露易丝·格丽克 ▎别离

读更多+ 诗歌颂 2018-08-02

摄影/倾内

别离

夜不黑；黑的是这世界。
和我再多呆一会儿。

你的双手在椅背上——

这一幕我将记住。
之前，轻轻拨弄着我的肩膀。
像一个人训练自己怎样躲避内心。

另一个房间里，女仆悄悄地
熄灭了我看书的灯。

那个房间和它的石灰墙壁——
我想知道，它还怎么保护你
一旦你的漂泊开始？我想你的眼睛将寻找出
它的亮光，与月光对抗。
很明显，这么多年之后，你需要距离

来理解它的强烈。

你的双手在椅背上，拨弄着
我的身体和木头，恰以同样的方式。

像一个想再次感受渴望的人，
他珍视渴望甚于一切别的情感。

海边，希腊农夫们的声音，
急于看到日出。
仿佛黎明将把他们从农夫
变成英雄。

而那之前，你正抱着我，因为你就要离开——
这些是你此刻的陈述，
并非需要回答的问题。

我怎么能知道你爱我
除非我看到你为我悲伤？  

 

译/柳向阳

DEPARTURE

The night isn’t dark; the world is dark.
Stay with me a little longer.

Your hands on the back of the chair -
that’s what I’ll remember.
Before that, lightly stroking my shoulders.
Like a man training himself to avoid the heart.

In the other room, the maid discreetly
putting out the light i read by.

The room with its chalk walls-
how will it look to you I wonder
once your exile begins? I think your eyes will seek out
its light as opposed to the moon.
Apparently, after so many years, you need
distance to make plain its intensity.

Your hands on the chair, stroking
my body and the wood in exactly the same way.
Like a man who wants to feel longing again,
who prizes longing above all other emotion.

On the beach, voices of the Greek farmers,
impatient for sunrise.
As though dawn will change them
from farmers into heroes.

And before that, you are holding me because you are going away—
these are statements you are making,

not questions needing answers.

How can I know you love me
unless I see you grieve over me?