旦/天光:多音交響──美國女性詩人詩選──曾珍珍




曾珍珍 編譯(國立東華大學英美文學系教授,曾獲第32屆金鼎獎最佳翻譯人獎)

Prelude序曲

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

<詩14> “Poem 14”

第一樂章

Emily Dickinson

<詩572>“Poem 572”

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

<南國日出>“Southern Sunrise”

Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1978)

<寤夢/五月天>“Five Flights Up”

第二樂章

Emily Dickinson

<詩743> “Poem 743”

Mary Oliver (b. 1935)

<日出> “Sunrise”

Louise Glück(b. 1943)

<破曉> “Dawn”

第三樂章

Jori Graham (1950)

<近乎破曉> “Nearing Dawn”

第四樂章

Kay Ryan (b. 1945)

<破曉之前總是極度黑暗> “It’s Always Darkest Just Before the Dawn”

Joy Harjo (b. 1951)

<失眠與進入恩典的七個步驟> “Insomnia and the Seven Steps to Grace”

Natasha Trethewey(b. 1966)

<1911年九月> “September 1911”

Coda終章:

Mary Oliver

<一千個黎明>“A Thousand Mornings”

Kay Ryan

<裊裊>  “Tune”

Emily Dickinson

<詩1647>  “Poem 1647”

Prelude序曲

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Poem 14

As if I asked a common Alms,

And in my wondering hand

A Stranger pressed a Kingdom,

And I, bewildered, stand—

As if I asked the Orient

Had it for me a Morn—

And it should lift its purple Dikes,

And shatter me with Dawn!

彷彿我托缽乞討微薄的賙濟,

然而在我怯怯期許的掌心

有位陌生人竟交付我一整個王國,

而我,惶惑不解,楞立─

又彷彿我叩問東方

可有一清晨為我存留─

它於是掀起它那一整堵紫紅海堤,

擂我用破曉令我心折!

第一樂章

Emily Dickinson

Poem 572

The Day came slow—till Five o’clock—

Then sprang before the Hills

Like Hindered Rubies—or the Light

A Sudden Musket—spills—

The Purple could not keep the East—

The Sunrise shook abroad

Like Breadths of Topaz—packed a Night—

The Lady just unrolled—

The Happy Winds—their Timbrels took—

The Birds—in docile Rows

Arranged themselves around their Prince

The Wind—is Prince of Those—

The Orchard sparkled like a Jew—

How mighty ’twas—to be

A Guest in this stupendous place—

The Parlor—of the Day—

天光漸漸破曉──五點鐘一到──

瞬間雀躍在山丘

宛如穿透屏障的紅寶石──或者火光

從一管毛瑟槍──倏然噴出──

紫色無法淹留在東方──

晨曦搖盪開來

宛如黃寶石織毯──將夜色裹覆──

一位貴婦方才攤開炫示──

快樂的風──拾起它們的鈴鼓──

鳥群──乖馴地羅列

環繞著牠們的君王

──正是牠們的君王──

果園珠光的爍像極了猶太商賈──

多麼威風啊!──貴為

這個令人驚異之地的賓客──

置身白晝的──廳堂──

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

Southern Sunrise

Color of lemon, mango, peach,

These storybook villas

Still dream behind

Shutters, their balconies

Fine as hand-

Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch.

Tilting with the winds,

On arrowy stems,

Pineapple-barked,

A green crescent of palms

Sends up its forked

Firework of fronds.

A quartz-clear dawn

Inch by bright inch

Gilds all our Avenue,

And out of the blue drench

Of Angels’ Bay

Rises the round red watermelon sun.

<南國日出>

檸檬、芒果、水蜜桃的色調

這些肖似童話插圖的別莊

好夢正酣,隔著

髹白的百葉窗,戶戶陽台

欄杆細緻如手織

蕾絲,或好花一折炭筆素描。

倚風款擺,

莖梗似箭,

鳳梨主幹,

一彎綠弦月一整排棕櫚

凌空射出叉狀掌葉

花火燦爛。

澄澈如石英的破曉

一吋比一吋耀眼

替我們的大街鑲上了金邊,

然後從浸透在湛藍中的

蓬萊海灣

升起一輪太陽火紅西瓜

Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979)

Five Flights Up

Still dark.

