Sharon Olds: If, Someday

　　If, Someday
　　　　　　　　Sharon Olds
If, someday, we had to look it back
and tell the best hours of our lives,
this was one—moving my brow
and nose around, softly, in your armpit,
as if you were running a furred palm
over my face. The skin of my body
touching your body felt actively joyful,
sated yet sipping and eating. As you fell
asleep, your penis slowly caressing me,
as if you were licking me goodbye, and I lay
slack, weightless, my body floated
on fathomless happiness. When someone
knocked on the door, you didn’t wake up,
and I didn’t wake you, and when they knocked again
I did not rouse you, I felt sure that nothing
was wrong—it was just a someone, calling,
outside heaven, and the noise of outsideness laid a
seal on our insideness. There was just this bed,
just these two, and, passing this way
and that, from angle to angle of the room—
wall, ceiling, floor, bedpost—the
curved sound-waves of their recent cries,
by now a billion, bright webs,
look back and see this.

　　假若，有一天
　　　　　　　　莎朗·欧兹
假若，有一天，我们必须回首
说说你我生活中最美的时光，
这将是其一——我眉头扬起
鼻子乱拱，轻轻地，在你的腋窝，
好像你正以毛皮似的手掌轻拂
我的脸颊。我的胴体以肌肤
触及你的肌肤，感受着积极的愉悦，
满足而依然吮吸吞食。当你沉沉
入睡，你的阳具缓慢地爱抚着我，
犹如你正轻舔我，说再见，而我躺着，
松软如泥，失重了，躯体漂浮于
无底的幸福之上。有人敲门，
你没有醒来，我亦没有将你
弄醒，当敲门声再次响起，我
还是没有推醒你，肯定没什么
问题——不过就是某人从天堂外
呼叫，而那外界的噪音在我们的内在
贴了一个封印。这儿只有一张大床，
只有两个人，而无论从哪个角度
走来走去，这房间就是——
墙壁、天花板、地板、床架——还有
他们刚才的呼叫声的声波弧线，
到此时已融成百万个明亮的小网，
回顾，并且看到这一切。

I have translated more than twenty poems by Sharon Olds, and a majority of them are from her book The Father, which I introduced into Chinese readers.