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它停留,一定比它的款待更出色。(阿什贝利)

The Grapevine

Of who we and all they are

You all now know. But you know

After they began to find us out we grew

Before they died thinking us the causes

Of their acts. Now we'll not know

The truth of some still at the piano, though

They often date from us, causing

These changes we think we are. We don't care

Though, so tall up there

In young air. But things get darker as we move

To ask them: Whom must we get to know

To die, so you live and we know?

葡萄藤

关于我们和他们是谁

你现在全都知道了。但是你知道

在他们发现我们长大之后

在他们临死之前,把我们认做

他们行为的起因。现在我们不知道

有些真理还在钢琴上,尽管

它们往往起源于我们,导致

这些我们所认为的变化。我们不在乎

而是高耸在那里

在年轻的天空中。事物变得更暗

当我们走过去问它们:我们必须认识谁

谁必须死去,以便你活着,我们知道?

你的遗忘最终拯救了他们,像一颗星星吸收着夜晚

? Martine Franck

The Task

They are preparing to begin again:

Problems, new pennant up the flagpole

In a predicated romance.

About the time the sun begins to cut laterally across

The western hemisphere with its shadows, its carnival echoes,

The fugitive lands crowd under separate names.

It is the blankness that follows gaiety, and Everyman must depart

Out there into stranded night, for his destiny

Is to return unfruitful out of the lightness

That passing time evokes. It was only

Cloud-castles, adept to seize the past

And possess it, through hurting. And the way is clear

Now for linear acting into that time

In whose corrosive mass he first discovered how to breathe.

Just look at the filth you've made,

See what you've done.

Yet if these are regrets they stir only lightly

The children playing after supper,

Promise of the pillow and so much in the night to come.

I plan to stay here a little while

For these are moments only, moments of insight,

And there are reaches to be attained,

A last level of anxiety that melts

In becoming, like miles under the pilgrim's feet.

工作

他们准备再次开始:

问题,新的三角旗升上旗杆

在可以预料的浪漫曲中。

大约此时,太阳开始用它的影子

它游艺场的回声,从侧面切开西半球,

在各自的名字下,无常的国土拥挤不堪。

欢乐之后是空白,每个人必须分离

进入无助的夜,因为他的命运

是一无所获地返回,超越

时间流逝产生的光亮。只有

云彩的城堡,擅长捉住过去

通过伤害占有它。现在道路畅通

为了直线进入那个时刻

在其腐蚀物中他第一次发现如何呼吸。

只要看看你造成的污秽,

看看你干了什么。

如果这些是遗憾,他们只略微打扰了

晚饭后儿童们的游戏,

枕头的许诺,和许多将在夜晩到来的东西。

我计划在这里停留片刻

因为这些只是瞬间,洞察的瞬间,

还有些河段需要抵达,

焦虑的最后一层一边出现

一边融化,像朝圣者脚下的远方。

你的遗忘最终拯救了他们,像一颗星星吸收着夜晚

? Peter Marlow

The Other Tradition

They all came, some wore sentiments

Emblazoned on T-shirts, proclaiming the lateness

Of the hour, and indeed the sun slanted its rays

Through branches of Norfolk Island pine as though

Politely clearing its throat, and all ideas settled

In a fuzz of dust under trees when it's drizzling:

The endless games of Scrabble, the boosters,

The celebrated omelette au Cantal, and through it

The roar of time plunging unchecked through the sluices

Of the days, dragging every sexual moment of it

Past the lenses: the end of something.

Only then did you glance up from your book,

Unable to comprehend what had been taking place, or

Say what you had been reading. More chairs

Were brought, and lamps were lit, but it tells

Nothing of how all this proceeded to materialize

Before you and the people waiting outside and in the next

Street, repeating its name over and over, until silence

Moved halfway up the darkened trunks,

And the meeting was called to order.

I still remember

How they found you, after a dream, in your thimble hat,

Studious as a butterfly in a parking lot.

The road home was nicer then. Dispersing, each of the

Troubadours had something to say about how charity

Had run its race and won, leaving you the ex-president

Of the event, and how, though many of those present

Had wished something to come of it, if only a distant

Wisp of smoke, yet none was so deceived as to hanker

After that cool non-being of just a few minutes before,

Now that the idea of a forest had clamped itself

Over the minutiae of the scene. You found this

Charming, but turned your face fully toward night,

Speaking into it like a megaphone, not hearing

Or caring, although these still live and are generous

And all ways contained, allowed to come and go

Indefinitely in and out of the stockade

They have so much trouble remembering, when your forgetting

Rescues them at last, as a star absorbs the night.

