Robert Frost（1874－1963），20世纪美国最杰出的诗人，作品以朴素、深邃著称，庞德、艾略特、博尔赫斯、布罗茨基等大师都对之有过相当的评价。他的一生，既不幸又充满光彩：有40岁之前的坎坷曲折，后半生的寂寞孤独，又有四获普利策诗歌奖、44种名誉学位和种种荣誉。他常常被称作美国诗坛的两面神，作品和人格遭到攻击，却又始终维持一个大诗人的和蔼形象，又是诗人、农夫和哲学家的三位一体。弗罗斯特一直通过具体的实物、情景写诗，斯蒂文斯说，你爱写实物，弗罗斯特反唇相讥，你爱写古董，这其实是诗人预先选择的精神图式和写作形式，一生几乎没有多大变化。作为以自然方式关注现实的大诗人，他对世界的态度既不像华兹华斯那样充满柔情，也不像斯蒂文斯那样粗壮、强硬，而是显得矛盾、折中，和他的精神导师爱默生一样带有超验主义。他向维吉尔学写田园牧歌，向哈代、叶芝等人学习平淡而富有暗示的语言，但用意更精深，作品常常通过时空反差的形式，也就是具体情境中的变化、对比，从而形成一个个坚固封闭却又极其开放的诗歌文本，简洁地表达出存在的真相，化腐朽为神奇。他喜欢戴着面具写作，崇尚文学的游戏原则，一开始就写得朴素含蓄，第一本诗集《男孩的意愿》（1913）就显示了过人的语言才华。虽然弗罗斯特一直戴着面具写作，但我更愿意将他称为 “一位伟大的徘徊者”。他徘徊在自然和人类、自我和事物、现实和理想之间，像被上帝驱逐的天使一样平静而又苦恼地审视着尘世生活。弗罗斯特幼年丧父，中年丧妻，老年丧子，他的坎坷人生常使他在作品中流露阴暗和悲观，但他更多是想用诗歌这种崇高的艺术形式排遣存在的焦虑和慌乱。他明智而不极端，曾在一首诗中将世界比作自己的情人，于是喋喋不休的吵闹就成为他摇曳的情思和毕生的哲学追求。他非常懂得独特是什么东西。他对现代诗歌的贡献，主要在于果断地拒绝了自由诗体(free verse)的潮流，以个人的兴趣探索出结合传统的抑扬格韵律和日常生活话语、结合古典人文情怀和现代怀疑精神的新诗体 (blank verse)，看似保守，实则妙笔生花。在精神的高标和题材的深广度上，自波德莱尔以来的诗歌大师几乎无一人能和但丁相比，但弗罗斯特的探索应该说是走得最自然、最深远的，所以深受世界各国各层次读者的欢迎，在美国更是家喻户晓。弗罗斯特创作的朴素无华、寓意深刻的抒情短诗和戏剧性浓烈、艺术性高超的叙事长诗应该说经得起任何考验，无韵诗、变体十四行、双行体等各种形式的作品都有佳作，和华兹华斯一样堪称体裁大师。他自16岁写诗，一直到89岁去世，半个多世纪笔耕不辍，共出版10余本诗集，主要有《波士顿以北》(1914)，《山间》(1916)，《新罕布什尔》(1923)，《西流的小溪》(1928)，《见证树》(1942)，《林间空地》(1962)等，在美国文学史上具有独特的地位，在世界文学史上也是一颗璀璨之星。然而，弗罗斯特在中国，如同余光中所说“损失惨重”，因为日常语言性的诗歌经过翻译，精华丧失殆尽。这里选译的几十首诗，表面上是弗罗斯特各个时期的创作精华，却也极有可能仍是以讹传讹。但是，通过它们，我们大致可以感受一位天才诗人的精神世界，一种对人类、对尘世生活的个性理解。它们对于中国当代诗人的写作，应该说依然具有非常重要的借鉴意义。
译者小传
徐淳刚（1975- ），蓝田猿人后裔。著有诗集、小说、哲学随笔。现居西安。
花 丛
□ 牧 场
我这就去清理牧场边的水泉，
我停下来只为将枯叶扒干净，
我或许会等着看泉水又变清：
我不会去太久——你也来吧。
我这就去把那牛娃子牵回来，
它站在妈妈身边显着小得很，
它走路还不稳，妈妈舔着它：
我不会去太久——你也来吧。
The Pasture
I"m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I"ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha"n"t be gone long.--You come too.
