美国 毕肖普 Elizabeth Bishop  美国   (1911~1979)
One poem at a time

Elizabeth Bishop
  Fishing Room
  Although this is a cold night
  But in a room under the fishing
  A Lao Yumin still sitting there networking
  His network, in the mist is almost impossible to see the screen
  Just a mass of purple and brown
  His shuttle has been polished with the old.
  That the air smells so strongly of cod
  The nose is sour man lookin people
  There Jianqiao the five fishing room roof
  From the attic storage room under the narrow suspension bridge stretching
  Convenient for the trolleys up and down
  Wrapped in silver being everywhere:
  Slowly, as if wondering emission uplift the ground,
  That the heavy sea surface is opaque,
  But scattered among rocks in the wilderness
  That bench, that lobster tank, then mast
  Translucent silver,
  As a small building that for years
  Grow in the sea of green moss on the wall.
  That big fish pots have been beautiful herring scales
  Painting heavy wrinkles,
  And that cart was painted the same creamy things.
  Bite with a thick layer of iridescent flies
  In that little slope behind the house,
  Hidden in the dim light reflecting glass after
  There is an old winch, dilapidated,
  Two long white hands have been grinding
  Part of the iron
  There are some dark scars, like dried blood.
  Accept "good luck" smoke of the elderly,
  My grandfather's friend.
  Cod fishing boat when he was waiting for the arrival time,
  We talked about the decline in population
  There are herring and cod.
  He wore hoop wraps and thumb,
  Fish from being mutilated
  Scrape off the scales -
  That the best part
  Old knife with a black
  That edge has been worn away a few.
  Further down to the water's edge,
  Place in that boat to shore,
  Leaned over the long slope that water, thin silver tree trunks
  Through the gray stone
  Lying in parallel, gradually down
  Forty-five yards away from the middle distance.
  Cold dark deep and completely clear,
  Firestone can not stand is the element
  Of fish and seals ... ... especially for a seal.
  Night after night I've looked at here,
  The seal was curious to me. It's great interest
  Addiction as I am a believer,
  So I sing hymns to it.
  I also sing: "God is my impregnable fortress."
  It stands in the water ceremony to me with eyes
  Slowly moving its head slightly
  It disappears from time to time, then he suddenly appeared in the
  In the same vortex, the shrug
  Established as long hindered its discretion.
  Cold and dark and to completely clear
  Clear gray icy water ... ... the back, behind us,
  Start the ranks of TV drama majestic cedar.
  Faint faint, accompanied by their shadows,
  One million Christmas vigil
  Waiting for Christmas to come. The water seems to hang with
  Hanging in the round blue-gray stone.
  I've seen it countless times, and that the same sea, and likewise,
  Gently, absently tapping a stone,
  Stone cold at ease in the above
  Then on top of the stone on top in the world.
  If you are hand dipped in water,
  Now you will feel pain wrist hand was burned
  Just like water is the embodiment of fire
  Consumption of stones, burning out the gray flame.
  If you taste the water, it began to be bitter,
  Then salty, then certainly burning your tongue.
  This is what I imagine the "knowledge" appearance:
  Dark, brackish, clear, and totally free movement,
  Since the world
  Kennedy drain out of the mouth of the cold, from that eternal breast Petrochemical
  Engrossed flowing, our knowledge is historical, flowing in
  Soon it without trace.
