Berck-Plage
贝尔克海滩
-1
-1
This is the sea, then, this great abeyance.
这片海域，这儿，宽阔的海湾浅滩。
How the sun’s poultice draws on my inflammation.
阳光仿佛敷药正吸收我的炎症。
Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped from the freeze
色彩诱人的果冻，苍白女孩用暴晒的手，
By pale girls, travel the air in scorched hands.
从冷冻箱舀出，穿梭在空气中。
Why is it so quiet, what are they hiding?
为何那么平静啊？她们在隐藏什么？
I have two legs, and I move smilingly.
我有两条腿，我微笑着走动。
A sandy damper kills the vibrations;
沙土似减震器延绵数英里；
It stretches for miles, the shrunk voices
减弱了各种振荡声，各种衰弱的声音
Waving and crutchless, half their old size.
无助地颤抖着，只剩原来的一半。
The lines of the eye, scalded by these bald surfaces,
这只眼的周围，被这些裸露的表面灼伤，
Boomerang like anchored elastics, hurting the owner.
回飞镖像锚定的橡皮圈，击伤它的主人。
Is it any wonder he puts on dark glasses?
他戴着墨镜奇怪吗？
Is it any wonder he affects a black cassock?
他穿着教士的黑袍奇怪吗？
Here he comes now, among the mackerel gatherers
现在他来到这儿，在收集马鲛鱼的人群中
Who wall up their backs against him.
他们背部形成的墙对着他。
They are handling the black and green lozenges like the parts of a body.
他们在处理墨绿菱形鱼如同身体的各个部分。
The sea, that crystallized these,
大海，养育了这些鱼，
Creeps away, many-snaked, with a long hiss of distress.
悄然离开，曲折蛇行，发出悠长痛苦的嘶嘶声。
-2
-2
This black boot has no mercy for anybody.
这只黑靴对谁都不怜悯。
Why should it, it is the hearse of a dead foot,
为什么它应该，它是死亡之脚的灵柩，
The high, dead, toeless foot of this priest
牧师无脚趾的脚，高傲、冷漠
Who plumbs the well of his book,
他正探索圣书之源泉，
The bent print bulging before him like scenery.
弯曲的字体呈现他面前犹如风景。
Obscene bikinis hide in the dunes,
低俗的比基尼掩藏在沙丘里，
Breasts and hips a confectioner’s sugar
乳房，臀部，糖果商的砂糖
Of little crystals, titillating the light,
颗颗细小晶体，闪烁着挑逗之光，
While a green pool opens its eye,
而绿色海水睁开眼，
Sick with what it has swallowed——
厌恶它所吞咽的一切——
Limbs, images, shrieks. Behind the concrete bunkers
肢体，意象，尖叫声。混凝土的掩体后面
Two lovers unstick themselves.
一对情侣刚分开。
O white sea-crockery,
呵，白色海洋似陶器，
What cupped sighs, what salt in the throat….
盛着怎样的叹息，喉咙里品出怎样的咸味……。
And the onlooker, trembling,
那个旁观者，哆嗦着，
Drawn like a long material
好似被长长的东西拉着
Through a still virulence,
穿过一片死气沉沉的恶意，
And a weed, hairy as privates.
一丛野草，毛茸茸如阴部。
-3
-3
On the balconies of the hotel, things are glittering.
旅馆的阳台上，各种东西都在发光，
Things, things——
各种东西，各种东西——
Tubular steel wheelchairs, aluminum crutches.
钢管轮椅，铝制拐杖。
Such salt-sweetness. Why should I walk
如此咸的甜味。为何我该越过
Beyond the breakwater, spotty with barnacles?
防波堤，沾着斑斑点点的甲壳动物？
I am not a nurse, white and attendant,
我不是护士，白色护理人员，
I am not a smile.
我不是一个微笑。
These children are after something, with hooks and cries,
孩子们在追赶什么，带着钩子，喊叫着，
And my heart too small to bandage their terrible faults.
我的心脏太小无法包扎他们可怕的伤口。
This is the side of a man:his red ribs,
这是一个男人的侧面：红色肋骨，
The nerves bursting like trees, and this is the surgeon:
神经像树枝般膨胀，这是外科医生：
One mirrory eye——
镜子般的一只眼睛——
A facet of knowledge.
知识的一个方面。
On a striped mattress in one room
房子里带条纹的床垫上
An old man is vanishing.
一个老年男子正在死去。
There is no help in his weeping wife.
妻子的哭泣也无济于事。
Where are the eye-stones, yellow and valuable,
石头般的双眼，黄色而珍贵，
And the tongue, sapphire of ash.
还有舌头，灰色的蓝宝石。
-4
-4
A wedding-cake face in a paper frill.
婚宴蛋糕似的脸安放在花边纸里。
How superior he is now.
现在他多么高傲啊。
It is like possessing a saint.
仿佛拥有了一位圣人。
The nurses in their wing-caps are no longer so beautiful;
带着檐帽的护士们不再那么漂亮；
They are browning, like touched gardenias.
她们无精打采，像碰落的栀子花。
The bed is rolled from the wall.
床从墙那边移动。
This is what it is to be complete. It is horrible.
这将是所谓的圆满。令人恐惧。
Is he wearing pajamas or an evening suit
他穿着睡衣还是晚礼服？
Under the glued sheet from which his powdery beak
黏胶床单下，他那抹满粉的嘴
Rises so whitely, unbuffeted?
