罗伯特·勃莱（Robert Bly，1926.12.23-2021.11.21），美国诗人。
罗伯特·勃莱诗选
冯默谌 译
惊异于夜晚
附近有我们未知的灰尘，
波浪刚越过小丘在拍打湖岸，
树上落满我们从未见过的鸟儿，
网被黑色的鱼拖拽着。
夜晚降临，我们抬头看见，它在那里，
它通过星星之网，
通过草的薄纱，
静静地走于水边避难所的上空。
我们认为：白天永远不会结束，
我们拥有的头发似乎便为白昼而生。
但最终，夜晚平静的水面还会上涨，
我们的皮肤也将看得更远，因为它在水下。
Surprised by Evening
There is unknown dust that is near us,
Waves breaking on shores just over the hill,
Trees full of birds that we have never seen ,
Nets drawn with dark fish.
The evening arrives; we look up and it is there,
It has come through the nets of the stars,
Through the tissues of the grass,
Walking quietly over the asylums of the waters.
The day shall never end,we think：
We have hair that seemed born for the daylight;
But,at last, the quiet waters of the night will rise,
And our skin shall see far off as it does under water.
夜里驱车到镇上寄信
一个寒冷的雪夜。大街上空荡荡的。
唯一移动的是飞旋的雪花。
当我打开邮箱门，我感到了它冰冷的铁皮。
在这雪夜里，我有个喜爱的隐秘。
开车在这四周兜风，我愿浪费更多的时光。
Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter
It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door,I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around,I will waste more time.
我生命里的一个暮春
寂静盘旋于大地：
草地如古鸟之翼
从热气中轻轻升起。
一匹马心无旁骛地看我。
A Late Spring Day In My Life
A silence hovers over earth：
The grass lifts lightly in the heat
Like the ancient wing of a bird.
A horse gazes steadily at me.
我们把耙叉在禾束堆
禾束堆说，冬天
来了。每捆都立于那儿，
说：“我已放下自己。
带我走吧。一切都已过去。”
我们所做的。便是用我们的耙
闪亮的耙尖，它们的
柄如此健壮和优雅，
将每一捆都拔下，
然后装上车。
每捆都像
一个灵魂，被塞入
灵魂的云中。
那即它死后的
面貌，如此多的
灵魂，一起挤在——
沉重的马车，不知疲倦。
The Shocks We Put Our Pitchforks Into
The shocks said that winter
Was coming. Each stood there,
Said, “I’ve given myself away.
Take me. It’s over.”
And we did. With the shiny tips
Of our forks, their handles so
Healthy and elegant,
We slipped each bundle free,
Gave it to the load.
Each bundle was like
A soul, tucked back
Into the cloud of souls.
That’s how it will be
After death——such an abundance
Of souls, all together——
None tired, in the heavy wagon.
为何我们还不能死
九月末，许多声音
告诉你，你将会死去。
那片叶子也这样说。那冰凉。
它们说的都对。
我们许多的灵魂——关于它
它们又能如何呢？
无可奈何。它们早已成为
无形世界的一部分。
即便如此
我们的灵魂依然
渴望回家。“已经迟了，”它们说。
“锁上门，让我们出发。”
身体却不同意。它说，
“在那棵树下，我们埋了
一颗小小的铁球。
让我们去找到它。”
Why We Don't Die
In late September many voices
Tell you you will die.
That leaf says it. That coolness.
All of them are right.
Our many souls - what
Can they do about it？
Nothing. They're already
Part of the invisible.
Our souls have been
Longing to go home
Anyway. 'It's late,' they say.
'Lock the door, let's go.'
The body doesn't agree. It says,
'We buried a little iron
Ball under that tree.
Let's go get it.'
与灵魂交谈
灵魂说：“给我些东西看看。”
于是我给了她一块农场。她说，
“它太大。因此我给了她一块田野。
我俩坐下。
“有时我会爱上一片湖泊
或一颗松果。但我还是爱她
最多。她知道这点。”
“继续写作，”她说。
我如此做了。每当新雪飘落，
我们会再次结婚。
神圣的死者坐在我们的床上。
这种情形已持续多年。
“这块田野变得越来越小，”她说。
“难道你不知道还有
其他人可以相爱吗？”
你会同她说些什么？
Conversation with the Soul
The soul said, “Give me something to look at.”