I"m going out to fetch the little calf
That"s standing by the mother. It"s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha"n"t be gone long.--You come too.
□ 深秋来客
我的忧愁，当她和我在一起，
她以为秋天的这些雨天
在所有的日子里或许最美；
她爱看光秃秃的树木，
她爱走湿漉漉的牧场小路。
她的欣喜，不让我呆在家。
她爱说话，我乐意倾听：
她指给我看鸟儿往南飞，
她欣喜于自己身上的灰毛衣
在粘粘的薄雾中闪着光。
那远处荒凉的树林，
还有褪色的地，阴沉的天，
这些她都看得仔细
她责怪我不懂得欣赏这一切，
边说边用眼睛轻轻瞪我。
我并不是到今天才明白
在雪花飘落之前
秋天的这几个日子有多温暖，
但我把忧愁藏在心底，
回味她的欣喜使秋天这样美。
My November Guest
My sorrow, when she"s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She"s glad the birds are gone away,
She"s glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
□ 没有鸟叫，关了窗吧
现在，关了窗吧，让原野安静下来；
如果必须，就让树木悄悄摇晃；
现在，没有鸟叫，如果有，
那一定是我错过了。
在泥泞重现之前，会有很长时间，
在第一声鸟叫之前，会有很长时间：
所以，关了窗吧，别去听风，
看风搅动的一切。
Now close the windows
Now close the windows and hush all the fields;
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
It will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
□ 进入自我
我的愿望之一是那些黑暗之树，
那么古老、坚定、密不透风，
不，它们并不是幽暗的假面，
一直伸展到命运的边缘。
我不该被抑制了；但是某一天
我会悄悄离开，进入它们的广阔，
勇敢地走过曾经敞开的土地，
看到迟缓的车轮撒下沙粒。
我想不出有什么理由应该返回，
人们没有沿着我走过的路
赶上我，在那里想念我
或渴望知道，我是否依然爱他们。
他们不会发现我有任何改变——
只是更加坚信自我的真实。
Into My Own
??
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
??
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
??
I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
??
They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true. ??
□ 找 水
门边的水井干了，
于是我们提着木桶和铁罐
穿过屋后的田野
去寻找溪水，看它是否还在流；
很愿意因这样的理由而去，
因为秋天的黄昏这样美
尽管有点冷，而田野是我们的，
还有树林在小溪边。
我们奔跑着，如同去和月亮相会
月亮缓缓升起挂在树背后，
光秃秃的树枝看不到叶子，
没有鸟叫，也没有风。
一旦进入树林，我们就停住
如同土地公公把我们藏在月亮下，
而当它再次发现我们
我们就笑着，跑开来重新躲藏。
我们的手紧紧抓在一起
不敢张望的时候就仔细听，
在我们一起营造的安静中
我们听见了，自己以为的溪水声。
仿佛来自孤独空间的记忆，
落下一阵细微的丁冬声
有时像珍珠，落在池塘水面上，
现在却变成白刀片。
Going for Water
The well was dry beside the door,
And so we went with pail and can
Across the fields behind the house
To seek the brook if still it ran;
Not loth to have excuse to go,
Because the autumn eve was fair
(Though chill), because the fields were ours,
And by the brook our woods were there.
We ran as if to meet the moon
That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves,
Without the birds, without the breeze.
But once within the wood, we paused
Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,
Ready to run to hiding new
With laughter when she found us soon.
Each laid on other a staying hand
To listen ere we dared to look,
And in the hush we joined to make
We heard, we knew we heard the brook.
A note as from a single place,
A slender tinkling fall that made
Now drops that floated on the pool
Like pearls, and now a silver blade.