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  This is a mad house
  This is a man
  Lying lunatic house
  It is time
  To the unlucky man
  Lying lunatic house
  It was a watch
  That is the time
  So that more people would
  Lying lunatic house
  It was a sailor
  Wearing the watch
  That table tells people that the time honored
  The man lying on the mad house
  It was barricaded by the port board
  Is the sailor to reach places
  Sailor wearing the watch
  That table tells that the brave old time
  The old man lying on the mad house
  That is that the cell walls and
  That ocean wind and cloud deck
  The sailor is sailing is
  Sailor wearing the watch
  That table tells people that the time sour
  That cynical people lying on the lunatic house
  It was a Jew wearing a paper hat to do
  Dancing burst into tears in the prison
  Wood is creaking at the foot of Ocean
  The sailor is the distance
  On the tight winding watch
  That table tells the time that the cruel man
  That cruel man lying on the mad house
  This is a book to be tipped over the world
  It was a Jew wearing a paper hat to do
  Dancing burst into tears in the prison
  Wood is creaking at the foot of Ocean
  The sailor is the distance
  On the tight winding watch
  That table tells the time that busy people
  That house mad rush of people lying
  This is a boy tapping the floor
  Is it that you want to Discovery World
  It was tipped over the world
  Wearing a hat that Jews of the world newspaper
  It burst into tears in the world dancing
  Waltz across the entire deck of shaking
  It is silent on the deck sailor
  Listening to watch sailor
  Tick the reports that the time table
  At that moment the dull man
  Lying lunatic house
  This is the age that the walls and doors that
  Put the tap in which the floor of the juvenile prison
  The boy was in touch if there was tipped over the world
  It was a Jew wearing a paper hat
  That the Jews was happily dancing in the cell
  In that lost the deck above the sea
  Passing around the sailors that gaze fixed
  The sailor shook his table
  That time table tells the poet
  The house that the poet lying on the lunatic
  This is a soldier returned from the war also
  This is the age that the walls and doors that
  Put the tap in which the floor of the juvenile prison
  The boy was in touch if there was tipped over the world
  It was a Jew wearing a paper hat
  That the Jews to walk carefully in the cells
  Walking in the thick of the coffin
  With the crazy sailor TV drama
  The sailor gave us his watch
  The poor people that watch tell the time
  The poor man lying on the mad house
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Marianne Moore's invitation
  From Brooklyn across the Brooklyn Bridge, in this beautiful morning,
  Come fly with.
  In the pale into the nose of the chemical clouds,
  Come fly with,
  That fly in the tens of thousands of rapidly spinning drum in the blue
  In that mackerel sky fall color
  That flash of water over the pier site,
  Come fly with.
  Whistle, pennants and smoke in the wind. The ship
  Sincerely with a lot of flags in the signal
  Ups and downs as he flew over the harbor.
  Flowing into the two rivers, gracefully bearing the negative with
  Numerous small clear jelly
  Carved in the silver chain drag in glass fruit plate.
  Flight is safe; some arrangements for a good weather.
  That morning, the waves surging on this beautiful line of poetry.
  Come fly with.
  As the only black shoes that each toe pointing in the direction
  Follow that the high light sapphire color
  Enough with that black butterfly wings and beautiful aphorisms
  At this point God knows how many angels riding on his broad black hat you the edge
  Come fly with,
  With a silent voice of the music thinking,
  With a slightly critical frown, and blue ribbons,
  Come fly with.
  Events and in that wave of skyscraper flash; Manhattan
  Completely washed by the waves of moral
  Come fly with it.
  Naturally the heroic mettle to step onto the sky
  On top of those accidents, in which malicious movies above
  Taxis and large in those over injustice,
  When the horn in your ear that echo the beautiful
  Whenever you hear of a musk deer for the
  Simple soft music,
  Come Fly with
  Who put the dark museum
  As courteous male bower bird
  Who told the Lions that obedient
  V steps in the public library waiting
  Eager to follow up and the door
  Came to the reading room,
  Come fly with.
  We can sit together and weep; we can go shopping together
  We can do "to see who was wrong," the game
  The priceless treasure of words,
  Or we can be bold to explore, as long as you come
  Come fly with.
  Let the negative sentences of the dynasty
  Around you bleak and death,
  Let the grammar suddenly turned and flash
  Like a group of sandpiper in flight,
  Come fly with.
  Come on, just like the white mackerel sky in a flash of color,
  Come on, just like the day of the comet
  Accompanied by unambiguous words long train,
  From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, in this beautiful morning,
  Come fly with.
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Fish
  I caught a big fish
  Put him beside the boat
  Half of the exposed surface of the water, with my hook
  Fixed in a corner of his mouth
  He did not resist.
  He did not resist.
