诗mark
Love After Love
·Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
回答
[美]马克•斯特兰德/马永波译
为什么你旅行？
因为房子很冷。
为什么你旅行？
因为我常在日出与日落之间旅行。
你穿什么？
我穿蓝套装，白衬衫，黄领带，和黄袜子。
你穿什么？
我什么都不穿。一条痛苦的围巾让我温暖。
你和谁睡觉？
我每晚换一个女人睡觉。
你和谁睡觉？
我自己睡觉。我总是自己睡觉。
为什么你对我撒谎？
我总是以为我说的是真的。
为什么你对我撒谎？
因为真不像别的东西一样撒谎而我热爱真。
为什么你要走？
因为再没有什么对我是重要的了。
为什么你要走？
我不知道。我从来都不知道。
我要等你多久？
不要等我。我累了，我想躺下来。
你累了，你想躺下来？
是的，我累了，我想躺下来。
光的来临
马克.斯特兰德/舒丹丹 译
即使这么晚了它仍然发生：
爱的来临，光的来临。
你醒了，蜡烛好像被它们自己点亮
星星集聚，梦倾进你的枕头，
升起温暖的空气的酒香。
即使这么晚了，身体的骨头仍在发光。
而明日的尘埃在闪耀中呼吸。
Black Sea
One clear night while the others slept, I climbed
the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky
strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it,
the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming
like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long
whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach
of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer,
the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea,
and the dark became desire, and desire the arriving light.
The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood
on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea
break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear ...
Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all
that the world offers would you come only because I was here?
黑色的海
马克•斯特兰德 张祈译
一个清朗的夜，别人都睡了
我爬上楼梯到屋顶，在缀满
星辰的天空下凝望海，海面上
浪冠滚动着被风耙过，仿佛
星点的蕾丝飘荡在空中。我站在
漫长低语的夜，等待着什么：某种征兆
远处一道光的来临，我想象你靠近
你头发的黑色波浪揉进海里
黑变成欲望，欲望变成要来的光
这种近，你片刻的温暖，当我站在
孤独的高处看平缓的海潮
在岸上击碎化作玻璃然后消失...
为何我相信你会猝然到来？世界给的
那么多，为何你到来只是为了我？
·Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
回答
[美]马克•斯特兰德/马永波译
为什么你旅行？
因为房子很冷。
为什么你旅行？
因为我常在日出与日落之间旅行。
你穿什么？
我穿蓝套装，白衬衫，黄领带，和黄袜子。
你穿什么？
我什么都不穿。一条痛苦的围巾让我温暖。
你和谁睡觉？
我每晚换一个女人睡觉。
你和谁睡觉？
我自己睡觉。我总是自己睡觉。
为什么你对我撒谎？
我总是以为我说的是真的。
为什么你对我撒谎？
因为真不像别的东西一样撒谎而我热爱真。
为什么你要走？
因为再没有什么对我是重要的了。
为什么你要走？
我不知道。我从来都不知道。
我要等你多久？
不要等我。我累了，我想躺下来。
你累了，你想躺下来？
是的，我累了，我想躺下来。
光的来临
马克.斯特兰德/舒丹丹 译
即使这么晚了它仍然发生：
爱的来临，光的来临。
你醒了，蜡烛好像被它们自己点亮
星星集聚，梦倾进你的枕头，
升起温暖的空气的酒香。
即使这么晚了，身体的骨头仍在发光。
而明日的尘埃在闪耀中呼吸。
Black Sea
One clear night while the others slept, I climbed
the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky
strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it,
the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming
like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long
whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach
of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer,
the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea,
and the dark became desire, and desire the arriving light.
The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood
on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea
break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear ...
Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all
that the world offers would you come only because I was here?
黑色的海
马克•斯特兰德 张祈译
一个清朗的夜，别人都睡了
我爬上楼梯到屋顶，在缀满
星辰的天空下凝望海，海面上
浪冠滚动着被风耙过，仿佛
星点的蕾丝飘荡在空中。我站在
漫长低语的夜，等待着什么：某种征兆
远处一道光的来临，我想象你靠近
你头发的黑色波浪揉进海里
黑变成欲望，欲望变成要来的光
这种近，你片刻的温暖，当我站在
孤独的高处看平缓的海潮
在岸上击碎化作玻璃然后消失...
为何我相信你会猝然到来？世界给的
那么多，为何你到来只是为了我？
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