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主题 : 彼得·巴拉肯:给华莱士·史蒂文斯相关诗歌内容细节的信
级别: 创办人
0楼  发表于: 2016-07-09  

彼得·巴拉肯:给华莱士·史蒂文斯相关诗歌内容细节的信

程佳



1
改革定居在肥沃的土壤上之后
田野里都是莴苣绿的美元
云朵渐渐飘远,处处落满阳光。
白雪愈加繁盛,新汗布什儿州是一朵大牡丹。

一座红色的畜棚在小山上闪光
连同散布的铁杉树和五针松
所有尖桩篱笆的门都是闭着的大眼。

2
内战之后的一段时间,自由的青铜翅膀
飞起,像弗里克工厂冒出的烟带,
所有的城市居民从斯托克布里奇到维拉米特
在四日都欣喜若狂。短笛的声音久久不散,
太阳锃亮的镍币一动不动地站在它面前
一辆福特车的挡风玻璃上香槟酒嘶嘶响
那时你是一位律师。

3
查尔斯·艾凡斯在丹伯里是一位乐队指挥,你没
给他时间。他在演奏钢琴上是个游击手。
他从来没有成功到达他主音的本垒,他的半音
就像橡树叶拍打隔板。

4
弥尔顿风格的诗到底怎么样?

5
在想像的红玻璃杯里,
在丁丁作响的水晶灯里
光凝结在它自己的棱镜里

纽黑文绿草坪的最高点
衰败的像黄昏中的波斯地毯,
你在那里看见一个大水罐,或许出自荷兰的代尔夫特,
旁边是一盘芒果。

6
但是仍然,历史是一把回力镖,
土著居民没有盾牌从来不扔出一镖。

7
在基韦斯特的游廊之外,在九重葛较远的那边,
你的言语在温吞的浪上跳跃,
被情人和朋友们,被喜欢恒星之浪漫夜晚的学者们
舔了又舔。

但水果和三角旗,色彩鲜艳的布,
干棕榈树叶,假伏都教木头
科尔特斯当纪念品带回
就只是纪念品。
棚屋,藤杖和砍下的大蕉就是静态的舞台造型,
谁在你的黑海岸上看见它们?

8
新教徒的晚餐盘就是一个被隔离的地方,
变硬的牛排,
胆怯地坐在它们的角落里豌豆粒
而土豆泥僵化。
一些杜松子酒和冰淇淋,孤寂的恐怖
进行了一阵子。

9
正如他们在阳光明媚的地带说的
拥抱。



1
After the Reformation had settled the loamy soil
and the lettuce-green fields of dollars,
the clouds drifted away, and light fell everywhere.
Even the snow bloomed and New Hampshire was a big peony.

A red barn shone on a hill
with scattered hemlocks and white pines
and the gates of all the picket fences were big shut-eyes.

2
Sometime after the Civil War, the bronze wing of liberty  
took off like the ribboning smoke of a Frick factory,
and all the citizens in towns from Stockbridge to Willamette  
ran wild on the 4th. The sound of piccolos lingered,  
and the shiny nickel of the sun stood still before it
fizzed in the windshield of a Ford.
By then you were a lawyer.

3
Charles Ives was a bandmaster in Danbury, and you didn’t  
give him the time of day. He played shortstop on the piano.  
He never made it to his tonic home base, and his half-tones  
were like oak leaves slapping clapboard.

4
How Miltonic are we anyway?  

5
In that red glass of the imagination,
in that tingling crystal of the chandelier  
where light freezes in its own prism

and the apogee of the green lawns of New Haven  
wane like Persian carpets in twilight,
there you saw a pitcher, perhaps from Delft,  
next to a plate of mangoes.

6
But still, history is a boomerang,
and the aborigines never threw one without a shield.

7
Beyond the porches of Key West, beyond the bougainvillea,  
your speech skipped on tepid waves,
was lapped and lapped by lovers and friends,
by scholars who loved romantic nights of the sun.

But the fruits and pendants, the colorful cloth,
the dry palm fronds, and the fake voodoo wood  
Cortes brought back as souvenirs
were just souvenirs. And the shacks and the cane and the  
hacked plantain were tableaux,
and who saw them from your dark shore?

8
The Protestant dinner plate is a segregated place,  
where the steak hardens, and the peas
sit frightened in their corner while mashed potatoes ossify.  
Some gin and ice cream, and the terror of loneliness  
goes for a while.

9
As they say in the sunny climes,  
un abrazo.


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