held in both hands
cannot be filled by its holder
x, says the blue whale
x, say the krill
solve for y, says the ocean, then multiply by existence
the feet of an ant make their own sound on the earth
ice is astonished by water
a person misreads
delirium as delphinium
and falls into
a blueness sleepy as beauty when sneezing
the pronoun dozes
蚊子
我說我
&
一隻小蚊子從我舌尖上啜飲
很多人說我們但聽見我
說你或他但
聽見我
這個問題該怎麼辦
雙手端起一只碗
就不能同時把它填滿
x,藍鯨說
x,磷蝦說
得出y,海洋說,然後乘以存在
螞蟻的腳在大地上製造自己的聲音
水讓冰吃了一驚
一個人
把譫妄讀成翠雀
打著噴嚏
墜入一片困倦的純藍之美
代詞在打瞌睡
譯注:英語詞譫妄(delirium)和翠雀屬(delphinium)的拼寫很接近,容易誤讀。據說翠雀屬的一些植物花粉可引發人打噴嚏。
MY MEMORY
Like the small soaps and shampoos
a traveler brings home
then won’t use,
you, memory,
almost weightless
this morning inside me.
我的記憶
像旅行者帶回家的
小塊香皂和洗髮液
然後擱置,
你,記憶,
幾乎沒有重量
今晨漂浮體內。
ZERO PLUS ANYTHING IS A WORLD
Four less one is three.
Three less two is one.
One less three
is what, is who,
remains.
The first cell that learned to divide
learned to subtract.
Recipe:
add salt to hunger.
Recipe:
add time to trees.
Zero plus anything
is a world.
This one
and no other,
unhidden,
by each breath changed.
Recipe:
add death to life.
Recipe:
love without swerve what this will bring.
Sister, father, mother, husband, daughter.
Like a cello
forgiving one note as it goes,
then another.
零加上任何事物都是一個世界
四減一是三。
三減二是一。
一減三
是什麼,是誰,
餘數。
第一個學會分裂的細胞
學會了減法。
祕方:
給饑餓加鹽。
祕方:
給樹加時間。
零加上任何事物
都是一個世界。
此世
非他世,
一覽無遺,
在每一口呼吸中變更。
祕方:
給生加死。
祕方:
筆直愛這必然的一切。
姐姐,父親,母親,丈夫,女兒。
好像一把大提琴
原諒每一個它正在拉出的音符,
和下一個。
SENTENCINGS
A thing too perfect to be remembered:
stone beautiful only when wet.
* * *
Blinded by light or black cloth—
so many ways
not to see others suffer.
* * *
Too much longing:
it separates us
like scent from bread,
rust from iron.
* * *
From very far or very close—
the most resolute folds of the mountain are gentle.
* * *
As if putting arms into woolen coat sleeves,
we listen to the murmuring dead.
* * *
Any point of a circle is its start:
desire forgoing fulfillment to go on desiring.
* * *
In a room in which nothing
has happened,
sweet-scented tobacco.
* * *
The very old, hands curling into themselves, remember their parents.
* * *
Think assailable thoughts, or be lonely.
短句
一件過於完美的事物難於記憶:
石頭只有在濕潤時美麗。
* * *
光或一塊黑布遮住了眼睛——
有若干種方式
看不見別人的苦難。
* * *
渴望太深:
它隔開我們
像香氣之於面包,
鐵鏽之於鐵。
* * *
從遠處或近處——
群山最堅決的褶皺是溫和的。
* * *
像把胳膊伸進羊毛外套的袖子那樣,
我們傾聽死者的低語。
* * *
一個圓圈從它的任意一點開始:
欲望拒絕滿足為了使欲望延續。
* * *
在一間什麼都沒有
發生過的房間,
煙草的甜味。
* * *
老邁的人,手像身體佝僂著,想起他們的父母。
* * *
讓思想暴露弱點,否則孤獨。
譯注:英文題目「Sentencings」也有宣判之意,詩人把頭腦中的想法變成紙上的詩行,也可稱之為一種宣判。
LIKE TWO NEGATIVE NUMBERS MULTIPLIED BY RAIN
Lie down, you are horizontal.
