玛丽·奥利弗(Mary Oliver, 1935.9.10-2019.1.18)，当今美国女诗人，以书写自然著称。生于美国俄亥俄州，13岁开始写诗。1962年玛丽前往伦敦，任职于移动影院有限公司和莎士比亚剧场。后来，奥利弗又回到美国，定居马萨诸塞州。玛丽·奥利弗没有获得过正式的本科文凭，但她的诗歌研讨会却在各地举办，并在各大学盛行。她的诗歌赢得了多项奖项，包括国家图书奖和普利策诗歌奖(1984年)。她的主要诗集：《夜晚的旅行者》(1978)，《美国原貌》(1983)，《灯光的屋宇》(1990)，《新诗选》(1992)，《白松》(1994)等。
/ 沉迷
整个夏天
我漫步于田野，
在每个清晨，
每一场雨中，
田野变得深邃
充满种子和花，
以及闪烁不定的
耀眼的光环——
如同苍白的火焰，它们升起
又熄灭，
丰盈而美——
这就是田野的全部——
而我
至少有一两次，
感到自己飞起来了，
我的鞋子
突然碰到种子的顶端，
丝绸一般柔滑的蓝色空气——
听，
它热情地
召唤我，
使我迷茫，
剥去我的外壳
再为我穿上欢乐的衣裳——
我不再需要什么，
只是沉迷于这闪亮的一刻，
沉迷于这不合逻辑的失重——
它是否是你所爱之物的
完美形式——
属于一首古老的德国歌曲——
或者某个人——
或者就是地球自身的黑色丝线，
沉重，带电。
在可爱心智的边缘，展开
如此狂野而盲目的翅膀。
（倪志娟 译）
The Rapture
All summer
I wandered the fields
that were thickening
every morning,
every rainfall,
with weeds and blossoms,
with the long loops
of the shimmering, and the extravagant-
pale as flames they rose
and fell back,
replete and beautiful-
that was all there was-
and I too
once or twice, at least,
felt myself rising,
my boots
touching suddenly the tops of the weeds,
the blue and silky air-
listen,
passion did it,
called me forth,
addled me,
stripped me clean
then covered me with the cloth of happiness-
I think there is no other prize,
only rapture the gleaming,
rapture the illogical the weightless-
whether it be for the perfect shapeliness
of something you love-
like an old German song-
or of someone-
or the dark floss of the earth itself,
heavy and electric.
At the edge of sweet sanity open
such wild, blind wings.
/ 夏日
谁创造了世界？
谁创造了天鹅，和黑熊？
谁创造了蚱蜢？
蚱蜢，我指的是——
跳出草丛的这一只，
正在我手中吃糖的这一只，
正在来回而不是上下移动她的颚——
正在用她巨大而复杂的眼睛四处张望的这一只。
现在她抬起柔弱的前臂，彻底洗净她的脸。
现在她张开翅膀，飞走了。
我不能确定祷告是什么。
我只知道如何专注，如何躺进
草里，如何跪在草中，
如何偷懒并享受幸福，如何在田野闲逛，
这是我整天所做的事。
告诉我，我还应该做什么？
一切最终不都死去了，而且很快？
告诉我，你打算做什么
用你疯狂而宝贵的一生？
（倪志娟 译）
The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don"t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn"t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
/ 在冬天的边缘
在冬天的边缘，看见小鸟，此刻
携带着半真半幻的记忆蜂拥而回，
回到以仁慈著称的花园。
绿色的地球一片荒凉；藤蔓彼此纠结着，
悬挂在树林沉默的入口。
带着半块面包，我就是面包屑王子；
当雪开始飘落，鸟云集着歌唱，
像孩子们为他们的陛下走到户外！
但我所钟爱的，是倔强的灰鹰，
它独自停歇在结满冰霜的藤上；
我所梦想的是隐忍的鹿，
它的腿像芦苇一样，迎风而立；——
它们是这个世界的拯救者：宁愿长得清瘦，
以此作为超越贫困的起点。
（倪志娟 译）
On Winter"s Margin
On winter’s margin, see the small birds now
With half-forged memories come flocking home
To gardens famous for their charity.
The green globe’s broken; vines like tangled veins
Hang at the entrance to the silent wood.
With half a loaf, I am the prince of crumbs;
By snow’s down, the birds amassed will sing
Like children for their sire to walk abroad!