白花花地翘起，未经反复拍打？
They propped his jaw with a book until it stiffened
他们用一本书支撑他的下颚，直至僵硬。
And folded his hands, that were shaking:goodbye, goodbye.
并把他的双手合上，好像在招手：再见，再见。
Now the washed sheets fly in the sun,
现在洗过的床单在阳光里飘动，
The pillow cases are sweetening.
枕套散发着香甜气味。
It is a blessing, it is a blessing:
这是一种祝福，一种祝福：
The long coffin of soap-colored oak,
皂色的橡木，长长的灵柩，
The curious bearers and the raw date
好奇的抬棺者，阴冷的日子
Engraving itself in silver with marvelous calm.
刻入银色日期，出奇的宁静。
-5
-5
The gray sky lowers, the hills like a green sea
灰色天空低垂，丘陵如碧绿海洋，
Run fold upon fold far off, concealing their hollows,
层层叠叠消失在远方，隐匿于山谷中，
The hollows in which rock the thoughts of the wife——
冥冥中妻子思绪万千——
Blunt, practical boats
迟钝，实用的一只只小船
Full of dresses and hats and china and married daughters.
装满连衣裙、帽子和瓷器，已婚的女儿。
In the parlor of the stone house
石屋的客厅里
One curtain is flickering from the open window,
打开的窗户，窗帘在飘动，
Flickering and pouring, a pitiful candle.
飘动，倾泻，一支可怜的蜡烛。
This is the tongue of the dead man:remember, remember.
似乎是已死男人的话：记住，记住。
How far he is now, his actions
现在他有多远，他身边的
Around him like living room furniture, like a décor.
种种行为像客厅里的家具，一种装饰。
As the pallors gather——
各种苍白凝聚——
The pallors of hands and neighborly faces,
双手的苍白，邻居脸的苍白，
The elate pallors of flying iris.
飞翔的鸢尾得意的苍白。
They are flying off into nothing:remember us.
它们正在飞离，消逝了：记住我们。
The empty benches of memory look over stones,
记忆似空空的长凳越过这些石块，
Marble facades with blue veins, and jelly-glassfuls of daffodils.
大理石表面，蓝色纹理，盛满胶状水仙花的玻璃杯。
It is so beautiful up here:it is a stopping place.
这儿却很美：一个歇息的地方。
-6
-6
The natural fatness of these lime leaves!——
这些椴树叶子天生阔大！——
Pollarded green balls, the trees march to church.
修剪成绿色球状，这些树运进教堂。
The voice of the priest, in thin air,
牧师的声音，在稀薄的空气中
Meets the corpse at the gate,
与门口的尸体相遇，
Addressing it, while the hills roll the notes of the dead bell;
向它致辞，而丘陵回荡着死亡的钟声；
A glittler of wheat and crude earth.
闪烁的麦浪，原始的大地。
What is the name of that color?——
那个颜色叫什么来着？——
Old blood of caked walls the sun heals,
墙上沾满旧血迹，太阳治愈了，
Old blood of limb stumps, burnt hearts.
残肢上的旧血迹，受伤的心灵。
The widow with her black pocketbook and three daughters,
寡妇带上黑色手提包，三个女儿，
Necessary among the flowers,
花丛中的必需品，
Enfolds her face like fine linen,
仿佛细亚麻布蒙着她的脸，
Not to be spread again.
别再凌乱。
While a sky, wormy with put-by smiles,
一片天空，却因积攒的微笑蚕食，
Passes cloud after cloud.
朵朵云彩飘过。
And the bride flowers expend a freshness,
新娘花儿的清新消散了，
And the soul is a bride
那么灵魂就是新娘
In a still place, and the groom is red and forgetful, he is featureless.
在一个安静的地方，新郎红润又健忘，他平淡无奇。
-7
-7
Behind the glass of this car
车窗后面的世界
The world purrs, shut-off and gentle.
发出低沉的颤动声，轻轻地熄灭。
And I am dark-suited and still, a member of the party,
我衣着黑色，送葬队伍中安静的一位，
Gliding up in low gear behind the cart.
在灵车后面缓慢随行。
And the priest is a vessel,
牧师是一个器皿，
A tarred fabric, sorry and dull,
涂了焦油的织物，伤悲而又沉闷，
Following the coffin on its flowery cart like a beautiful woman,
跟在铺满鲜花的灵车后面，仿佛一位美丽女子，
A crest of breasts, eyelids and lips
一对峰乳，眼睑和嘴唇
Storming the hilltop.
山顶刮起狂风。
Then, from the barred yard, the children
随后，有栅栏的庭院里，孩子们
Smell the melt of shoe-blacking,
闻到了鞋子烧焦熔化的气味，
Their faces turning, wordless and slow,
他们脸色在变，无语而缓慢，
Their eyes opening
他们睁大眼睛
On a wonderful thing——
注视这奇妙场景——
Six round black hats in the grass and a lozenge of wood,
草地上六顶圆形黑帽，一块菱形的木头，
And a naked mouth, red and awkward.
一张裸露的嘴，红润却笨拙。
For a minute the sky pours into the hole like plasma.
瞬间，那天空仿佛血浆倾泻入洞。
There is no hope, it is given up.
毫无希望，永被放弃。
(1962/06/30. pp.196—201. No. 167)
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