I
一件洗了的东西挂在绳上，
可不是我的。
我看到的所有东西
都不属于我。
邻居有了一个带天线的收音机，
我们有一个手提的。
他们有很多壁橱；
我们有只手提箱。
我说：“罗伊，我们还有多少东西？
有些事我弄不明白，
我们挣得越多花得越多……”
他只是回答：“就这样过吧。”
罗伊，你现在挣钱挣得太多了。
我坐着看我们的后院
觉得真难。
他所有的元子角子都干了什么？
——沿着篱笆的一堆酒瓶。
他忠诚也善良
可他确实要求太多。
他见过不少世面，铁定了还要看够没见的，
如果我要抗议
罗伊就皱着眉头回答，
“亲爱的，我挣就要花。
世界广阔；它还在延伸……
我要去下一个城镇找份工作。”
罗伊，你现在挣钱挣得太多了。
II
该是说结束的时候了；
就这样结束了。
他和他别的朋友走了。
他不需要费心弥补，
这样的结果全是他的错。
透过雨和黑夜我看着他的脸
在街对面弗洛西那儿。
他喝得暖融融泛着粉红
还有短笛的伴奏。
该是说结束的时候了。
我遇到他和瓦丽拉走在一起
用伞打了他两下。
这次也许是我的错，
可是该是说结束的时候了。
去喝你的酒去醉死。
让短笛吹奏。
我受够了你的难伺候。
现在我要自谋出路。
今晚我就坐上公共汽车离开。
沿着又湿又漆黑的高速路远走
我将奔驰奔驰永不回头。
我就要走去乘上公共汽车
去找到一个一心一意的人。
该是说结束的时候了。
我已经借了15块的车费
它能带我去天涯海角。
这次全是他的过错
该是说结束的时候了。
III
催眠曲。
大人和孩子
沉入安息。
在大海上大船沉没死亡，
带进它的怀抱。
催眠曲。
让国家狂怒，
让王国陷落。
围栏的影子在墙上
造出一个巨大的囚笼。
催眠曲。
睡吧睡吧，
战争就要结束。
放下那傻乎乎无用的玩具，
拣起月亮。
催眠曲。
如果他们要说
你没有理智，
别在意；那不会
有什么影响。
催眠曲。
大人和孩子
沉入安息。
在大海上大船沉没死亡，
带进它的怀抱。
IV
是什么在叶子上闪亮，
幽暗的叶子，
像悲痛者的泪珠，
闪亮，在叶子中闪亮？
是露珠还是泪珠，
露珠还是泪珠，
垂在那里经年又复年
像沉重的一滴珠泪？
那珠泪开始坠，
滚动着坠落，
也许那根本不是泪。
看着它，看它滚落。
听着它坠到地上，
听，四围的一切。
那不是泪落的声音，
敲，敲在地上。
看它像种子一样躺在那里，
黑色的种子。
看它像野草一样生根，
更快，比野草更快，
所有闪亮的种子都生根，
共同生根，
什么样奇异的花朵或果实
将从这共谋的根上长出？
水果还是花朵？它是一张脸。
是的，一张脸。
在那黑暗而死气沉沉的地方
每一颗种子长成了一张脸。
像梦中的军队
这些脸看起来，
越来越模糊，模糊，像一个梦。
它们如此真切不会是梦。
Songs For A Colored Singer
Elizabeth Bishop
I
A washing hangs upon the line,
but it's not mine.
None of the things that I can see
belong to me.
The neighbors got a radio with an aerial;
we got a little portable.
They got a lot of closet space;
we got a suitcase.
I say, "Le Roy, just how much are we owing?
Something I can't comprehend,
the more we got the more we spend...."
He only answers, "Let's get going."
Le Roy, you're earning too much money now.
I sit and look at our backyard
and find it very hard.
What have we got for all his dollars and cents?
--A pile of bottles by the fence.
He's faithful and he's kind
but he sure has an inquiring mind.
He's seen a lot; he's bound to see the rest,
and if I protest
Le Roy answers with a frown,
"Darling, when I earns I spends.
The world is wide; it still extends....
I'm going to get a job in the next town."
Le Roy, you're earning too much money now.
II
The time has come to call a halt;
and so it ends.
He's gone off with his other friends.
He needn't try to make amends,
this occasion's all his fault.
Through rain and dark I see his face
across the street at Flossie's place.
He's drinking in the warm pink glow
to th' accompaniment of the piccolo.
The time has come to call a halt.
I met him walking with Varella
and hit him twice with my umbrella.
Perhaps that occasion was my fault,
but the time has come to call a halt.
Go drink your wine and go get tight.
Let the piccolo play.
I'm sick of all your fussing anyway.
Now I'm pursuing my own way.
I'm leaving on the bus tonight.
Far down the highway wet and black
I'll ride and ride and not come back.
I'm going to go and take the bus
and find someone monogamous.
The time has come to call a halt.
I've borrowed fifteen dollars fare
and it will take me anywhere.
For this occasion's all his fault.
The time has come to call a halt.
III
Lullaby.
Adult and child
sink to their rest.
At sea the big ship sinks and dies,
lead in its breast.
Lullaby.
Let nations rage,
let nations fall.
The shadow of the crib makes an enormous cage
upon the wall.
Lullaby.
Sleep on and on,
war's over soon.
Drop the silly, harmless toy,
pick up the moon.
Lullaby.
If they should say
you have no sense,
don't you mind them; it won't make
much difference.
Lullaby.
Adult and child
sink to their rest.
At sea the big ship sinks and dies,
lead in its breast.
IV
What's that shining in the leaves,
the shadowy leaves,
like tears when somebody grieves,
shining, shining in the leaves?
Is it dew or is it tears,
dew or tears,
hanging there for years and years
like a heavy dew of tears?
Then that dew begins to fall,
roll down and fall,
Maybe it's not tears at all.
See it, see it roll and fall.
Hear it falling on the ground,
hear, all around.
That is not a tearful sound,
beating, beating on the ground.
See it lying there like seeds,
like black seeds.
see it taking root like weeds,
faster, faster than the weeds,
all the shining seeds take root,
conspiring root,
and what curious flower or fruit
will grow from that conspiring root?
fruit or flower? It is a face.
Yes, a face.
In that dark and dreary place
each seed grows into a face.
Like an army in a dream
the faces seem,
darker, darker, like a dream.
They're too real to be a dream.
