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安妮·塞克斯顿（Anne Sexton，1928--1974），美国著名女诗人。1967年因诗集《生或死》获得普利策奖。她是现代妇女解放运动的先驱之一， 美国著名自白派诗人。生前曾患有精神病，诗歌创作起初是心理医师教给她的一种精神康复手段。她的诗作敏锐、坦诚、有力，充满着不可思议的视野和意象。1974年自杀身亡。 奥斯维辛之后 愤怒，
像钩子一般黑，
罹降于我。
每一天,
每个纳粹
在，早晨八点掳走,一个婴儿
扔进他的煎锅里
炒了当早餐。
而死亡用不经意的眼神旁观
并剔着指甲盖下的土。
人是魔鬼，
我高声道。
人是一朵花
应被焚烧掉，
我高声道。
人
是只满是泥浆的鸟
我高声道。
而死亡用不经意的眼神旁观
还挠着他的肛门。
人，长着很小的粉红脚趾，
长着能开创奇迹的指头
不是一座神庙
而是一间茅厕，
我高声道。
让人呵再举不起他的茶杯。
让人呵再无法著书立传。
让人呵再也穿不上他的鞋。
让人呵再也抬不起眼睛，
在一个柔和的七月夜晚。
再也不。再也不。再也不。再也不。再也不。
我高声道出那些事物。
我乞求上帝不要听见。 (那颗晴空 译)
After Auschwitz
Anger,
as blackn as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took,at 8:00 A.M.,a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.
Man is evil,
I say aloud.
Man is a flower
that should be burnt,
I say aloud.
Man
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.
Man with his small pink toes,
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse,
I say aloud.
Let man never again raise his teacup.
Let man never again write a book.
Let man never again put on his shoe.
Let man never again raise his eyes,
on a soft July night.
Never.Never. Never.Never.Never.
I say those things aloud.
I beg the Lord not to hear.
真理死者知晓
致慈母，生于1902年3月，卒于1959年3月
致严父，生于1900年2月，卒于1959年6月
去了，我说着并步出教堂，
拒绝同僵直的送殡队走向墓园，
还是让死者独自乘灵车前往。
这是六月。我已在勇敢中疲倦。
我们驶向科德角。太阳淌尽
天边光辉之时我追寻我自己，
海水摇摆着过来像一扇铁门
继而我们靠岸。在另一国度中人们死去。
我亲爱的，风像石头一般塌陷
自白色之心的水中，而当我们触摸
我们全然进入触摸。没有人孤单。
人们因这一点死去，或诸如这么多。
那么死者又怎样？他们没有穿鞋
躺在石头船里。如若大海停住
他们不像海而更像石头。他们拒绝
被祝福，喉咙，眼睛和关节骨。
1960—1962
(那颗晴空 译) 选自诗人诗集《我所有可爱的人》
（All My Pretty Ones，1962）
The Truth The Dead Know
For my Mother, born March 1902,died March 1959
and my Father, born February 1900,died June 1959
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June.I am tired of being brave.
We drive to the Cape.I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch In another country people die.
My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely.No one's alone.
Men kill for this, or for as much.
And what of the dead?They lie without shoes
in the stone boats.They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped.They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
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