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丽泽·穆勒（Lisel Mueller），美籍德国人，1924年2月8日生于德国汉堡。15岁时和全家移居美国。1997年获普利策诗歌奖。主要诗集有：《附属物》（Dependencies，1965）；《私人生活》（The Private Life，1976）；《来自森林的声音》（Voices from the Forest，1977）；《静的必要》（The Need to Hold Still，1981）；《第二语言》（Second Language，1986）；《一起活着：新诗选》（Alive Together: New and Selected Poems，1996）等。
莫奈拒绝手术
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
医生，你说没有光晕
环绕着巴黎的街灯
我看见的，是年老引起的
幻视，一种病症。
我告诉你我花了整整一生的时间
才进入煤气灯影，如同天使们那样
去软化，模糊，最终消除了
你遗憾我无法看见的边界，
去了解我称做地平线的界限
并不存在，而天空和水，
如此长久地分隔，却是相同的存在状态。
在我能看见之前的54年
鲁昂大教堂
模仿阳光的射线建成，
现在你想恢复
我年轻时的错误：固定的
顶点和底端的概念，
三维空间的幻觉，
紫藤与它覆盖的
桥是分离的。
要我说什么才能使你相信
一夜又一夜
英国国会大厦，溶化成
泰晤士河流动的梦？
我不愿回到一个
物体们彼此并不理解的宇宙，
仿佛岛屿不是同一个伟大的大陆
弄丢了的孩子。这个世界
是变迁，光触及什么，就变成什么，
变成水，睡莲，
浮在水面，倒影在水中，
变成淡紫色，紫红色，黄色
白色，和蔚蓝色的灯，
一些小拳头如此迅速地穿过
阳光，彼此相击
我必须用长长的，流水般的
画笔去追赶它。
去画出光速！
我们受力的形体，这些垂直线，
混合着空气燃烧
将我们的骨头，皮肤，衣服
变成气体。医生，
只要你能看见
天空如何抱紧大地
心灵如何无限地扩张
去包容这个世界，蓝色的雾气就无始无终。
Monet Refuses The Operation
by Lisel Mueller
Doctor, you say there are no haloes
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction.
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don"t see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun,
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three-dimensional space,
wisteria separate
from the bridge it covers.
What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolves
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe
of objects that don"t know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent. The world
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight
so quickly to one another
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint the speed of light!
Our weighted shapes, these verticals,
burn to mix with air
and change our bones, skin, clothes
to gases. Doctor,
if only you could see
how heaven pulls earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands
to claim this world, blue vapor without end.
物品
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
事实是，我们孤独地成长
生活在物品中，
因此我们给时钟一张脸，
椅子一个靠背，
桌子四条结实的腿
它们决不会衰弱。
我们给鞋子装上舌头
和我们自己的一样光滑
在铃铛里悬挂舌头
以便我们能听见
它们充满情感的语言，
因为我们热爱优雅的外形
水壶被安上了一张嘴，
瓶子被安上了一个细长、苗条的脖子。
即使超越我们之上的
也重现于我们的想象中；
我们给国家一颗心，
风暴一只眼，
洞穴一个口
因此，我们可以进入安全之中。
Things
by Lisel Mueller
What happened is, we grew lonely
living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.
We fitted our shoes with tongues
as smooth as our own
and hung tongues inside bells
so we could listen
to their emotional language,
and because we loved graceful profiles
the pitcher received a lip,
the bottle a long, slender neck.
Even what was beyond us
was recast in our image;
we gave the country a heart,
the storm an eye,
the cave a mouth
so we could pass into safety.
