扬尼斯·里索斯（Yannis Ritsos，1909——1990) 现代希腊诗歌的创始人之一，生于莫涅瓦西亚，早年来到雅典读书，当过文书和演员，三十年代开始作品，1934年出版第一本诗集《拖拉机》。1936年，他为萨洛尼卡烟草工人罢工写成长诗《伊皮达菲奥斯》而一举成名，深得大诗人帕拉马斯的高度评价。二战期间，他投身于抵抗运动，二战结束后，他先后两度被囚禁、著作被禁，直到七十年代初才获释，作品才得以出版。
里索斯一生创作勤奋而多产，迄今已出版了诗歌及其他文学作品近百卷，成为二十世纪希腊最广为阅读的大诗人，不少诗作被谱曲广为传唱，产生了世界性影响。他获得过列宁和平奖(1977)等多种国际文学大奖，并多次成为诺贝尔文学奖候选人。里索斯的诗可以分为两大类：长篇叙事诗和短诗。他的诗作一般多长句，常以严谨、浓郁的白描手法反映现代希腊人的生活，又颇具现代派特征，其最独特之处在于诗中所采用的“戏剧性独白”(他自己曾当过演员），其白描技法蕴藏象征、暗喻、转换和超现实的场景性，折射出希腊以至整个人类的现实生活和精神状态，以及那些超乎于读者想象之外的、然而又确实存在于现实之中的某些人类思维活动和行为，貌似荒诞，实则另有弦外之音。
♡ 智慧
一座山是什么，然后空气，然后一颗星；
那个轻声说“谢谢你”的人，为了
不让第二个和第三个人听到它，于是他们非常生气；
他们把自己的鞋子、花盆、唱片、
水杯和餐巾纸都扔出窗外，
这可能也让我们变得愤怒，我们也许会对他们大喊“别再扔了！”
从而给他们的行为找个理由。
在隔壁的屋中，有张大铁床，
我们能听到老人咳嗽；在他的毯子上
他放了一只小青蛙，到现在，他已连续几天几夜，
平静地、不吃不喝地、狂喜地盯视，研究
青蛙跳跃的柔软机制，
然后他停止了咳嗽。我们听到他在床上跳。
第三天，我们用石膏把他裹得严严实实，
只露出他无牙的、咧嘴的微笑。
雅典，1972.10.2
（冯默谌译）
WISDOM
What was a mountain and afterward air and later a star；
and he who said “Thank you”─said it softly so that
neither the two nor the third might hear it, because they were very angry；
they were throwing their shoes out of the window, their flower pots,
their gramophone records, their water glasses and their napkins
that we might get angry too, that we might shout at them “Don’t!”
and thus give them an excuse for what they’d already done.
In the room next door, with its large iron bed,
we can hear the old man coughing；on his blanket
he has placed a small frog, and for days and nights now,
calm, fasting, ecstatic, he stares at and studies
the soft mechanisms of the frog’s leaping.
Afterward he stops coughing. We hear him jumping on the bed.
On the third day we encased him completely in plaster,
leaving only his toothless grin showing.
Athens, October 2, 1972
♡ 突然地
寂静之夜。寂静。你已停止
等待。近乎安宁。
然后在你脸上，他强烈的抚摸
突然消失。他会到来。就在这时，
你听到百叶窗在叮当作响。
一阵微风吹来。再往下一点，大海
淹没在自己的涛声里。
（冯默谌 译）
SUDDENLY
Silent night. Silent. And you had stopped
waiting. It was almost quiet.
Then suddenly on your face the so intense
touch of him who is absent. He will come. It was then
you heard window shutters clanging by themselves.
A breeze had sprung up. And a little further down, the sea
was drowning in its own voice.
♡ 等候处决
天亮时，在那儿，他倚墙而立，眼露着，
当十二支枪瞄准他时，他平静地感到
自己年轻又英俊，理应把胡子刮干净，
远处淡粉色的地平线与他很配——
——嗯，是的，他的生殖器保持着应有的重量，
只是在温暖中有点感伤——那就是太监们所看的地方，
那就是他们所瞄准的地方；他成为自己的雕像了吗?
在希腊夏天一个晴朗的日子里，他看着它
赤身裸体，在广场上——看着它，昂然地直立
于人群的肩后，于匆忙的，贪吃的女游客后,
于三个戴黑帽的化妆的老妇人后。
（冯默谌 译）
Awaiting His Execution
There ,stood against the wall,at dawn, his eyes uncovered,
as twelve guns aimed at him, he calmly feels
that he is young and handsome, that he deserves to be clean shaven,
that the pale pink distant horizon becomes him -
And, yes, that his genitals retain their proper weight,
somewhat sad in their warmth - that's where the eunuchs look,
that's where they aim; - has he already become the statue of himself?
