作者:比利·柯林斯
译者:人土土
我庆幸年轻时我忍住了欲望
一种想写诗的欲望
写关于一位老人
独自在中餐馆角落里用餐的诗
我肯定会全都猜错了
猜他是个一个朋友也没有 唯有一本书做伴的
可怜人、穷光蛋
猜他得从零钱包里掏钱结账
我庆幸我等了这么多年才动笔
写下这里的酸辣汤是那么酸那么辣
记下这个在中餐馆的午后
杯子里的啤酒有多么冰多么凉
我意识深陷于手中的书
萨拉马戈的《失明症漫记》
只在被他如烈光的字句晃到时
我才恍然抬头
对了 我还要记下光
这个时间段落入大窗子的阳光
所触摸到的一切都倾斜起来
盘子、茶壶、桌布
以及服务生的那头柔软的棕发
那位身穿白衬衫 黑短裙的
她端着我的米饭和葱爆牛肉
微笑向我最钟爱的角落位置走来
Old Man Eating Alone in a Chinese Restaurant
By Billy Collins
I am glad I resisted the temptation,
if it was a temptation when I was young,
to write a poem about an old man
eating alone at a corner table in a Chinese restaurant.
I would have gotten it all wrong
thinking: the poor bastard, not a friend in the world
and with only a book for a companion.
He'll probably pay the bill out of a change purse.
So glad I waited all these decades
to record how hot and sour the hot and sour
soup is here at Chang's this afternoon
and how cold the Chinese beer in a frosted glass.
And my book –– José Saramago's Blindness
as it turns out –– is so absorbing that I look up
from its escalating horrors only
when I am stunned by one of his gleaming sentences.
And I should mention the light
that falls through the big windows this time of the day
italicizing everything it touches ––
the plates and teapots, the immaculate tablecloths,
as well as the soft brown hair of the waitress
in the white blouse and short black skirt,
the one who is smiling now as she bears a cup of rice
and shredded beef with garlic to my favorite table in the corner.
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