  He ordered the hanging weight of worries,
  Obedience and solemn
  Seems to not care. Here icy,
  His wrinkled brown skin is pulled
  Like the old wallpaper,
  There it was dark brown stripes
  Also like the wallpaper
  It rose in full bloom
  In the years lost by contamination and wear.
  His little body covered with circles,
  Bodhi as beautiful floral,
  He was the little white sea-lice infection,
  Hanging twenty-three green seaweed.
  At this point he's still breathing terrible gill oxygen
  - That frightening gills,
  Fresh and full of blood.
  The rough white fish would be so terrible to the cutting,
  Folding sensational like feathers,
  That big bones and little bones,
  The internal organs of his flashes,
  Red and black showing exaggerated
  And that pink swim bladder
  Like a big peony.
  I looked into its eyes
  That big eyes than my eyes a lot,
  But more shallow, and is yellow,
  Since the old
  Watch full scratches into the fish paste
  Aluminum foil with a dirty
  That support and the iris is pressed.
  That eyes slightly turned, but did not
  Caught my gaze.
  - It is more like a small object
  In the light of the slight tilt.
  I admired his sullen face,
  That the mandibular body,
  Then I saw
  In his lower lip (if you can call it the lower lip)
  Cruel, wet the old fishing line to hang five,
  Or a four, plus a guide,
  That reel is still fixed on the top,
  Five large hooks,
  Long firmly in its mouth.
  A green line, the point he brake the bands are worn,
  There is an intact black line
  Suddenly the place off stretch also wrinkled ripples
  This strength enabled him to escape.
  Like the gold medal on the ribbon
  Been eroded rock friction
  The wisdom of five root hairs of a lock of his beard
  The pain from his jaw in the grow.
  I stare for a long time
  Triumph filled the small cabin with a gap,
  From the pond in the bilge.
  Where gasoline spread a rainbow
  From the rusty motor
  To sink rusty orange,,
  The sun drying crack to that thwarts board
  Department of rope led to that award by frame,
  Gunwale to that - until every thing
  Have become iridescent, iridescent, iridescent!
  I put the fish back into the sea.
  Sense Xie Sangke feed
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Gulf
  - To my birthday
  In such a low tide the water is shallow and transparent how
  Gray mud crushed ribs, prominent and glaring
  Hull dry, dry as a match stakes
  Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,
  Bay water is not wet anything.
  Gas flame color becomes weak as possible
  Can you smell gas it is becoming
  If you are Baudelaire
  You can hear it is becoming a marimba music.
  Loess dredger working in the end of the pier
  Irregular playing with the clay dry.
  Particularly birds. Pelican crashed into
  This is strange in the air unnecessarily violent
  In my opinion, like the beak hoe,
  It appeared to catch any little thing,
  And left elbow with a funny.
  Black and white birds are hovering in the battle
  Invisible raft over
  Curved tail hanging open like a pair of scissors
  Or, as the tension of the fish bone, until they tremble.
  Funky foam collection vessel holding fast forward
  With the eager hound wind, erect a small wooden harpoons and hooks
  Decorated with sponge foam.
  A chicken wire fence with metal fixed at the dock
  There, like a little plow blade gleams
  Is hung up to dry in the blue-gray shark tail
  China ready to sell the hotel.
  Some boats are still white
  Piled one by one, or sideways, full of holes,
  From the recent turmoil, salvaged,
  Like a tear, but also did not respond to the letter
  They discard the bay, which the ancient letters.
  Du. Du. Dredger drove off
  Started a slow fall of the plaster.
  Continued all the varied activities
  Messy but enjoyable.
  Translation DONGBEI
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  An art
  Lost Art is not difficult to grasp;
  Filled with so many things
  Loss is not a disaster.
  What is lost every day. Because of lost door
  Keys and driven to distraction, time to get through in vain.
  Lost art is not formidable.
  Then he lost farther and faster;
  Address, name, and you would have to get there
  Tourism, will not give you all this disaster.
  I lost my mother's table. Look! My last,
  I'm almost the last of the lovely destination has also been lost
  Lost art is not formidable.
