我听任密斯托拉风的摆布，它用肩膀开路

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

由北向下，跃过法国细心呵护的农田，

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

飞掠阿尔卑斯山，手掌拂过罗纳河

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

将这延绵、深蓝、古老的海面倾斜

tocareen over this stretch of ultramarine and ancient sea

最后抢走了我笔下的纸张。

and seize the page out from under my pen.

高大的桉树瑟瑟发抖暗涌不断，

The high eucalyptus shudder and surge,

竹林里刀光剑影，昨日的诗歌灰飞烟散：

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

我们都将在这个寂静的花园中被改变。

we will all be changed in the quiet garden.

我已经打破了一些格式，等着看

I have broken some forms, I am waiting to see

树叶和云光引发的骚动中什么

what survives this tumult of leaves

幸存了下来，大海的波峰浪谷中又将掀起什么

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

当浪花击碎在片岩下倾的纹理上

when spray shatters against the downward slicing veins of schist

当小山紧箍的山谷咆哮和呻吟着。

and the hills bracing the valley wuther and groan.

花园仍钉在地上一动不动，里面圆圆的金属桌子

The garden stays pegged to earth with its round metal tables

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，

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

我也钉在椅子里一动不动，但是，是我在昨天祈祷

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

让这片庇护所发出不同的哭声吧，

yesterday to make this refuge cry with a different breath,

希望从我喉咙中攫出新的词汇—

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

它的咸味也许是海风也许是眼泪。

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