by Elizabeth Jennings

You are confronted with yourself. Each year

The pouches fill, the skin is uglier.

You give it all unflinchingly. You stare

Into yourself, beyond. Your brush’s care

Runs with self-knowledge. Here

Is a humility at one with craft.

There is no arrogance. Pride is apart

From this self-scrutiny. You make light drift

The way you want. Your face is bruised and hurt

But there is still love left.

Love of the art and others. To the last

Experiment went on. You stared beyond

Your age, the times. You also plucked the past

And tempered it. Self-portraits understand,

And old age can divest,

With truthful changes, us of fear of death.

Look, a new anguish. There, the bloated nose,

The sadness and the joy. To paint’s to breathe,

And all the darknesses are dared. You chose

What each must reckon with

Rembrandt'sLateSelf-Portraits

伦柏朗的自画像

译/小虾人

你直面自己

每年, 松弛的皮肤愈加不堪入目

你毫不退避

深深地凝视, 寻觅

画笔下流动的是你内心的自己

艺术家的谦卑, 就在这里

没有骄傲没有自大, 无情地自我审视

你笔下的光线随心漂移

你脸上虽然伤痛满目

却遮不住犹存的爱意

你对艺术的爱, 对钟情之物的爱恋,

渗入你每一次的创作, 直到最后

你的目光穿越了自己的年龄, 穿越了时间

你把过去连根拔起, 然后在笔尖把玩

自画像知道, 真实地面对岁月的变迁

时光老去, 也带走我们对死亡的恐惧惊慌

你瞧, 那从未有过的悲哀, 鼻翼肿胀

喜悦和忧伤。绘画, 如同呼吸一样,

你用画笔, 以勇气挑战所有的黑暗

你所选择的, 每个人都必须面对, 思量