Himself looking at it, all nude, on a bright day
of the Greek summer, in the square above - looking at it standing upright
himself behind the shoulders of the crowd, behind the hurrying
gluttonous tourist women,
behind the three made-up old women wearing black hats.
♡ 枚举
人们停在街上，他们看。
门上毫无意义的数字。
木匠把钉子钉入一张又长又窄的桌子。
有人在电线杆上贴了张名单。
一张被荆棘夹住的报纸，簌响。
蜘蛛在葡萄架下。
一个女人从一所房子走向另一所。
墙壁泛黄潮湿，它的油漆剥落。
在死者的窗户上，放着一顶金丝雀的笼子。
（冯默谌 译）
Enumeration
People stop in the street, they look.
The numbers over the doors mean nothing.
The carpenter is hammering a nail into a long narrow table.
Somebody sticks a list of names on the telegraph pole.
A piece of newspaper rustles, caught in the thorns.
The spiders are under the vineleaves.
A woman got out of one house to enter another.
The wall yellow and wet, its paint peeling off.
A cage with a canary in the dead man's window.
♡ 总是如此
每个夜晚，万物在黑暗中被摔碎，
但喧嚣从它们的崩塌中幸存了下来。这喧嚣
似乎又把一切重构，更新。事实上，
第二天，随着日出的清新，在新建的房屋里，
在白色和黄色的大广场灯光的照射下，生活站在
未剃须的时光面前，如一个女人站在一个男人面前，
静静地等着被亲吻，被赞美
然后独自去生孕，去歌唱。
1958，1—2
（冯默谌译）
ALWAYS SO
Every night, all things are shattered in the dark,
but the clamor from their collapse survives. This clamor
seems to reconstruct all things anew.And, in fact,
the nest day, with the freshness of sunrise, amidst
the newly-built houses, within the lights
that reflect the large white and yellow public squares, life stands
before unshaven time as a woman stands before a man,
waiting silently to be kissed and to be sung
and then to give birth and to sing alone.
January-February, 1958
♡ 世界的根
一些在夏天腋窝里被烤焦的黄杨木，
一些鼠尾草，百里香，蕨类植物。
我们十分干渴。
我们十分饥饿。
我们经历了许多磨难。
我们从不相信
人类会如此残酷。
我们也不相信
我们的心竟如此坚韧。
我们的口袋里装着一块死亡碎片——未剃须。
向天空膝屈的那根麦梗如今在何处？
天色渐暗。阴影不会藏在石头的坚硬里。
死者的水壶埋在沙里。
月亮停泊在另一片海岸
当寂静随它的小手指滚动时——
在哪片海？在哪片寂静里？
我们十分干渴，
我们整天都在挖石头。
在我们的渴望下
是世界的根。
（冯默谌 译）
The roots of the world
Some parched boxwood shrubs in the summer’s armpit,
some sage,thyme,fern.
We were very thirsty.
We were very hungry.
We suffered a lot.
We would never have believed
that men would be so cruel.
We would never have believed
that our hearts had such fortitude.
With a piece of death in our pockets—unshaven.
Where is there a stalk of wheat to bend its knee to the sky?
It grows dark late.The shadow doesn’t hide stone’s hardness.
The dead man’s canteen buried in the sand.
The moon moored at another beach
while the stillness rolls it along with its little finger—
on which sea?Which stillness?
We were very thirsty,
working the stone all day long.
Beneath our thirst
are the roots of the world.
♡ 苦涩的知识
一个懒人。有时他想要哭泣
不知为何，没有缘由。也许是他老了，
也许是因为听到某处的音乐。他知道：
虚假的发明并未促进房屋的维修；
雨落下来；他的膝盖溅湿；
他的书，他的文件也都湿透。在火车站
一个盲人小提琴手站在雨中
当他拉动他湿漉漉的琴弦
他得到的并非音符，而是雨滴。
（冯默谌 译）
BITTER KNOWLEDGE
An idle man. Sometimes he feels like crying
without knowing why, without cause. Perhaps he's aging,
Perhaps it's music from somewhere. He knows it:
house repairs are not improved by phony contrivances；
rain falls；his knees get wet；
his books, his papers get drenched. At a train station
a blind violinist stands in the rain
and when he draws his wet bow
instead of notes he gets raindrops.
