罗伯特·勃莱
1.
有时,开着一辆车,在威斯康星
或伊利诺斯,你会注意到那些黑色的电线杆
一个接一个,举起自己伸出防护网,
渐渐跳入灰色的天空——
越过,雪野。
2.
黑暗像雪一样飘落在威斯康星
已收割的玉米地里: 在这些黑色的枝叶上
逐一,溃散
穿过雪地——
我们看到僵直的野草和褐色的碎秸
而现在,只有白雪滞留在收割机
车辙里
3.
这也,是个乐趣,开车
去芝加哥,天色将晚
看到仓房里有灯。
光秃秃的树比任何时侯都显得庄严
像个临终的暴徒躺在床上
而沿路的沟渠里已私藏了半渠的雪
(安琪尔译)
Three kinds of pleasures
——by Robert Bly
I
Sometimes, riding in a car, in Wisconsin
Or Illinois, you notice those dark telephone poles
One by one lift themselves out of the fence line
And slowly leap on the gray sky —
And past them, the snowy fields.
II
The darkness drifts down like snow on the picked cornfields
In Wisconsin: and on these black trees
Scattered, one by one,
Through the winter fields —
We see stiff weeds and brownish stubble,
And white snow left now only in the wheeltracks of the
combine.
III
It is a pleasure, also, to be driving
Toward Chicago, near dark,
And see the lights in the barns.
The bare trees more dignified than ever,
Like a fierce man on his deathbed,
And the ditches along the road half full of a private snow.
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