爱猫祭典
 
发布时间：2008-07-28 来源：翻译中国 发布者：上海翻译公司


AN ELEGY FOR A PUSSYCAT, OR A YEAR WE SHARED

　　　　　　First, are you our sort of a person?
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　----- Sylvia Plath

爱猫祭典，或我们的一年

周瓒

　　　　　　首先，你是我们的同类吗？
　　　　　　　　　　——西尔维娅·普拉斯

I
When the esoteric lyrics of a clock, like
a bugle, flashy and loud, slit
the coagulating veil of dawning,
the crimson purdah that obturates the rays,
the feet of night halt
in the doorway to the inn of daylight. Tell me,
you broad-templed Fates,
with an intimate mosquito song:
The yellow baby who’s been flying in words,
landing in dreams, and who, perching among the offshoots of your sleep,
whistles like a mini engine. How long ago did he depart?
And how far has he gone?
1
当时钟费解的歌词，如一声
嘹亮的号子，割开
厚沉沉的黎明面纱
那抵挡光芒的暗红帘幕
黑夜的双脚，暂歇
在白昼的旅店门口。告诉我
额角宽阔的命运的神
用亲切如蚊子的歌声
——那在话语中飞行，梦境里着陆
在你睡眠的枝叶间栖息
发出袖珍型的马达
鸣响的黄色婴儿，他离开了
多久？他抵达了哪里？

II
Commuting between walls and evenings,
this seminary subsistence is the patty of a burger,
with nutritious additives cum calculated calories
sandwiching the trivial life of two individuals ……
Like two seeds littered on campus under a lush tree
that shelters all forms from the sun and rains,
this life shoots out and sprouts after the same rainy day;
like the dust in the north, filtering through the covert fissure between
window leafs and falling on the unadorned shelves in the girls’ dorms,
it waits, like those required readings decreed by supervisors,
for a date to browse. And he is a German gluestick, an imported
article, that lies heavy between us, and his solemn visage that has
never left us clots the dusty motes, nurturing
the green in our small apartment and a tomorrow
that is often altered by hope.
2
从墙壁到夜晚的旅途
学院生活像汉堡包的夹心
添加的养料，计算精确的热能
和着两个人琐碎的生命……
仿佛种子散落在校园
一株众人遮荫避雨的大树下
在同一个雨天后抽芽破土
又像北方的尘灰，散布在女生楼
隐秘的窗缝与朴实的书架间
等待翻阅的日子，像导师开列的
必读书。而他就是一根德国产进口胶棒
横在我们中间，从未离开过的凝重
表情，黏固了尘土，养育着
我们小房间里的绿色，和一个
被希望涂改的明天

III
Alas, when body snatchers unwittingly unsettle
the slumber of the dead, a homeward child
who left her keys behind in a void house
envisions: His lithe paws
keep pounding on the plank door
and ponderous echoes resound between the walls,
as if he is a sprite from a fairy tale
who takes pleasures in helping people.
When we, the human, skeptical of the genders
of potted plants and aquarium fish,
concurrently turn our lips to him before we sink into slumber,
he, like deus ex machina in a melodrama, connects
love with love: peeling off his pelt, putting on human phrases,
you, a busybody sprite, ---- are you dispatched
down here by Italo Calvino?
3
唉，当掘墓人无知地搅醒
死者的睡梦，一个归家的孩子
把钥匙遗忘在空荡的屋子
她想象：他柔软的爪子
在木板门上，撞出
沉闷的回声，像童话中
助人为乐的精怪。当我们
我们，怀疑着盆中植物
和水中鱼儿的性别的人，共同
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