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