編輯老友譯書 交代譯附詩 非常後悔輕諾 又怕害她的作品整體質量下降 貼此請諸詞長指教
Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond
Mary Oliver (an Ohio poet)
墨枝參差夏池景
長身脩項沉沉影
廻眸驚起翼如烟
緩緩飛去無人省
非初非末應無始
吐納深深入安喜
六合萬物俱遲遲
若釘若凝俱若止
龜息鼠隱重門落
誰云結穴竟已死
誰云自茲竟難起
纖足涉水漫長夏
無數幽池暗如鐵
此情只道是尋常
沉軀突起甚决絶
開翼迎風棄鉤環
灰羽藍光一為別
So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings
open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks
of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.
Then, not for the first or the last time,
I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is
that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed
back into itself--
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate.
And especially it is wonderful
that the summers are long
and the ponds so dark and so many,
and therefore it isn't a miracle
but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body
into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.