特别当十月的风

更新: 2018-04-11 10:21:35

            特别当十月的风

            用结霜手指惩罚我的头发

            被横行太阳抓住我走在火上

            在大地投下阴影之蟹,

            听见渡鸦在冬天枝头咳嗽,

            她说话时我忙碌的心战栗

            滴下音节之血耗干她的词语。

            也被关进词语之塔,我在

            树木般行走的地平线做标记

            字形的女人,与一行行

            公园里星星比划的孩子们。

            某些词让我用元音的山毛榉造就你,

            那橡木的声音,从棘手的

            郡的根部告诉你音调,

            某些词让我用水的言说造就你。

            一盆羊齿草后面摆动的钟

            告诉我时光词语,神经含义

            随钟摆飞翔,宣告早晨

            在风信鸡中告知多风的天气。

            某些词让我用牧场标志造就你;

            信号草告诉我知道的一切

            以多虫的冬天穿透眼睛。

            某些词让我告诉你渡鸦的罪恶。

            特别当十月的风

            (某些词让我造就你,用秋天魔力

            蜘蛛谗言和威尔士喧闹的山岗)

            萝卜的拳头惩罚大地,

            某些词让我用无情之词造就你。

            心在耗干,用化学之血

            疾行中拼写,警告将临的狂怒。

            在海边听见那黑色元音的鸟群。

            作者 / [英国]狄兰·托马斯

            翻译 / 北岛

            选自 / 《时间的玫瑰》,江苏文艺出版社,2009年

            Especially when the October wind

            Especially when the October wind

            With frosty fingers punishes my hair,

            Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire

            And cast a shadow crab upon the land,

            By the seas side, hearing the noise of birds,

            Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks,

            My busy heart who shudders as she talks

            Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

            Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark

            On the horizon walking like the trees

            The wordy shapes of women, and the rows

            Of the star-gestured children in the park.

            Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches,

            Some of the oaken voices, from the roots

            Of many a thorny shire tell you notes,

            Some let me make you of the waters speeches.

            Behind a pot of ferns the wagging clock

            Tells me the hours word, the neural meaning

            Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning

            And tells the windy weather in the cock.

            Some let me make you of the meadows signs;

            The signal grass that tells me all I know

            Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye.

            Some let me tell you of the ravens sins.

            Especially when the October wind

            (Some let me make you of autumnal spells,

            The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales)

            With fists of turnips punishes the land,

            Some let me make you of the heartless words.

            The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry

            Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.

            By the seas side hear the dark-vowelled birds.

            by Dylan Thomas

  (编辑:王日立)


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