血橙
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
1936年，作为希特勒德国的
一个孩子，
我了解西班牙战争吗？
安达卢西亚是一支探戈
回旋在留声机上，
弗兰克是报纸上英雄的一张脸。
没有人告诉我，一个诗人
流尽了血，死在一座荒山上
为了他的缘故，我可能会学习西班牙语。
我所知道的西班牙
是那些珍贵的进口礼品
被用来装点圣诞节。
我记得将它们一瓣瓣撕开，
排列整齐，慢慢地吮吸
每一瓣，因此红色的甜汁
一直有，一直有——
那时我正在读一首诗
由一个死去很久的德国诗人所写
在诗中，树林安然站立在
温柔的月光下
而草地上的白雾
希望变得比空气更轻。
Blood Oranges
by Lisel Mueller
In 1936, a child
in Hitler"s Germany,
what did I know about the war in Spain?
Andalusia was a tango
on a wind-up gramophone,
Franco a hero"s face in the paper.
No one told me about a poet
for whose sake I might have learned Spanish
bleeding to death on a barren hill.
All I knew of Spain
were those precious imported treats
we splurged on for Christmas.
I remember pulling the sections apart,
lining them up, sucking each one
slowly, so the red sweetness
would last and last --
while I was reading a poem
by a long-dead German poet
in which the woods stood safe
under the moon"s milky eye
and the white fog in the meadows
aspired to become lighter than air.
另一个版本
[美]丽泽·穆勒/ 倪志娟译
我们的树是白杨，但是人们
错把它们当作桦树；
他们以为我们是俄罗斯
小说中的人物，基蒂和列文
心满意足地生活在乡下。
我们从城里来的朋友
观看鸟儿和兔子们在深厚的白雪上
一起吃东西。
（在伊利诺斯州我们有俄罗斯似的冬天，
但没有雪铃，有负鼠但没有狼群，
也没有忠诚的仆人为我们工作。）
就像俄罗斯戏剧中一样，有位老人
生活在我们的房子里，他是我的父亲；
他任由生命以缓慢的旋律流逝，
年复一年，悲伤
停驻在我内心，一只中毒的苹果
不再生长或落下。
但是和那三姊妹一样，我们很少说
是什么使我们彻夜不眠；
和她们一样，我们抱怨无关紧要的
事物，并谈论
我们的幸福和未来：
我们告诉对方，柳树
今年发芽很早，已是绿烟朦胧。
Another Version
by Lisel Mueller
Our trees are aspens, but people
mistake them for birches;
they think of us as characters
in a Russian novel, Kitty and Levin
living contentedly in the country.
Our friends from the city watch the birds
and rabbits feeding together
on top of the deep, white snow.
(We have Russian winters in Illinois,
but no sleighbells, possums instead of wolves,
no trusted servants to do our work.)
As in a Russian play, an old man
lives in our house, he is my father;
he lets go of life in such slow motion,
year after year, that the grief
is stuck inside me, a poisoned apple
that won"t go up or down.
But like the three sisters, we rarely speak
of what keeps us awake at night;
like them, we complain about things
that don"t really matter and talk
of our pleasures and of the future:
we tell each other the willows
are early this year, hazy with green.
整夜
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
整夜，鞋带上的结
等着被解开，
桌上的火柴包紧它的头
带着对光的期待。
水龙头焦急地沁出一滴水，
为自由坠落积攒着力量，
而莴苣在冷柜中
屈从于它的冷面杀手。
我睡前放下的
小说中，
一个房间的木板墙
被罚站，等待着
明天，我看到下一页
犯人发现了密门
走进空气和丁香的香味中。
All Night
by Lisel Mueller
All night the knot in the shoelace
waits for its liberation,
and the match on the table packs its head
with anticipation of light.
The faucet sweats out a bead of water,
which gathers strength for the free fall,
while the lettuce in the refrigerator
succumbs to its brown killer.
And in the novel I put down
before I fall asleep,
the paneled walls of a room
are condemned to stand and wait
for tomorrow, when I"ll get to the page
where the prisoner finds the secret door
and steps into air and the scent of lilacs.
