蓝碗  -  珍妮·凯尼恩

The Blue Bowl

By Jane Kenyon

Like primitives we buried the cat

with his bowl. Bare-handed

we scraped sand and gravel

back into the hole.

They fell with a hiss

and thud on his side,

on his long red fur, the white feathers

between his toes, and his

long, not to say aquiline, nose.

We stood and brushed each other off.

There are sorrows keener than these.

Silent the rest of the day, we worked,

ate, stared, and slept. It stormed

all night; now it clears, and a robin

burbles from a dripping bush

like the neighbor who means well

but always says the wrong thing.

from Otherwise: New & Selected Poems, 1996

Graywolf Press, St. Paul, Minnesota

Copyright 1996 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon.

All rights reserved.

《蓝碗》

珍尼·凯尼恩

就像原始人，我们埋葬那只猫

连同他的碗，赤手空拳

我们把沙子和砾石

刮回到葬穴里。

沙砾咝咝地落下

砰然盖在他的身上，

盖在他火红的柔长体毛上，他洁白的

趾间长毛上，和他

高高的，鹰钩似的，鼻子上。

我们站起来相互拂去身上的细沙。

而比那些细沙更让人敏感的是悲伤。

那天接下来我们都默默无语，无语地干活，

无语地吃饭，茫然地呆望，默默去睡眠。暴风雨

降了一整夜，现在睛了，一只知更鸟

在滴水的树丛中絮絮不休

就像个好心的邻居

却总是说些不该说的话。