那是一個十二月的夜晚，世紀那黑暗而平靜的盡頭

It’s a December night, the century’s end, dark and calm,

    已臨近。

     draws near.

我慢慢閱讀朋友們的詩，看照片，

I slowly read friends’ poems, look at photographs,

    書脊。

     the spines of books.

C哪裏去了？狂妄的K怎樣了，還有微笑的T？

Where has C. gone? What’s become of bumptious K. and smiling T.?

    B和N近況如何？

     What ever happened to B. and N.?

有些已死了一千年，另一些，首次登臺者，剛於

Some have been dead a millenium, while others, debutants, died

    前幾個月去世。

     just the other month.

他們在一起嗎？在有緋紅色黎明的沙漠裏？

Are they together? In a desert with a crimson dawn?

    我們不知道他們住在哪裏。

     We don’t know where they live.

在有蝴蝶嬉戲的山溪邊？

By a mountain stream where butterflies play?

    在散发木犀草味的小鎮？

     In a town scented with mignonette?

死人騎得快，S曾熱切地重複（他也已經

Die Toten reiten schnell, S. repeated eagerly (he too

    走了）。

     is gone).

他們在草原的安靜中，在一團黃色圓雲下騎著

They ride little horses in the steppe’s quiet, beneath a round yellow

    小馬。

     cloud.

也許他們在亞洲一個火車小站偷煤，在滿是煤煙的罐子裏

Maybe they steal coal at a little railroad stop in Asia and melt

    融雪

     snow in sooty pots

如同那些被用車皮運送的人。

like those transported in freight cars.

    （他們有集中營和鐵絲網嗎？）

     (Do they have camps and barbed wire?)

他們下棋嗎？聽音樂嗎？他們看到基督嗎？

Do they play checkers? Listen to music? Do they see Christ?

    他們向生者口授詩歌。

     They dictate poems to the living.

他們在洞穴墻上畫野牛，開始在博韋

They paint bison on cave walls, begin building

    建造大教堂。

     the cathedral in Beauvais.

他們抓住那回避我們的罪惡感，

Have they grasped the sense of evil, which eludes us,

    並原諒那些迫害他們的人嗎？

     and forgiven those who persecuted them?

他們涉過一條在八月酷烈下回軟的北極冰河。

They wade through an arctic glacier, soft from the August heat.

    他們流淚嗎？後悔嗎？

     Do they weep? Regret?

講幾個小時電話？一言不发？他們在這兒，在我們中間嗎？

Talk on telephones for hours? Hold their tongues? Are they here among us?

    不在任何地方？

     Nowhere?

我讀詩，傾聽夜與血的

I read poems, listen to the mighty whisper

    強大低語。

     of night and blood.