风景线
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
——致露西，她称它们“鬼屋”。
有人总是离开
再不回来。
木房子像年老的妻子
等候在路边；它们在各地
被遗弃，倾颓，变得灰暗。
有人总是为了生计
交出铁杉
和石砌的湖岸
那孤独的美，打好行李包
开车驱往城市。
院子里的苹果树
继续结果，但是果实
一年比一年小。
当我们再次走上这条小路
树可能变成了野树，
房子坍塌了，甚至不值得
人们破门而入。
田野已经接管了它们。
我们将认出的
是风，同样狂野的风，
没有过去。
Scenic Route
For Lucy, who called them "ghost houses."
by Lisel Mueller
Someone was always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses wait like old wives
along this road; they are everywhere,
abandoned, leaning, turning gray.
Someone always traded
the lonely beauty
of hemlock and stony lakeshore
for survival, packed up his life
and drove off to the city.
In the yards the apple trees
keep hanging on, but the fruit
grows smaller year by year.
When we come this way again
the trees will have gone wild,
the houses collapsed, not even worth
the human act of breaking in.
Fields will have taken over.
What we will recognize
is the wind, the same fierce wind,
which has no history.
关于猎犬和野兔的小诗
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
猎杀之后，有欢宴。
舞会临近结束，热情平息下来
年轻人偷偷溜到某处，
猎犬们，醉于野兔的血，
开始谈论它们的皮毛
多么柔软，它们的跳跃多么优雅，
它们受惊而温柔的眼睛多么可爱。
Small Poem About The Hounds And The Hares
by Lisel Mueller
After the kill, there is the feast.
And toward the end, when the dancing subsides
and the young have sneaked off somewhere,
the hounds, drunk on the blood of the hares,
begin to talk of how soft
were their pelts, how graceful their leaps,
how lovely their scared, gentle eyes.
女人的笑声
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
女人的笑声点燃了
不公正的会堂
虚假的证据燃烧出
一道美丽的白光
它使国会议事厅吵闹不休
迫使窗子敞开
愚蠢的言论飞出来
女人的笑声擦去了
老人镜片上的薄雾；
使他们染上快乐的流感
他们笑着，仿佛重回青春
地牢中的囚犯
想象他们看见了阳光
当他们记起女人的笑声
它飞过河面，连起
敌对的两岸
像信号那样，传送着彼此的消息
女人的笑声，是这样一种语言，
雄心勃勃，充满颠覆意图。
在法律和文件之前
我们早已听见这笑声，我们理解了自由。
The Laughter Of Women
by Lisel Mueller
The laughter of women sets fire
to the Halls of Injustice
and the false evidence burns
to a beautiful white lightness
It rattles the Chambers of Congress
and forces the windows wide open
so the fatuous speeches can fly out
The laughter of women wipes the mist
from the spectacles of the old;
it infects them with a happy flu
and they laugh as if they were young again
Prisoners held in underground cells
imagine that they see daylight
when they remember the laughter of women
It runs across water that divides,
and reconciles two unfriendly shores
like flares that signal the news to each other
What a language it is, the laughter of women,
high-flying and subversive.
Long before law and scripture
we heard the laughter, we understood freedom.
简历
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
1992年
1)我出生于一个自由城市，靠近北海。
2)我出生那年，钱变成
废纸。一条长面包值100万马克。
当然，我不记得这点。
3)父母和祖父母环绕着我。
我生活的世界中有温柔的声音，没有爪子。
4)一个丰饶羊角*将我带入一所
有铃铛的建筑。一名胸脯丰满的老师领着我进去。
5)家里的书架连接着天和地。
6)周日，城里的孩子穿过松果
和报春花林，乘一辆短途火车回家。
7)我的国家受到历史的打击，比
地震或飓风更致命。
8)我的父亲忙于躲避怪物。我的母亲
告诉我隔墙有耳。我懂得了秘密的负担。
9)我走进青春期明亮的白天，也走进其漆黑的
夜晚。
10)两对父母，两个女儿，我们跟随太阳
和月亮越过海洋。我的祖父母停留在
黑暗中。
11)在新语言中每个人说话太快。最后
我赶上了他们。
12)当我遇见你，新语言变成了爱的
语言。
13)母亲的死使受伤的女儿进入了诗歌。
女儿成为女儿们的母亲。
14)日常生活：它的充实和深厚。处处都是
打结的线。过去被推远，因为
光荣、艰难、热情的现在，未来
难以想象。
15)如此一年又一年。
16)孩子不再是孩子。一个老人的痛苦，一个
老人的孤独。
17)然后我的父亲也消失了。
18) 我试图再次回家。我站在儿时的
门前，但是它对大众关闭着。
19)一天，在一部拥挤的电梯中，每个人的脸都比我的
年轻。
20)到目前为止，一切顺利。辉煌的白天和夜晚无声无息地
匆匆交替。我们跟随着，你和我。
* [希神]哺乳宙斯的羊角, 满装花果象征丰饶的羊角(通常用于绘画或雕刻中), 丰富, 丰饶
Curriculum Vitae
by Lisel Mueller
1992
1) I was born in a Free City, near the North Sea.
