I gave myself to the mistral, which had shouldered its way

我听任密斯托拉风的摆布，它用肩膀开路

down from the north, leaping the careful fields of France,

由北向下，跃过法国细心呵护的农田，

skimming the Alps, running the flat of its hand along the Rh?ne

飞掠阿尔卑斯山，手掌拂过罗纳河

tocareen over this stretch of ultramarine and ancient sea

将这延绵、深蓝、古老的海面倾斜

and seize the page out from under my pen.

最后抢走了我笔下的纸张。

The high eucalyptus shudder and surge,

高大的桉树瑟瑟发抖暗涌不断，

the bamboo grove flashes its knives, yesterday’s poem flies off:

竹林里刀光剑影，昨日的诗歌灰飞烟散：

we will all be changed in the quiet garden.

我们都将在这个寂静的花园中被改变。

I have broken some forms, I am waiting to see

我已经打破了一些格式，等着看

what survives this tumult of leaves

树叶和云光引发的骚动中什么

andcloudlight, what the sea will whip up from its jagged troughs

幸存了下来，大海的波峰浪谷中又将掀起什么

when spray shatters against the downward slicing veins of schist

当浪花击碎在片岩下倾的纹理上

and the hills bracing the valley wuther and groan.

当小山紧箍的山谷咆哮和呻吟着。

The garden stays pegged to earth with its round metal tables

花园仍钉在地上一动不动，里面圆圆的金属桌子

of pea-soup green and its fan-patternsraked in tawny dirt,

有豌豆汤一样的绿色，棕色的泥土还留着耙子耙过的扇形形状，

and I stay pegged to the garden chair, but it was I who prayed

我也钉在椅子里一动不动，但是，是我在昨天祈祷

yesterday to make this refuge cry with a different breath,

让这片庇护所发出不同的哭声吧，

hoping some new word would be snatched up out of my throat—

希望从我喉咙中攫出新的词汇—

Its salt tang could be from sea wind, could be from tears.

它的咸味也许是海风也许是眼泪。