The unknown bird sits on his usual branch.

The little dog next door barks in his sleep

inquiringly, just once.

Perhaps in his sleep, too, the bird inquires

once or twice, quavering.

Questions—if that is what they are—

answered directly, simply,

by day itself.

Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous;

gray light streaking each bare branch,

each single twig, along one side,

making another tree, of glassy veins…

The bird still sits there. Now he seems to yawn.

The little black dog runs in his yard.

His owner’s voice arises, stern,

“You ought to be ashamed!”

What has he done?

He bounces cheerfully up and down;

he rushes in circles in the fallen leaves.

Obviously, he has no sense of shame.

He and the bird know everything is answered,

all taken care of,

no need to ask again.

—Yesterday brought to today so lightly!

(A yesterday I find almost impossible to lift.)

<寤夢/五月天>

未旦。

無名鳥棲止在牠習常的枝條上。

隔壁的小狗在睡夢中吠叫

追問著,就那麼一聲。

也許在睡夢中,鳥也一樣追問著

一聲或兩聲,用微微的顫音。

牠們的問題─如果成其為問題─

全獲得了解答。直截了當

由天光親自回答。               

大哉清晨,雍容,工於雕琢;

灰色的曦光抹現每一根赤裸的枝條,

每一個別的末稍,沿著特定的邊側

形構出另一棵樹,有著玻璃質的脈絡…

鳥依舊棲止。這會兒牠好像打了個呵欠。

小狗在院子裡蹦跑

主人的聲音揚起,凌厲的,

「你該懂得羞恥!」

狗怎麼啦?

牠正上下雀躍著;

在落葉中繞著圈子奔跑。

顯然,狗並不覺得可恥。

牠和鳥都知道一切問題全獲得了解答,

一切事物都有人照應,不需再追問什麼。

──昨天就這麼輕輕鬆鬆地過渡成今天!

(這個昨天我原以為根本扛它不動。)

第二樂章

Emily Dickinson

Poem 743

Behind Me — dips Eternity —

Before Me — Immortality —

Myself — the Term between —

Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,

Dissolving into Dawn away,

Before the West begin —

‘Tis Kingdoms — afterward — they say —

In perfect — pauseless Monarchy —

Whose Prince — is Son of None —

Himself — His Dateless Dynasty —

Himself — Himself diversify —

In Duplicate divine —

‘Tis Miracle before Me — then —

‘Tis Miracle behind — between —

A Crescent in the Sea —

With Midnight to the North of Her —

And Midnight to the South of Her —

And Maelstrom — in the Sky –

在我背後─永恆沈沒了─

在我之前─不朽正等著─

我自己呢─居中懸宕─

死亡不過是浮游東方的那層陰灰

即將融化成破曉

西天隨後乍現─

之後─便進入天國了─他們說─

屬乎完美─永不停歇的王國

掌權的君王人子卻非人所生─

他自己─即是他無以編年記日的王朝

他自己─化身多樣─

複製神─

所以─神蹟之前─

神蹟在我背後─居中呢─

裏的一彎弦月

午夜在她北方

午夜在她南方

而巨大的漩渦當空

Mary Oliver (b. 1935)

Sunrise

You can

die for it–

an idea,

or the world. People

have done so,

brilliantly,

letting

their small bodies be bound

to the stake,

creating

an unforgettable

fury of light. But

this morning,

climbing the familiar hills

in the familiar

fabric of dawn, I thought

of China,

and India

and Europe, and I thought

how the sun

blazes

for everyone just

so joyfully

as it rises

under the lashes

of my own eyes, and I thought

I am so many!

What is my name?

What is the name

of the deep breath I would take

over and over

for all of us? Call it

whatever you want, it is

happiness, it is another one

of the ways to enter

fire.