□ 花 丛
有一次，在清晨的露珠中
我去翻晒一个人刚割下的草。
当我看到平整的草茬时，
那使镰刀锋利的露珠已消散。
我曾绕到小树林后去找他；
听见了微风中磨刀的沙沙声。
但他已经离开，草割完了，
而我自然和他一样——孤单。
“反正都一样，”我心想，
“不管一起干还是分开。”
正在这时，一只迷惘的蝴蝶
扇着无声的翅膀迅疾地掠过，
像怀着隔夜的朦胧记忆寻找那
使它昨日栖息的欢乐之花。
起初，我见它总在一处打转，
原来草地间有几片枯萎的花。
然后它飞到我目力所及的远处，
忽又颤颤悠悠飞了回来。
我想着一些毫无根底的问题，
正打算俯身去翻地上的草；
但它先绕到我面前，并把我的目光
引向小溪边一丛高高的花。
那是镰刀唯一放过的，在
被割得干净的芦苇丛生的小溪边。
晨露中割草的人这么爱它，
让它继续繁茂，却似乎既不为谁，
也不是想让谁去注意他，
而是这清晨小溪边纯粹的欢娱。
我和那只蝴蝶在晨光中逗留，
而来自清晨的某种启示，
让我听到周围有醒来的鸟儿啼叫，
和他的镰刀对大地的低语，
更感觉到某种精神上的同一；
我想我今后干活再也不会孤单；
和他在一起，仿佛他是我的帮手，
中午困乏时，就和他在树下休息；
就像在梦中，兄弟般交谈
而我原本并不想和他知根知底。
“反正是一起干，”我心想，
“不管真在一起还是分开。”
The Tuft of Flowers
I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the leveled scene.
I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been -- alone,
“As all must be,” I said within my heart,
“Whether they work together or apart.”
But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly,
Seeking with memories grown dim o"er night
Some resting flower of yesterday"s delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.
“Men work together,”I told him from the heart,
“Whether they work together or apart.”
□ 春 潭
这些潭水，虽在林间，
却几乎映出整个无暇的蓝天，
就像身边的花，瑟瑟发抖，
又似另一些花，即将枯干，
可它们不会汇进溪水流到外面，
只是缘根而上，使黑暗之叶伸展。
至于把潭水汲入新蕾的树木
葱郁一片，即将撑起繁茂的夏天——
但在它们竭潭枯花之前
不妨先思考两遍：
这如花的潭水，似水的花，
只是皑皑白雪消融在昨天。
Spring Pools
These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods --
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
From snow that melted only yesterday.
□ 花 船
渔夫系着围裙在两只手底
下边理发边和理发师聊天，
而在房屋和谷仓的角落里
他的深海小平底船已靠岸。
停泊在阳光充足的草地上
当风吹起时它曾从乔治的
堤岸和鳕鱼一起辗转回家
满船的花草早已漫过船沿。
我从天堂一般的货物判断
它需要的是更加狂暴的天，
渔船和主人藉着命运出航
一起去寻找那欢乐的港湾。
The Flower Boat
The fisherman"s swapping a yarn for a yarn
Under the hand of the village barber,
And her in the angle of house and barn
His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.
At anchor she rides the sunny sod
As full to the gunnel of flowers growing
As ever she turned her home with cod
From George"s bank when winds were blowing.
And I judge from that elysian freight
That all they ask is rougher weather,
And dory and master will sail by fate
To seek the Happy Isles together.
□ 金色年华难留
自然新绿是金，
色泽鲜亮难存。
初绽新叶如花，
花开花谢一刹。
绿叶遂成落叶，
乐园陷入伤悲。
清晨转瞬白昼，
金色年华难留。
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature"s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf"s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
□ 歌唱的力量
雪花下在温暖干燥的大地上
找不到落脚之处成形聚集。
它们花费了好大力气想让大地变得
潮湿冰冷，最终还是失败。
它们没能在黑土上制造白意象。
它们消失如同大地将它们送回家。
直到晚上它们才有所改变
在地面上形成了衣着褴褛似的带子
花草树木终于承认下雪了，
除了路面几乎全都返回到了冬天。
第二天雪一堆一堆死寂一片。
草在一个大军的践踏下变得平整。
树枝被压弯几乎要入地生根，
细长的枝条就像结满了果子
蓓蕾像一个个杯子，全都盛着个雪球。
道路独自在泥泞中显出
那奥秘来自更多的热量
来自地心的热或者足迹留下的温暖。
春天里总是歌手云集远超以往
任何一处都会有歌声将我们覆盖。
画眉蓝背鸟山雀麻雀知更鸟以及更多；
一些要北上直到较远的哈得逊湾，
另一些北上飞过头又折了回来，
只有很少一部分留下筑巢。
现在看来它们还是喜欢这迟来的雪。
田野上它们已无处可去；
如果一直飞很快就会精疲力尽；
它们尝试着站上树枝
可一踩上去就引起一场雪崩。
除了那条路它们再找不到落脚处。
坏天气使它们的隔阂变小
好像成了一个亲密无间的家族。
道路变成了牛羊奔走过的河沟
闪光的鸟翼似岩石上击起的涟漪。
我跺脚驱赶它们，像驾驶着
飞机在地面上滑行。它们几乎
在和我抢着走路，不想飞走，
叽叽喳喳说既然来了就应该歌唱。
有几只肯定是让我赶傻了
呼啦一下闪开，腾空而起，
在或粗或细的白树枝间扑棱
树林好比满是雕刻的大理石门厅
它们胡乱扑闪着翅膀又飞到
我面前，好像我是赶着牲口的商人
结束了驱赶的梦魇。
如此一阵雪根本不可能教会它们
在追击之后不可能再有追击；
它们也没有飞到我身后独自留下。
好吧，大雪终于显示了某种东西
乡村歌唱的力量就这样被带来聚集，
虽然坏天气使某种过程显得不稳
但是依然要准备着去爆发
而且从根部和种子唱开满山的野花。
Our Singing Strength
It snowed in spring on earth so dry and warm
The flakes could find no landing place to form.