另外的传统

他们都来了,有的带着温情

T恤上装饰着纹章,宣布时辰

已晚;阳光的确已经倾斜

穿过诺福克岛的松枝,仿佛

在优雅地清理喉咙,所有思想都安顿在

树下绒毛般的灰尘中,当下起毛毛细雨:

无止尽的拼字游戏,啦啦队,

著名的坎特尔煎蛋卷,通过它

时间的轰鸣不羁地跃入日子的

水闸,拖曳它每一个性感的时刻

经过镜头:某个事物的终结。

那时你才从书中抬头向上一瞥,

弄不懂正在发生什么,或者

说出你正在读什么。更多的椅子

搬来了,灯火点燃,可这说明不了

一切是如何发生的,在你和等待在

外面的人面前成为现实,在下一条

街上,一遍遍重复它的名字,直到寂静

半路上把发黑的运动短裤往上挪,

并召集了会议发号施令。

我还记得

他们如何找到你,在一场梦后,戴着你的顶针,

像停车场上的一只蝴蝶那样专心。

回家的路从此更顺了。行吟诗人各自散开,

每个都有事情要讲,关于慈善团体

如何跑完了比赛,获胜了,把前任总统的事件

留给你,如何如何,尽管现在许多人

希望出点事儿,哪怕只是一阵

遥远的烟雾,但也没有人上当

追求那几分钟前的寒冷的非存在,

既然一片树林的思想自行强加在

风景的细节上。你发现

这很迷人,但你把脸彻底转向夜晚,

像对着一个扩音器说话,既听不见

也不关心,这一切依然生动而慷慨

囊括了所有道路,允许自由来去

无限期地从栅栏进进出出

他们的记忆有这么多的麻烦,你的遗忘

最终拯救了他们,像一颗星星吸收着夜晚。

你的遗忘最终拯救了他们,像一颗星星吸收着夜晚

? A. Abbas

Here Everything Is Still Floating

But, it's because the liquor of summer nights

Accumulates in the bottom of the bottle.

Suspenders brought it to its, this, level, not

The tempest in a teapot of a private asylum, laughter on the back steps,

Not mine, in fine; I must concentrate on how disappointing

It all has to be while rejoicing in my singular

Un-wholeness that keeps it an event to me. These, these young guys

Taking a shower with the truth, living off the interest of their

Sublime receptivity to anything, can disentangle the whole

Lining of fabricating living from the instantaneous

Pocket it explodes in, enters the limelight of history from,

To be gilded and regilded, waning as its legend waxes,

Disproportionate and triumphant. Still I enjoy

The long sweetness of the simultaneity, yours and mine, ours and mine,

The mosquitoey summer night light. Now about your poem

Called this poem: it stays and must outshine its welcome.

这里的一切仍在漂浮

但是,这是因为夏夜的液体

积聚在瓶底上。

吊裤带把它带到它的,这个,水平,不是

私立收容所一把茶壶里的暴风雨,后门台阶上的笑声,

总而言之,不是我的;我必须集中思考它是如何

令人失望,同时又欣喜于我异常的不完整

对于我那一直是个事儿。这些,这些年轻人

用真理洗了一次淋浴,靠他们对任何事物

超群的接受能力生活,可以解开整个

创造性生活的衬里,摆脱临时的口袋

从中爆裂,进入历史形式的灰光灯,

被反复镀金,随它的传奇增大而变小,

不成比例却得意洋洋。我还是享受

同时性漫长的甜蜜,你的和我的,我们的和我的,

多蚊的夏夜之光。现在关于你的诗

称这个为诗:它停留,一定比它的款待更出色。

——诗作选自《阿什贝利自选诗集》,[美]阿什贝利 著,马永波 译,上海九久读书人&人民文学出版社,2019年。已获九久授权。

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你的遗忘最终拯救了他们,像一颗星星吸收着夜晚

| 约翰·阿什贝利(John Ashbery,1927.7.28—2017.9.3),美国纽约派重要诗人。生于美国纽约州罗切斯特,毕业于哈佛大学和哥伦比亚大学。1965年前在法国任《先驱论坛报》艺术评论员,后回纽约。迄今出版诗集20多种,另有美术评论一部,与人合著小说一部。编辑有1988年美国最佳诗选。诗集《凸面镜中的自画像》获得普利策奖和国家图书奖。

| 马永波生于1964年,批评家,诗人,文艺学博士后,长期从事英美后现代诗歌的翻译和研究,出版相关著作和译著多部。

题图:Martine Franck 作品局部

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