But what I love, is the gray stubborn hawk
Who floats alone beyond the frozen vines;
And what I dream of are the patient deer
Who stand on legs like reeds and drink that wind; -
They are what saves the world: who choose to grow
Thin to a starting point beyond this squalor.
/ 旅程
有一天，你终于知道
你必须做什么，并开始去做，
虽然你周围的声音
一直喊叫
他们的坏建议
虽然整个房子
开始发抖
而你感到古老的绳索
绊住你的脚踝。
“改善我的生活！”
每个声音哭喊着。
但你不停止。
你知道你必须做什么，
虽然风用它僵硬的手指
撬动
这个根基，
虽然他们的忧郁
着实可怕。
天已经
晚了，一个疯狂的夜晚，
路上塞满了
断枝和石头。
但是，渐渐地，
你将他们的声音抛在身后，
星星穿透云层
散发光辉，
一个新的声音出现
你慢慢
意识到，它是你自己的声音，
伴随着你
当你越来越深地
步入世界，
决定去做
你唯一能做的事——
决定去拯救
你唯一能拯救的生活。
（倪志娟 译）
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn"t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
/ 相遇
她走进黑暗的泥沼
那漫长等待的尽头。
神秘光滑的包裹
落入杂草。
她倾斜着长长的脖子，舔它
疲惫而轻缓地呼吸着
过了一会儿，它站起来，变成一个和她相似的
生物，但是要小得多。
现在有两个她。她们一起走着
像树下的一个梦。
六月初，田边
开满密密麻麻的粉色和黄色花
我遇见她们。
我只能凝望。
她是我曾见过的
最美的妇人。
她的孩子跳跃在花丛中，
天空的蓝挂在头顶
像丝绸，花儿们燃烧着，而我希望
再活一次，从头开始，
彻底
而狂野。
（倪志娟 译）
A Meeting
She steps into the dark swamp
where the long wait ends.
The secret slippery package
drops to the weeds.
She leans her long neck and tongues it
between breaths slack with exhaustion
and after a while it rises and becomes a creature
like her, but much smaller.
So now there are two. And they walk together
like a dream under the trees.
In early June, at the edge of a field
thick with pink and yellow flowers
I meet them.
I can only stare.
She is the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen.
Her child leaps among the flowers,
the blue of the sky falls over me
like silk, the flowers burn, and I want
to live my life all over again, to begin again,
to be utterly
wild.
/ 爱万物的偶然性
整个夏天，我和附近的生物
交朋友——
它们飘荡在
田野和帐篷周围，
有时它们的脑袋钻进门帘，
露出牙齿，
寻找着种子，板油，
糖；嘴里哼哼唧唧地，
打开面包盒，看见里面有牛奶和音乐时
就无比开心。但是，有一天晚上，
我听见外面
传来一种声音，帆布
轻微鼓起——某种东西的
眼睛正贴在上面向里看。
我盯着它，浑身发抖，我的确听见了
爪子的摩擦声，嘴唇的啪嗒声，
在我单薄的房子外——
我想象它有红色的眼睛，
宽大的舌头，粗壮的腿。
它友好吗？
恐惧战胜了我。然而，
我走了出去，不是出于信念，
也不是疯狂，只是认为
我的梦应该勇敢。
它消失了。
我恍惚听见了沉重的
脚步声。
我是否真的看见了一个黑色的尾巴
闪到树后？看见
月光照耀着它？
我是否真的朝它伸出了
胳膊，朝着倒塌的天堂，像
正在消失的最珍贵、最狂野的希望——
这个故事黑暗的中心，是它被讲出的
全部原因吗？
（倪志娟 译）
The Chance To Love Everything
All summer I made friends
with the creatures nearby ---
they flowed through the fields
and under the tent walls,
or padded through the door,
grinning through their many teeth,
looking for seeds,
suet, sugar; muttering and humming,
opening the breadbox, happiest when
there was milk and music. But once
in the night I heard a sound
outside the door, the canvas
bulged slightly ---something
was pressing inward at eye level.
I watched, trembling, sure I had heard
the click of claws, the smack of lips
outside my gauzy house ---
I imagined the red eyes,
the broad tongue, the enormous lap.
Would it be friendly too?
Fear defeated me. And yet,
not in faith and not in madness
but with the courage I thought
my dream deserved,
I stepped outside. It was gone.