♡ 遥远的
哦，遥远的，遥远的；深不可及；接受的总是
沉默者，在他们缺席时，在他们不在时
当危险来自附近的人，来自附近本身，承受
并度过许诺之夜，在花园五彩缤纷的灯光下，
当狮子和老虎半闭着眼
绿色的结膜，在笼子里闪烁着光芒，
年老的小丑在昏暗的镜子前
清洗他化妆的眼泪，为了他能哭泣──
哦！不可授予的安静，你用湿湿的长手，
无形的安静，没有借贷，没有债务，
在空中钉着钉子，支撑起世界
在音乐主宰的极度无为中。
1975年1－2月
（冯默谌 译）
THE DISTANT
O distant, distant；deep unapproachable；receive always
the silent ones in their absence, in the absence of the others
when the danger from the near ones, from the near itself, burdens
during nights of promise with many-colored lights in the gardens,
when the half-closed eyes of lions and tigers scintillate
with flashing green omissions in their cages
and the old jester in front of the dark mirror
washes off his painted tears so that he can weep－
O quiet ungrantable, you with the long, damp hand,
quiet invisible, without borrowing and lending, without obligations,
nailing nails on the air, shoring up the world
in that deep inaction where music reigns.
January－February, 1975
♡ 在国外
他环顾四周。他不知自己身在何处。夕阳
高贵，遥远。他认出了花园的栏杆，
门把手，窗户，柏树。
但他呢？平静的湖面倒映在
高高的云端，一座镶金边的
针状湖泊。他把
鞋子和衣服留在了上面。现在，
他光秃秃的，怎能站在路间，
光秃秃的，怎能进入洋屋?
（冯默谌 译）
In Foreign Parts
He looks all around. He doesn't know where he is. The sunset
noble, distant. He recognizes the garden rails,
the door knob, the windows, the cypress.
But he? A calm lake is mirrored
high up,in a cloud - a pin lake
with gold edges. Up there
he has left his shoes ,his clothes. Now,
naked like this, how can stand in the middle of the road,
naked like this, how can enter the foreign house?
♡ 空获
高大的悬铃树，清凉的肌肉躯干。
树荫不想隐藏什么。勇敢的光，勇敢的树荫──
无用的胆量──在抗争什么？──
只为能在空气里呼吸。
人们坐在树下，
他们坐在小木桌上吃饭，聊天，
他们并不猜测覆在他们身上的巨大之物，
控制他们天真行为的。临近黄昏
有人唱歌（也许是喝醉了）。悬铃树
无声无息，整齐地向地平线移动。
那儿空了，系白围裙的侍者
在远处出现了一会儿，在深红的落日中，
如僧侣般捧着空杯的托盘。
1958年8—9月
（冯默谌 译）
HARVEST OF THE VOID
Tall plane trees, muscular torsos of coolness.
The shade is not intended to hide anything. Daring light, daring shade─
useless daring─to confront what?─
simplicity breathes in the air.
People sit under the trees,
they dine on small wooden tables, they talk,
they do not suspect the magnitude covering them, the magnitude
that regulates their innocent gestures. Toward evening
someone sang (drunk perhaps). The plane trees
moved in a silent procession toward the horizon.
The area emptied. And the waiter, with his white apron,
appeared for a moment at a distance, in the crimson sunset,
holding in a priestly fashion the tray with empty glasses.
August-September, 1958
♡ 矛盾
一天夜里，他看起来有点醉意，用一种奇趣的口吻说:
“我常常把星星握在手心，在它们边缘尽头的光芒
像千千万万只风筝的线，
我所有的神经都能感受到它们每一个动作的反冲，
它们的倾斜，它们距离间的拉力
在夜晚最高的平面上，发现的那种寒冷的平静，
刺眼的棕褐色的氧气和它们流苏状尾巴的悸动。”
说到这，他停住了，好像保留了最重要的一点。
然后，如实地，我们检查了他赤裸的上臂，星星的痕迹，
那是一根烧针疯狂振动时留下的奇怪痕迹，
如三列桨战船，数字，美人鱼，
我们知道他已被囚禁多年
也许现在依然如此。哦，不，
你不能说我们是他监狱的铁栅栏，
也不能说我们预见了他自由的本质。
1958年1 - 2月
（冯默谌 译）
CONTRADICTIONS
One night when he seemed a little drunk he said in a funny tone of voice:
“I often hold the stars in my palm by the end of their rays
like the strings of thousands of kites,
feeling in all my nerves the counter-thrust of their every motion,
their inclinations, the tension of their distance
and that cold calm found on the highest plane of night,
and sharp tan of oxygen and the throbs of their fringed tails.”
