冬日的诗
Winter Poem 冬日的诗
Robert Bly 罗伯特·勃莱
The quivering wings of the winter ant 冬日飞蚁颤动的翅膀
wait for lean winter to end. 期待着贫瘠冬季的结束。
I love you in slow, dim-witted ways, 我爱你，我的方式迟钝而迂腐，
hardly speaking, one or two words only. 几乎完全沉默，除了只言片语。
What caused us each to live hidden? 我们各自隐秘地活着，是何缘故？
A wound, the wind, a word, a parent. 一道伤、那场风、某个字、或者父母。
Sometimes we wait in a helpless way, 有时候我们痴等，无助而笨拙，
awkwardly, not whole and not healed. 既非成竹在胸又不能坦然释怀。
When we hid the wound, we fell back 当你我掩饰起伤痕，我们便已
from a human to a shelled life. 从人类退化成一种带壳的生命。
Now we feel the ant’s hard chest, 此时我们感到了冬蚁坚硬的前胸，
the carapace, the silent tongue. 它的甲壳，它那沉默的舌头。
This must be the way of the ant, 这必然就是蚂蚁的方式，
the winter ant, the way of those 冬日的蚂蚁，那些受到伤害而仍想
who are wounded and want to live: 存活下去的生物便有着这样的方式：
to breathe, to sense another, and to wait. 呼吸、感受他人、还得等待。
Robert Bly 罗伯特·勃莱
The quivering wings of the winter ant 冬日飞蚁颤动的翅膀
wait for lean winter to end. 期待着贫瘠冬季的结束。
I love you in slow, dim-witted ways, 我爱你，我的方式迟钝而迂腐，
hardly speaking, one or two words only. 几乎完全沉默，除了只言片语。
What caused us each to live hidden? 我们各自隐秘地活着，是何缘故？
A wound, the wind, a word, a parent. 一道伤、那场风、某个字、或者父母。
Sometimes we wait in a helpless way, 有时候我们痴等，无助而笨拙，
awkwardly, not whole and not healed. 既非成竹在胸又不能坦然释怀。
When we hid the wound, we fell back 当你我掩饰起伤痕，我们便已
from a human to a shelled life. 从人类退化成一种带壳的生命。
Now we feel the ant’s hard chest, 此时我们感到了冬蚁坚硬的前胸，
the carapace, the silent tongue. 它的甲壳，它那沉默的舌头。
This must be the way of the ant, 这必然就是蚂蚁的方式，
the winter ant, the way of those 冬日的蚂蚁，那些受到伤害而仍想
who are wounded and want to live: 存活下去的生物便有着这样的方式：
to breathe, to sense another, and to wait. 呼吸、感受他人、还得等待。
