Plath: The Detective

Sylvia Plath Collected Poems
No. 174
　　　
　　　The Detective

What was she doing when it blew in
Over the seven hills, the red furrow, the blue mountain?
Was she arranging cups? It is important.
Was she at the window, listening?
In that valley the train shrieks echo like souls on hooks.

That is the valley of death, though the cows thrive.
In her garden the lies were shaking out their moist silks
And the eyes of the killer moving sluglike and sidelong,
Unable to face the fingers, those egotists.
The fingers were tamping a woman into a wall,

A body into a pipe, and the smoke rising.
This is the smell of years burning, here in the kitchen,
These are the deceits, tacked up like family photographs,
And this is a man, look at his smile,
The death weapon? No one is dead.

There is no body in the house at all.
There is the smell of polish, there are plush carpets.
There is the sunlight, playing its blades,
Bored hoodlum in a red room
Where the wireless talks to itself like an elderly relative.

Did it come like an arrow, did it come like a knife?
Which of the poisons is it?
Which of the nerve-curlers, the convulsors? Did it electrify?
This is a case without a body.
The body does not come into it at all.

It is a case of vaporization.
The mouth first, its absence reported
In the second year. It had been insatiable
And in punishment was hung out like brown fruit
To wrinkle and dry.

The breasts next.
These were harder, two white stones.
The milk came yellow, then blue and sweet as water.
There was no absence of lips, there were two children,
But their bones showed, and the moon smiled.

Then the dry wood, the gates,
The brown motherly furrows, the whole estate.
We walk on air, Watson.
There is only the moon, embalmed in phosphorus.
There is only a crow in a tree. Make notes.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　1 October 1962


普拉斯《诗全编》
第174首

　　　　侦探

她当时在做什么，这事不期而至
越过那七座山峰、红色沟壑、蓝色的山脉？
她在整理茶杯？这很重要。
她正站在窗前，凝神静听？
山谷中，火车的尖啸回响，如生灵挂在钩子上。

那是死亡之谷，尽管奶牛茁壮成长。
她的园子里，谎言抖开带着潮气的丝绸，
而凶手的眼睛滴溜溜地转，鼻涕虫似的，斜着眼瞄，
不敢正眼看手指，它们可真自以为是。
手指正在把一个女人塞进墙壁，

尸体塞进管道，而浓烟正在升腾。
这是岁月燃烧的味道，就在这厨房里，
这些都是谎话，拼凑起来，就像全家福照片，
而这是一个男人，看他的笑，
杀人凶器？没有人遇害。

这一家屋里根本就没人。
倒是有上光剂的味道，还有豪华的地毯。
更有阳光普照，摆弄它的刀刃，
像无聊的小混混在一个红房间，
收音机对着自己唠叨，像一位年老的亲戚。

它像箭一样射来？像刀一样砍来？
用哪一种毒药？
用哪种神经瘫痪剂、痉挛剂？是否带电？
这是一宗没有尸体的凶案。
尸体根本就没有在现场出现。

这是一宗蒸发凶案。
首先是嘴，它被报失踪，
在第二年。它原本就一直毫不知足，
作为惩罚，它被挂在外面，就像棕色的水果
皱缩、脱水。

其次是乳房。
它们变硬了，两块白石。
流出的乳汁呈黄色，然后转蓝，变甜，像水。
嘴唇一片不缺，还有两个小孩，
但他们瘦骨嶙峋，而月亮在暗笑。

接着是枯槁的树木，几道大门，
棕色的慈母似的沟壑，整座庄园。
我们走在空气中，华生医生。
只有那一轮明月，泡在磷水防腐液中。
只有一只乌鸦，在林中。请一一纪录。
　　　　　　　　　　1962 年10月1日