With that he stopped, as though holding back the most important point.
Then, honestly, we examined on his naked upper arm, the stigmata of stars,
strange marks made by the mad vibrations of a burning needle,
things like triremes, numbers, mermaids,
and we understood that he’d been imprisoned for years
and perhaps still was.But oh no,
you can’t say we were the metal bars of his prison,
nor that we foresaw the nature of his freedom.
January-February, 1958
♡ 秘密愧疚
我们说，罪恶和圣洁是一样的，在相同之夜。
另一个发誓不说。可是，谁知道呢？——
你无法确定他会保持沉默多久，
你会保持沉默；也许你将愚蠢地预料到
另一个，看雨水从餐厅明亮的
玻璃窗滴落，当人们
听到椅子跌落声，玻璃碎了，
在他的脸颊划了下，红眼睛，
伸出他巨大的，肌肉发达的手臂，指着你。
（冯默谌 译）
Secret Guilt
Sin and saintliness, we said, are the same in the same night.
The other one had sworn not to tell. But, who knows -
you can never be sure if and how long he'll keep silent,
you will keep silent; - and maybe you will rush foolishly
to anticipate the other one, looking at the rain trickling down
the illuminated panes of the restaurant, when in the crowd
the chair is heard falling, the glass breaking,
and He ,with a stab in the cheek, red eyes,
stretches his huge, muscular arm and points at you.
♡ 女人
女人很遥远。她们的床单有晚安之味。
她们把面包放在桌上，这样我们就不会注意到她们不见了。
然后我们意识到我们错了。我们从椅子上站起来说:
“你今天太累了，”或者“来，我点灯。”
当我们点燃火柴时，她悄然地转过身，走向
厨房，带着一种难以言说的虔诚。她的背
是一座悲伤的小山，里面装着许多死人——
死去的家人，死去的她和你。
你听到她的脚步在旧木板上咯吱作响
你听到碗碟在碗柜里哭泣，然后你
听到火车把士兵们送去前线的声音。
（冯默谌 译）
Women
Women are very distant.Their sheets smell of goodnight.
They put bread on the table so that we won’t notice they’re missing.
Then we realize we’re wrong.We get up from the chair and say:
“You are very tired today, ”or “here,I’ll light the lamp.”
When we light the match,she turns gently,going
toward the kitchen with an inexplicable devotion.Her back
is a sad little mountain loaded with many dead—
the family dead,her own dead and your own.
You hear her footsteps creaking on the old planks
you hear the dishes crying in the cupboard and then
the train is heard taking the soldiers to the front lines.
1946-1947
♡ 缺席
在我们的手中，我们握着自己的手影。
黑夜仁慈——别人看不到我们握着自己的影子。
我们加固夜晚。我们看着自己。
因此我们更加想念别人。
大海仍在找寻我们的眼睛，而我们不在那里。
一个年轻女孩把她的爱系在胸口
我们微笑地看着远方。
也许在更高的地方，在星光下，一扇天窗打开
窗外，我们能看到大海，橄榄树和烧毁的房屋——
我们听见蝴蝶在万灵节的玻璃中起舞，
渔夫的女儿在她的咖啡研磨机旁磨着寂静
（冯默谌 译）
Absence
In our hands we hold the shadow of our hands.
The night is kind—the others do not see us holding our shadow.
We reinforce the night.We watch ourselves.
So we think better of others.
The sea still seeks our eyes and we are not there.
A young girl buttons up her love in her breast
and we look away smiling at the great distance.
Perhaps high up,in the starlight,a skylight opens up
that looks out on the sea,the olive trees and burnt houses—
We listen to the butterfly gyrating in the glass of All Souls’Day,
And the fisherman’s daughter grinding serenity in her coffee-
grinder
♡ 微恙
他几乎病了，第二天早上。
昨晚他听了太多话。
他无法忍受这些词，但又甩不开。
他们正把街对面的房子涂白，
白得不堪入目。装修者的声音
犹如洪钟，在冬日的阳光下。一个人
紧抱窗户，在屋顶上，
像是做爱。厚厚的白水珠
溅在黑土上，带着腐烂的叶子。
（冯默谌 译）
Indisposition
He was almost sick next morning.
