The Blind Old Man 瞎老人 by Robert Bly

瞎老人

我不知道为什么这么多甜蜜盘绕在我们身边。
也不知道为什么下午时分风吹动窗帘，
也不知道为什么大地絮叨它的孩子。

我们从不会知道雪为什么下了一整夜，
也不知道苍鹭如何伸展它的长腿，
也不知道为什么在清晨我们感到被遗弃。

我们从不知道鸟是如何飞起来，
也不知道会做梦的天才是谁，
也不知道天空和大地为何出现在诗里。

我们不知道雨为什么下得这样久.
水渠工人来一锹接一锹的挖。
苍鹭继续把天空缝在一起。

我们从未听过我们被怀胎的日子
也未听说哪位医生帮我们出生，
也未听说过决定我们何时死亡的瞎老人。

很难明白太阳为什么升起，
为什么孩子大多都喜欢我们，
为什么风在下午吹动窗帘。

The Blind Old Man
by Robert Bly

I don\'t know why so much sweetness hovers around us.
Nor why the wind blows the curtains in the afternoons,
Nor why the earth mutters so much about its children.

We\'ll never know why the snow falls through the night,
Nor how the heron stretches her long legs,
Nor why we feel so abandoned in the morning.

We have never understood how birds manage to fly,
Nor who the genius is who makes up dreams,
Nor how heaven and earth can appear in a poem.

We don\'t know why the rain falls so long.
The ditchdigger turns up one shovel after another.
The herons go on stitching the heavens together.

We\'ve never heard about the day we were conceived
Nor the doctor who helped us to be born,
Nor that blind old man who decides when we will die.

It\'s hard to understand why the sun rises,
And why our children are mostly fond of us,
And why the wind blows the curtains in the afternoon.


"The Blind Old Man" by Robert Bly, from Talking Into the Ear of a Donkey. © W.W. Norton & Co., 2010. Reprinted with permission.