So I gave her a farm. She said,
“It’s too large.” So I gave her a field.
The two of us sat down.
Sometimes I would fall in love with a lake
Or a pine cone. But I liked her
Most. She knew it.
“Keep writing,” she said.
So I did. Each time the new snow fell,
We would be married again.
The holy dead sat down by our bed.
This went on for years.
“This field is getting too small,” she said.
“Don’t you know anyone else
To fall in love with？”
What would you have said to Her？
生活与狗之间的相似性
相信我，我从未想过这种生活——
它恰好发生。你知道狗会如何出现
在农场，它们摇晃着尾巴，却无法解释。
那还不错，如果你接受你的生活——你会发现
你的脸已变得畸形，为了适应
它。在你十岁时，你的脸
以为生活如你卧室里的镜子。
那是条清澈的河流，被山风拂过。
甚至连你的父母也不相信你的巨大变化。
冬日的麻雀，如果你曾捉到一只，所有的羽毛，
用力冲出你的手掌，伴随一阵强烈的喜悦。
后来你在篱笆间看到它们。老师们夸奖你，
而你再也回不到那个冬天，再也找不到那只麻雀。
你的生活像一条狗。它已饿了一路。
并非因喜欢你，只是没有办法，才走进来。
The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog
I never intended to have this life, believe me -
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they wag but can't explain.
It's good if you can accept your life - you'll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look
Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can't believe how much you've changed.
Sparrows in winter, if you've ever held one, all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you,
But you can't quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He's been hungry for miles.
Doesn't particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in.
当我去世的父亲打电话
昨夜，我梦见父亲给我们打电话。
说他困于某地。我不知
为何，我们花了很长时间穿衣。
夜里大雪茫茫；路途漆黑漫长。
最后，我们到达了小镇，贝林汉姆。
他站在那儿，站在寒风中的一盏街灯旁，
人行道上，雪吹荡着。我注意到
他穿有一双长短不一的鞋子，
人们四十年代初穿的那种。和工作服。他抽着烟。
为何我们许久后才去？也许是
他曾经把我们留于某处，或只是我
忘了冬天他独自在某座小镇？
When My Dead Father Called
Last night I dreamt my father called to us.
He was stuck somewhere. It took us
A long time to dress, I don’t know why.
The night was snowy; there were long black roads.
Finally, we reached the little town, Bellingham.
There he stood, by a streetlamp in cold wind,
Snow blowing along the sidewalk. I noticed
The uneven sort of shoes that men wore
In the early Forties. And overalls. He was smoking.
Why did it take us so long to get going？Perhaps
He left us somewhere once, or did I simply
Forget he was alone in winter in some town？
仰望星空
我依然在想牧羊人，他们看到过
多少星星。我们对上帝之爱归因于
这些必须整夜被跟随，或陪伴的羊群。
牧羊人不能让它们跑丢。在午夜
星星变成了巨大的交谈者。
父母坐在她喜爱的椅子上，被惩罚。
狗紧随猎人。在每一个故事结束后，
另一个开始前，之间都会有个漫长的停顿。
我们这些逐渐变老的父母，
今晚的长夜，让我们的孩子
和我们站在一起看星星吧。在这儿，
八千年后，我依然记得。
Looking at the Stars
I still think about the shepherds, how many stars
They saw. We owe our love of God to these sheep
That had to be followed, or companioned, all night.
One can’t just let them run. By midnight
The stars had already become huge talkers.
The Parent sits in her proud Chair, and is punished.
The Dog follows the Hunter. Each time a story ends
There is such a long pause before another begins.
Those of us who are parents, and getting older,
Long, as tonight, for our children to stand
With us, looking at the stars. Here it is,
Eight thousand years later, and I still remember.