2) In the year of my birth, money was shredded into
confetti. A loaf of bread cost a million marks. Of
course I do not remember this.
3) Parents and grandparents hovered around me. The
world I lived in had a soft voice and no claws.
4) A cornucopia filled with treats took me into a building
with bells. A wide-bosomed teacher took me in.
5) At home the bookshelves connected heaven and earth.
6) On Sundays the city child waded through pinecones
and primrose marshes, a short train ride away.
7) My country was struck by history more deadly than
earthquakes or hurricanes.
8) My father was busy eluding the monsters. My mother
told me the walls had ears. I learned the burden of secrets.
9) I moved into the too bright days, the too dark nights
of adolescence.
10) Two parents, two daughters, we followed the sun
and the moon across the ocean. My grandparents stayed
behind in darkness.
11) In the new language everyone spoke too fast. Eventually
I caught up with them.
12) When I met you, the new language became the language
of love.
13) The death of the mother hurt the daughter into poetry.
The daughter became a mother of daughters.
14) Ordinary life: the plenty and thick of it. Knots tying
threads to everywhere. The past pushed away, the future left
unimagined for the sake of the glorious, difficult, passionate
present.
15) Years and years of this.
16) The children no longer children. An old man"s pain, an
old man"s loneliness.
17) And then my father too disappeared.
18) I tried to go home again. I stood at the door to my
childhood, but it was closed to the public.
19) One day, on a crowded elevator, everyone"s face was younger
than mine.
20) So far, so good. The brilliant days and nights are
breathless in their hurry. We follow, you and I.
狗可能听见什么
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
如果我们唇间
一声不可听闻的口哨
能指点它回到我们家中，
那么沉默或许是
蜘蛛呼吸的声音
是根钻进泥土的声音；
或许是芦笋拔节，
头最先伸出，进入光的声音
是杯子破裂时，阴郁
持久的声音。
我们愿意去问问狗
房子里是否有一种不断的嗡嗡声
因为孩子
正在成长，是否
蛇伸展全部身体
真的不发出一点咔嗒声，而太阳
突破云层，没有
一分贝的努力，
是否在秋天，当树
流尽它们的生命之泉，没有一丝颤抖
足已让我们听闻。
那么它是什么
在我们卑微的听力
之外？
对我们而言，没有诞生的哭泣，
新生的小鸟忽然出现，
蛋裂开，鸟巢生动起来，
当世界改变时，我们什么也没有听见。
What The Dog Perhaps Hears
by Lisel Mueller
If an inaudible whistle
blown between our lips
can send him home to us,
then silence is perhaps
the sound of spiders breathing
and roots mining the earth;
it may be asparagus heaving,
headfirst, into the light
and the long brown sound
of cracked cups, when it happens.
We would like to ask the dog
if there is a continuous whir
because the child in the house
keeps growing, if the snake
really stretches full length
without a click and the sun
breaks through clouds without
a decibel of effort,
whether in autumn, when the trees
dry up their wells, there isn"t a shudder
too high for us to hear.
What is it like up there
above the shut-off level
of our simple ears?
For us there was no birth cry,
the newborn bird is suddenly here,
the egg broken, the nest alive,
and we heard nothing when the world changed.
