思想的狐狸

我想象這座午夜時的森林：
有些什麽別的東西在活動，
除了鐘的孤獨
以及這張移動着我的手指的白紙。

我透過窗戶看見沒有星辰：
有什麽別的東西在臨近，
雖然深深藏在黑暗中
卻正在進入靜寂。

冰涼，輕微得象黑暗裏的雪花，
一雙狐狸的鼻子觸着細枝、嫩葉；
一雙眼睛幫着它活動，在這裏
又是這裏，在這裏，又是這裏，

雪地上的腳印在樹叢間
越來越近，一個瘸着的影子
小心翼翼地遲疑在樹樁邊，
一個空虛的身體大膽地來到，

穿過空地，像一隻眼睛，
廣阔深邃的碧緑顔色，
閃閃發亮，全神貫註，
來到幹它自己的事情，直至

帶着突然強烈炙熱的狐狸氣味
它進入了頭腦裏黑暗的洞穴。
窗外依然沒有星辰，鐘聲滴答，
紙上卻已印下了文字。

I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow,
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business

Till, with sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.