Spring Beauties

Ruth Stone

The abandoned campus,
empty brick buildings and early June
when you came to visit me;
crossing the states midway,
the straggled belts of little roads;
hitchhiking with your portable typewriter.
The campus, an academy of trees,
under which some hand, the wind's I guess,
had scattered the pale light
of thousands of spring beauties,
petals stained with pink veins;
secret, blooming for themselves.
We sat among them.
Your long fingers, thin body,
and long bones of improbable genius;
some scattered gene as Kafka must have had.
Your deep voice, this passing dust of miracles.
That simple that was myself, half conscious,
as though each moment was a page
where words appeared; the bent hammer of the type
struck against the moving ribbon.
The light air, the restless leaves;
the ripple of time warped by our longing.
There, as if we were painted
by some unknown impressionist.

春之美神

露丝斯通

被摈弃的校园，
空空的砖瓦房当六月初
你来看望我；
穿行于州际途中，
束带般的小路伸延，
提着你的便携打字机搭车。
校园，一个树林的学院，
在树下有些，我想是风的手，
已经消散了千百
春之美神的苍白光线，
花瓣染上桃红色的血管；
秘密的，为它们自己开放。
我们坐在它们中间。
你那修长的手指，清瘦的身材，
和未必会是天才的长骨；
一些象卡夫卡肯定有的分散的基因。
你深沉的嗓音，通行奇妙尘间。
单纯如我，神志半醒，
似乎每一瞬间都是词语出现之页；
弯型字锤撞击移动的色带。
清淡的空气，烦躁的树叶；
我们的渴望翘曲起时间的微澜。
在那里，好象我们被
几个无名印象派画家绘入了画面。