音乐会
——纪念迪米特里·米特罗普洛斯
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
弹竖琴的人相信，音乐
在鱼的骨架中
吹法国号的人相信
音乐在巨大的金蜗牛中
钢琴什么也不信
笑得合不拢嘴
弦乐摩擦着它们的肚子
自在地，享受
长笛和双簧管
以同样的方言抱怨着
鼓槌敲响一张小牛皮
唤醒另一个沉睡的生命
因为幽灵似的乌鸦
在矮墙上拍打它的翅膀
而死亡不是宽恕
The Concert
In memory of Dimitri Mitropoulos
by Lisel Mueller
The harpist believes there is music
in the skeletons of fish
The French horn player believes
in enormous golden snails
The piano believes in nothing
and grins from ear to ear
Strings are scratching their bellies
openly, enjoying it
Flutes and oboes complain
in dialects of the same tongue
Drumsticks rattle a calfskin
from the sleep of another life
because the supernatural crow
on the podium flaps his wings
and death is no excuse
平常的一天
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
如此无意义：瞥一眼
医生桌上你的体检报告
或者一封不是写给你的信。
你怎么能知道呢？
在你迅速行动之前，你的生活消逝了
这不是真的，但是你的表
突然滴答滴答地响着，像一颗被放大的心，
你的手对着一纸判决
凝固了。除此之外什么也没有。
镜中的脸仍然是你的。
人行道走过的两个人
并没有盯着你的窗子看。
你的房间安静，植物们
和以往一样，闭锁在它们的
神秘之中。黑色郁金香
拒绝开放，不接受
你的定义。你匆匆扫一眼
街上的混乱交通，这毫无意义
人行路上的一道新裂缝，
降下一半的旗子——意味着
世上有一些灾难发生
因为清晨的太阳，你的朋友
已经向你转出了黑暗的一面。
A Day Like Any Other
by Lisel Mueller
Such insignificance: a glance
at your record on the doctor"s desk
or a letter not meant for you.
How could you have known? It"s not true
that your life passes before you
in rapid motion, but your watch
suddenly ticks like an amplified heart,
the hands freezing against a white
that is a judgment. Otherwise nothing.
The face in the mirror is still yours.
Two men pass on the sidewalk
and do not stare at your window.
Your room is silent, the plants
locked inside their mysterious lives
as always. The queen-of-the-night
refuses to bloom, does not accept
your definition. It makes no sense,
your scanning the street for a traffic snarl,
a new crack in the pavement,
a flag at half-mast -- signs
of some disturbance in the world
because your friend, the morning sun,
has turned its dark side toward you.
永恒
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
在睡美人的城堡
钟敲了一百年
塔里的女孩回到这个世界。
厨房里的仆人们也回来了，
甚至没有揉揉他们的眼睛。
厨师的右手，举了
整整一个世纪，
终于完成了它向下的弧线
打在帮厨男孩的左耳上；
男孩紧张的声带
终于发出
压抑着的、持续的呜咽声，
而在草莓派上方
停止于飞扑姿态的苍蝇
现在也完成了它不变的使命
跳入香甜的红果酱中。
儿时，我的一本书中
有这副景象的插图。
我太小，没有留意恐惧
如何持续，以及引起恐惧的怒火
如何持续，
它的轨道无法改变
或破坏，只能被中断。
我的注意力在苍蝇身上：
这微不足道的身躯
连同它透明的翅膀
以及相当于人类一天的寿命
仍然渴求其特定的那份
甜蜜，在一个世纪之后。
Immortality
by Lisel Mueller
In Sleeping Beauty"s castle
the clock strikes one hundred years
and the girl in the tower returns to the world.
So do the servants in the kitchen,
who don"t even rub their eyes.
The cook"s right hand, lifted
an exact century ago,
completes its downward arc
to the kitchen boy"s left ear;
the boy"s tensed vocal cords
finally let go
the trapped, enduring whimper,
and the fly, arrested mid-plunge
above the strawberry pie
fulfills its abiding mission
and dives into the sweet, red glaze.