Hordes spent themselves to make it wet and cold,
And still they failed of any lasting hold.
They made no white impression on the black.
They disappeared as if earth sent them back.
Not till from separate flakes they changed at night
To almost strips and tapes of ragged white
Did grass and garden ground confess it snowed,
And all go back to winter but the road.
Next day the scene was piled and puffed and dead.
The grass lay flattened under one great tread.
Borne down until the end almost took root,
The rangey bough anticipated fruit
With snowball cupped in every opening bud.
The road alone maintained itself in mud,
Whatever its secret was of greater heat
From inward fires or brush of passing feet.
In spring more mortal singers than belong
To any one place cover us with song.
Thrush, bluebird, blackbird, sparrow, and robin throng;
Some to go further north to Hudson"s Bay,
Some that have come too far north back away,
Really a very few to build and stay.
Now was seen how these liked belated snow.
the field had nowhere left for them to go;
They"d soon exhausted all there was in flying;
The trees they"d had enough of with once trying
And setting off their heavy powder load.
They could find nothing open but the road.
Sot there they let their lives be narrowed in
By thousands the bad weather made akin.
The road became a channel running flocks
Of glossy birds like ripples over rocks.
I drove them under foot in bits of flight
That kept the ground. almost disputing right
Of way with me from apathy of wing,
A talking twitter all they had to sing.
A few I must have driven to despair
Made quick asides, but having done in air
A whir among white branches great and small
As in some too much carven marble hall
Where one false wing beat would have brought down all,
Came tamely back in front of me, the Drover,
To suffer the same driven nightmare over.
One such storm in a lifetime couldn"t teach them
That back behind pursuit it couldn"t reach them;
None flew behind me to be left alone.
Well, something for a snowstorm to have shown
The country"s singing strength thus brought together,
the though repressed and moody with the weather
Was none the less there ready to be freed
And sing the wildflowers up from root and seed.
□ 泥泞时节的两个流浪工
从泥泞中扑踏过来的那两个人
见我在石墙这边的院子里劈柴，
“用点力气！” 其中一个像是
笑着冲我高喊，使我抬起了头。
我一想便知，他为什么拉下来，
却让他的同伴向前多走了几步；
我非常清楚他打的是什么算盘：
他想在我这打零工，赚些工钱。
上好的橡木是我一块块劈开的，
每块柴几乎都有柴墩子那么粗；
一片一片，我直直用力地劈开，
像分裂的岩石掉落时不带碎片。
克己向内的生命或许会将劈柴
所耗的时间节省下来，去关心
公共事业，但那天我只是劈着
渺小的木柴，为了灵魂的解放。
太阳虽然温暖，但是风却寒冷。
你知道，在四月明媚的日子里，
当太阳照耀风却显得柔和寂静，
那你就提前一个月进入到五月。
但如果你不假思索，正这么说，
忽然黑云滚滚遮没太阳的拱门，
狂风自远处的雪山上呼啸而来，
让你又退后两个月，回到三月。
一只北上的蓝背鸟温顺地落下，
顺着风的方向将羽毛梳理整齐，
它的歌声定好调子似的不想让
一朵漂亮的花过早地打开蓓蕾。
雪片偶尔还会飘下：它该知道，
冬天只是在糊弄人，假装睡觉。
虽然，是忧郁的蓝却显得乐观，
它并不奉劝会开花的过早开花。
我们或许会用巫女神婆的魔棒
在夏天去探远处山林里的水源，
可现在，每条车辙都成了小溪，
每个蹄印，都成了春天的池塘。
有水当然好啦，但请不要忘了，
那在地表之下潜伏的严寒冰冷，
定会在太阳下山之后摇身冒出，
在水上炫耀它水晶般的白牙齿。
当我做着我心甘情愿做的工作，
那两个人却用想赚工钱的问话，
迫使我更加热爱我手中的活计。
这么说吧，我以前从没意识到
一把斧头高高悬在头顶的力量，
双脚叉开紧紧抓住大地的感觉，
柔软、光滑的肌肉流淌着热汗，
有着青春的热量、活力与节奏。
那两个人沉重的扑踏来自林区。
（天知道昨晚他们在哪儿睡觉，
