Happy HourLee Ann Roripaugh

快乐时光光诸 译


I always forget the name,
我总是想不起它的名字,
delphinium,
“翠雀花”,
even though it was the flower
即使它是

the hummingbirds
蜂鸟们
loved best. They came in pairs—sleek,
最爱的花。它们成双成对到来——
emerald-bright
光滑的,祖母绿的小脑袋

heads, the clockwork machinery
那钟表一样精确挥动的
of their blurred wings
快到模糊的双翅
thrumming swift, menacing engines.
迅疾地倏倏作响,咄咄逼人的机器。

They slipped their beaks.
它们抽动鸟喙,
as if they were swizzle sticks, deep
就像在用小棒搅动香槟,深深地
into the blue
插入

throat of delphinium and sucked
翠雀花蓝色的喉咙
dry the nectar-
吸干蜜汁——
chilled hearts like goblets full of sweet,
冰冷的心就像高脚杯

frozen daiquiri.
装满了甜蜜的,冰冻的黛克瑞酒。
I liked to sit on the back porch
我喜欢在黄昏
in the evenings,
坐在后门廊,

watching them and eating Spanish
一边看它们一边吃
peanuts, rolling
西班牙花生,在
each nut between thumb and forefinger
拇指和食指之间转动它们

to rub away
捻去上面
the red salty skin like brittle
红色的浸盐外皮
tissue paper,
就像捻去脆硬的纸巾。

until the meat emerged gleaming,
直到露出闪亮的果核,
yellow like old
就像老象牙一样黄,
ivory, smooth as polished bone.
就像抛光的骨头一样光滑。

And late August,
在八月末,
after exclamations of gold
在黄花的感慨之后,
flowers, tiny
锦鸡儿树

and bitter, the caragana
长出又小又苦的种子,
trees let down their
它让自己的豆荚成熟,
beans to ripen, dry, and rupture—
干透,开裂——

at first there was
这里会有
the soft drum of popcorn, slick with oil,
爆米花轻柔的鼓声,开始时油滑得意,
puttering some-
踱步走过——

where in between seed, heat, and cloud.
在种子,热浪和云中间。
Then sharp cracks like cap
然后尖锐地爆炸
gun or diminutive fireworks,
就像发令枪或者微小的烟花。

caragana
而锦鸡儿的豆子
peas catapulting skyward like
就像弹丸一样
pellet missiles.
被弹向天空。

Sometimes a meadowlark would lace
有时草地百灵鸟会用旋律
the night air with
给夜晚的空气
its elaborate melody,
织满精致的蕾丝,

rippling and sleek
就像黑色的缎带
as a black satin ribbon. Some-
光滑地泛起波纹。
times there would be
有时

a falling star. And because
我能看到流星。
this happened in
因为这些发生在怀俄明州,
Wyoming, and because this was
而且因为

my parents’ house,
这里是我父母的房子,
and because I’m never happy
而且因为
with anything,
我从来没有因为任何事情而感到开心,

at any time, I always wished
在任何时候。我一直希望,
that I was some-
我在另一个地方,
where, anywhere else, but here.
哪里都可以,除了这里。


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