<日出>

你可以

為之死─

 為一種理念,

或為世人。有人

 曾經這樣殉死過。

非凡地,

自己的微軀被人縛上

木架,

創造出

一道令人難忘的

光芒。然而

今晨,

蹬上熟悉的山徑

在熟悉的

破曉光中,我莫名思及

中國

還有印度

歐洲,而後油然想起

太陽如何

燃燒發光

為眾生如此

昂揚欣喜

當它騰空上升

在我的

諦視之下,我於是乎感悟

自己何等繽紛多元!

這樣的我,何以名之?

我為眾生深深吸了一口氣

一口接一口

這口氣

何以名之?且稱呼它

隨你愛怎麼叫它,它就是

快樂,是另一種

途徑,進入

烈火。

Louise Glück(b. 1943)

<Dawn>

1

Child waking up in a dark room  

screaming I want my duck back, I want my duck back  

in a language nobody understands in the least —

There is no duck.

But the dog, all upholstered in white plush —

the dog is right there in the crib next to him.

Years and years — that’s how much time passes.  

All in a dream. But the duck —

no one knows what happened to that.

2

They’ve  just met, now  

they’re sleeping near an open window.

Partly to wake them, to assure them  

that what they remember of  the night is correct,  

now light needs to enter the room,

also to show them the context in which this occurred:  

socks half  hidden under a dirty mat,  

quilt decorated with green leaves —

the sunlight specifying  

these but not other objects,  

setting boundaries, sure of  itself, not arbitrary,

then lingering, describing  

each thing in detail,  

fastidious, like a composition in English,  

even a little blood on the sheets —

3

Afterward, they separate for the day.  

Even later, at a desk, in the market,  

the manager not satisfied with the figures he’s given,  

the berries moldy under the topmost layer —

so that one withdraws from the world

even as one continues to take action in it —

You get home, that’s when you notice the mold.  

Too late, in other words.

As though the sun blinded you for a moment.

<破曉>

1

孩子在陰暗的房間裡醒來

哭喊著鴨子還我,鴨子還我

他說的話誰也聽不懂─

這裡沒有鴨子。

可是狗,全身裹著雪白長毛

狗就在嬰兒床上在他身旁。

多少年了─時光就這樣流逝。

轉眼成夢。但鴨子呢─

誰也不知到底發生了什麼事。

2

他們才剛認識,此刻

正同床共眠在敞開的窗旁。

為了叫醒他們吧,向他們保證

昨夜的事凡記得的都確實發生過,

這時光線需要照進臥室,

且向他們展示情事發生的現場:

襪子半掩在骯髒的腳墊下,

被套以綠葉裝飾─

陽光特寫出

這幾樣東西而略過其餘,

它拿捏分寸,自有定見,並非漫不經心,

然後逗留,描述

每樣東西的細節,

鉅細靡遺,像寫一篇英文作文,

甚至不放過床單上的血漬─

3

後來,他們分頭去做白天的事。

稍晚,在一張桌旁,超市內,

經理不滿意某人呈報的數字,

最上層底下的莓果究竟多少發霉了─

有人就因此從世界退卻

雖仍繼續瞎忙─

妳回到家,這才發覺長霉的事。

太遲了,換句話說。

好似太陽曾經讓妳一時目盲。

第三樂章

Jori Graham ( b. 1950)

Nearing Dawn

Sunbreak.  The sky opens its magazine.  If you look hard

                   it is a process of falling

                   and squinting—& you are in-

terrupted again and again by change, & crouchings out there

                   where you are told each second you

                   are only visiting, & the secret

                   whitening adds up to no

meaning, no, not for you, wherever the loosening muscle of the night

                   startles-open the hundreds of

                   thousands of voice-boxes, into which

your listening moves like an aging dancer still trying to glide—there is time for

