My Father Comes to The City

My Father Comes to the City
2013-03-11 14:50:56| 分类： 2013 字号
今夜他的飞机从西部飞来，
他从座位上站起，外套
搭在手臂上。空姐微笑着
说，“一路顺风，”他点点头
似乎结束了这一切，
似乎他整个的人生从来没有
170英亩的玉米和燕麦，似乎他身后
没有拖着犁铧犁过黄沙和粘土，
似乎他的头没有依偎在
霍斯坦奶牛温暖的腰窝间。
只有他的手讲出了真相：
手指厚如栏绳，指甲板
在无尽的劳作中磨破。
他谨慎滴踏入城市，呼吸着
金属和疲累，对围着他的
蜂拥的人群而迷惑
我想要问他熟悉的事情，
关于拖拉机和大篷车的事情，
可是他被霓虹灯吸引，
不理信号灯小心滴走过去。
Tonight his airplane comes in from the West,
and he rises from his seat, a suitcoat slung
over his arm. The flight attendant smiles
and says, "Have a nice visit," and he nods
as if he has done this all before,
as if his entire life hasn't been 170 acres
of corn and oats, as if a plow isn't dragging
behind him through the sand and clay,
as if his head isn't nestling in the warm
flank of a Holstein cow.
Only his hands tell the truth:
fingers thick as ropes, nails flat
and broken in the trough of endless chores.
He steps into the city warily, breathing
metal and exhaust, bewildered by the
stampede of humanity circling around him.
I want to ask him something familiar,
something about tractors and wagons,
but he is taken by the neon night,
crossing carefully against the light.
"My Father Comes to the City" by Joyce Sutphen, from Straight Out of View. ? Beacon Press, 1995. Reprinted with permission