He was pumped with words last night.
He can’t bear words; he can't shake them off.
They're painting sheer white the house across the street,
indecently white. The voices of the decorators sound
very loud in the winter light. One
on the roof-top has embraced the chimney
as is fucking it. Thick drops of whitewash
splash on the black soil with the rotten leaves.
♡ 衰减
女人们去裸泳——她们说
她们喜欢水从她们的乳房间流出。孩子们
很烦躁，把石头扔入大海。老人
从紧闭的百叶窗后看。在花园里，
干涸的喷泉，和褪色的绿色长椅，
那儿无人来坐；有几只麻雀漫无目的地
飞来飞去。后来，女人们回了家;
铁门吱响，鸟儿停下脚步
好像丢失了什么东西，深埋心底，被遗弃了。
永恒的竞争、琐碎、怨恨，又将开始。
院子里，又大又湿的毛巾挂在晾衣绳上。
一副墨镜遗忘在了白色的砂砾上，
旁边一些留下的湿脚印开始褪色。
（冯默谌 译）
Attenuation
The women went swimming in the nude—they said
they liked
how the water ran off between their breasts.The children
were irritable,they threw rocks into the sea.The old men
watched from behind the closed shutters.Out in the garden,
the dry fountain,and the faded green of the benches where
no one ever sat;a few sparrows wandered here and there
with an aimless freedom.Later,the women would come
home;
the iron gate would creak,the birds stop in their tracks
as if
something had been lost,something deep,abandoned.
The eternal
rivalries,the pettiness,the spite,would begin again.
Large,sopping towels weighed down the clothesline in
the yard.
A pair of dark glasses forgotten on the white gravel,
next to some’wet footprints that had already begun
to fade.
♡ 夏天
他从海岸的一边走向另一边，闪耀
在太阳和他青春的光辉中。他不时地跳入海里
使他的皮肤金光闪闪，如粘土之色。男女们
低声赞美他。他身后几步外，
一位从村子里来的年轻姑娘，虔诚地拿着他的衣服，
隔着一段距离——她不愿抬眼看他
——有点愠怒，有点欣喜，在她虔诚的专注里。
有一天他俩吵架了，他不许她拿他的衣服。她
把它们扔在沙滩——她只提起他的凉鞋;
夹在腋窝下，跑开了。
在她背后的阳光下，在她赤足的脚跟下
升起一朵小小的，笨拙的云。
（冯默谌 译）
Summer
He walked from on end of the beach to the other, bright
in the glory the sun and of his youth. Every so often he'd jump
in the sea
making his skin shine - gold, the colour of clay. Whispers of
admiration followed him,
from men and women. A few feet behind him came
a young girl from the village ,carrying his clothes devoutly,
always at some distance - she wouldn't lift her eyes to look at him
- a little angry
and happy in her devout concentration. One day they quarrelled
and he forbade her to carry his clothes. She
threw them on the sand - she only held on to his sandals;
she put them under her armpits and disappeared running,
leaving behind her in the sun' s heat a small, an awkward little
cloud from her bare feet.
♡ 未完成的
山上的云。该怪谁呢？什么？沉默，疲劳,
他看着前方，他转身走去，他弯腰。
石头下沉，鸟儿飞起。一个水罐
在窗口。蓟在山谷，手插在兜。
借口，借口。这首诗延迟了。空无。
这个词的意义就在于它所隐藏的东西。
（冯默谌 译）
Unfinished
Clouds on the mountain. Who is to blame? What? Silent, tired,
he looks before him,he turns back walks, he bends.
The stones are down, the birds are up. A pitcher
in the window. Thistle in the valley .Hands in pockets.
Pretexts, pretexts. The poem delays .Empty.
The word is signified by what it would conceal.
♡ 审讯室
长廊。两边的门关着。
一个无形的火炉烟囱——冒着点烟。在另一边尽头，
五个穿黑衣，戴相同面具的人看着他。
他敲了第一扇门。空无。第二扇，第三扇，直到最后。
没有回答。然后再到另一边，敲了又敲，
敲了所有的门。空无。蒙面人一动不动。
所以呢？他正准备穿过门口离开时，
门自己关上了。天黑了。外面下着雨。
他听见雨水打在院子里的铁皮顶和瓦片上。
他刚有时间在他的记忆里固定：——湿沥青反射着
用玻璃造成的新理发店，有浅蓝色的高高的扶手椅。
（冯默谌 译）
Interrogation Offices
Long corridor. Shut doors on both sides.
