The Mockingbird by Mary Oliver

整个夏天
知更鸟都
穿着珍珠灰色的外套
唱着窗白色的歌
蝇群
从树篱飞到松树梢
开始嗡嗡唱，但腔调
既不轻快也不美妙，
因为他偷走了其他的声音--
汽笛声，刹车声，和干巴巴的转轴声
外加他附近
所有其他鸟儿的鸣声
滑稽地模仿，仔细推敲，
他幽默诙谐，虚张声势地歌唱，
所以我不得不等很长一段时间
只为他自己人生中
比较柔和的声音
穿透而出。他开始
放弃他所有的通常的扑棱
松树的前枝上平静下来
然后四次张望
好像确信他单独一个；
然后他胸前怕打他的每一只翅膀，
他的心脏所在的地方，
没有模仿，开始
轻松进入
似乎并不容易
同时喧闹嬉戏，
好像他的主题现在
是他的真我，
那当然是黑暗和秘密的
就如任何其他人的一样，
那太难了--
或许你理解--
说任何事
或唱给任何人听
只对着天空
***
你大声说了吗？
使用你的腔调？
听起来就像你？
All summer
the mockingbird
in his pearl-gray coat
and his white-windowed sings
flies
from the hedge to the top of the pine
and begins to sing, but it’s neither
lilting nor lovely,
for he is the thief of other sound–
whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges
plus all the songs
of other birds in his neighborhood;
mimicking and elaborating,
he sings with humbor and bravado,
so I have to wait a long time
for the softer voice of his own life
to come through. He begins
by giving up all his usual flutter
and settling down on the pine’s forelock
then looking around
as though to make sure he’s alone;
then he slaps each wing against his breast,
where his heart is,
and copying nothing, begins
easing into it
as though it was not half so easy
as rollicking,
as though his subject now
was his true self,
which of course was as dark and secret
as anyone else’s,
and it was too hard–
perhaps you understand–
to speak or to sing it
to anything or anyone
but the sky.
***
Are you speaking up?
Using your voice?
Sounding like you?