(After A Photo)
Evening autumn.
Outside, somewhere beyond, the streetlight is
yellowly dazzling, warm, heavy.
The space has lost its depth.
On the curtains girdled to the wall, fuzzy flowers are
intersected as different curves of petals.
You’ve been here for uncounted times,
usually this table, often this seat,
but you remember few people, fewer occasions.
The same décor. Easy as home.
Your chin rests
in your right palm, eyes grazing
at a story lightly told from outside the frame,
or you are lost in a deep-voiced song from some unlit corner.
The dinner is coming
to the end. This is a pause of time and thought,
and you are absent
in somewhere and sometime else, floating.
The taste of Moroccan roast lamb lingers
despite the glass of water, like
the wine on the membrane of your taste buds
and the few people and places in your years passed
and yet to come.
They come and go and they are still yours, sharing
the same kind of humor as a belonging,
because once is forever and vice versa,
even though you do not possess any of them
in your life lived and the lives to live.
They shuffle and reshuffle in your rumination as billows or rimples
during the pause out of time and place
and suggest me so many unlived futures and pasts
(and I tell you this is a picture of you ten years from now)
like flowers unfolded in the loosely girdled curtains
beyond which the streetlight shines still and thick, endlessly.
June 26, 2003
另外的人生
（题一张照片）
黄昏之秋。
窗外，另外的某处，街灯泛黄地
刺入视觉，暖，沉重。
空间失去了深度。
束缚在墙上的帘子上，含糊的花朵
露出曲线诱人的花瓣。
你来这里的次数无法计数，
总是这张餐桌，往往是这个座位，
而你记得的人为数不多，值得的日子更少。
同样的装修。家居的安逸。
你的下巴休止
在右掌心，眼神流溢
因为一则故事正在画面之外轻轻讲述，
或者你因幽暗角落传来的低沉歌声而凝思。
晚餐已经结束。这是一段停顿，
可以没有时间与思想，而你恰如缺席的人，
心思在另一个地方、另一个时间，飘着。
摩洛哥烤羊的味道没有被一杯清水冲洗干净，
犹如你味蕾上的酒
以及你岁月中的一些人与地点，离去了
但仍会回来。
他们离去、回来，他们也还是你的，分享的是
相同的归属感，人以类聚。
一旦便是永远，反之亦然。
实际上，你从未沾有过任何人物，
无论是活过的人生，还是将要经历的生命。
它们在你的回味中或如峰回浪转或如涟漪酥麻，
在时空的停顿处，
向我指示着无数仍未明朗的未来或未被经历的过去
（我说这张照片是十年之后的你）
正如松散地拢在墙上的窗帘叠起的花朵，
而窗外的街灯仍在静静地泻下永不枯竭的光。
2008年9月7日译自2003年6月26日英文诗
No comments:
Post a Comment