1.
1.
森林的緘默迫使我們
The hush of the forest turned us back
從一條羊腸小路上退回來，
from the footpath.
（練騎術的人從花園一側無聲地駛過）
As mid-day’s darkness deepened,
正午的黑暗加深。
a silent rider passed the mouth of the garden.
在這裏你是時間的囚徒，
Though a prisoner of time
同時你又取消了時間。
it was time you escaped.
早上的德式面包，中午的中式面條，
German bread in the morning,
晚上的夢把你帶回到北京——
Chinese noodles at noon;
在那裏騎者消失，
dreams each night take you back to Beijing,
你恍然來到一個不再認識的國度，
where the rider disappears,
言詞的黑暗太深。
where you come to a country
you suddenly no longer know,
2.
the language too dark, too deep.
一個修辭學意義上的詩人
將如何修辭？一陣陣香水味飄過之後，
2.
在露天酒吧刀叉杯盞的碰撞中，
How does a poet
形成的並不是詩的音韻。
deal with rhetoric?
而你生來是個唱輓歌的人，為了
The perfumed breeze from outdoor bars,
從古堡上空再次展開的秋天，
the clinks of fork and glass
為預先失去的愛情；
bear no rhythmic notes.
為黃昏時一輛亮起金色燈火，到達、
You were born to sing
離去的公共汽車，
autumn’s elegies
為再次前來找你的記憶……
unfurling again above the ancient castle
for love that must be lost,
3.
for the bus, its windows softly lit,
一瓶從中國帶來的駝鳥墨水
pulling in at dusk,
培養了我的迷信，一支英雄牌鋼筆
and for its heading off.
一天要喝三次它的奶汁。
For once more wandering through your memory.
「漢語」，你對自己說「我得
養活它。在這裏它是我可憐的啞巴，
3.
它說不出話來，但它要吃……」
stirs my superstitions.
而墨在歷史中閃耀。墨比金子
Thrice a day, the Hero pen
珍貴。一瓶從故國帶來的中國墨水
drinks its black milk.
吸收了時間的黑，血液的黑，
“Chinese,” I say to myself,
它甚至迫使死者拿起筆來
“I must nourish it,
——它傾刻就會分娩出你的懷鄉病
my poor dummy
和一個個與你相望的詞……
who eats but says nothing.”
This ink refracts a history
4.
more precious than gold,
帝國的版圖日漸收縮，
a well of Chinese ink
像從天上掉下來的一件衣服，
deep with black time, black blood,
穿起來仍嫌過大。
driving even the dead to raise the pen.
為了讚美你需要學會諷刺。
Soon it will contrive your homesickness
為了滿天飛雪有一個馬廄就必須變黑。
as lines of words
為了杜甫你還必須是卡夫卡。
staring back at you.
合上書本，或是撕下那些你寫下的
蒼白文字時，你會看到一個孩子
4.
在懸岩的威脅下開始了他的路程，
The empire’s map shrank daily
而冬天也會跟著他向你走來。
like a coat dropped from heaven,
still too big to wear.
5.
To praise, you must learn irony.
在起風的日子裏我又想起你
For a skyful of snow,
杜甫！仍在萬里悲秋裏做客，登高望北
one stable must be black.
或獨自飄搖在一隻烏蓬船裏……
To be Du Fu, you must also be Kafka.
起風了，我的詩人！你身體中的
Close the book, or shred
那匹老馬是否正發出嗚咽？你的李白
the pale words you wrote,
和岑參又到哪裏去了？
as if a child
茅屋破了，你索性投身於天地的無窮裏。
setting out on a journey
你把漢語帶入了一個永久的暮年。
beneath a threatening crag,
你所到之處，把所有詩人變成你的孩子。
while winter follows
你到我這裏來吧——酒與燭火備下，
straight for you.
我將不與你爭執，也不與你談論
砍頭的利斧或桂冠。
5.
你已漂泊了千年，你到我這裏來吧——
Windy days, I think of you,
你的夢中山河和老妻
Du Fu, gazing north,
都早已在荒草中安歇……
a thousand miles from home,
sad autumns on high mountains,
6.
or drifting alone
漸漸地，在大理石臺階上眺望星空
beneath the black canopy
與在古堡的地窖裏出沒的，
of a bobbing skiff.
已不是同一個人。在這裏轉身
The wind rises.
向西或向東
The old mare in your body,
經歷著飛雪與日落的人，
did she whimper?
已知道怎樣化恐懼為平靜。
Your Li Bai and Cen Shen, where were they?
