The old South Boston Aquarium stands

古老的南波士顿水族馆如今站在

in a Sahara of snow now. Its broken windows are boarded.

一片白雪的沙漠中，他的破窗户钉上了木板。

The bronze weathervane cod has lost half its scales.

那青铜制的鳕鱼形的风信标一半的鳞片剥落了。

The airy tanks are dry.

贮水池干了。

Once my nose crawled like a snail on the glass;

我的鼻子曾经象蜗牛般在玻璃上爬行：

my hand tingled

我的手曾经痒痒地

to burst the bubbles,

想捅破那些驯服、顺从的鱼鼻孔

drifting from the noses of the cowed, compliant fish.

冒出来的小气泡。

My hand draws back. I often sigh still

我的手缩了回来。我还是常为

for the dark downward and vegetating kingdom

下边黑糊糊地繁殖着的鱼和爬虫的王国叹息。

of the fish and reptile. One morning last March,

三月里一个早晨

I pressed against the new barbed and galvanized

我紧捱在波士顿广场上

fence on the Boston Common. Behind their cage,

一个新修的、有尖刺、镀锌的围栏。

yellow dinosaur steam shovels were grunting

在囚笼后面，巨龙似的黄色挖土机吼叫着

as they cropped up tons of mush and grass

把成吨的雪泥和草掘起，

to gouge their underworld garage.

挖一个地下车库。

Parking lots luxuriate like civic

存车场闪闪发光，就象

sand piles in the heart of Boston.

波士顿中心的一堆堆沙子。

A girdle of orange, Puritan-pumpkin-colored girders

橘色的、洁净的南瓜色的梁架象一根腰带

braces the tingling Statehouse, 

紧紧围住那咯咯作响的州政府大厦，

shaking the excavations, as it faces Colonel Shaw

它因掘土而摇晃，

and his bell-cheeked Negro infantry

对面是圣·桑登斯的惊人之作内战浮雕上的

on St. Gaudens' shaking Civil War relief,

肖上校和双颊鼓鼓的黑人步兵团

propped by a plank splint against the garage's earthquake.

靠一根木头支撑着抵挡车库的震动。

Two months after marching through Boston,

进军波士顿后两个半月，

half the regiment was dead;

团队一半人已经阵亡，

at the dedication,

在竖纪念碑的时候，

William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe.

威廉·詹姆士几乎可以听见黑人铜像呼吸。

The monument sticks like a fishbone

他们的纪念碑象一根鱼刺

in the city's throat.

卡在这个城市的咽喉中。

Its colonel is as lean

它的上校象罗盘上的

as a compass needle.

针一般清瘦。

He has an angry wrenlike vigilance,

他有一种愤怒的鹪鹩的警惕，

a greyhound's gentle tautness;

一只猎犬的温和的紧张；

he seems to wince at pleasure

他似乎害怕寻欢作乐，

and suffocate for privacy.

却又被孤独所窒息。

He is out of bounds. He rejoices in man's lovely,

他如今不受束缚了。他为人们所可爱的、

peculiar power to choose life and die—

在生死之间做出抉择的特殊力量而欢呼——

when he leads his black soldiers to death,

当他率领黑人士兵奔向死亡。

he cannot bend his back.

他的腰杆是不能弯的。

On a thousand small-town New England greens,

新英格兰绿原上成千个小镇里

the old white churches hold their air

古老的白色教堂保持着精干而诚挚的

of sparse, sincere rebellion; frayed flags

叛逆神气，磨损的旗帜

quilt the graveyards of the Grand Army of the Republic.

覆盖着共和国大军的坟地。

The stone statues of the abstract Union Soldier

抽象出来的联邦战士的雕像

grow slimmer and younger each year—

一年比一年消瘦和年轻——

wasp-waisted, they doze over muskets,

腰杆束得细细的，他们靠着毛瑟枪假寐，

and muse through their sideburns.

在他们的络腮胡子中沉思。

Shaw's father wanted no monument

肖的父亲不要纪念碑，

except the ditch,

除了一个小壕沟，

where his son's body was thrown

他儿子的躯体扔在那里

and lost with his "niggers."

同他的“黑奴们”一起丢失了。

The ditch is nearer.

那壕沟靠近了。

There are no statues for the last war here;

这儿上次战争可没留下什么雕像：

on Boylston Street, a commercial photograph

在波亥尔斯顿大街上，一张广告照片

showed Hiroshima boiling

显出了广岛沸腾

over a Mosler Safe, "the Rock of Ages,"

在一个摩勒斯牌保险箱上，那“永恒的巨石”

that survived the blast. Space is nearer.

在爆炸中保存了下来。空间是更近了。

When I crouch to my television set,

当我弯下腰去看电视

the drained faces of Negro school children rise like balloons.

黑人小学生枯槁的脸象气球般升了上来。

Colonel Shaw

肖上校

is riding on his bubble,

如今骑在气泡上了。

he waits

他等待着

for the blessed break.

那幸福的崩裂。

The Aquarium is gone. Everywhere,

水族馆不见了。到处有

giant finned cars nose forward like fish;

长着大腮的汽车鱼一般游过去；

a savage servility

一种野蛮的屈服

slides by on grease.

涂满滑润油溜了过去。