Chimney of an invisible stove - it smoked a little. At the other end,
five men dressed in black, wearing identical masks, looked at him.
He knocked at one door. Nothing. At the second ,the third, to the end.
No answer. And then again down the other side, knock after knock,
at all the doors. Nothing. The masked men not moving.
So? As he made to pass through the doorway and go away,
the door shut by itself.It got dark. It was raining outside.
He heard the water on the tin roof,on the tiles in the courtyard.
He just had time to fix in his memory: - the wet asphalt reflecting
the new barbershop made of glass, with high pale blue armchairs.
♡ 阿尔戈号的衰落
今夜，我们谈论事物是如何经过岁月，变得廉价——
美丽的女人，英雄事迹，诗歌——我们记得
那艘传说中的船，在一个春夜被带到科林斯，
被蛀虫咬噬，褪色，它的桨架被撕扯掉了，
满是补丁，漏洞，回忆。长长的队伍穿过树林，
手持火把，花环，笛子，各种青年竞赛的用具。老阿尔戈号是
献给波塞冬神庙的一件华丽的礼物。美丽的夜晚；
祭司的吟唱;
一只猫头鹰在殿角上鸣叫;舞者们在船上
轻舞，以不适当的优雅模仿粗野的动作，不存在的
桨、汗水、血的运动。然后一名老水手
朝他的脚边吐了一口唾沫，然后走到小树林小便。
（冯默谌 译）
The Decline of the Argo
Tonight talking of how things pass age, become cheap -
beautiful women ,exploits, poems - we remembered
the legendary ship when it was brought to Corinth one spring night,
eaten by woodworm,fading, its tholepins torn off,
full of patches, holes, memories. The long procession through the woods,
with torches, wreath, flutes, contests of youths. The old Argo was
a magnificent offering to Poseidon's temple. Beautiful night; the
chanting of the priests;
an owl hooting from the temple' pediment; the dancers would jump lightly
on the ship imitating rough action with improper grace, the motion
of non-existent oars, sweat, blood. Then an old sailor
spat at his feet an walked away the small woods to piss.
♡ 脸或外表
“我把这座雕塑刻在石上。”——他说——
“不用锤子；用我裸露的手指，裸露的眼，
用我裸露的身体，用我的嘴唇。现在我不知道
我是谁，雕塑又是谁。
他藏在它后面，
他很丑，很丑——他抱起它，把它搂在腰间
他们一起走。
然后他会告诉我们
这座雕塑(妙极了，真的)就是他；甚至
是雕像自己走的。但谁又会相信他呢?
（冯默谌 译）
Face or Facade?
'I carved this statue in the stone' - he said -
'not with a hammer; with my bare finger, with my bare eyes,
with my bare body, with my lips. Now I don't know
who is I and who's the statue.'
He hid behind it,
he was ugly, ugly - he embraced it, lifted it holding it around
the waist
and they walked together.
And then he'd tell us that supposedly
this statue (marvellous, indeed) was he; or even
that the statue walked on it own. But who believes him?
♡ 美
赤条条的──她拿起自己的红手帕
遮住眼，为了不让人看见，
以免恐惧会迫使他们不去看。寂静，傲慢──或许，甚至害怕。
在她被遮的眼的黑暗里
她也许会碰到或融入光；她没有醒来。
在花园的柳条椅下，她的鞋子
落在那里。她的白裙
在树枝上飘荡，解放了她的整个身体。
她希望死后也能这样。花园的光
浮动──我不知道如何描述──像是嘲笑，像是鼓掌。
1955─1956
（冯默谌 译）
BEAUTY
Naked─she took her red handkerchief
and covered her eyes so as not to been seen,
in case fear would force them not to look. Silent and overbearing─maybe even afraid.
Within the darkness of her bound eyes
she may have even touched or even mixed the light；then she did not wake.
Under the garden wicker chair, her shoes remained
with the bare form of her feet. On the tree branch,
her white dress streamed, unfastening all her nudity.
She had hoped for this after death. The light of the garden
fluttered─I don’t know how─like mockery, like applause.