  I lost two lovely city. Little farther
  I have two kingdoms, two rivers, a continent.
  I miss them, but this is not a disaster.
  - Even losing you (the humorous tone,
  I love the use of hand gestures) I will not lie.
  It is difficult to deal with the fact that art is not lost
  Although it looks like a disaster.
  Translated by Li He
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Small Project
  Think about disturbing the sky hovering storm
  Like a dog looking for shelter for
  Listen to it roar.
  In the dark, those mahogany bolt
  No response to its attention
  That the composition of crude fiber den
  There is a chance there will be hanging his head egrets
  Shook his feathers and his mouth made with no understanding of himself
  When the water began to light up the surrounding
  Think of boulevards and small palm trees
  All of a sudden flash of the ranks of the trunk
  The weak like a fish bone.
  There in the rain. Sidewalk
  Every crevice in the weeds
  Was hit, was wet, the water becomes fresh.
  Now again, the storm left, minor
  Sequence, violent war scenes illuminated
  Each of the "field of another."
  Think of the red stakes or tied to the yacht on the bridge columns
  A sleeping man
  Think he seems safe and did not have a trace of alarm.
  Translated by Ma Hua Jiang Tao
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Shampoo
  (The following six days of the new translation by Choi)
  Expansion of the rocks silent,
  Moss growth, spread
  Gray waves as homologous.
  They look forward to meet
  On the ring around the moon,
  Still retained in our memory.
  Since Paradise
  Attracted to take care of us,
  Honey, why you
  Emphasis on practical results, keep busy;
  May wish to wait and see eyes. Time
  Wasted if not moved.
  Stars through your hair
  The formation of a bright
  Closely together
  So straight, so rapidly
  Come on, let me use that big tin pots for your hair
  It is broken, like the moonlight kind of flash with no fixed.
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Orleans Riverside
  - To Marguerite. Miller
  Each barge on the river off easy
  Vast waves,
  Like a huge gray oak leaves
  Suddenly appeared;
  It carries a flow of real Yezi Shun
  Drift out to sea.
  Giant leaf-like veins on the Mercury -
  Those ripples
  Toward the dam on both sides of the river
  Destroy itself,
  Quietly as fallen stars in the sky
  The end of their lives.
  Piles of leaves that towed the real
  Continue to drift
  They silently away, dissolve in the
  Hall of the sea.
  We observe that stood motionless
  Leaves and ripples
  When light and water tight manner
  Formal meeting.
  "If we have seen can easily forget,"
  I want to say to you,
  "Let it go, we are destined not escape
  Leaves the entanglement. "
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Letter sent to New York
  - To Louise. Karen
  I hope you talk about the next letter,
  Where you want to do your
  Those who show how, after the finish
  What else you have fun?
  You take a taxi in the midnight
  Such a hurry to save his soul
  Continuously around the park where the road
  Meter such as a dying owl staring eyes
  Trees and green seems bizarre anomaly
  Stand alone big, dark cave ago
  Suddenly, your exposure to another place
  Where the incident occurred one after another like the waves
  Most of the jokes you could not understand
  Wipe the slate as a few bad words
  Singing loud and clear can be somewhat hazy
  Could not be more black sky has been dark
  Brown stone from out of the house
  You get to the gray water spilled on the sidewalk
  Side of the sun will rise buildings
  Keep rocking like a wheat field
  Honey, wheat is not oats. I guess
  The wheat sowing the seeds is not your
  Regardless, I want to know
  You want to do you want to go
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Map
  Land lying in the sea, covered by the green shadows.
  These shadows, if true, then the edge of their
  Appeared in a long string of rocks covered with seaweed
  That seaweed so the water from green to pure blue.
  Perhaps reclining on land under the sea from the hold up
  And then calmly back to their side?
  Beautiful brown sand and gravel along the continental shelf
  Land towing force from below the sea?
  Newfoundland's shadow still flat.
  Yellow Labrador, the Eskimos in the above
  Coated with oil. We can stroke these lovely bays,
  The following looks at the glass mirror is about to bloom,
  Something like a clean cage full bloom did not see the fish.