                   everything, everything, is there not—

                   though the balance is

                   difficult, is coming un-

done, & something strays farther from love

than we ever imagined, from the long and orderly                                                                         

                    sentence which was a life to us, the dry

                    leaves on

                    the fields

through which the new shoots glow

                    now also glowing, wet curled tips

                    pointing in any

                    direction—

as if the idea of a right one were a terrible

forgetting—as one feels upon

                    waking—when the dream is cutting loose,

                    is going

                    back in the other

direction, deep inside, behind, no, just back—&

                    one is left looking out—& it is

breaking open further—what are you to do—how let it fully in—the wideness of it

                    is staggering—you have to have more

                    arms eyes a

                    thing deeper than laughter furrows more

capacious than hate forgiveness remembrance

forgetfulness history silence

                    precision miracle—more

                    furrows are needed the field

cannot be crossed this way the

                    wide shine coming towards you standing

                    in

the open window now, a dam breaking, reeking

rich with the end of

                   winter, fantastic weight of loam coming

                   into the

                   soul, the door behind you

                   shut, the

great sands behind there, pharaohs, the

millennia of carefully prepared and buried

                   bodies, the ceremony and the weeping

                   for them, all

back there, lamentations, libations, earth full of

bodies everywhere, our bodies,

                   some still full of incense, & the sweet

                   burnt

                   offerings, & the still-rising festival

                   out-cryings—& we will

                   inherit

                   from it all

nothing—& our ships will still go,

                   after the ritual killing to make the wind

                   listen,

out to sea as if they were going to a new place,

                   forgetting they must come home yet

                   again ashamed

no matter where they have been—& always the

new brides setting forth—

                   & always these ancient veils of their

                   falling from the sky

                   all over us,

& my arms rising from my sides now as if in

dictation, & them opening out from me,

& me now smelling the ravens the blackbirds the

small heat of the rot in this largest

                   cage—bars of light crisping its boundaries—

& look

                   there is no cover, you cannot reach

it, ever, nor the scent of last night’s rain, nor the

chainsaw raised to take the first of the

                   far trees

                   down, nor the creek’s tongued surface,

                   nor the minnow

                   turned by the bottom of the current—

                   here

                   is an arm outstretched, then here

is rightful day and the arm is still there,

outstretched, at the edge of a world—tyrants

                   imagined by the bearer of the arm, winds

                   listened for,

                   corpses easily placed anywhere the

                   mind wishes—inbox, outbox—machines

                   that do not tire in the

distance—barbed wire taking daysheen

on—marking the end of the field—the barbs like a

                   lineup drinking itself

                   crazy—the wire

                   where it is turned round the post