Stand up, you are not.
I wanted my fate to be human.
Like a perfume
that does not choose the direction it travels,
that cannot be straight or crooked, kept out or kept.
Yes, No, Or
—a day, a life, slips through them,
taking off the third skin,
taking off the fourth.
The logic of shoes becomes at last simple,
an animal question, scuffing.
Old shoes, old roads—
the questions keep being new ones.
Like two negative numbers multiplied by rain
into oranges and olives.
正如兩個負數乘以雨水
躺下,你就是水平的。
站起來,你就不是。
我要求我的命運成為人。
好比香水
不擇路而行,
不分曲直,無法阻擋也不能保存。
是,否,或
——一天,一輩子,從三者間滑過,
蛻掉第三層皮,
蛻掉第四層。
鞋子的邏輯終究沒那麼複雜,
一個動物的問題,磨損。
舊鞋子,老路——
新的疑問不斷湧至。
正如兩個負數乘以雨水
得到橘子和橄欖。
A BLESSING FOR WEDDING
Today when persimmons ripen
Today when fox-kits come out of their den into snow
Today when the spotted egg releases its wren song
Today when the maple sets down its red leaves
Today when windows keep their promise to open
Today when fire keeps its promise to warm
Today when someone you love has died
or someone you never met has died
Today when someone you love has been born
or someone you will not meet has been born
Today when rain leaps to the waiting of roots in their dryness
Today when starlight bends to the roofs of the hungry and tired
Today when someone sits long inside his last sorrow
Today when someone steps into the heat of her first embrace
Today, let this light bless you
With these friends let it bless you
With snow-scent and lavender bless you
Let the vow of this day keep itself wildly and wholly
Spoken and silent, surprise you inside your ears
Sleeping and waking, unfold itself inside your eyes
Let its fierceness and tenderness hold you
Let its vastness be undisguised in all your days
婚禮的祝福
今天,當柿子熟了
今天,當小狐狸鑽出洞穴撲進大雪
今天,當帶斑點的蛋釋放鷦鷯的歌
今天,當楓樹安放它的紅葉
今天,當窗口如約敞開
今天,當火焰如約驅寒
今天,當你愛的人已逝去
或你素未謀面的人已逝去
今天,當你愛的人已出生
或你無緣相見的人已出生
今天,當雨水躍向乾渴的根的等待
今天,當星光彎向饑餓與疲憊的屋頂
今天,當有人在他最後的悲傷中久久靜坐
今天,當有人跨入她第一次擁抱的熾熱
今天,讓這束光祝福你
連同朋友們讓它祝福你
連同雪的氣味和薰衣草祝福你
讓今日的誓約放肆、徹底地保存
無論說出還是沉默,在你耳內把你驚動
無論睡去還是醒來,在你眼內徑自攤開
讓它的熱烈與溫柔托住你
讓它的寬廣在你所有的日子裏延續
THE DEAD DO NOT WANT US DEAD
The dead do not want us dead;
such petty errors are left for the living.
Nor do they want our mourning.
No gift to them—not rage, not weeping.
Return one of them, any one of them, to the earth,
and look: such foolish skipping,
such telling of bad jokes, such feasting!
Even a cucumber, even a single anise seed: feasting.
September 15, 2001
死者不要我們死去
死者不要我們死去;
這樣狹隘的錯誤只留給生者。
他們也不要我們哀悼。
不要送他們禮物——不要憤怒,不要哭泣。
把他們之一,他們任一,歸還給大地,
來看看:這可笑的雀躍的步伐,
這講壞的笑話,這盛宴!
甚至一根黃瓜,甚至一顆茴香籽:盛宴。
2001年9月15日
A Bonus Poem: Let Them Not Say|別讓他們說