Then I whirled at the sound of some
shambling tonnage.
Did I see a black haunch slipping
back through the trees? Did I see
the moonlight shining on it?
Did I actually reach out my arms
toward it, toward paradise falling, like
the fading of the dearest, wildest hope ---
the dark heart of the story that is all
the reason for its telling?
/ 下一次
下一次我要做的是，说话之前
看着地面。进入一所房子前
要先停下，
做片刻的皇帝，
更好地倾听风，
或静止的空气。
当任何人与我交谈，无论是
责备，赞扬或仅仅为了消磨时间，
我将观察他的脸，看他的嘴
如何动，留意发声的
任何一点张力和迹象。
尽管，我应该知道更多——大地
支撑着自己飞翔，在森林
与流水之上，空气
托举着每一片叶子和羽毛，每个人的身体
都像一盏灯，在衣服中
散发着光芒。
（倪志娟 译）
Next Time
Next time what I"d do is look at
the earth before saying anything. I"d stop
just before going into a house
and be an emperor for a minute
and listen better to the wind
or to the air being still.
When anyone talked to me, whether
blame or praise or just passing time,
I"d watch the face, how the mouth
has to work, and see any strain, any
sign of what lifted the voice.
And for all, I"d know more -- the earth
bracing itself and soaring, the air
finding every leaf and feather over
forest and water, and for every person
the body glowing inside the clothes
like a light.
/ 一
蚊子如此渺小，
毁灭它无需费一点力气。
每一片叶子，以及匆匆来去的黑蚂蚁，
同样如此。
这么多生命，这么多命运！
每天早晨，我轻轻走着，眼睛扫视
低处的池塘和松树林。
在鼻涕虫爬向它的盛宴之前，
在松针簌簌地落下之前，
在迅疾而有益的雨中，
即使只有短短数小时，蘑菇，也会繁殖
许多，许多，许多
组成一个世界！
于是我想起那个古老的观念：独特的
才是永恒的。
一只杯子，万物在其中旋转着
变回大海和天空的颜色。
想象它！
必定是一只明亮的杯子！
那一刻
没有风掠过你的肩膀，
你凝视着它，
你在它里面，
你自己亲切的脸，你自己的眼睛。
而风，不顾及你，只是掠过。
轻抚着蚂蚁，蚊子，叶子，
以及你所知道的其他一切！
大海多么蓝，天空多么蓝，
万物多么蓝，多么微小，万物皆可以救赎，包括你，
包括你的眼睛，包括你的想象。
One
The mosquito is so small
it takes almost nothing to ruin it.
Each leaf, the same.
And the black ant, hurrying.
So many lives, so many fortunes!
Every morning, I walk softly and with forward glances
down to the ponds and through the pinewoods.
Mushrooms, even, have but a brief hour
before the slug creeps to the feast,
before the pine needles hustle down
under the bundles of harsh, beneficent rain.
How many, how many, how many
make up a world!
And then I think of that old idea: the singular
and the eternal.
One cup, in which everything is swirled
back to the color of the sea and sky.
Imagine it!
A shining cup, surely!
In the moment in which there is no wind
over your shoulder,
you stare down into it,
and there you are,
your own darling face, your own eyes.
And then the wind, not thinking of you, just passes by,
touching the ant, the mosquito, the leaf,
and you know what else!
How blue is the sea, how blue is the sky,
how blue and tiny and redeemable everything is, even you,
even your eyes, even your imagination.
/ 诗（灵魂喜欢伪装……）
灵魂
喜欢装扮成这个样子：
十个手指，
十个脚趾，
肩膀，以及其余部分
在晚上
是世界的黑色枝条，
在早上
是世界的
蓝色枝条。
当然，它可以浮动，
但是更愿
垂挂着重物。
空气般的无形之物，
它需要
肉体的隐喻，
肢体和欲望，
海洋般的流体，
它需要肉体的世界，
本能
想象力
时间黑暗的拥抱，
甜蜜
和实在性，
需要被理解，
燃烧出
更纯粹的光
无人在那里——
因此它进入我们——
早晨
在野蛮的安逸中闪耀
如一道闪电；
夜晚
点亮肉体深刻而奇异的
沉溺
如一颗星。
Poem (The spirit likes to dress up...)
The spirit
likes to dress up like this:
ten fingers,
ten toes,
shoulders, and all the rest
at night
in the black branches,
in the morning
in the blue branches
of the world.
