夜间看护，一个波大二年级学生，
The night attendant, a B.U. sophomore,
架在「意义的意义」书上昏沉的头
rouses from the mare's-nest of his drowsy head
从虚幻中抬起，
propped on The Meaning of Meaning.
迈着猫步走过走廊。
He catwalks down our corridor.
湛蓝的天
Azure day
让我苦闷的蓝色窗户更显惨淡。
makes my agonized blue window bleaker.
石化了的草坪上聚集着嘈杂的乌鸦。
Crows maunder on the petrified fairway.
冷清！我的心开始发紧，
Absence! My hearts grows tense
如一把鱼矛对着目标射出。
as though a harpoon were sparring for the kill.
（这里是一个“精神病”之家。）
(This is the house for the "mentally ill.")
我的幽默有何用处？
What use is my sense of humour?
我对斯坦利一笑，他年坠六十，
I grin at Stanley, now sunk in his sixties,
曾经哈佛全美后卫，
once a Harvard all-American fullback,
（如果真有这回事！）
(if such were possible!)
依旧撑着二十来岁的身材，
still hoarding the build of a boy in his twenties,
此时在泡澡，一根捅火棍，
as he soaks, a ramrod
如海豹的肌肉
with a muscle of a seal
在长长的浴池里，
in his long tub,
轻微的尿味从维多利亚下水道浸出。
vaguely urinous from the Victorian plumbing.
A kingly granite profile in a crimson gold-cap,
国王般花岗岩的侧影带着一顶殷红的金帽，
worn all day, all night,
整天，整夜的戴着，
he thinks only of his figure,
他只关注他的外形，
of slimming on sherbert and ginger ale--
只顾着靠果汁冰激凌和姜汁汽水减肥——
more cut off from words than a seal.
话比海豹还少。
This is the way day breaks in Bowditch Hall at McLean's;
the hooded night lights bring out "Bobbie,"
这就是麦克莲医院伯奇厅里一天的结尾；
Porcellian '29,
带罩的夜灯带出“鲍比”，
a replica of Louis XVI
29届波斯莲哈佛俱乐部，
without the wig--
路易十四的化身，
redolent and roly-poly as a sperm whale,
只差一头假发——
as he swashbuckles about in his birthday suit
香喷喷，圆滚滚像一头公鲸，
and horses at chairs.
穿着他生日的服饰，倜傥骄纵，
胡闹耍猴。
These victorious figures of bravado ossified young.
（这是个“精神病“之家。）
In between the limits of day,
这些胜利者的狂妄将他们僵滞于青年。
hours and hours go by under the crew haircuts
and slightly too little nonsensical bachelor twinkle
在白天黑夜的限制之间，
of the Roman Catholic attendants.
一个又一个时辰在削短的头发下，
(There are no Mayflower
在那些略欠荒诞的单身罗马天主教
screwballs in the Catholic Church.)
看护们的眼神下度过。
（天主教堂没有五月花号那些调皮鬼。）
After a hearty New England breakfast,
I weigh two hundred pounds
吃过新英格兰式丰实的早餐，
this morning. Cock of the walk,
足够两百磅的我
I strut in my turtle-necked French sailor's jersey
迈着公鸡步，穿着水手的高领
before the metal shaving mirrors,
海魂衫大摇大摆走到
and see the shaky future grow familiar
金属制刮胡子的镜子前，
in the pinched, indigenous faces
看见颤动的未来越来越跟那些
of these thoroughbred mental cases,
堆紧的正宗纯种神经病例的脸庞相似。
twice my age and half my weight.
比我年龄大两倍，身轻一半。
We are all old-timers,
我们都是过来人，
each of us holds a locked razor.
每人手里拿着一把上锁的刮胡刀。