                   standing in for

mental distress—the posts as they start down the

next field sorting his from

                   mine, his from the

                   other’s—until you know, following,

following, all the way to the edge and then turning

again, then again, to the

                   far fields, to the

height of the light—you know

                   you have no destiny, no, you have a wild

                   unstoppable

                   rumor for a soul, you

look all the way to the end of

                   your gaze, why did you marry, why did

                   you stop to listen,

where are your fingerprints, the mud out there

hurrying to

                   the white wood gate, its ruts, the ants in

                   it, your

                   imagination of your naked foot placed

there, the thought that in that there

                   is all you have & that you have

no rightful way

                   to live—

<近乎破曉>

曙光大白。 天空打開它的槍膛。 如果你極目觀看

           這是一種墜落的過程

           瞇起眼睛─&你一再被瞬間的

變化分神,& 盤踞在遠方的那一切

            每一秒都在提醒你

            你不過是個過客,& 正私下進行著的

            天光大白並未累積出什麼

意義,不,對你不然,黑夜的肌肉隨處鬆弛下來

            猛然打開成千

            上萬聲音的箱篋,你的聽覺探入

移動像一名老化中的舞者還在試跳滑步─搶時間

             做愛做的事,總可以吧─

             雖然保持平衡真

難,眼看就要破

功了,&有些事偏離起初的愛愈來愈遠超乎

你我想像,偏離那一句長長的井然有序的

             句子我們的命脈依據,枯乾的

             葉子覆蓋著

             野地

新苗破土發亮

             而此刻正在發亮的還有枯葉濕濡卷曲的葉尖

往左往右上下

             伸展─

彷彿某一正念指向要命的

遺忘─就像醒來那一剎那

             你的感覺─那時夢已被剪斷,

瑟縮

             往另一個

方向,往內心深處,背面,不,只是遁回─&

             獨留你向外張望─&天光

更亮了─接下來你該怎麼辦─怎麼將它全然攝入─它的泱漭

             令人興歎─你必須擁有

             更多的手臂眼睛用一種

             比開懷大笑更深刻的東西去犁出

更雍容的田畦勝過仇恨赦免懷念

遺忘歷史沈默

             精準神蹟─必須犁出

             更多的田畦否則原野

無法穿越就這樣

             那朗朗的天光照臨你此刻站在

洞開的窗前,壩堤洩洪了,發出濃烈的

冬盡氣息

泥土奇幻的重量

潛入

             靈魂,你身後的門

             闔上了,門後的

巨沙堆,法老們,幾千年前

經過縝密處理然後掩埋的

             遺體,葬禮的儀式和哀悼的

眼淚,都

在那裡,哀哭,酒奠,大地到處

葬滿死屍,你我的屍身,

              有些還飄出香氣,&醇美的

              祭,&此起彼落節慶的

歡呼─&我們將

              繼承

              這一切

虛無─&我們的船隊仍將繼續前進,

              在宰人獻祭的祈風儀式過後,

              順風

出海彷彿將航向一全新的地域,

              渾然忘記依舊必須返航且

再度懷著愧疚

無論曾經抵達何方邊岸─&總是

新娘們總是需要再度出發─

              &這些古老的面紗總是隨著她們

從天際灑落

              遍地灑向你我。

&此刻我的雙臂從我的兩脅升起彷彿

接受指令,&它們從我的身軀向外伸展,

&我嗅到烏鴉玄鳥以及

鐵銹的微溫在這一具最龐大的

              籠裡─光的柵欄瀏亮標示出它的界限─

&看哪

              一無遮蔽,你卻始終搆不著

它,搆不著昨天夜裡雨的氣味,搆不著

那把電鋸正被高舉鋸起第一棵

              遠方的樹

              樹倒了,也搆不著小溪饒舌的水面,

搆不著小鲦鱼

       隨溪底的水流轉動─

然而這裡

              正是一隻伸出的手臂,那麼這

鐵定是個受到權益保障的日子因手臂還在,

往外伸出,在一個世界的邊緣─暴君們

              手臂的主人想像著的,

聆聽著的風聲,

              到處隨心所欲輕易發落的

屍體─棺內,棺外─一部部機具

永不倦怠在

遠方─鐵蒺藜披上了黎明的光─

標識出田野的盡頭─鐵蒺藜活像一整列

               排隊等候槍決的人喝得酩酊

               大醉─那鐵線

               繞著圍柱

圍柱豎立著監管

神志沮喪的人─那些圍柱排列開來

沿著下一片田野界分他的

我的,他的和

              另一個人的─直到,你明白的,一眼看過去,

再看過去,直到邊界然後再折個彎,

再彎過來,彎過去,到

              更遠的田野,到

光的至高之處─你明白的

              你沒有天命歸宿,沒有,你有的只是一道狂亂的

攔不住的

              攸關靈魂的謠諑,你

極目張望到視界的

              盡頭,你幹嘛結婚,幹嘛

停下來聆聽,

哪裡有你的指紋?外頭的爛泥巴

正疾速流向

              白漆實木大門,門下一道道的轍痕,轍痕裡的

蟻群,你

想像自己把赤腳放進

那裡,思考在那裡的

              就是你的一切所有&你憑藉不了

權益界定的方法

              活著─

第四樂章

Kay Ryan (b. 1945)

It’s Always Darkest Just Before the Dawn

But how dark

is darkest?

Does it get

jet –or tar–

black; does it

glint and increase

in hardness

or turn viscous?

Are there stages

of darkness

and chips

to match against

its increments,

holding them

up to our blindness,

estimating when

we’ll have this

night behind us?

<破曉之前總是極度黑暗>

然而有多暗呢

那最極度的暗?

黑有黑到似

玖玉─或瀝青─

那麼黑;黑到會

發亮並且更形

堅硬

或者變得黏稠如膠?

黑暗可有

期別

和色卡

可供核對

它累進的程度,

讓人昂首把著

在盲眛中瞇視,

估量何時

可以脫身

告別這夜?

Joy Harjo(b. 1951)

Insomnia and the Seven Steps to Grace

At dawn the panther of the heavens peers over the edge of the world.