但可以肯定，离木材厂不太远）
他们以为就他们有砍伐的能耐。
不管是上山打柴的或伐木工人，
他们评判人，只凭手中的工具。
对于握着斧头劈柴或伐木的人，
他们一看便知是老手还是外行。
我们互相注视着，再没说什么。
他们以为，只要停在那个位置，
他们的逻辑就会控制我的头脑：
似乎，我没有能力和他们这种
只为赚钱才去工作的人闹着玩。
我要的是兴趣，而他们是需求。
在这两样不得不并存的情况下，
他们说的自然优先：人人皆知。
但是谁又会相信他们这种区分？
我活着的目的只不过是想结合
兴趣和职业，这就像我的两只
眼睛注视，共同构成一个视域。
只有将喜好和需求完美地结合，
使工作成为凡人的游戏和赌注，
这样一个人才真能干出点名堂，
权当是冲着天堂或遥远的未来。
Two Tramps in Mud Time
Out of the mud two strangers came
And caught me splitting wood in the yard,
And one of them put me off my aim
By hailing cheerily “Hit them hard!”
I knew pretty well why he had dropped behind
And let the other go on a way.
I knew pretty well what he had in mind:
He wanted to take my job for pay.
Good blocks of oak it was I split,
As large around as the chopping block;
And every piece I squarely hit
Fell splinterless as a cloven rock.
The blows that a life of self-control
Spares to strike for the common good,
That day, giving a loose my soul,
I spent on the unimportant wood.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You"re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you"re two months back in the middle of March.
A bluebird comes tenderly up to alight
And turns to the wind to unruffle a plume,
His song so pitched as not to excite
A single flower as yet to bloom.
It is snowing a flake; and he half knew
Winter was only playing possum.
Except in color he isn"t blue,
But he wouldn"t advise a thing to blossom.
The water for which we may have to look
In summertime with a witching wand,
In every wheelrut"s now a brook,
In every print of a hoof a pond.
Be glad of water, but don"t forget
The lurking frost in the earth beneath
That will steal forth after the sun is set
And show on the water its crystal teeth.
The time when most I loved my task
The two must make me love it more
By coming with what they came to ask.
You"d think I never had felt before
The weight of an ax-head poised aloft,
The grip of earth on outspread feet,
The life of muscles rocking soft
And smooth and moist in vernal heat.
Out of the wood two hulking tramps
(From sleeping God knows where last night,
But not long since in the lumber camps).
They thought all chopping was theirs of right.
Men of the woods and lumberjacks,
The judged me by their appropriate tool.
Except as a fellow handled an ax
They had no way of knowing a fool.
Nothing on either side was said.
They knew they had but to stay their stay
And all their logic would fill my head:
As that I had no right to play
With what was another man"s work for gain.
My right might be love but theirs was need.
And where the two exist in twain
Theirs was the better right--agreed.
But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future"s sakes.
□ 苹果收获时节的一头牛
最近不知道是什么让这个家伙
发神经，她不进门更看不到墙壁，
看不到墙壁更不去想白痴的建造。
她的脸上总是沾满树叶渣，口水
流淌好似苹果汁。尝过了鲜果，
她已不屑再去草木凋零的牧场。
从一棵树到另一棵树，她躺着咀嚼甘美。
意外的收获是树上掉落的烂苹果。
当她逃走时不得不避闪着它们的敲打。
在一个小山上她对着天空怒吼。
她的乳汁枯竭，乳房干瘪。
The Cow in Apple-Time
Something inspires the only cow of late
To make no more of a wall than an open gate,
And think no more of wall-builders than fools.
Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools
A cider syrup.Having tasted fruit,
She scorns a pasture withering to the root.
She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten.
The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten.
She leaves them bitten when she has to fly.
She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry.
□ 忠 诚
想不出有怎样的忠诚，
能胜过岸对海的深情：
守住一条弯弯的曲线，
默数永无止息的涛声。
Devotion
The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean--
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.
□ 袭 击
总是这样，在一个宿命的夜晚
最后聚集的雪一起落下，使
黑色的树林变得洁白，伴随一首
整个冬天都不再响起的歌——
嘶嘶声掠过毫无遮拦的地面，
我四下里张望，几乎目瞪口呆，
像一个遭到突然袭击的人
最终放弃了他的使命，听任死亡
在自己头顶降临，虽说没
做过坏事，也没什么值得拍手庆贺，
简直如同生命停滞，尚未开始。
然而，所有的先例我都已经过：
我知道冬天的死亡想占领
大地但终究失败：漫长的暴风雪中
雪能积到四五尺深，风吹不动
当它再一次压住红枫、白桦和橡树，
却阻断不了鸟们银铃般的歌声；
不久我将看到积雪全从山上滑落
融入四月纤细的溪水中
那闪光的尾巴穿过去年凋谢的花
和枯死的草，像条消失的蛇。
没什么是白色的，除了一棵桦树，
那里有土丘中的房屋，一座教堂。
The Onset
Always the same, when on a fated night
At last the gathered snow lets down as white
As may be in dark woods, and with a song
It shall not make again all winter long
Of hissing on the yet uncovered ground,
I almost stumble looking up and round,
As one who overtaken by the end
Gives up his errand, and lets death descend
Upon him where he is, with nothing done
To evil, no important triumph won,
More than if life had never been begun.
Yet all the precedent is on my side:
I know that winter death has never tried
The earth but it has failed: the snow may heap
In long storms an undrifted four feet deep
As measured again maple, birch, and oak,
It cannot check the peeper"s silver croak;
And I shall see the snow all go down hill
In water of a slender April rill
That flashes tail through last year"s withered brake
And dead weeds, like a disappearing snake.
Nothing will be left white but here a birch,
And there a clump of houses with a church.
□ 冬日伊甸
冬日的园林伫立于桤木的湿地，
兔子们纷纷出穴在阳光下嬉戏，
它似乎靠近天堂但天堂里没有：
未融化的雪抑或昏昏欲睡的树。
它将存在提升到洁白的雪面上，
比下面的湿地更高的一个水平，
这个水平更靠近蓝莹莹的天空，
去年的浆果正闪耀亮晶晶的红。
它提升了一头憔悴而奢华的兽，
使它能伸手够着更高处的果木，
让它尽情享受苹果树的嫩树皮，
这是那年最高的被抓烂的标记。
靠近天堂时动物们停止了纠缠：
孤单的鸟儿聚集成亲密的伙伴，
满足于打量嫩芽。它们猜测着：
哪些会长成叶子，哪些长成花。
一个羽毛的锤子重重敲了两声。
冬日的伊甸在两点钟恰好完成。
冬日的一小时看起来多么短暂，
似乎不值得万物醒来四处游玩。
译注：一个羽毛的锤子，这里是说啄木鸟。
A Winter Eden
A winter garden in an alder swamp,
Where conies now come out to sun and romp,
As near a paradise as it can be
And not melt snow or start a dormant tree.
It lifts existence on a plane of snow
One level higher than the earth below,
One level nearer heaven overhead,
And last year"s berries shining scarlet red.
It lifts a gaunt luxuriating beast
Where he can stretch and hold his highest feat
On some wild apple tree"s young tender bark,
What well may prove the year"s high girdle mark.
So near to paradise all pairing ends:
Here loveless birds now flock as winter friends,
Content with bud-inspecting. They presume
To say which buds are leaf and which are bloom.
A feather-hammer gives a double knock.
This Eden day is done at two o"clock.
An hour of winter day might seem too short
To make it worth life"s while to wake and sport.
□ 无人重视
他们任我们往这边走，
好像很肯定我们已走错路，
我们这才有机会坐在路边角落里，
一脸孩子样、漂泊样、天使样，
看看是不是被抛弃。
In Neglect
They leave us so to the way we took,
As two in whom them were proved mistaken,
That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,
With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look,
And try if we cannot feel forsaken.