  Standard name of the town along the coast to the sea,
  The names of several cities over the nearby mountains are
  - When passion far beyond motivation
  Printing workers enjoy the same excitement.
  The Peninsula extracted from the sea between the thumb and index finger
  As if the woman's belongings smooth touch courtyard.
  Land on the map is more comfortable than the ocean,
  It is the shape of the waves left the land:
  Norway's hare eagerly toward the south
  Its silhouette swaying in the sea and on land between.
  The color distribution of the national good, or you can choose?
  - Water feature that best represents the color is.
  Geography is no preference, from the north and west have nearly the same
  Color map should be more sophisticated than historians.
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  One moth
  Here, above,
  The gap is filled with broken buildings moonlight.
  Hat man as the shadow is only the size of
  V in the feet, as if the doll with a single step of the circle.
  An inverted pin, the tip is attracted moonlight.
  He did not see the moon, just observing her vast territory,
  That strange feeling on the _set_ light, neither cold nor hot,
  There is no instrument that can measure the temperature.
  However, when one moth
  Occasionally, several times on the ground searching for rare,
  The moon has become as unusual. He appeared
  Opening in a sidewalk, and began
  Nervously climbing the buildings surface.
  He felt like the sky at the top of the moon cave
  That the sky is simply unreliable asylum
  He trembled, but must explore the possible upward.
  Approaching the roof
  His shadow dragging behind, like the photographer's black cloth,
  He was afraid to climb, it is envisaged that this time may be able to
  Will head into his own little neat, rounded openings
  Wrapped in black like a paper, took out the hard from a bobbin
  Into the light (in the ground no such illusion.)
  He moth fear most people still do, although
  He was bound to fail, scared, falling, but no injuries
  Later he returned to
  He called home, the pale concrete subway.
  His light to fly, can not wait to catch up
  The silent train. Rapidly close the door
  Moths themselves are always people sitting back to front
  The train at full speed immediately, there is no shift
  Or any process of becoming fast, terrible speed,
  He was not himself how quickly retreat.
  Every night he must
  Ride through the man-made tunnel, doing the same dream.
  As if the sleeper's head and trunk in the EU following
  Repeatedly. He did not dare look out the window toward,
  Because the third rail, and that the flow of toxic gases
  Running on the edge. He saw it as a disease
  Themselves on a susceptible genetic. He had
  Hand in his pocket, as the others wore scarves.
  If you catch him
  He raised his flashlight eyes. Which are all black pupil,
  Self-contained one night, he stared at you see, that burr
  Tightening the horizon, and then closed eyes. Where from his eyelids
  Drops out of a tear, his only property, like a bee sting.
  He secretly caught with their hands, if you do not pay attention
  He will swallow it. But if you find to give you,
  Cool and pleasant as underground springs and pure to drink.
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Armadillo
  - To Robert. Lowell
  This time of year
  Can be seen almost every night
  Those fragile illegal fire balloons.
  Rose to the height of the mountain,
  Rise to this region is still
  Respected a saint,
  Red wall paper, which is full of light
  Flickering, like the stars beat.
  Once promoted to the sky, it is difficult
  Distinction between them and the stars -
  These are the planet - in color
  Fall of Venus, or Mars,
  Sinking, or light green. Wind, the
  They burn, overturning, rolling, shaking;
  Otherwise they will float to the line
  Kite-like on the Southern Cross constellation,
  Away, and dim, and solemn
  Slowly left us
  May, run into the wind blowing down the mountain pass
  Sudden danger.
  Last night, a big balloon and crashed.
  It hit the rock behind the house
  Splash off, as if the fire broken eggs.
  Dripping flames leap up. We saw a pair of
  Where owls nest fly
  Upward, rotate the exposed white and black
  The following shiny red belly, until
  They screamed fly vision.
  That must have been the old Eagles Nest burned.
  An armadillo rushed to escape the fire,
  It is left alone, is illuminate the burnished feathers,
  Blossoming rose, bowed his head and tail contraction,
  Later, a short-ear rabbits
  Jumped out of us a fright.
