介绍:
蜂鸟
玛丽•奥利弗
一只雌鸟，两只雏鸟，
都没我的拇指大，
分散着，
闪动着
身披淡绿色羽毛；
它们飞了起来，如微小的焰火，
钻进叶子
盘旋着；
随后它们落下，
每只都长着漂亮、炭灰色的腿脚——
每只都蹲坐于细长的树枝——
看着我。
我不会伤害它们，
我只是
爬上树来
在这夏日
找些事做，
并不知道它们在那儿
只是打算弄掉它们长满苔藓
巢穴的突出部分
为了飞翔，第一次，
它们蓝绿色头盔状的身体
长着欢快、金属般的尾巴——
都有着薄纱般的翅膀，
每次飞行中下落，
都会在空中
划出完美的圆。
然后，一连串颠簸，
它们停在我面前
并，用漆黑的眼睛，盯着我——
仿佛我是一朵花——
随后，
像三滴掷出的银色水珠，
它们消失了。
只留下我，
在那树冠，
我去过中国，
去过布拉格；
我死了，又在春天降生；
我发现了你，爱上了你，再一次。
后来天黑了
立体的月亮
就像白色池塘一样升了起来。
我一点儿都不急。
我可能浏览了所有
没有答案的
闪烁的、戳心的问题
在爬下来之前。
The female, and two chicks,
each no bigger than my thumb,
scattered,
shimmering
in their pale-green dresses;
then they rose, tiny fireworks,
into the leaves
and hovered;
then they sat down,
each one with dainty, charcoal feet –
each one on a slender branch –
and looked at me.
I had meant no harm,
I had simply
climbed the tree
for something to do
on a summer day,
not knowing they were there,
ready to burst the ledges
of their mossy nest
and to fly, for the first time,
in their sea-green helmets,
with brisk, metallic tails –
each tulled wing,
with every dollop of flight,
drawing a perfect wheel
across the air.
Then, with a series of jerks,
they paused in front of me
and, dark-eyed, stared –
as though I were a flower –
and then,
like three tosses of silvery water,
they were gone.
Alone,
in the crown of the tree,
I went to China,
I went to Prague;
I died, and was born in the spring;
I found you, and loved you, again.
Later the darkness fell
and the solid moon
like a white pond rose.
But I wasn’t in any hurry.
Likely I visted all
the shimmering, heart-stabbing
questions without answers
before I climbed down.
大家还在听
