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罗伯特·勃莱（Robert Bly，1926—），美国诗人。  隐士 黑暗穿过黑暗从中落下， 从石脊落向 石脊。 有个体形完整的人。 他抵抗着身后的风暴 草叶自风中跳跃。 黑暗汇聚在他的 脚边。 他乃无名之人。在我们看到他时， 我们变得平静， 并驶入欢愉的死亡隧道中。 The Hermit Darkness is falling through darkness Falling from ledge To ledge. There is a man whose body is perfectly whole. He stands the storm behind him And the grass blades are leaping in the wind. Darkness is gathered in folds About his feet. He is no one. When we see Him we grow calm And sail on into the tunnels of joyful death. 圣诞节驱车送父母回家 当我开车穿过风雪送父母回家， 疲累的他们在山边歇脚。 我向着山崖大喊 只有雪花簌响。 他们安静地谈着 运水，吃桔子 还有昨晚那张忘带的孙儿照片。 他们打开家门后，很快便消失了。 当森林里的橡树倒下，谁又听到它，在相隔数英里的寂静中？ 他们彼此紧紧地挨坐......仿佛被雪挤压着。 Driving my Parents Home at Christmas As I drive my parents home through the snow their frailty hesitates on the edge of a mountainside. I call over the cliff only snow answers. They talk quietly of hauling water of eating an orange of a grandchild's photograph left behind last night. When they open the door of their house they disappear. And the oak when it falls in the forest who hears it through miles and miles of silence？ They sit so close to each other…as if pressed together by the snow. 潜鸟之鸣 从遥远的空荡荡的湖央， 潜鸟之鸣升起。 那是来自贫苦者的哭喊。 The Loon’s Cry From far out in the centre of the naked lake The loon’s cry rose. It was the cry of someone who owned very little. 黄昏 渔夫们 砰的关上车门，然后 驶离了那片湖泊。 Near Dark The fishermen Slam their car doors, and drive Away from the lake. 八月的太阳 八月的阳光一束束地透过了百叶窗。 几筐未回复的信 躺在椅上。 肯定有个傻家伙住在这儿。 August Sun Strips of August sun come in through shutters. Baskets of unanswered letters lie on chairs. Some foolish man must live here. 晚月 下弦月把它的光映在我父亲的农场， 现在它的一半暗着，挂在残噬它的西天。 大地含着石块，由它们在黎明时哼唱。 当我转身入屋，我看到了自己的影子投在门闩。 Late Moon The third-week moon reaches its light over my father’s farm, Half of it dark now, in the west that eats it away. The earth has rocks in it that hum at early dawn. As I turn to go in, I see my shadow reach for the latch. 月色里的静寂 月色里的静寂，无始或无终。 独自，而并不孤独。一男一女披着 羚羊袍，躺在空阔的地面。 他们睡在动物的皮下，仰望 古老而清澄的群星。多少年了？ 他们披着羚羊袍，在他们沉睡的 不平之地。外头，月亮，平原 月色里的静寂，无始或无终。 Silent in the Moonlight Silent in the moonlight, no beginning or end. Alone, and not alone. A man and a woman lie On open ground, under an antelope robe. They sleep under animal skin, looking up At the old, clear stars. How many years? The robe thrown over them, rough Where they sleep. Outside, the moon, the plains Silent in the moonlight, no beginning or end. 昆虫之头 这些金色的昆虫 披着大帆船的外衣，航于阿拉伯海面 它们的八角形之头 也携带着来世的沙画。 Insect Heads These insects golden And Arabic sailing in the husks of galleons Their octagonal heads also Hold sand paintings of the next life. 乌龟 雨水涨了湖面，清洗芦苇。 乳草的豆荚慢慢张开，黄色的睡莲。 隔着迷雾，男女望向远处的堤岸。 乌龟的头悄浮出水面。 The Turtle Rain lifts the lake level, washing the reeds. Slowly the milkweed pods open, the yellow lily pads. Through the mist man and woman see the far shore. The turtle’s head rises out over the water. 交谈 整个早上，我独自坐在 枫树下，阅读放在腿间的书， 你路过——那个我爱了 十年的人——路过而远去。 那即所有。当我重返 阅读，我已难以再全然回返。 我迷人的，涨红脸的男人， 伸出手，继续触摸书页。 一定是某些词生了毛。 或者沉默的事物交换思想。 或者，我可能再也不 感到疲倦，忧伤，和孤独。 我们知晓这是真的：蜜蜂的脚 了解它的花药和它低矮的灌木丛， 就像城堡中的女人知晓 那迷失在树林里的骑手。 