介绍:
你的诗歌是一座黑暗城市的中心。
你的小说、你的故事、你的日记、你的信件，是这座
庞大城市的郊区。
旅店像办公大楼一样通宵明亮
挤满了学者、牧师、朝圣者。在夜里
有时我驱车穿过。开着车，
缓慢前行，我发现自己其实仅仅是
在自身的黑暗之中徘徊，回想着
你所做的事情。我几乎总能
一眼瞥见你——在某个十字路口，
迷惑地盯着上空，60多岁。
你周围是熙攘的人群。你一动不动地站着。
在绿灯或者黄灯下，你的脸，
像沙漠印第安人的面孔，荒凉而不知所措。
你想问些什么但你不能开口。
你注视着每一张脸
试图认出某个人。
他们不理会你。而后灯光变红
他们都从你身边汹涌而去。
而后你看见我在车中，望着你。
我知道你在想：我应该认识他吗？
我知道你在皱眉。我知道你在努力
去回忆——或者突然间，努力去忘记。
作者 / [英]特德·休斯
翻译 / 胡续冬
Poem [“This poem is not addressed to you”]
This poem is not addressed to you.
You may come into it briefly,
But no one will find you here, no one.
You will have changed before the poem will.
Even while you sit there, unmovable,
You have begun to vanish. And it does not matter.
The poem will go on without you.
It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.
It is not sad, really, only empty.
Once perhaps it was sad, no one knows why.
It prefers to remember nothing.
Nostalgias were peeled from it long ago.
Your type of beauty has no place here.
Night is the sky over this poem.
It is too black for stars.
And do not look for any illumination.
You neither can nor should understand what it means.
Listen, it comes without guitar,
Neither in rags nor any purple fashion.
And there is nothing in it to comfort you.
Close your eyes, yawn. It will be over soon.
You will forget the poem, but not before
It has forgotten you. And it does not matter.
It has been most beautiful in its erasures.
O bleached mirrors! Oceans of the drowned!
Nor is one silence equal to another.
And it does not matter what you think.
This poem is not addressed to you.
Donald Justice
大家还在听