  How soft! A handful of intangible ash
  Eyes motionless, Huoshaohuoliao's.
  Fantastic, this dream-like simulation!
  Oh, falling fire, piercing scream
  And terror, and that the weak residual threat of force
  Mingle with the sky twisted ignorance!
  ... ...
  Since the end of six or more preferred
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Crusoe in England
  The newspaper said, a new volcanic
  Has erupted, and I read last week
  Where a ship saw an island being born:
  First, the smell of steam, ten miles outside the spread;
  Then a little black spot may be basalt ---- ----
  In a pair of binoculars in the rise
  Then stick to the horizon like a fly.
  They gave it the name. But I had the name of the poor island
  Not yet been re-discovered, was not renamed.
  Never write a book on it too.
  Oh, there fifty-two
  Bad foot I can slip a small volcanic
  ---- A few steps to climb
  Die like the volcanic ashes.
  I used to sit up tall crater
  Number of the other volcanoes,
  Naked and dreary, blow their heads.
  I think if the volcano is really
  This size, I
  Become a giant;
  If I was a giant,
  To imagine
  Goat and turtle that was the extent of
  Or gulls, or layered roller
  ---- Roller in a shiny hexagonal
  Close proximity to, but never did
  Shiny, even though the sky
  Almost always sunny to cloudy.
  I like islands
  A garbage heap clouds. Left hemisphere
  All clouds are shipped out and hang
  Volcano --- they burnt throat
  Too hot to touch by hand.
  Whether it is raining so many reasons?
  And why sometimes the place is in the hissing?
  Convex round the back of sea turtles, heavy to walk,
  Like a teapot sizzling sound.
  (And, of course, I will of some time, or take away
  A few, no matter what teapot. )
  Lava pouring out from the sea floor,
  Will be sizzling. I fixed it. Original
  They are more turtles.
  Beach full of lava, variegated,
  Black, red, and white, and gray;
  That show off the beautiful colors of marble.
  I have had Dragon volumes. Oh,
  The latest half a dozen each time,
  They come and go, forward and backward
  Their heads buried in the clouds, dragging their feet
  Milled white departments and regions.
  Glass chimney, brittle, weakened,
  Like a ritual I looked at the glass ... ...
  Water column in which the spiral seems to smoke.
  Yes, very beautiful, but the lack of companions.
  I often become self-pity.
  "I deserve this? I assume to be the case.
  Otherwise, I is not in here. I choose to do so
  Is it just a moment away?
  I do not remember, but perhaps something like this. "
  In short, there is nothing wrong with self-pity?
  I am proficient in a crater rock
  Two legs, I told myself
  "Mercy should begin at home." So I
  The more I pity, feel more at home.
  The sun into the sea; as a sun
  Rising from the sea,
  And that was it and I being one among a.
  Everything that the island has a:
  A tree snail, with a light purple
  Thin shell, climb anything,
  A wide range of tree climbing,
  Those coal black bush and the like.
  Snail shells lying in wait and see that the following
  Moreover, across a distance
  You will swear that they are a layer of the iris.
  There is an berries, dark red.
  I tried, then a one, and time is passing by.
  Luedaisuanwei, but good, no bad effect;
  So I stuffed home the wine. I will drink
  Those who braved the bubble, the terrible things that stimulate
  Them directly to my head
  And played the flute produced in my hometown
  (I think it has the world's most mysterious scale)
  Then in the flock dizziness, breathing the dance.
  Native, native! Do not we all so?
  I feel deeply loved
  I have the smallest island industry.
  No, that is not accurate, because the smallest
  Is the most miserable philosophy.
  Because I know more than enough.
  Why do some things that I did not spend enough?
  Greek drama or astronomy? I've seen
  Those books are full of gaps;
  The poems ---- Yes, I tried
  Listen to me recite the iris,
  "They quickly Shanshe toward the eye,
  This is happiness ... ... "What kind of happiness?
  I went back first thing after
  Is it looking at it.
  That island goat and guano smell.
