盐柱
那时候一切都好吗？
是的，一切都好。
你知道它们都好是吗？
那个时候？你那时候？
不，因为我忧虑
或者可能是饥饿
或者睡着了，有一半时间如此。
偶尔会有一颗梨或者李子
或者一个装有东西的杯子，
或者是白色的帘布，晃动着，
不然就是一只手。
而在那古旧的帐篷里，
灯光柔和地
照着美丽，成熟，
交缠一起的珍爱的身体，
然后突然骤亮，然后熄灭。
海市蜃楼，你认定：
一切都不曾存在。
但是看你的背后，在那里
你的时代像铺展在
太阳底下的野餐，
即使是夜晚，也依然闪光。
不要回头看，他们说：
你会变成盐柱。
但是，为何不呢？为何不看？
它岂不是闪闪发光吗？
那里，岂不是很美吗？
Phil译
2020.12.14
SALT
Were things good then?
Yes. They were good.
Did you know they were good?
At the time? Your time?
No, because I was worrying
or maybe hungry
or asleep, half of those hours.
Once in a while there was a pear or plum
or a cup with something in it,
or a white curtain, rippling,
or else a hand.
Also the mellow lamplight
in that antique tent,
falling on beauty, fullness,
bodies entwined and cherishing,
then flareup, and then gone.
Mirages, you decide:
everything was never.
Though over your shoulder there it is,
your time laid out like a picnic
in the sun, still glowing,
although it’s night.
Don’t look behind, they say:
You’ll turn to salt.
Why not, though? Why not look?
Isn’t it glittery?
Isn’t it pretty, back there?
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