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【美】亨利·柯尔         陈子弘 译

【诗人简介】亨利·柯尔（Henri Cole,1956——  ）美国当代诗人，出生于日本福冈，成长于弗吉尼亚，已出版10部诗集，1982年至1988年任美国诗人协会执行董事，期间在包括哈佛大学在内的多所大学执教，2010年至2014年任《新共和杂志》诗歌编辑。获得过多种文学奖项，目前为美国艺术文学院院士。

1. 海滩步履

我看见了海滩上一条幼鲨，
喉咙在滴血，海鸥还吃了它的眼睛。
陈尸贝壳和沙上，看起来比以前更小。
海水把它肚腹卷得干干净净。
我戳它的肚皮，暗墨从它体内冒起，
犹如黑汁。尔后，我见到一个男孩，
激越而抖擞，在沙丘上招手。
他与我一样，也是一个人。我们之间有什么在翻滚——
不完全是情感。我能看到他内眼角的
红肉。“我迷路了，我在哪里啊？”
他问道，像亡者未还的欠账。
我把脸贴近它的矛柄之上。
我们跌落，跌落了，正在跌落。没有什么缓冲。
黑暗的胚胎亮出牙齿，而我们离去。

Beach Walk

I found a baby shark on the beach.
Seagulls had eaten his eyes. His throat was bleeding.
Lying on shell and sand, he looked smaller than he was.
The ocean had scraped his insides clean.
When I poked his stomach, darkness rose up in him,
like black water. Later, I saw a boy,
aroused and elated, beckoning from a dune.
Like me, he was alone. Something tumbled between us—
not quite emotion. I could see the pink
interior flesh of his eyes. “I got lost. Where am I?”
he asked, like a debt owed to death.
I was pressing my face to its spear hafts.
We fall, we fell, we are falling. Nothing mitigates it.
The dark embryo bares its teeth and we move on.

2. 我的野草

通往水边的路上，我看到一株丑草
在岩间生长。风轻抚着它，
说：“我的野草，我的野草。”它坚实
毛茸茸的身姿挺立，大大的银色叶片
在我身上蹭来蹭去，很私昵。一开始，
我以为它是羊耳朵，但又不是。
我不是丑陋派的一员，
但我绕着它转圈，看了很久，
这就是说，我只是在做人，而它在我看来——
在更高的意义上--代表着生活的明智。
那是在黄昏。行星在聚集。
“野草先生，”我说，“我有竞争力，
但我害怕，我孤单，我明亮。
你可会告诉我如何度过？”

译注：
1.  第6行“羊耳朵”原文为lamb's ear，在英文中也写为Lamb's-ear则是指唇形科水苏属下的一个种，学名绵毛水苏，其毛茸茸的叶片很像羊耳朵，别名棉毛水苏。

2. 2014年夏季号第209期《巴黎评论》上刊发了萨莎·维斯与柯尔的访谈录，其中萨莎问道了这首诗。她提到了“我不是丑陋派的一员”这一句。柯尔答道：“那是一首在阿第伦达克山（纽约州东北部的山地，是一处度假胜地）时写的诗。年复一年，在通往湖边的石子路上，一直有一棵又大又高的野草在那里迎接我去游泳，所以我开始向它鞠躬，以示尊重。这是一个私人笑话，当然更是个适合美学冥想的场合。”

绵毛水苏

My Weed

On the path to the water, I found an ugly weed
growing between rocks. The wind was stroking it,
saying, “My weed, my weed.” Its solid,
hairy body rose up, with big silver leaves
that rubbed off on me, like sex. At first,
I thought it was a lamb's ear, but it wasn't.
I'm not a member of the ugly school,
but I circled around it and looked a lot,
which is to say, I was just being, and it seemed to me—
in a higher sense—to represent the sanity of living.
It was twilight. Planets were gathering.
“Mr. Weed,” I said, “I'm competitive,
I'm afraid, I'm isolated, I'm bright.
Can you tell me how to survive?”

3. 本来的面孔

某些晨间，我醒来时像青蛙一样踢腿。
我的大腿因整晚不知所往而疼痛难忍。
我站来——没有尾巴，皮肤光滑，眼睛鼓暴
四处寻找我本来的面孔。
我自语到，做梦是好事情。
真实的人物和事件会伤害我。
真正的谎言、羞耻和嫉妒会让
一个即便乐于享受的人变成石头。
反之，我凡人的肉体醒过来
凝视着真正发光的麻雀
山脚下潮湿的屋顶。
在我面前，没有敞开的胸房，亮眼的牙齿。
只有清晨的象牙之手抚摸着
我事务所真实镜子里真实的面孔。

ORIGINAL FACE

Some mornings I wake up kicking like a frog.
My thighs ache from going nowhere all night.
I get up—tailless, smooth-skinned, eyes protruding—
and scrub around for my original face.
It is good I am dreaming, I say to myself.
The real characters and events would hurt me.
The real lying, shame and envy would turn
even a pleasure-loving man into a stone.
Instead, my plain human flesh wakes up
and gazes out at real sparrows skimming the luminous
wet rooftops at the base of a mountain.
No splayed breasts, no glaring teeth, appear before me.
Only the ivory hands of morning touching
the real face in the real mirror on my bureau.

4. 面具

我把戏脸壳绑在脸上，
我的嘴唇几乎全在它小红嘴里。
我把头转向左边，转向右边，
看起来我就像某个以前认识的人，或者
长着整齐白牙和男童的刘海。
我平凡的生活已经走到了极限，
就像一支银箭射向柏树。
明白你的位置，否则你会懊悔，我对着镜子
叹了口气。为了完胜，我本来会做一些
我讨厌的事情；为了被爱，我本会胡乱地较劲：
我的本质似乎就只归结于这个。
然后我看到我自己淡褐色虹膜浮起来，
就像卵泡依附于水草上，
光洁无缝，在空旷、池塘般的脸上。

MASK

I tied a paper mask onto my face,
my lips almost inside its small red mouth.
Turning my head to the left, to the right,
I looked like someone I once knew, or was,
with straight white teeth and boyish bangs.
My ordinary life had come as far as it would,
like a silver arrow hitting cypress.
Know your place or you'll rue it, I sighed
to the mirror. To succeed, I'd done things
I hated; to be loved, I'd competed promiscuously:
my essence seemed to boil down to only this.
Then I saw my own hazel irises float up,
like eggs clinging to a water plant,
seamless and clear, in an empty, pondlike face.