As a child I had a book
with a picture of that scene.
I was too young to notice
how fear persists, and how
the anger that causes fear persists,
that its trajectory can"t be changed
or broken, only interrupted.
My attention was on the fly:
that this slight body
with its transparent wings
and life-span of one human day
still craved its particular share
of sweetness, a century later.
睡前故事
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
月亮躺在河上
像一滴油。
孩子们来到岸边
医治他们的伤口和瘀痕。
给他们制造了伤口和瘀痕的父亲们
来到岸边医治他们的暴虐。
母亲们变得可爱；她们的脸更温柔，
她们喉咙里的鸟儿醒了。
他们手拉手站着
树，环绕着他们
几乎成为
他们中的一分子，
停止了发抖，并说出它们的第一句话。
但这不是开头。
而是故事的结尾，
在我们到达结尾之前，
母亲们和父亲们和孩子们
必须各自分离，
找到去河边的路。没有人能指引他们。
这是漫长而冷酷的情节，
它将使你惊恐。
Bedtime Story
by Lisel Mueller
The moon lies on the river
like a drop of oil.
The children come to the banks to be healed
of their wounds and bruises.
The fathers who gave them their wounds and bruises
come to be healed of their rage.
The mothers grow lovely; their faces soften,
the birds in their throats awake.
They all stand hand in hand
and the trees around them,
forever on the verge
of becoming one of them,
stop shuddering and speak their first word.
But that is not the beginning.
It is the end of the story,
and before we come to the end,
the mothers and fathers and children
must find their way to the river,
separately, with no one to guide them.
That is the long, pitiless part,
and it will scare you.
钓月亮
作者：丽泽·穆勒 / 倪志娟译
月圆之际，他们来到水边，
一些人用鱼叉，一些人用耙子，
一些人用筛子和勺子，
还有一个人用一只银杯。
他们钓着月亮，直到一个旅行者经过他们，说，
“傻瓜们，
要捉住月亮必须让你们的女人
将头发铺在水上——
即使狡猾的月亮也会跳进那捉摸不定
又闪亮的丝网中，
喘息着，跌落下来，直到它的银片脱落
变成黝黑的一团，静躺在你的脚边。”
于是他们用女人的头发来钓月亮
直到一个旅行者经过他们，说，
“傻瓜们，
你们以为用闪光的丝线，
可以轻易捉住月亮？
你们必须割下你们的心，用这黑暗的动物
做你们的鱼饵；
你们失去你们的心，在你们的梦中摇摆，有什么关系呢？”
于是他们用紧张而狂热的心来钓月亮
直到一个旅行者经过他们，说，
“傻瓜们，
对一个无心的男人来说月亮有什么好？
放回你们的心，跪下来
饮水，如同你们从没饮过，
直到你们的喉咙涂满银
你们的声音如铃铛摇响。”
于是他们用唇和喉咙来钓月亮
直到水消失了
而月亮溜进
深不见底的淤泥中。
Moon Fishing
by Lisel Mueller
When the moon was full they came to the water.
some with pitchforks, some with rakes,
some with sieves and ladles,
and one with a silver cup.
And they fished til a traveler passed them and said,
"Fools,
to catch the moon you must let your women
spread their hair on the water --
even the wily moon will leap to that bobbing
net of shimmering threads,
gasp and flop till its silver scales
lie black and still at your feet."
And they fished with the hair of their women
till a traveler passed them and said,
"Fools,
do you think the moon is caught lightly,
with glitter and silk threads?
You must cut out your hearts and bait your hooks
with those dark animals;
what matter you lose your hearts to reel in your dream?"
And they fished with their tight, hot hearts
till a traveler passed them and said,
"Fools,
what good is the moon to a heartless man?
Put back your hearts and get on your knees
and drink as you never have,
until your throats are coated with silver
and your voices ring like bells."
And they fished with their lips and tongues
until the water was gone
and the moon had slipped away
in the soft, bottomless mud.
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