It could float, of course,
but would rather
plumb rough matter.
Airy and shapeless thing,
it needs
the metaphor of the body,
lime and appetite,
the oceanic fluids;
it needs the body"s world,
Instinct
and imagination
and the dark hug of time,
sweetness
and tangibility,
to be understood,
to be more than pure light
that burns
where no one is --
so it enters us --
in the morning
shines from brute comfort
like a stitch of lightning;
and at night
lights up the deep and wondrous
drownings of the body
like a star.
/ 五条比目鱼
人类以安全的名义建立的，是稻草。
·
沙粒知道它是一粒沙吗？
·
本，我的狗——它的嘴像一个神龛。
·
你可能有其他的发言机会，运气，偶然性，
和意外收获。我将保持宽容。我不知道它究竟是什么，但
是
我将保持它。
·
松果有它从不说出的秘密。
·
我自己，我自己，我自己，心爱的小屋！
它将多么迅速地燃烧！
·
死亡
听着我词语的撞击和嗡鸣。
忍不住大笑。
·
春天：从泥土中长出如此炽热的甜蜜
感谢上帝，它使你充满躁动。
·
我是一个演员；我表演羡慕。
和我一起来吧，我希望我的诗歌说着，并做着同样的事。
/ 百合
一夜又一夜
黑暗
笼罩了百合的
脸，
轻轻地
关闭了
它的五面墙，
它的
花蜜袋，
以及它的芬芳，
它心满意足地
站在
花园里，
并不安静地睡去，
而是
用百合的语言，
说着一些
我们无法听见的私语，
尤其是
一丝风也没有时，
它的唇
守口如瓶，
它的语调
那么隐秘——
或者，它
什么也没说
只是站在那儿，
带着植物
和圣人似的
耐心，
直到整个地球转了一圈，
银色的月亮
变成金色的太阳——
百合仿佛对此了然于心，
它自己，难道不正是
最完美的祈祷？
The Lily
Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer?
/ 昨夜，雨和我交谈
昨夜，
雨
和我交谈，
它慢条斯理地说，
从翻卷的云层
落下
是何等快乐，
一旦落到地面
又会产生
一种新的快乐！
这是雨落下时
所说的话，
它散发出铁的气息，
然后消失了，
消失在枝条
和草丛中，
像大海的一个梦。
雨停了。
天空洁净。
我站在
一棵树下。
树是一棵
长满欢乐枝叶的树，
而我是我自己，
天上的星星
也是它们自己。
此刻，
我的右手
正握着
左手，
我的左手正握着树，
树上布满了星星
和温柔的雨——
想象！想象！
这漫长而精彩的旅程
仍然属于我们。
（倪志娟 译）
/ 早晨的诗
每天早晨
世界
被创造出来
在太阳的
橙色光芒中
夜晚
堆积的灰尘
变成叶子
将自己固定在高高的枝条上——
池塘显现
如同黑布上
开满荷花的
岛屿图案。
如果你的天性
是快乐的
你将沿着柔软的小径
游荡几个小时，你的想象
落在每一处。
如果
你的灵魂
携带着
比铅垂还沉重的刺——
如果你所能做的
是继续跋涉——
你的内心深处
仍有
一只野兽在叫喊，土地
才是它所需要的——
每个盛开荷花的池塘
是一声祈祷，被听见并得到
慷慨的回应，
每个早晨，
无论你是否
曾勇敢地快乐，
无论你是否
曾勇敢地祈祷。
（倪志娟 译）
/ 天鹅
你是否也看见它，整夜，漂浮在黑暗的河上？
你是否看见它，在早晨，飞入银亮的空气——
一束白色的花，
丝绸与亚麻的一阵完美抖动，当它
将头藏进翅膀中；一道雪堤，一片开满百合的坡岸。
它黑色的喙是否咬紧了空气？
你是否听见它，笛声和哨音
一种尖锐而深沉的音乐——像雨拍打着树——像一片瀑布
冲下黑色的岩石？
你是否看见它，最后，就在云层下——
滑过天空的一个白色十字架，它的脚
像黑色的叶子，它的翅膀像河面上伸展的光？
在你心里，是否感受到它如何化归万物？
而你最终领会了，美是为了什么？
并改变了你的生活？
（倪志娟 译）
The Swan
Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?
联系客服
