她说：“湖泊像一本翻开的书，
She said, “The lake is like an open book,
白昼像一位读者恒久的凝视。”
day like the steady gaze of a reader.”
我说：“白昼是我们在彼此之间翻开的一本书，
I said, “The day is a book we open between us,
湖泊是我们在一起反复阅读的
the lake a sentence we read together
一个句子，我们的声音
over and over, our voices
是鬼魂、面包和地平线。”
ghost, bread, and horizon.”
她说：“一首以多种声音唱起的
She said, “A spoken song in several voices
在许多房间回旋飘荡的歌。”
moving in and out of many rooms.”
我说：“心思像一个湖泊，
I said, “The mind like a lake,
而你的声音泡沫状。”
and your voice a figure of the foam.”
她说：“书像一个声音，每天晚上
She said, “The book a voice, its pages
它的书页在鸟儿们预言的房间里燃烧。”
burning in rooms birds foretell every evening.”
我说：“湖泊持续地变化着它的心思，
I said, “The lake keeps changing its mind,
在八月末这个词
undecided between
和葡萄成熟前夕的颜色之间
the word for the end of August
犹豫不决。”
and the color just before grapes ripen.”
她说：“书召唤读者来读
She said, “The book summons the reader
水、风、火、尘土的规律
to read the laws of water, wind, fire, dust,
和声音的命数。”
and the destiny of voices.”
我说：“一个临湖房间里的声音，
I said, “Voices in a room by the lake,
湖泊本身就像是一个古老的声音，一种
the lake itself an older voice, unutterable
难以言传的规律，为彼此讲起
law and companion
各自故事中丢失部分的
to a brother and sister telling
哥哥和姐姐的
each other the missing parts
一个伙伴。”
of each other’s stories.”
她说：“湖泊是一本书。翻开
She said, “The lake is a book. Open the book
这书说：
and the book says:
‘这世界满是人，但很少
The world is full of people, but seldom
有人被发现。
is a person to be found.
这世界满是光，然而谁
The world is full of light, yet who
见过这东西？
has seen such a thing?
这世界全黑，然而一只手找到了抵达另一只手的
The world is all dark, yet a hand finds its way
途径，一张嘴发现了通往另一张嘴的路线。’”
to other hands, a mouth its way to another mouth.”
我说：“湖泊持续地变化着它的心思，
I said, “The lake keeps changing its mind,
一本翻页的书，
a book turning,
现在云影投在书页上，
now the shadows of clouds on the pages,
现在书页的影子投在水波上。”
now the shadows of pages on the waves.”
她说：“落在这书上
She said, “Shadows of birds
鸟儿的和风刮起的
and leaves blown in a wind
树叶的影子，
have fallen on the book
书页之中处于静默之骚乱状态的
birds and clouds and leaves in silent tumult
鸟儿、云朵和树叶。
among the pages.
白昼是一道大门，一块难以辨识的石头，
Day is a get, an illegible stone,
一座园子，一个膝上翻开着一本书的女人。
a garden, a woman with a book open in her lap.
而这书说：‘银白的，
And the book says: Silver,
歌唱她们的身体和男人的女人。
the women sing of their bodies and the men.
更暗的，歌唱他们的祖先和女人的男人。
Darker, the men sing of their ancestors and the women.
最为黑暗的是孩子们歌唱
Darkest is the children’s ambition
一切更大的圈的抱负。
to sing every circle wider.
垂死的，每个在自己认知的边缘歌唱的人。
Dying, each sings at the edge of what he knows.
未知的在我们心里，那唱歌的
Inside us is the unknown, that chasm
裂口通过跳跃变得可见。’”
singing makes visible by overleaping.”
我说：“湖泊是坚定的瞪视，
I said, “The lake is an unblinking glare,
一张在白昼之火里翻动的书页。”
a single page turning in day’s fire.”
她说：“这书页被一位读者的脸投影。”
She said, “The page is shadowed by a reader’s face.”
我说：“书在这读者凝视
I said, “The book turns in the clear fire
之明亮火焰里翻动。
of the readers’ gaze.
书中的声音波浪一般抵达。”
The voices in the book arrive like waves.”
她说：“波浪像我们白天展开的
She said, “The waves arrive like the unfolding
所有言谈一样抵达。”
sum of our days speaking.”
我说：“书页正在旅行，
I said, “The pages are traveling,
书没有地平线，
the book is without horizon,
而在火焰汗迹斑斑的身体上面，
and over the form-flecked body of fire,
长翅膀的手持续地变换位置。
hands keep changing places with wings.
因此，一个声音首先传来，这世界随后赶到，
Therefore, a voice was first, the world comes after,
而书最后抵达。
and the book comes last.
翻开，这书说：
Open the book and the book says:
‘灰烬和露水歌唱那些关于世界、书籍、
Ash and dew sing the founding notes
时间和身体的编撰中的笔记。
of world, book, time, and body.
这书页提示我们可以听到它们的地方。’”
The page remains the place where we can hear them.”
她说：“撒谎的声音倒塌在这些翻开的
She said, “Voices lie toppled, confused
书页上，困惑不解。当这些声音飘荡，
on the open pages, When the voices move,
我们便听出谁是谁。
we hear who is who.
一阵风吹起，这书便翻开
A wind blows, the book is open
朝向一个在夜里问询的
to a voice at evening
声音：‘我们是众多还是一个？
asking, Are we many or one?
对于字词的命运和愿望的未来，蓝
What do the past lives of the color blue have to do
这颜色其过去的生活不得不做些什么？’”
with the fate of words and the future of wishing?”
我说：“湖泊的蓝正是绿的记忆。
I said, “The lake’s blue is the very memory of green.
夜晚愈发黑暗时，波浪变白。”
The waves whiten as evening grows darker.”
她说：“时间是一颗烤好的蛋，一只缝制中的篮子。
She said, “Time is a roasted egg, a sewing basket.
时间是舟船的名字，一只制作中的风筝的历史。
Time is the names of ships, a history of kite making.
变作一群的鸟儿，是时间震耳欲聋之声
Birds, turning in a flock, are a fleeting shape
其转瞬即逝之形。”
of Time’s deafening voice.”
我说：“一张书页上鸟儿的影子
I said, “The shadows of birds on a page
简直是在讲述一则故事。”
almost tell a story.”
她说：“我的凝视荫翳你脸之书页。”
She said, “My gaze clouds the page of your face.”
我说：“即便在这无边际的空间里，
I said, “Even in this boundless space,
假如我俩同时把脸
if both of us turned our faces
转向彼此
toward each other at the same time
我们的嘴将被
our mouths would be separated by an interval
一只蛾子不触及我俩谈话内容
a moth could not fly through without touching
便无法飞越的一个间隔分开。”
both of what we said.”
她说：“湖泊，白昼的首页和末页，
She said, “The lake, the first and last page of the day,
覆盖写在那儿的每一个字。”
overwhelms every word written there.”
我说：“那么，曾是谁在雨中沿着
I said, “So who was running down the steps
博物馆前的台阶奔跑？
in front of the museum in the rain?
谁醒来坐在一列行驶的火车车窗内？”
Who woke up sitting in the window of a moving train?"