我张开四肢趴在床上，像一块大游戏毯：
腹部向下，双腿大开。那是冬天。
平常的日子。你的父亲在地板上摆动双脚。
楼上孩子们在咯咯作响的轮子上
来回拖东西。我是空的，被任何
膨胀、旋转、然后断裂的东西吹过
夜复一夜，在那房间。你必定寻找过
感觉好像永恒的事物，想要成为
在我们之间如火往返传递的东西
想要重量，渴求渴望，切盼
坠入肉体，过错，短暂的生存狂喜。
你从什么梦幻的世界挣脱？
什么飞升----什么悲哀----当你让意志
对准像我在床单上活生生的肉体？
When Your Small Form Tumbled into Me
By Tracy K. Smith
I lay sprawled like a big-game rug across the bed:
Belly down, legs wishbone-wide. It was winter.
Workaday. Your father swung his feet to the floor.
The kids upstairs dragged something back and forth
On shrieking wheels. I was empty, blown-through
By whatever swells, swirling, and then breaks
Night after night upon that room. You must have watched
For what felt like forever, wanting to be
What we passed back and forth between us like fire.
Wanting weight, desiring desire, dying
To descend into flesh, fault, the brief ecstasy of being.
From what dream of world did you wriggle free?
What soared—and what grieved—when you aimed your will
At the yes of my body alive like that on the sheets?
[ 本帖最后由 闽中林木 于 2016-9-19 09:59 编辑 ]
