翻一首：《死去的男孩》 A. S. 拜厄特

死去的男孩

A. S. 拜厄特

一个儿子就是许多个儿子 一个包袱，一个贝嘟嘟，一个坟墓 孩子眼中满是友善。只一下 骨头全都破碎 金发染成鲜红

柔软的唇和失去牙齿的嘴 鲜血滴淌在胸前 爬行在草里的白发人 脑袋像一朵蒲公英时钟 垂在一片小雏菊的脸上 黄的、白的、绿的 年复一年，年复一年 像发条玩具一样停下 一个掉在水里的布玩偶

我是一座又冷又暗的房子 每个房间里都有一个男孩 摆着各种姿势，定住，然后跌倒 一次又一次，一次又一次 一个男孩把蜷缩的仓鼠 放在他颤抖的掌心 仓鼠僵硬如菊石 "他死了吗？还是睡着了？" 还有一个男孩，脑袋 靠着我肩膀，在巴士上 睡得太深，猛不丁会抽搐一下

当巴士停下，身体随之下坠 像个木偶，或布袋 但那一周他都很温暖—— 我的脸颊被他的温暖浸润着—— 五天后才变得冰冷

就像灌木丛中那些小精灵 纪念花园里到处都是 小天使和熟睡的婴儿 用厚厚的水泥浇筑而成 穿着翠绿的外衣 被青苔侵蚀，霉菌覆盖 我的儿子们和我一起站着 庄重而宁静 围着我的桌子、书桌和床。 他们不说话，他们的舌头 僵住了。他们也不能触摸 因为他们数百根手指 几年前被喷射的瓦斯 烧毁。他们的手指是烟

他们比我更有活力 我很难知道 我到底最爱还是最怕他们

我终将加入他们的行列

A. S. Byatt（1936-2023 年）的诗作，首次发表于 1994 年 12 月 2 日

流马 翻译

Dead Boys

A. S. Byatt

One son is many sons. A bundle, a putto, a grave Boy with kind eyes. One blow Cracks all their bones at once. Pastes all the gold hair red.

Soft lip and toothless mouth Drop blood on the breast. A white-haired crawler on grass Head like a dandelion-clock Above daisy-faces that come, Yellow and white and green Year after year after year Stops like a toy wound down. Like a doll dropped in the wet.

I am a cold grey house. In every room a boy Gestures and halts and falls Again and again and again, A boy with his hamster curled On his trembling extended palm, Like a rigid ammonite, “Is he dead, is he asleep?” And the boy who leaned his head On my shoulder in a bus. He slept so deep, he jerked

And lolled as the bus ground on Like a puppet, like a sack, But he was warm that week – My cheek was damp with his warmth – And five days later cold.

Like a thicket of garden gnomes, A memorial garden full Of cherubs and sleeping babes, Moulded in thick cement, Angels in bright green coats Moss-eaten, furred by mould, My sons come with me and stand Ceremonious and still Round my table, my desk, my bed. They do not speak, their tongues Are stopped. They cannot touch For their hundreds of fingers were burned Years ago in the jets Of gas. Their fingers are smoke.

They are more alive than I. It is hard for me to know If I love or fear them most.

I shall join them in the end.