恐慌袭来后的晚夏

【美】艾达·利蒙      陈子弘 译

我无法在树叶的压力下解除武装，
而在窗台外沿倾斜的棱角下
就像有个我讨厌的男性盯住后背，
(他们祈福、赞美、然后不再出声)。
但假如我又想变成魔鬼呢？向
使得我疯狂的疯狂示弱。邻居们
割草的嗡嗡声响，信箱上红色的小旗
竖起，三间房子里传出一条狗的叫闹，
而这样子就是一天。甲壳虫伏在墙裙，
枯枝断裂，但又没有断干净，从海里
捞出的石头挨着从河里拉来的石头，
尚未回应的那些短信如鲠在喉，
刺耳警报声响彻城中，声声不绝
这儿并没有紧急情况，声声不绝
只有你住的地方寂静才这么大动静。

译注：邮箱上红色小旗指美国人固定在家门口邮箱上的旗子，可以让邮递员知道里面有需要取走的外发邮件。

Late Summer after a Panic Attack

BY ADA LIMÓN

I can’t undress from the pressure of leaves,
the lobed edges leaning toward the window
like an unwanted male gaze on the backside,
(they wish to bless and bless and hush).
What if I want to go devil instead? Bow
down to the madness that makes me. Drone
of the neighbor’s mowing, a red mailbox flag
erected, a dog bark from three houses over,
and this is what a day is. Beetle on the wainscoting,
dead branch breaking, but not breaking, stones
from the sea next to stones from the river,
unanswered messages like ghosts in the throat,
a siren whining high toward town repeating
that the emergency is not here, repeating
that this loud silence is only where you live.