Before the Blight by Ruth Stone

榆树懒洋洋地伸展着它们自己，
给街道覆上穹顶，让其躺在
它们松松垮垮的帐篷下的绿荫中。
米克斯夫人院里的蔷薇，花卷般地爬上她的棚架
这种粉红色的利摩日洋蔷薇盛开得像鲁宾斯的裸女画。
我的嘴唇喃喃唤着各种事物的名字
在草地上，在果园里，在树林中，
我有时伫立在那里好久
聆听某种鸟儿告诉我自己的奇异之处；
在夏天的强健的臂弯里跳起摇摆舞。
The elms stretched themselves in indolent joy,
arching over the street that lay in green shadow
under their loose tent.
And the roses in Mrs. Mix’s yard pretzeled up her trellis
with pink Limoges cabbage blooms like Rubens’ nudes.
My lips whispered over the names of things
in the meadows, in the orchard, in the woods,
where I sometimes stood for long moments
listening to some bird telling me of the strangeness of myself;
rocked in the sinewy arms of summer.
“Before the Blight” by Ruth Stone from What Love Comes To. © 2002 by Ruth Stone. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc., on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.