你砸破的红木桌面

The mahogany table-top you smashed

又宽又厚，是我母亲的

Had been the broad plank top

祖传家俱，上面留有

Of my mother's heirloom sideboard-

我整个生命的伤痕。

Mapped with the scars of my whole life.

它遭到了锤击的命运。

That came under the hammer.

你因为我迟来20分钟照料小孩

That high stool you swung that day

而发狂，在那天，

Demented by my being

你挥舞着高脚凳。

Twenty minutes late for baby-minding.

“太好了！”我大声说，“别歇手，

'Marvellous!' I shouted, 'Go on,

把它砸碎烧光。那是你

Smash it into kindling.

置于你的诗歌以外的东西！”

That's the stuff you're keeping out of your poems!'

稍后，考虑以后平静下来，

And later, considered and calmer,

“把劲头使在你的诗里，立刻动手吧！”

'Get that shoulder under your stanzas

深藏在你耳眼里的妖怪

And we'll be away.' Deep in the cave of your ear

劈劈啪啪地捻他的手指。

The goblin snapped his fingers.

我给了他什么呢？

So what had I given him?

解开你婚姻的

The bloody end of the skein

一团乱麻的糟糕末端

That unravelled your marriage,

给你的孩子们留下的是

Left your children echoing

像迷宫地道里的回声。

Like tunnels in a labyrinth.

给你母亲留下一条死巷。

Left your mother a dead-end,

把你带到你已站起身的父亲的坟墓，

Brought you to the horned, bellowing

那被牛角抵破而发出牛吼的坟墓——

Grave of your risen father

你自己的尸体也在其中。

And your own corpse in it.