If I were tickled by the rub of love,
假如我被爱的抚摸撩得心醉，
A rooking girl who stole me for her side,
偷我到她身边的行骗女郎，
Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string,
就会闯过草垛，扯去我的绷带，
If the red tickle as the cattle calve
假如红色的撩逗，像母牛产仔般
Still set to scratch a laughter from my lung,
从我的肺中仍然找出一串笑声，
I would not fear the apple nor the flood
我就不畏苹果，不惧洪流，
Nor the bad blood of spring.
更不怕败血的春天。
Shall it be male or female? say the cells,
男孩还是女孩？细胞问，
And drop the plum like fire from the flesh.
从肉身扔下一团梅子样的火
If I were tickled by the hatching hair,
假如我被孵化的毛发撩得心醉，
The winging bone that sprouted in the heels,
翼骨在脚跟一阵阵萌发，
The itch of man upon the baby's thigh,
婴儿的腿窝撩人心痒，
I would not fear the gallows nor the axe
我就不畏绞架，不惧刀斧，
Nor the crossed sticks of war.
更不怕纵横交错的战火。
Shall it be male or female? say the fingers
男孩还是女孩？手指问，
That chalk the walls with green girls and their men.
在墙上涂画少女及她的男人。
I would not fear the muscling-in of love
假如我被顽皮的饥渴撩得心醉，
If I were tickled by the urchin hungers
预演的热浪窜过神经原的边沿，
Rehearsing heat upon a raw-edged nerve.
我就不畏爱的侵入，
I would not fear the devil in the loin
不惧耻骨区的魔头，
Nor the outspoken grave.
更不怕直言不讳的坟墓。
If I were tickled by the lovers' rub
假如我被情人的抚爱撩得心醉，
That wipes away not crow's-foot nor the lock
却又抹不平额上乌鸦的足迹，
Of sick old manhood on the fallen jaws,
抹不去缠病老人颚下的垂锁，
Time and the crabs and the sweethearting crib
时光、螃蟹和情人的温床就会
Would leave me cold as butter for the flies,
留给我寒冷如同黄油留给飞蝇，
The sea of scums could drown me as it broke
沉渣浮动的大海淹没我，
Dead on the sweethearts' toes.
海湾拍打情人沉尸的脚趾。
This world is half the devil's and my own,
这个世界半属魔鬼，半属我身，
Daft with the drug that's smoking in a girl
愚蠢的女孩疯狂地吸毒，
And curling round the bud that forks her eye.
烟雾缠绕她眼上交错的花蕾。
An old man's shank one-marrowed with my bone,
老人的胫骨流动着与我相同的骨髓，
And all the herrings smelling in the sea,
鲱鱼的气息弥漫大海，
I sit and watch the worm beneath my nail
我坐看指甲下的蠕虫
Wearing the quick away.
迅即消逝无踪。
And that's the rub, the only rub that tickles.
这就是抚爱，撩人心醉的抚爱。
The knobbly ape that swings along his sex
从湿润的爱情私处到护士的扭动，
From damp love-darkness and the nurse's twist
一脸疙瘩的莽汉摇曳一身的情欲，
Can never raise the midnight of a chuckle,
却永远无法撩拨午夜吃吃的笑语，
Nor when he finds a beauty in the breast
即使他发现了美，从情人、母亲
Of lover, mother, lovers, or his six
和从情人的胸乳上，
Feet in the rubbing dust.
或从他风尘撩动的六尺身躯。
And what's the rub? Death's feather on the nerve?
抚爱是什么？是死亡的羽叶撩动着神经？
Your mouth, my love, the thistle in the kiss?
是你的嘴、我的爱亲吻中开放的蓟花？
My Jack of Christ born thorny on the tree?
还是我的基督毛茸茸地诞生在枝头？
The words of death are dryer than his stiff,
死亡的话语比他的僵尸更为干枯，
My wordy wounds are printed with your hair.
我喋喋不休的作品印着你的毛发。
I would be tickled by the rub that is:
我愿被爱的抚摸撩得心醉，即：
Man be my metaphor.
男人就是我的一切。