1955─1956
♡ 疏远
只有一束花沉浸在它的芬芳里，
一张脸庞固定在它的微笑中——
——它存在吗？它不存在吗？迷失；
如果你和它说话，它就会回来，仿佛经过了几千年的，
迷惑，无奈——它不知自己在哪，也不知道
要用什么表情来作为回应。
在一条废弃的老街上，有一个祈祷用的石凳。
有时，在黄昏，他就走下大理石楼梯，
他做了一个花环，他把它挂在圣像上
经常会有些迷路的羊站在那里，像是祈祷，
缓慢而笨拙地咀嚼那个枯萎的花环。
（冯默谌 译）
Estrangement
Only a flower immersed in its perfume,
a face anchored in its smile,—
—does it exist? doesn’t it exist?lost;
If you speak to it it will return,as if after thousands of years,
perplexed,inept—it will not know its whereabouts,it will not
know
what expression to assume that will be a response.
There is a praying stool of stone in an old,abandoned street.
Every so often,at twilight ,he walks down his marble stairway,
he makes a wreath and he hangs it on his sacred image.Every
so often
some strayaway sheep stands there as if it is praying,
chewing slowly,stupidly,the withered wreath.
♡ 现在没有一面镜子
她的头发披散在眼前，嘴边，
她咬着发丝，唾液泛白。
窗帘上有个巨大阴影。水杯在地板上。
一直大喊，直到最后；把它移走，藏起。
藏什么？藏在哪里？“死！”她喊道。
“老了，死！”她喊道，我要逃离。拦住我。
一座散有贝壳的小山。那儿，
在尸骨间，有一把梳子，一根红线，
正为你梳妆，不用镜子，把你的头发挽起
以免再落到你的眼上，也不向你隐瞒那白色蠕虫
黏滑地，安然地，缓缓地爬上桌子。
1972.9.29雅典
（冯默谌 译）
WITHOUT A MIRROR NOW
Her hair fallen over her eyes, her mouth,
she chews at her hair;her saliva whitens.
A great shadow on the curtain. The water glasses on the floor.
Shout it until the end; turn it about, hide it.
Hide what? Hide yourself where? “Death!” she shouted.
“Old age, death!” she shouted, I’ll run away. Hold me back.
A hill strewn with shell fragments. And there,
amid bones, a comb, a red piece of string,
to comb yourself without a mirror now, to bind your hair
that it might not fall over your eyes, that it might not hide from you the white worm
that slimily, serenely, sluggishly crawls up the table.
Athens, September 29, 1972
♡ 窗里窗外
窗外，大云朵沐浴在阳光下；教堂的阴影在山谷。
面包在被包在餐巾里，挂在树上。风
从山间吹来，钻入楼梯下的迷宫。
靠窗的女人正在织一件羊毛背心。男人
脱下靴子；看自己的脚——赤足踩在地上。女人
把她的针线活放在一边；她起来；她犹豫；她穿上靴子;
把手伸进去，跪下来，爬在床下。
（冯默谌 译）
Inside and Outside the Window
Outside, big sunbathed clouds; the shadow of the church in the valley.
The bread folded in a napkin hanging from the tree. The wind
blows from the mountains, it burrows into small labyrinths under the staircase.
The woman near the window is knitting a woollen vest. The man
takes off his boots; he looks at his feet - his bare feet which step on soil. The woman
puts aside her knitting needles; she gets up; she hesitates; she takes the boots;
she puts her hand in them, she kneels, she crawls under the bed.
♡ 睡觉前
她收拾干净，洗了碟子。
一切安安静静。十一点钟。
她脱鞋上床睡觉。
她拖延。她在床沿徘徊。
她是否忘记了一天中不想结束的事？
——房子不是方的，床，桌子也不是。
她无意识地把袜子举在灯前
找那个洞。她什么也没看见。但她确信就在那里
——也许在墙上，也许在镜中；——
透过这个洞，她听到了夜的呼噜声。
床单上袜子的影子是一张网，
冷水中，一条瞎眼的黄鱼游过。
（冯默谌 译）
Before Sleep
She tidied up, she washed the plates.
Everything is quiet. Eleven o'clock.
She took off her shoes to go to bed.
She delays.She lingers at the side of her bed.
Has she forgotten something that her day does no want to end?
- The house, then, is not square ,nor the bed, nor the table.
Unconsciously she lifts her stocking before the lamp
to find the hole. She see nothing. Yet she is certain it is there
- maybe in the wall, or in the mirror; -
it' through this hole she hears the night snort.
The shadow of the stocking on the sheet is a net
in cold water crossed by a blind yellow fish.