Conversation I sat beneath maples, reading, A book in my lap, alone all morning. You walked past-whom I have loved For ten years-walked by and were gone. That was all. When I returned To reading, not all me returned. My sex, or rosy man, reached on its own and touched the book. It must be some words have fur. Or mute things exchange thought. Or perhaps I am no longer weary, grieving, and alone. We know it’s true：the bee’s foot knows its anther and its dwarves, as the castle of women knows of the rider lost outside in the trees. 在一座危崖 阅读《大师》， 我听到一只蚱蜢鼓翼发出干燥声， 并跃至风中， 在两百英尺高的水面！ On a Cliff Reading the Master, I heard a grasshopper making dry sounds with his wings, Leaping about in the wind, Two hundred feet above the water！ 事物之需 你应由事物 拥有它们自身的空间。 这间狭小的房屋， 可绿色的长椅 却喜欢呆在这儿。 茫茫水泽的芦苇， 挤出泥淖， 发现美好的世界。 你应由事物 遵循它们的本真。 谁又知晓，我们之中 谁更值得广阔的世界？ What Things Want You have to let things Occupy their own space. This room is small, But the green settee Likes to be here. The big marsh reeds, Crowding out the slough, Find the world good. You have to let things Be as they are. Who knows which of us Deserves the world more？ 晨时的隐士 晨时隐士醒来，听到 杉树根在地板下搅动。 有人在那儿。深埋于大地中的力量 托举起夏天的世界。 在他爱她时，他就滋养她。 舞者将他们的脚步之光撒向草地。 在她爱他时，她就滋养它。 而大地滋养着无形的一切。 The Hermit at Dawn Early in the morning the hermit wakes, hearing The roots of the fir tree stir beneath his floor. Someone is there. That strength buried in earth carries up the summer world. When a man loves a woman, he nourishes her. Dancers strew the lawn with the light of their feet. When a woman loves the earth, she nourishes it. And earth nourishes what no one can see. 鲦鱼的转身 过去我每天只爱你几分钟。 现在它化作云烟升起，蘑菇 留在了桦树， 马的前蹄，如鲦鱼般搅动银浪 在他转身时，携带着他的世界。 The Minnow Turning Once I loved you only a few minutes a day. Now it is smoke rising, the mushroom left by The birch, And the horse’s forefoot, the way the minnow stirs silver As he turns, carrying his world with him. 两条河流 在我们的体内，有一条河流生来寒冷 渴望将自己献于光的海湾。 另一条河流更像密苏里河 携带着泥土，浮世的欢愉，以及浮世。 The Two Rivers Inside us there is a river born in the good cold That longs to give itself to the Gulf of light. And there is another river more like the Missouri That carries earth, and earth joys, and the earthly. 三月的花蕾 它们听着音乐躺在河床。 它们熏香了枕头、湖泊、一位女子的盈笑。 风微微拂过，触摸着三月的花蕾。 而那些小树来回摇曳。 The March Buds They lie on the bed, hearing music. They perfumed pillow, the lake, a woman’s laughter. Wind blows faintly, touches the March buds. The young trees sway back and forth. 和我走吧 我们一同步入柳树林，林间。 玛瑙贝有红润的嘴； 树木上下摇曳， 海螺返回黑水。 和我走吧，我们独自离开， 远离建筑和高地。 我喜欢和你前去， 去往那没有君王的山谷。 Come with Me We walk together in willows, among willows. The cowrie shell has its rosy mouth; The tree nods and rises; The conch returns to the dark waters. Come with me, we will walk alone, away from the buildings and the high places. I love to go with you, And enter the valley where no one is king. 躲入鞋里的乌鸦 住在房子里的男女有茫然不解 之事。老炼金师们站在 炉火旁，已暗示了千次。 乌鸦在夜间躲入一位老妇的鞋里。 四岁的儿童讲着古语。 我们自己已死过了千次。 同朋友讲的每句也都有反意， 每当我们说，“我相信上帝，”那意味着 上帝已把我们抛弃了千次。 母亲们一次次地跪在教堂， 祈求上帝保佑她们战争中的儿子。 可她们的祷告被拒绝了千次。 幼小的潜鸟跟随母亲光滑的身体 数月。在夏天快结束时，她已 将头在雷尼湖里潜了千次。 罗伯特，你坐在屋里写诗 已浪费了无数的光阴。你还会 再写吗？是的，我还要写千次。 Ravens Hiding in a Shoe There is something men and women living in houses Don’t understand. The old alchemists standing Near their stoves hinted at it a thousand times. Ravens at night hide in an old woman’s shoe. A four-year-old speaks some ancient language. We have lived our own death a thousand times. Each sentence we speak to friends means the opposite As well. Each time we say, “I trust in God,” it means God has already abandoned us a thousand times. Mothers again and again have knelt in church In wartime asking God to protect their sons, And their prayers were refused a thousand times. The baby loon follows the mother’s sleek Body for months. By the end of summer, she Has dipped her head into Rainy Lake a thousand times. Robert, you’ve wasted so much of your life Sitting indoors to write poems. Would you Do that again？