为什么，如果生命的短暂时光能够宁静地

Why, if it could begin as laurel, and be spent so,

在月桂的化身里度过，颜色比其他所有的绿

this space of Being, a little darker than all

略深，每片叶子的边缘都有细微波浪的形状

the surrounding green, with little waves at the edge

（仿佛和风的微笑）——：为什么

of every leaf (like a breeze’s smile) - : why then

要成为人——并且，在逃离命运的同时

have to be human – and shunning destiny

又渴望命运？……

long for destiny?....

Oh, not because happiness exists,

啊，不是因为幸福存在，

that over-hasty profit from imminent loss,

那过于匆忙地从走近的“损失”中抢夺的“利润”。

not out of curiosity, or to practice the heart,

不是出于好奇，不是作为心灵的练习，因为

which could exist in the laurel......

月桂也会有一颗心……

But because being here is much, and because all

that’s here seems to need us, the ephemeral, that

而是因为真正存在于此是如此丰富；因为这里的一切

strangely concerns us. We: the most ephemeral. Once,

显然都需要我们，这飞逝的世界一直以某种奇怪的方式

for each thing, only once. Once, and no more. And we too,

召唤着我们。而我们，是所有事物中最短暂易逝的。

once. Never again. But this

每一件事物都只存在一次，仅仅一次。我们也一样，

once, to have been, though only once,

只有一次。永不会再现。可是只要这样完整地

to have been an earthly thing – seems irrevocable.

存在一次，与大地融为一体，哪怕只有一次，

任何力量似乎就不能再把它抹去。

And so we keep pushing on, and trying to achieve it,

trying to contain it in our simple hands,

于是我们不断前行，努力去成就它，

in the overflowing gaze and the speechless heart.

努力把它紧握在我们简单的手里，

Trying to become it. Whom to give it to? We would

在我们挤满形象的凝视里，在我们无言的心里。

hold on to it for ever....Ah, what, alas, do we

努力变成它——我们能把它交给谁？我们惟愿

take into that other dimension? Not the gazing which we

牢牢地拽住它，永远……啊，可是我们能把什么

slowly learned here, and nothing that happened. Nothing.

带进那一个国度？看的艺术？不能，掌握它

Suffering then. Above all, then, the difficulty,

需要太久的时间；这里发生的事？不能。一件

the long experience of love, then – what is

都不能。那么，痛苦总可以吧。尤其是爱的沉重

wholly unsayable. But later,

和漫长的煎熬——那些完全不可言说的东西。

among the stars, what use is it: it is better unsayable.

可是当它们置身于群星之间，这一切

Since the traveller does not bring a handful of earth

又有什么用——它们最好永远如此：不可言说。

from mountain-slope to valley, unsayable to others, but only

因为，当旅人从山坡返回山谷的时候，

a word that was won, pure, a yellow and blue

他带走的不是一抔无法对他人言说的泥土，而是

gentian. Are we here, perhaps, for saying: house,

他得到的某个词，某个纯粹的词——那黄色和蓝色的

bridge, fountain, gate, jug, fruit-tree, window –

龙胆。我们在“这里”，也许是为了说出：房子，

at most: column, tower......but for saying, realise,

桥，井，门，水罐，果树，窗——

oh, for a saying such as the things themselves would never

至多能说出：圆柱，塔……可是，你必须理解，

have profoundly said. Is not the secret intent

说出它们意味着比事物本身所能梦想的存在

of this discreet Earth to draw lovers on,

还要热切地说出它们。当沉默的大地

so that each and every thing is delight within their feeling?

强迫恋人们走到一起，它难道不是在秘密地企盼着：

Threshold: what is it for two

在他们无垠的感情之内，所有事物都会因欢乐而颤栗？

lovers to be wearing their own threshold of the ancient door

门槛：对两位恋人来说，不知不觉地

a little, they too, after the many before them,

磨平他们那古老的门槛意味着什么——

and before those to come......., simple.

他们自己，也会轻轻地磨蚀，在许多过去的人

之后，在许多未来的人之前……

Here is the age of the sayable: here is its home.

Speak, and be witness. More than ever

“这里”是“可言说之物”的时间，“这里”

the things of experience are falling away, since

是它的家园。说吧，为它作证。

what ousts and replaces them is an act with no image.

我们可以体验的事物从未像今天这样飞速消失，因为

An act, under a crust that will split, as soon as

将它们挤开、取代它们的是一种没有形象的动作。

the business within outgrows it, and limit itself differently.

一个隐藏在壳下的动作，那壳很快会崩裂， 

Between the hammers, our heart

当里面的东西充满了空间，追求新的边界。

lives on, as the tongue

在铁锤之间，我们的心

between the teeth, that

忍受着，就像舌头

in spite of them, keeps praising.

在牙齿之间忍受着，却依然

能够赞颂。

Praise the world to the Angel, not the unsayable: you

can’t impress him with glories of feeling: in the universe,

向天使赞颂这个世界吧，而不是那个不可言说的世界。

where he feels more deeply, you are a novice. So show

你不可能让他叹服你高贵的感情；在宇宙里，

him a simple thing, fashioned in age after age,

在他感知自己伟大力量的地方，你只是一个生手。所以，

that lives close to hand and in sight.

还是向他展示某种简单的东西吧，某种在许多世代里成形、

Tell him things. He’ll be more amazed: as you were,

为我们所有、为我们所触摸、在我们视野之内的东西。

beside the rope-maker in Rome, or the potter beside the Nile.

向他讲述事物。他会惊讶地站在那里；就像你

Show him how happy things can be, how guiltless and ours,

惊讶地看着罗马的制绳工人或者尼罗河岸边的陶匠。

how even the cry of grief decides on pure form,

向他展示一件事物能够多么快乐，多么天真，并能

serves as a thing, or dies into a thing: transient,

为我们所有，甚至哀痛也执意要显形，执意要

they look to us for deliverance, we, the most transient of all.

存在为一件事物，终结为一件事物——幸福地

Will us to change them completely, in our invisible hearts,

逃逸，远在小提琴之外。这些事物，

into – oh, endlessly, into us! Whoever, in the end, we are.

这些因死而生的事物，知道你在赞颂它们；短暂的

它们期望我们——最短暂的我们——拯救它们。

Earth, is it not this that you want: to rise

它们盼着我们彻底改变它们，在我们不可见的心里，

invisibly in us? – Is that not your dream,

在我们里面——啊，最深最深的里面！无论我们最后是谁。

to be invisible, one day? – Earth! Invisible!

What is your urgent command if not transformation?

大地，难道这不是你所希求的：在我们里面，

Earth, beloved, I will. O, believe me, you need

不可见地，升起？难道这不是你的梦：

no more Spring-times to win me: only one,

变得彻底地不可见，在某一天？——啊，大地：不可见！

ah, one, is already more than my blood can stand.

除了变形，还有什么会是你急切的命令？

Namelessly, I have been truly yours, from the first.

大地，我最亲爱的，我答应你。啊，相信我，

You were always right, and your most sacred inspiration

你不再需要用那么多春天来打动我——一个春天，

is that familiar Death.

啊，仅仅一个，对于我的血液来说就已经太多。

See I live. On what? Neither childhood nor future

我以某种不可言说的方式属于你，从生命的最开始。

grows less......Excess of being

你一直都是对的，你最神圣的灵感

wells up in my heart.

是我们最亲密的伴侣——死。

看，我活着。依凭什么？童年和未来

都不再耗损……无限丰富的存在

在我心里涌起。