《万千(芬芳)色彩》
万千(芬芳)色彩
(始现)
之
一(而且)
而且
(渐渐)渐渐(浓郁)变幻出
多种色调亲密喧闹
(化为)冲击
心灵进入
梦乡(一个)飞快地
不是
一 二 三
在那里
死去
挺立(幽魂。)
同时(弥漫于环绕的空气)绽放
说明:“一二三 在那里”,原文均为法语。
(附原文)
An(fragrance)Of
(Begins)
millions
Of Tints(and)
&
(grows)Slowly(slowly)Voyaging
tones intimate tumult
(Into)bangs
minds into
dream(An)quickly
Not
un deux trois
der
die
Stood(apparition.)
WITH(THE ROUND AIR IS FILLED)OPENING
《你在冬天坐着》
你
在冬
天坐着
边死边想
蜷缩在肮脏
玻璃窗后脑袋
里挤满乱糟糟的
梦(有时透过没清
洗的窗子空洞凝视着
一场热闹的骚动,粗野
杀气腾腾的脸匆匆走过,喘着
气。)“在这个季节人是行尸走肉”
他想“他们的结局多少是明摆着,
相比天下的芸芸众生们轻快忙碌地操持
他们的丑陋生活,一种更加彻底的简单,一
种更加强烈残酷的无用,叫人吃惊却又
自然而然,多么别扭”他默默蜷缩在
三两扇部分透明的窗后,它无情地
隔开了一团静止的魂与一百个
命里要匆忙的头脑(他
三三两两怒冲冲走过,
喘着气)在冬天你
想着,慢慢死去“嘀
嗒”如我曾经看
到树木(叶
子隐藏于
黑黝黝
的身
躯
(附原文)
you
in win
ter who sit
dying thinking
huddled behind dir
ty glass mind muddled
and cuddled by dreames(or some
times vacantly gazing through un
washed panes into a crisp todo of
murdering uncouth faces which pass rap
idly with their breaths.)“people are walking deaths
in this season”think“finality lives up
on them a little more openly than usual
hither,thither who briskly busily carry the as
tonishing &spontaneous &difficult ugliness
of themselves with a more incisive simplicity a
more intensively brutal futility”And sit
huddling dumbly behind three or two partly tran
sparent panes which by some loveless trick sepa
rate one stilled unmoving mind from a hun
dred doomed hurrying brains(by twos
or threes which fiercely rapidly
pass with their breaths)in win
ter you think,die slow
ly“toc tic”as i
have seen trees(in
whose black bod
ies leaves
hide
(附原文)
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
《在一个房子的一个中间》
在一个房子的一个中间
站着一个自杀的人
闻着一个纸玫瑰
对一个自己笑
“有个地方是春天
有时候人是真实的:想象
某地真实的花,不过
我不能想象真实的花假如我
能,不知怎么它们就
不是真的了”
(于是他笑了
笑着)“不过片刻之后
无论在哪里对于你
我不会是真实的了”
这是个金发碧眼的人
长着纤小的手
“一切都比我
想过的容易一切应该
如此;甚至记住一个人第一眼
看一个人的神情,这人怎样跳舞”
(一个月亮浮出一个云
一个钟敲响午夜
一个手指扣住一个扳机
一个鸟飞入一个镜子)