I would, a thousand times. 生活在岁月的尽头 ——致露丝 孩子们的声音里有许多甜蜜， 在一天结束时，有诸多不满， 在一列火车经过时，我心满意足。 我不知公鸡为何总是啼鸣， 也不知大象们为何总是举起鼻子， 也不知霍桑为何在夜里总听到火车声。 一个英俊的孩子是上帝的一种恩赐， 一位朋友是手背上的一条静脉， 一道伤口是风的一份遗产。 有人说我们生活在岁月的尽头， 而我相信有一千名异教徒牧师 明天就到，与风施洗。 关于约翰，我们已无需再做什么。 施洗者已把他的手放在地上许久， 甜甜的井水，长达一百英里。 那都无关紧要。我们是否知道公鸡 在半夜里说什么，也不知道为何 我们在火车经过时会心满意足。 2010.2 Living at the End of Time For Ruth There is so much sweetness in children’s voices, And so much discontent at the end of day, And so much satisfaction when a train goes by. I don’t know why the rooster keeps crying, Nor why elephants keep raising their trunks, Nor why Hawthorne kept hearing trains at night. A handsome child is a gift from God, And a friend is a vein in the back of the hand, And a wound is an inheritance from the wind. Some say we are living at the end of time, But I believe a thousand pagan ministers Will arrive tomorrow to baptize the wind. There’s nothing we need to do about John. The Baptist Has been laying his hands on earth for so long That the well water is sweet for a hundred miles. It’s all right if we don’t know what the rooster Is saying in the middle of the night, nor why we feel So much satisfaction when a train goes by. February 2010 最后向内移动 垂死的公牛在山上流血！ 但是山内，血未 流经的地方， 有鹿角，些许橡树皮， 火，被扔下的香草。 当烟气升至洞顶， 绿叶开始燃烧， 夜的空气化成了黑水， 群山变作了海洋。 Moving Inward at Last The dying bull is bleeding on the mountain！ But inside the mountain, untouched By the blood, There are antlers, bits of oak bark, Fire, herbs are thrown down. When the smoke touches the roof of the cave, The green leaves burst into flame, The air of night changes to dark water, The mountains alter and become the sea. 开始写一首诗 你孤单。然后响起了 敲门声。它是一个字。你 把它带入。有段时间 相安无事。可这个字 亲戚不少。很快 他们便现了身。他们无所事事。 他们睡在地板，还偷走了 你的网球鞋。 你开始意识到，你 不能置之不理。 现在小屋杂乱不堪，而 遥控器也无影踪。 结婚就是 如此。你不单要 接受你的妻子，还要忍耐 她家人的疯狂。 现在明白了什么吧？ 你的车在何处？一周内 你无法找到 那些钥匙。 Starting a Poem You are alone. Then there's a knock On the door. It's a word. You Bring it in. Things go OK for a while. But this word Has relatives. Soon They turn up. None of them work. They sleep on the floor, and they steal Your tennis shoes. You started it; you weren't Content to leave things alone. Now the den is a mess, and the Remote is gone. That's what being married Is like. You never receive your Wife only, but the Madness of her family. Now see what's happened？ Where is your car？You won't Be able to find The keys for a week. 水 鸟儿低头用喙饮水。 你知道我们不仅用手饮水。 我们的所得，别人难以给予。 我们渴望着苍鹭和湖， 轻触后的波纹。 Water The bird dips to take some water in its bill. You know we do not drink only with our hands. We receive what nothing else can give. We are thirsty for the heron and the lake, the touch of bill on the water. 一首无为之诗 走了一下午， 赤足，在我的小屋里， 我变得长而透明…… 如那只海鼠 它已独活了一万八千年， 无所事事。 A Doing Nothing Poem After walking about all afternoon Barefoot, in my shak, I have grown long and transparent... Like the sea slug Who has lived alone doing nothing For eighteen thousand years. |
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