Lesbos
莱斯博斯岛
Viciousness in the kitchen!
厨房里的邪恶！
The potatoes hiss.
土豆嘶嘶作响。
It is all Hollywood, windowless,
典型的好莱坞式，没有窗户，
The fluorescent light wincing on and off like a terrible migraine,
日光灯或明或暗像可怕的偏头痛，
Coy paper strips for doors—
害羞的纸条遮着门——
Stage curtains, a widow’s frizz.
舞台幕布，寡妇的乱发。
And I, love, am a pathological liar,
而我，亲爱的，是个病态的撒谎者，
And my child—look at her, face down on the floor,
我的孩子——瞧她，脸朝下趴在地板上，
Little unstrung puppet, kicking to disappear—
断了线的小木偶，踢着腿就会消失似的——
Why she is schizophrenic,
为何她神情紧张，
Her face is red and white, a panic,
她的脸又红又白，惊慌失措，
You have stuck her kittens outside your window
你将她的猫仔困于你家窗外
In a sort of cement well
像是困在水泥井里
Where they crap and puke and cry and she can’t hear.
它们在那里拉屎、呕吐、叫喊，她听不见。
You say you can’t stand her,
你说不能容忍她，
The bastard’s a girl.
那个混蛋的女儿。
You who have blown your tubes like a bad radio
你开着电视机却像只坏收音机
Clear of voices and history, the staticky
没有各种观点、历史，不变的
Noise of the new.
新的噪音。
You say I should drown the kittens. Their smell!
你说我该溺死那些猫仔。它们有气味！
You say I should drown my girl.
你说我该溺死我的女儿。
She’ll cut her throat at ten if she’s mad at two.
若她两岁时疯癫，十岁她将割自己的喉咙。
The baby smiles, fat snail,
那婴儿微笑着，肥蜗牛，
From the polished lozenges of orange linoleum.
橘黄色油毡布上抛光的菱形。
You could eat him. He’s a boy.
你可以吃了他。他是个男孩。
You say your husband is just no good to you.
你说你的丈夫对你一无用处。
His Jew-Mama guards his sweet sex like a pearl.
他那犹太妈妈珍视他的性别贵如珍珠。
You have one baby, I have two.
你有一个婴儿，我有两个。
I should sit on a rock off Cornwall and comb my hair.
我该坐在康沃尔的岩石上，梳理我的头发。
I should wear tiger pants, I should have an affair.
我该穿虎裤，我该有风流韵事。
We should meet in another life, we should meet in air,
我们该相遇于另一生命中，我们真不该相遇，
Me and you.
我和你。
Meanwhile there’s a stink of fat and baby crap.
那期间散发出肥胖婴儿粪便的气味。
I’m doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.
我吞下的最后一片安眠药让我昏昏沉沉。
The smog of cooking, the smog of hell
烹饪的烟雾，地狱的烟雾
Floats our heads, two venomous opposites,
我们的头脑飘浮，两个心怀恶意对立的人，
Our bones, our hair.
我们的骨头，我们的头发。
I call you Orphan, orphan. You are ill.
我称你孤儿，孤儿。你病了。
The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T.B.
太阳让你得溃疡，风儿让你得肺结核。
Once you were beautiful.
你曾经多么美丽。
In New York, in Hollywood, the men said:‘Through?
在纽约，在好莱坞，男人们说：“完了？
Gee baby, you are rare.’
哇，甜心，你很特别。”
You acted, acted, acted for the thrill.
你为惊险表演，表演，表演。
The impotent husband slumps out for a coffee.
无能的丈夫消沉露脸，为一杯咖啡。
I try to keep him in,
我试图让他待着，
An old pole for the lightning,
产生闪电的古老电线杆，
The acid baths, the skyfuls off of you.
满天空的酸性雨水倾泻而下，刻薄的你。
He lumps it down the plastic cobbled hill,
他将它摔在塑料鹅卵石铺成的山丘，
Flogged trolley. The sparks are blue.
被抽打的手推车。冒出蓝色的火星。
The blue sparks spill,
蓝色的火星溅散，
Splitting like quartz into a million bits.
仿佛石英分裂成百万碎片。
O jewel! O valuable!
啊，宝石！啊，珍宝！
That night the moon
那晚，月亮
Dragged its blood bag, sick
拖着它血红的袋子，病态
Animal
似动物
Up over the harbor lights.
悬挂于港口众灯之上。
And then grew normal,
然后变得正常，
Hard and apart and white.
硬朗，苍白，与众不同。
The scale-sheen on the sand scared me to death.
沙地上鱼鳞的光泽将我吓死。
We kept picking up handfuls, loving it,
我们不停地捡，满手都是，
Working it like dough, a mulatto body,
像面团般地揉弄它，一个黑白混血儿，
The silk grits.
丝绸般沙沙响。
A dog picked up your doggy husband. He went on.
狗带着你那像狗的丈夫。他向前走。
Now I am silent, hate
现在我沉默了，憎恨
Up to my neck,
强烈的憎恨，
Thick, thick.
沉重，沉重。
I do not speak.
我不说话。
I am packing the hard potatoes like good clothes,
我将坚硬的土豆打包，仿佛优质衣服，
I am packing the babies,
我将孩子们打包，
I am packing the sick cats.
我将病猫们打包。
O vase of acid,
啊，刻薄的花瓶，
It is love you are full of. You know who you hate.
你满怀的是爱。你清楚你恨谁。
He is hugging his ball and chain down by the gate
他抱着球，走到大门边
That opens to the sea
大门朝大海敞开
Where it drives in, white and black,
海水涌入，黑白一片，
Then spews it back.
然后海水涌出。
Every day you fill him with soul-stuff, like a pitcher.
每天你用灵魂之物填满他，如同大水壶。
You are so exhausted.
你如此筋疲力尽。
Your voice my ear-ring,
你的声音，我的耳环，
Flapping and sucking, blood-loving bat.
拍动着，吮吸着，嗜血的蝙蝠。
That is that. That is that.
那就是，那就是。
You peer from the door,
你从门缝中窥视，
Sad hag.‘Every woman’s a whore.
悲哀的丑妇。“每个女人都是娼妇。
I can’t communicate.’
我不能交流。”
I see your cute décor
我看见你漂亮的饰品
Close on you like the fist of a baby
紧贴你身上像婴儿的小拳
Or an anemone, that sea
或像银莲花，那大海
Sweetheart, that kleptomaniac.
宝贝，那爱情神偷。
I am still raw.
我依然毫无经验。
I say I may be back.
我说我可能回来。
You know what lies are for.
你明白谎言为何而生。
Even in your Zen heaven we shan’t meet.
即使在你禅宗天堂我们也不会相遇。
(1962/10/18. pp.227—230. No.186)
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