王家新 | Wang Jiaxin

 

 

中文

 

晚年的帕斯

 

 

去年他眼睁睁地看着

傍晚的一场大火

烧掉了他在墨西哥城的家

烧掉了他一生的珍藏

那多年的手稿和未完成的诗

那古老的墨西哥面具

和毕加索的绘画

那祖传的家具和童年以来

所有的照片、信件

那欢乐的拱顶,肋骨似的

屋椽,一切的一切

在一场冲天而起的火中

化为灰烬

 

那火仍在烧

在黑暗中烧

烧焦了从他诗中起飞的群鸟的翅膀

烧掉了一个人的前生

烧掉了多年来的负担

也烧掉了虚无和灰烬本身

人生的虚妄、爱欲

和未了的雄心

都在一场晚年的火中劈啪作响

那救火的人

仍在呛人的黑暗中呼喊

如影子一般跑动

 

现在他自由了

像从一场漫长的拷打中解脱出来

他重又在巴黎的街头坐下

落叶在脚下无声地翻卷

而他的额头,被一道更遥远的光照亮

 

English

 

THE LAST DAYS OF OCTAVIO PAZ

 

 

Mexico City, dusk,

his eyes wide

as a great conflagration

devours his house, his life’s

possessions, the years

of manuscripts, poems finished

and unfinished, the Aztec mask,

the Picasso, chairs

of his ancestors, photos from childhood,

the joyous dome, its ribbed beams and rafters,

everything turning to ash

in a whirling column of fire.

 

The flames blaze on,

charring night,

lick the black wings

soaring from his poems,

consume the leaden hours,

human illusion, human desire,

wish and ambition,

emptiness and ash—

all crackling in a fire

come late in life,

as firemen shout in the choking dark,

fleeting shadows.

 

So late, so late

but now set free

from long affliction,

Octavio Paz will sit once more

beside a Paris street,

dry leaves scuttling silent at his feet,

a far off light

dawning on his brow.

 

trans. © John Crespi, Diana Shi, & George O’Connell

 

more by Wang Jiaxin

转变 | Transformation

孤堡札记 | Notes from the Castle of Solitude

田园诗 | Pastoral

八月十七日,雨 | August 17th, Rain

变暗的镜子 | Darkening Mirror

第一场雪 | First Snow

悼亡友 | Mourning a Friend

桔子 | Tangerines

哥特兰的黄昏 | Gotland’s Dusk

Spring 2013

黄灿然 | Huang Canran

Linda Pastan | 琳达·帕斯坦

Images © 莫非 | Mo Fei