1

1

我飘浮在丙烷罐丶后巷丶

I float over propane tanks, back lanes,

外屋上，穿着睡衣裤，十二岁，在棚屋和真的不只是

outhouses in pajamas, twelve, over shacks and the really more-

棚屋上，在电车缆线以北和城市森林

than-shacks, north of trolley wires and an edge of the city

边缘。我刚好漂泊在榆树顶尖上，十二岁。六月。

forest. I drift just above the tips of elms, and am twelve. June.

人们在下面熟睡，送奶人的马

People are asleep below, the milkman’s

在康诺特等待他穿过一道

horse waits on Connaught for the man to come through

丁香树篱，首先是袋鼠袋，

a lilac hedge, marsupial pouch

空瓶在他的铁篮里敲击。

first, empties percussing in his iron basket.

有人，我猜是伊冯娜，佩尔蒂埃家的大女儿，

Someone, Yvonne I guess, the Pelletiers’ oldest

点燃引火物，抵卸严寒。

sets kindling going to take off the chill.

那匹马一动不动，站在它那蛋糕大的

The horse is motionless above its cake-sized,

混凝土系绳桩上。

cement anchor.

隔壁男人来到后楼梯，把一根火柴放低

The man next door comes onto his back step and lowers

到一个烟斗里，一辆完美的1938年栗色雪佛兰

a match into a pipe bowl, a perfect 1938 maroon Cheverolet

小轿车停泊在他的车库里，从未开过；接着，那女人，加尔文太太，

sedan parked, never driven, in his garage, then the woman, Mrs. Garvin,

更远地走进她最早开的鸢尾花丛里，约翰·佩尔蒂埃则把

farther down walks into her earliest irises and John Pelletier loads

家庭洗衣盆搬上马车

the family wash tub on the wagon

去取水。

and goes for water.

2

2

烟雾里一匹狼冒出来

a wolf inside that smoke rises from

威尔弗里德带着一把他用锉刀

Wilfrid carried a straight razor he

锉短的折叠式剃刀

shortened with a file

     以方便甩动。

              to flick easier.

这玩艺比吉米·伊斯茨的神经病表弟查利·克罗

More operatic, chthonic device than the Hollywood

在月亮甜食店门口从长及足踝的黑外衣里

switchblade Charlie Crow, Jimmy Easts‘s psychotic cousin,

拔出来打劫我弟弟的炸薯片和芬达橙汁的

drew from an anklelength black coat,

那好莱坞弹簧刀还管用，

to rob my brother of chips and a Fanta orange

还致人死地。只要受意识形态

outside Moon’s Confectionary. Kryptonited

蛊惑，查利还会继续抹刀子。

by ideology, Charlie’d still slice.

但一支猎枪是威尔弗后来真正的神奇

But a shotgun was Wilf’s true, later wonder

器械，他的美学样式的实践者。瞧它，

instrument, his completer

在他手里，在凌晨两点的夜总会，在那个蒸气表面的

of aesthetic shape. There it was

旋转水晶灯下，一种在洞穴深处的苏醒。幸亏我们没有去

 in his hand in the 2:00 am nightclub, under the stream-surface

找马丁，我弟弟说：否则我们会在监狱里了。

ball, a wakening deep in the cave. Lucky we didn’t go

或者出来了，过气了，眨着

to Martin, says my brother. Be in jail now.

我们的眼睛，抚弄一处处硬结。

Or out, superannuated, blinking,

“腺人”鲍勃·库克，在酒店

our eyes fondling a range of knots.

