You don’t see yourself

你不再從

in the morning mirror

早晨的鏡子裏

anymore. And you tell

照見自己。你告訴

yourself you’re disloyal,

自己你並不忠實，

that you have a tin ear,

你的耳朵不靈，

and can’t tell irony

分辨不出反諷

from kvetch. So what?

和牢騷。那又怎樣？

At seventy, you no longer

在七十歲，你不再

expect old friends

指望老朋友

to love you, and you’re

愛你，並且早已

sick of stories of the past

厭倦了往日的軼事

because they no longer

因為它們已經

matter. Nor do

無關緊要。那些

the day-long silences

時常落在你身上的

that sometimes fall on

終日的靜默也不再

you like a cool rain.

像清涼的雨。

But you can’t stop there.

但你無法止步於此。

To get it exactly right,

准確地說，

you have to stand before

你必須在窗前站定，

the window, before

在陽光偉大的平紋

the great scrim of sunlight

籠照樹林之前；

falling through the woods;

葉的綠牆：

the green wall of leaves:

橡樹，山胡桃，羽狀的

oak, hickory, feathery

樸樹，野櫻桃；

hackberry, the wild cherry;

山茱萸正結出果實；

the dogberry fruiting;

鳥投出影子的飛鏢；

darting shadows of birds;

聽密集的野花

hearing the thick rush of

在潮濕山坡下

wild flowers down the damp

翻湧；嘗一口

slope; tasting the bitter

苦澀的，熱了三次的

bite of black, thrice-

黑咖啡，中午已臨近。

boiled, late-morning coffee.

好運是你妻子的

Good luck’s your wife’s

笑聲。還有那黃

laughter. And the yellow-

眼睛，一團灰霧的貓，

eyed, grey smoke cat,

「紐倫堡的名歌手」，他

der Meistersinger

把一隻鐘藏在肚子裏

, who

確知每一刻的時辰。

keeps a clock in his belly

而你肌肉發達的

and knows what time it is.

綠眼睛的小貓，牛奶上的

And your small, muscular,

雲，她每天都在

green-eyed, clouds-on-milk

客廳的地板上尋找

cat, who seeks, each day

宇宙精確的中心，

on the living room floor,

誤差不過一兩寸，

the exact center of the universe,

偏東或偏西，偏北

give or take an inch

或偏南，她低低的

or two, east or west, north

縮在上面，窩起

or south, curling herself

她的長爪，縮成一塊圓石，

under on it, folding in

彷彿要將它清楚地標記，

her long paws, bouldering in,

牢牢守在原地。

as if to mark it clearly,

hold it firmly in place.