试译Frank Bidart《Those Nights》

那些夜晚你不顾他的疲惫和冷漠 执拗着，而终于它 被捕获了，以至于最后他如此 渴望它，突然迫切地想触及它， 你感到他的肉体渴望它 甚过任何东西，似乎穿过这些混沌、这些 荒野，他又一次确信他必须触及的某物 尽管后来，当 他求得它，他的愤怒暗示着他是被迫如此。 * 那些夜晚结束了因为缺失的事物 向来无法由意愿提供。抵达某处 可以借助词语 可以借助性 的我们无法提供。你说，我是你的 心理学家：我就是这样 抱住你的。我像我那样失败了。 * 无可置疑你已经死了。我搜索过 我的数据库：你在每一处 躲避我们。很久以前你还没来得及 告诉我，想必 是瘟疫杀死了你。你在生命中发现的每样东西 都与我想象的那个灵魂 那么不相称，他们正变得 无迹可寻，这使你微笑。

Those nights when despite his exhaustion or indifference you persisted, then finally it caught, so that at last he too wanted it, suddenly was desperate to reach it, you felt his muscles want it more than anything, as if through this chaos, this wilderness he again knew the one thing he must reach though later, after he found it, his resentment implied he had been forced. • Those nights ended because what was missing could never be by the will supplied. We who could get somewhere through words through sex could not. I was, you said, your shrink: that’s how I held you. I failed as my own. • Now you surely are dead. I’ve searched the databases: you everywhere elude us. Long ago without your reaching to tell me, surely the plague killed you. Each thing in your life you found so incommensurate to the spirit I imagine that becoming untraceable makes you smile.