隐士
黑暗穿过黑暗从中降落，
从石脊落向
石脊。
有个体形完整的人。
他抵抗着身后的风暴
而草叶自风中跳跃。
黑暗汇聚在他的
脚边。
他乃无名之人。在我们看到他时，
我们变得平静，
并驶入欢愉的死亡隧道中。
The Hermit
Darkness is falling through darkness
Falling from ledge
To ledge.
There is a man whose body is perfectly whole.
He stands the storm behind him
And the grass blades are leaping in the wind.
Darkness is gathered in folds
About his feet.
He is no one. When we see
Him we grow calm
And sail on into the tunnels of joyful death.
晚月
下弦月把它的光投在我父亲的农场，
现在它的一半暗着，挂在吞噬它的西天。
大地含着石块在黎明时哼唱。
当我转身入屋，我看到自己的影子伸向了门闩。
Late Moon
The third-week moon reaches its light over my father’s farm,
Half of it dark now, in the west that eats it away.
The earth has rocks in it that hum at early dawn.
As I turn to go in, I see my shadow reach for the latch.
在一座危崖
阅读《大师》，
我听到一只蚱蜢鼓翼发出干燥之声，
并跃至风中，
在水面两百英尺高的上空！
On a Cliff
Reading the Master,
I heard a grasshopper making dry sounds with his wings,
Leaping about in the wind,
Two hundred feet above the water！
事物之需
你应由事物
拥有它们自身的空间。
这间狭小的房屋，
可绿色的长椅
却喜欢呆在这儿。
茫茫水泽的芦苇，
挤出泥淖，
发现世界的美好。
你应由事物
遵循他们的本真。
谁又知晓，我们之中
谁更值得广阔的世界？
What Things Want
You have to let things
Occupy their own space.
This room is small,
But the green settee
Likes to be here.
The big marsh reeds,
Crowding out the slough,
Find the world good.
You have to let things
Be as they are.
Who knows which of us
Deserves the world more？
躲入鞋里的乌鸦
住在房子里的男女有茫然不解
之事。老炼金师们站在
炉火旁，已暗示了千次。
乌鸦在夜间躲入一位老妇的鞋里。
四岁的儿童讲着古语。
我们自己已死过了千次。
和朋友讲的每句也都有反意，
每当我们说，“我相信上帝，”那意味着
上帝已把我们抛弃了千次。
母亲们一次次地跪在教堂，
祈求上帝保佑她们战争中的儿子。
可她们的祷告被拒绝了千次。
幼小的潜鸟跟随母亲光滑的身体
数月。在夏天快结束时，她已
把头在雷尼湖里潜了千次。
罗伯特，你坐在屋里写诗
已浪费了无数的光阴。你还会
再写吗？是的，我还会写千次。
Ravens Hiding in a Shoe
There is something men and women living in houses
Don’t understand. The old alchemists standing
Near their stoves hinted at it a thousand times.
Ravens at night hide in an old woman’s shoe.
A four-year-old speaks some ancient language.
We have lived our own death a thousand times.
Each sentence we speak to friends means the opposite
As well. Each time we say, “I trust in God,” it means
God has already abandoned us a thousand times.
Mothers again and again have knelt in church
In wartime asking God to protect their sons,
And their prayers were refused a thousand times.
The baby loon follows the mother’s sleek
Body for months. By the end of summer, she
Has dipped her head into Rainy Lake a thousand times.
Robert, you’ve wasted so much of your life
Sitting indoors to write poems. Would you
Do that again？I would, a thousand times.
最后向内移动
垂死的公牛在山上流血！
但是山内，血未
流经的地方，
有鹿角，些许橡树皮，
火，被扔下的香草。
当烟气升至洞顶，
绿叶开始燃烧，
夜的空气化作了黑水，
群山变成了海洋。
Moving Inward at Last
The dying bull is bleeding on the mountain！
But inside the mountain, untouched
By the blood,
There are antlers, bits of oak bark,
Fire, herbs are thrown down.