  Goat is white, gull also the case,
  Both are too tame, or they think
  I also had a goat, or a seagull.
  Baa, Baa, Baa, and clamor, clamor, clamor,
  Baa baa ... ... ... ... ... ... din I still can not
  His voice shaking from side to my ears; they are stung.
  Tip din the question, the answer was ambiguous
  Over the hissing of the rain
  And the hissing of the sea turtle movement
  Get on my nerves.
  When all the gulls immediately launched into their sound
  Like a tree in strong winds, as it leaves.
  I close my eyes like a tree,
  Oak tree, for example, where it has real shadow.
  I heard that some livestock had island syndrome.
  I think some sheep.
  If a goat standing on the crater
  I put it named Mont d'Espoir 1 or peak of despair
  (I have plenty of time to spell these names),
  And called called, and smoking a gas.
  I grabbed his beard and looked at him.
  His pupil, reducing the level of
  But said nothing, or just express my malicious.
  I have tired of the same color!
  One day I was with my cranberry red
  A lamb, just want to see that
  Different colors.
  Later, his mother would not recognize him.
  Dream worst. Of course, I dream of foods
  And love, they are better than others
  To be happy more. But then I will do
  Cut off the neck as a baby, so that
  Like a sheep confused dream. I also have
  Nightmare, a number of islands from my
  Stretch out to infinity on the island, Island Health and the island,
  Like the frog eggs hatch islands
  Tadpole, I finally know
  I had to live in it and any of the above,
  As age, record of their botany,
  Their zoology, their geography.
  Just as I was intolerable
  When Friday came.
  (The record so that everything went wrong.)
  Friday good.
  Friday, well, we were friends.
  If he is a woman better!
  I would like to breed their offspring,
  And told him to do, I think, poor boy.
  He sometimes raise a number of lamb,
  Also, and their race, or turn around with them.
  ---- Look good; he has a nice body.
  Then one day they come to us away.
  Now I live here, another island,
  And which one is not, but who obtained distinction?
  My blood is full of islands; my mind
  Raising them. But those islands
  Has disappeared. I am old.
  I have trouble enough, drinking real tea,
  No interest in being surrounded by wood.
  The knife was still on the shelf ----
  Exudes a sense of smell, like a cross.
  It alive. I have many years
  Beg for it, and Aiken that it has not burst?
  I memorized every gap and lack of marks
  That blue blade that broken nose ... ...
  Now it has totally see me.
  That living soul is slowly running out.
  Rely on my eyes to the upper and away.
  Local museum asked me to
  All things give them:
  Flute, knives, dry wrinkled shoes
  Off my sheepskin leather pants
  (Fur in moths has been longer),
  That put me a good while female parasol
  Think of the arrangement of the ribs.
  It can sustain, but close up,
  Looks like a plucked poultry skin only.
  How people would want this kind of thing?
  - And on Friday, my dear friend, died
  Seventeen years ago, the measles epidemic in March.
  丁丽 English
  -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
  Night City
  [From the aircraft]
  No foot can bear
  Shoes too small.
  Broken glass, broken bottles,
  They burn piles.
  No one can come
  The Fire:
  Mottled blood
  And flashing ecstasy.
  That city is burning tears.
  A jade color
  Accumulation of water
  Begins to smoke.
  That city is burning sin.
  ---- In order to dispose of sin
  Center of the heat that
  Must be very strong.
  Transparent lymph,
  Swelling of the blood bright,
  In the gold in the
  Sewage spilled into the
  That flow, melted
  Black wrapped in green
  And bright
  Portland river.
  A tycoon
  Secreted by their own
  A pool of asphalt,
  A black through the moon.
  Another shouted
  A skyscraper.
  Look! Chi White
  It forces coming down.
  That big fire
  In a vacuum
  Competition for the air.
  Sky dead.
  (But there are some biological,
  Be careful of those, high above.
  They put down their feet, walking
  Green, red; green, red. )
  Note: 1 French, desperate mountain.
  丁丽 English
  Preferred since these two "wings"
Translated by Google
诗选