黑暗的中世紀，仍擁有它不朽的兵器。
When your shack fell apart, you flung yourself
愛神，被削去臉和雙乳
toward the infinitude of the universe.
仍被供奉在那裏，為人類的絕望作證。
You brought Chinese to an undying ripeness.
而你，在結束與一位金髮女孩的羅曼史後發現，
No matter where you go, every poet is your heir.
原來她是從一幅畫中向你走來。
Come—here’s wine and lit candles,
哦漸漸地，夏天轉向了另外的國度，
we’ll speak neither of the headsman’s axe
而橡樹在雪後顯出黑色。
nor of laurels. We won’t argue.
You’ve wandered all these centuries,
7.
come with me now—
在我寫完這首詩後，冬天
your dreams of mountains and rivers
就會順著林中大道徑直向我走來，
and your old wife
堅硬的冰碴也將從夏日的花園裏滲出。
have found rest
大雪封山之前，
in brittle weeds.
人們還會紛紛離去。
但是那尊石像仍會留下，偶爾的黃昏，
6.
也會塗亮古堡的最後一扇窗戶。
Soon the man gazing at the stars
如果你仍會做夢，你夢到的會是一匹馬，
from the marble steps
艱難地陷在半山腰的積雪裏；
will no longer be recognized
如果你發信，它將永不到達；
as one who lurked in the cellars
如果你想呼喊——為人類的孤獨，雪
of the ancient castle.
就會更大、更黑地降下來……
Face east or west,
he who has seen driving snow and sunset
8.
already knows how to turn panic into peace.
穿行在這些大理石的頭像
The Dark Ages retained their immortal weapons.
和胸像之間，似乎只一步，就回到
Aphrodite, face and breasts sliced off,
兩千年前；這些古希臘的武士、智者
still worshipped,
或詭辯家，注視著我
proof of man’s despair.
卻不問我從什麼地方來。
Only after your romance with the blond girl
我來自一個你們不曾想像的國度，
did you see she stepped from a painting.
在那裏智者來自黃土，歸於黃土，
Day by day, summer leads
在那裏女皇只給自己留下一座無字碑……
to another country, and oaks
而一尊青銅或大理石塑像能否戰勝時間？
gone black against the snow.
我想問。哦，當我發問，我看見
時間的深淵正照亮你們靜默的額頭……
7.
我像一個遲到的孩子又潛回到早年的
When I finish the poem,
課堂，並在那裏聽到一聲：「噓——」
winter will advance
down the forest path,
9.
and jagged frost arise
這是無數個冬天中的一個，
from summer’s garden.
這是冬天中的冬天。
People leave one after another
你寫到雪，雪就要落下，
before snow seals the mountain.
你迎接什麼，什麼就會到來。
But that stone statue stays,
這是滯留者的歌，一會兒就要響起，
occasional evenings
這些是詞，已充分吸收了降雪前的黑暗；
flaring on the last window
這是在樓梯上嗡嗡作響的吸塵器，一會兒
of the ancient castle.
就會移入你昏暗的室內，
If you could, you’d dream of a horse
這將是另一首詩：伐木者在死後醒來。
floundering in deep snow
這已是我分辨不清的馬廄，正從古堡那邊
halfway up the mountain.
的草地向我靠近，
If you sent a letter,
這些是無辜的過冬的畜牲，
it would never arrive.
在聚來的昏暗中，在我的內心裏
If you cried out in human solitude,
它們已緊緊地偎在了一起……
snow would fall heavier, darker.
1982年2月 斯圖加特Solitude古堡
8.
Walking among the marble busts,
it seems one step
could erase two thousand years.
Greek warriors, wise men or sophists,
gaze at me, but never ask
where I’m from.
From a land they’d never imagine,
where philosophers sprang from earth
and returned to earth.
Where one empress left her own monument
completely uninscribed.
Can bronze or marble statues vanquish time?
I’d like to know. When I ask,
I see the gulf of time pour light
onto their silent foreheads.
Like a child late for class,
I hear “Shh…”
9.
One winter among many—
winter of winters.
When you write about snow,
snow falls;
whatever you invite arrives.
Such is the song soon to be sung
of someone left behind.
These are its lyrics, steeped in the dark before snowfall.
This the buzz of the maid’s vacuum mounting the stairs,
soon to enter your dim room,
and then to enter a poem:
the woodcutter wakes
after death. There stands the stable,
dim shadow on the castle grounds,
these the innocent beasts, wintering
in the heart’s sudden gloom,
leaning close.
Solitude Castle, Stuttgart, February 1998