大堂里，二十一岁，被手枪拽倒，

Bob Cooke, the Gland, in the giant lobby

多肌腱的寂静在他周围孵化，

of the hotel, twenty-one, handgunned,

一个男声最高音悬搁着，

tendoned stillness hatched around him,

悬搁着，现在才开始消失，后退

a single counter-tenor note held,

然后消失，那个感情声音，如今

held, just now starting to fade, lose ground

向前伸长脖子要求

and fade, that emotion-sound, now

夜班职员打开保险箱，

cranes his neck forward and asks

通往保险箱洞穴的门敞开着，

the night-clerk to open the safe,

动物在低矮灌木丛中

wide the door to the grotto of the safe,

因进进出出而形成的卵形洞穴。

ovoid hole the animal’s body made

in the mat of low bushes by passing in and out.

3

3

“美味的专注”

          阿维拉的圣德肋撒

“delectable absorption”

                       St. Teresa of Avila

这个可吃的世界斜身倚着我们，

               神经元的小径，美的光华，

The Eatable world leans against us,

鱼遮蔽鼓起的四壁，

                                     neuronal pathways, beauty sheen,

驯鹿鼓膜似的搏动

fish clouds bulging walls,

在穿过峡谷时收窄。

tympanic throb of reindeer

我把我的手，已有一段时间，事实上是

narrowing through gorges.

多年前的手，搁在鱼王的膝盖上，

I put my hand, quite a while ago, years ago

          个性于是显露。

actually onto the knee of the Fish-Lord

是的，我这样做。没有痛苦。

                             and individuality appeared.

在那些日子里，我坐在鱼鹰小木屋区

Yes, I did it. There was no pain.

那个房间里，雨打

Those days when I sat in that room

窗户，我常常起身

in Osprey Cabins, rain chipping

跪下来，耳朵紧贴地板。

the window, I would rise

我听到发生的大部分事情。

to kneel and set my ear to the floor.

那些日子几乎把它们所有的火坑留在我身上。

I heard most of what occurred.

                         我说哈罗。

Those days left almost all of their firepits in me.

那华丽的浪涛，

                                                            I say hello.

如同用绿叶素和皮肤给形而上学涂上圣油，

The gorgeous wave,

在靠近腰际的身体半途中升起，然后翻滚而去。

metaphysics chrismed with chlorophyll and skin,

lifts midway through the body, near the waist, and rolls

                                                                through.

4

我仍在沉睡，在街区上漂浮，

4

吃着锦鸡儿叶丶榆树叶丶夏天的宁静。

两英里外是那条小溪，接着，在香蒲

I am asleep still and drift over the neighbourhood,

后面那边，是皇家加拿大骑警训练站，而现在

grazing carragana leaves, elm leaves, summer still.

它几乎就在我下面，因为我刚越过

There’s the creek, two miles away, then beyond

迪尤德尼大道，现已空置的代总督

behind cattails, the RCMP Training Depot and almost

官邸的小塔楼和烟囱，

beneath me now that I’ve crossed over

除了死人的呼吸或

Dewdney Ave., the turret and chimneys

灵魂甲壳，我们可以透彻地看清满是尘埃的底层窗子。

of the Lieutenant Governor’s residence now empty,

一只麝鼠正在撕裂小溪的表面，而回来的

except for breath or soul carapaces

约翰，抖掉边缘溅起的水花，

of dead people we can see clearly through dusty groundfloor windows.

在人行道上。他已

A muskrat’s splitting the surface of the creek and John,

转入康诺特并把马车停在后门，

returning, sheds rim splashes,

他背后水在摇晃，

on the sidewalk. Behind him,

最早几辆无轨电车碰出火花格格作响朝着市中心驶去

now that he’s turned into Connaught

而我正在安顿下来，刚穿过焦土

and has the wagon at the back door, water swaying,

从头顶的电线降落，看不见，赤足，

the first trolley bus sparks and rattles toward downtown

直立，在我父母的草坪上。

and I am settling, descended through the scorch

from overhead wires, unseen, barefoot,

upright, on my parents’ lawn.

题解：此诗也是写作者的童年，充满了童年的想像力。作者成长于依然由马匹挨家挨户送牛奶的年代。童年和青少年时代的周围环境是田园式的，同时隐含暴力。