When the smoke touches the roof of the cave,
The green leaves burst into flame,
The air of night changes to dark water,
The mountains alter and become the sea.
一首无为之诗
走了一下午，
赤足，在我小屋里，
我变得长而透明……
如那只海鼠
它已独活了一万八千年，
无所事事。
A Doing Nothing Poem
After walking about all afternoon
Barefoot, in my shack,
I have grown long and transparent...
Like the sea slug
Who has lived alone doing nothing
For eighteen thousand years.
什么使我们惊恐
雨水落向幽暗的田野。
树叶还停在公路的
原处，抵抗着风。
一种未知的力量同我们说。
雨下了一夜。昨天我们下到
山洞内部，或最深处，
今早醒来，脸面湿着
整夜之雨——我们有点害怕。
雨气从石路上升起。
雨水在谷仓下汇聚。
其他的缓缓地流入树林。
寂静在月光下，无始无终。
What Frightened Us
Drops of rain fall into black fields.
Leaves fallen on the highway remain
Where they fall, and resist the wind.
A power neither of us knows has spoken to us.
All night rain came in. we had descended
Yesterday to some inner, or innermost cave,
And this-as we woke today with faces wet
From overnight rain-frightens us a little.
Smoke of rain lifts from gravel roads.
Rain water gathers below the barns.
Other waters slowly join in woods.
Silent in the moonlight, no beginning or end.
当主人松手
“当主人松手，鸟儿就飞。”
一位伟大的师长曾说。
“在中午悲伤的酷热中，野鸡崽
在月尘中伸展它们的新翅。”
亲爱的，我们也历经这些。
我们是悲伤还是快乐，重要吗？
我们的笑声回到树根
一种古老的悲伤在哀尘中回归。
When The Master Is Untied
“As soon as the master is untied,the bird soars.”
That is what a great teacher once said.
“In the sad heat of noon the pheasant chicks
Spread their new wings in the moon dust.”
Oh my darling,we have experienced this.
Does it matter whether we are sad or happy?
Our laughter goes back to the roots of trees
An old sadness returns in the sorrowing dust.
女人之美
娇美的女人，睁眼，
在她们骑马时，手臂轻挥，
赤足上挂着珠宝，
手腕上飘扬着小围巾，
精神之肩：
这即诺怒斯和佩拉吉亚的秘密，
一群老人齐呼阿门。
The Beauty Of Women
Delicate women,with eyes open,
Arms flung lightly as they ride,
Naked feet covered with jewels,
Some small scarf tailing from their wrists,
Shoulders of the spirit:
This is the secret of Nonnus and Pelagia,
A chorus of old men shouting Amen.
一个初雪之夜的梦
我从初雪之夜的梦中醒来。
在阁楼上，我遇到了一个女孩，
她欢快地谈着歌剧。
雪压几乎将白杨的枝条压至地面；
新雪使田野更辽阔了。
屋外，枫叶浮于雨水上，
金黄，暗淡，明亮。
我看见一只蜥蜴……我拿起了它……
它凉凉的。当我把它放回地面，
它快步跨过一根木头，
如一位象棋大师般，满怀信心，
先是前腿，后是后腿，
他像一辆拖拉机直起身来，
爬过田野中的陡坡，
消失于去往冬日的路上，一辆篷车深入群山，
狗拖着橇，
傲慢的男人们手持的长矛上飞扬着羽毛。
A Dream on the Night of First Snow
I woke from a first-day-of-snow dream.
I met a girl in the attic,
who talked of operas, intensely.
Snow has bent the poplar over nearly to the ground;
New snowfall widens the plowing.
Outside, maple leaves float on rainwater,
yellow, matted, luminous.
I saw a salamander… I took him up…
He was cold. When I put him down again,
he strode over a log
With such confidence, like a chessmaster,
the front leg first, then the hind
leg, he rose up like a tractor climbing
over a hump in the field
And disappeared toward winter, a caravan going deeper into mountains,
Dogs pulling travois,
Feathers fluttering on the lances of the arrogant men.
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