♡ 复明的女孩
啊——她说——我又看见了。那里。
这些年来，我的眼睛对我犹如陌客，
它们深印在的我心里；如两颗发霉的鹅卵石
浸泡在浓密的黑水中。现在,
那不是一朵云吗？这是一支玫瑰？——告诉我;
这是一片叶子，它是绿色的，对吧?——绿。
这，这是我的声音——对吧?——你能听到我说话吗?
声音和眼睛——这不就是自由吗?
在地下室，我忘记了那个宽大的银盘，
纸箱、笼子和线轴。
（冯默谌 译）
The Girl Who Found Her Sight
Ah - she say - I see again. There. All these years my eyes were strangers to me,
they'd sunk in me; the were two mouldy pebbles
in dark, thick water - black water. Now -
isn't that a cloud? and this a rose? - tell me;
and this a leaf- isn't it green? - g-r-e-e -
and this, my voice - yes? - and can you hear me talk?
Voice and eye - isn't this what's called freedom?
Down in the basement I've forgotten the broad silver tray,
the cardboard boxes, the cage and the spools of string.
♡ 重建的睡眠
晚上，大块的灰泥掉在床上，从天花板。
无处可憩。镜子也碎了。
走廊里的石像落满烟灰——你甚至
不能触摸它，更别谈同它做爱了——大腿，
膝盖，嘴唇，手掌上都留下了黑色的印记。
水、电话和电已断了数月。在厨房里的
大理石桌上，烟头旁，两棵大生菜正在腐烂。
（冯默谌 译）
Reconstruction of Sleep
At night, big chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling onto the bed.
There was nowhere to lie down. The mirror too had shattered.
The plaster statue in the corridor was covered with soot - you couldn't
even touch it, let alone make love to it - black marks
were left on the thighs, the knees, the lips, the palms. It had been months
since the water, the telephone, the electricity were cut of .On the marble-topped table
in the kitchen ,next to the cigarette butts, two huge lettuces were rotting.
♡ 分离，三
慢慢的东西空了，像夏天
人们在海滩上发现的那些大骨头——马骨
史前动物的骨骼；它们里面的东西是空的，骨髓；
所有剩下的都是纯白的，没有色彩，还有看不见的洞，
就像冬天下大雨时，你在
彩房里。你握着门把手或一个茶杯的
茶柄，你不知道是你握着它们，还是它们握着你。
或者是它们，或者是你，被握着。突然，当你
准备喝茶时，
你从你的指间看到了茶柄；
——杯子不见了——你审查它：那么白，
那么轻，几乎是骨头——你认为它很美，形状如
半个零——它渴望完整，然而，在墙的另一边，
从一个深深的裂缝里，渗出热气，从你没喝过的茶里。
（冯默谌 译）
Departures, III
Slowly thing empty, like those big bones
one finds on the beach in summer - horse bones
or bones prehistoric animals; they are empty of the stuff inside,
the marrow;
all that remains is a solid white ,a lack of colour, with invisible holes,
like the colour rooms take in winter when
it rains violently. You hold the doorknob, or the handle
Of a tea cup and you can't tell whether you hold them or they hold you
or whether they ,or you, can be held. And suddenly as you are
about to drink your tea,
you see between your fingers the porcelain handle
by itself; - the cup is missing - you examine it: so white,
so weightless, almost bone - you think it beautiful, shaped like
a half zero - it longs to be complete, while, across ,in the wall,
out of a deep crack, seeps the warm steam from the tea you did not drink.
♡ 一种命运
在经过无数次的流浪后，他总会回来
回到那个相同的地方，相同的地点(正如他们所说的，命运)。
墙上的拱形凹处，在入口处，花盆，
钥匙在它后面。他总是从这里开始，
试图忘记钥匙，有时
在厚厚的变换层下寻找它，或者有时
真的忘记了它。突然,
某人在街上的姿势，他走路的方式，
会让他再次陷入自己的秘密。在稍远点的地方，
黄昏时，同样的声音
能被听到，在运动会结束后，
从体育场的更衣室里，而且不可挽回。
（冯默谌 译）
A Fate
After his endless wandering, he'd always return
to the same place, the same spot (a fate, as they say ) .
The arched recess in the wall, at the entrance, with the flower pot,
the key behind it. This is where he'd always start from,
trying to forget the key and sometimes searching for it
under thick layer of transformations, or sometimes
actually forgetting it. And suddenly,
someone's posture in the street ,his way of walking,
would plunge him in his secret again. A little further away, at dusk, that same voice
could be heard irrevocably coming from the stadium changing
rooms, after the athletic games.
联系客服