She hears the stars gossip with the sun, sees the moon washing her lean

darkness with water electrified by prayers. All over the world there are those

who can’t sleep, those who never awaken.

My granddaughter sleeps on the breast of her mother with milk on

her mouth. A fly contemplates the sweetness of lactose.

Her father is wrapped in the blanket of nightmares. For safety he

approaches the red hills near Thoreau. They recognize him and sing for

him.

Her mother has business in the house of chaos. She is a prophet dis-

guised as a young mother who is looking for a job. She appears at the

door of my dreams and we put the house back together.

Panther watches as human and animal souls are lifted to the heavens by

rain clouds to partake of songs of beautiful thunder.

Others are led by deer and antelope in the wistful hours to the vil-

lages of their ancestors. There they eat cornmeal cooked with berries

that stain their lips with purple while the tree of life flickers in the sun.

It’s October, though the season before dawn is always winter. On the

city streets of this desert town lit by chemical yellow travelers

search for home.

Some have been drinking and intimate with strangers. Others are

escapees from the night shift, sip lukewarm coffee, shift gears to the

other side of darkness.

One woman stops at a red light, turns over a worn tape to the last

chorus of a whispery blues. She has decided to live another day.

The stars take notice, as do the half-asleep flowers, prickly pear and

chinaberry tree who drink exhaust into their roots, into the earth.

She guns the light to home where her children are asleep and may

never know she ever left. That their fate took a turn in the land of

nightmares toward the sun may be untouchable knowledge.

It is a sweet sound.

The panther relative yawns and puts her head between her paws.

She dreams of the house of panthers and the seven steps to grace.

<失眠與進入恩典的七個步驟>

破曉時分天際的母豹從世界邊緣探頭出來窺伺。

她聽見群星與太陽瞎掰,瞧見苗條的弦月裸浴

以祈禱發電將水加熱淋洗暗處。世界每個角落都有人

無法入眠,或從未醒來。

我的小外孫女睡在她媽媽的乳房上嘴角懸垂

乳漬。一隻蒼蠅正咀嚼著乳糖的甜味。

她的父親裹在噩夢的被單裡。為了保命他

趨近梭羅的紅色山丘。山丘們認得他並為他歌唱。

她的母親在亂七八糟的住家裡討生活。她是一名先知偽

裝成一位正在謀職的年輕媽媽。她現身在

我夢境的門前,於是乎我們協力把住家重整。

天際的母豹看著人和動物的靈魂被雨雲拉拔升天

參與壯麗的雷霆齊聲合唱。

其他的人在撫今追昔的時辰由鹿和羚羊領路前往

先祖的部落。在那兒他們進食玉米粥拌煮莓果

嘴唇給染了個通紫而生命樹呢在日頭下搖曳生輝。

好個十月天,雖然破曉之前的季節總屬於寒冬。這座

用化學物品點燃的沙漠小鎮市區街道盡是紅皮膚的旅人

前來尋找可棲身的家園。

有些人酩酊大醉和陌生人廝混。另有些人剛才

從夜班脫身,啜飲著冷掉的咖啡,換檔馳往

暗夜的另一個角落。

女人在紅燈前停下來,抽出磨損了的卡帶換邊聆聽

一首吟哦低吟的藍調最後的合唱。她決定再活它一天。

星星察覺到了,半睡半醒的花兒們亦然,帶刺的梨樹和

苦楝樹也使盡力氣把水吸進它們的根部,吸進地土裡。

她用槍把光押回家時孩子們正酣眠可能

永遠不知道她曾經離開過。他們的命運在噩夢的地域

轉了個彎朝向太陽,這可是不許觸及的知識。

一道何其甜美的聲音。

母豹打了個呵欠把頭埋在兩隻爪掌間。

她夢見一屋子的豹和進入恩典的七個步驟。

Natasha Trethewey (b. 1966)

September 1911

This past week I splurged, spent a little

of my savings on a Kodak, and at once

I became both model and apprentice-

posing first, then going with Bellocq

to his other work-photographing

the shipyard with its myriad lines,

angles I’ve just begun to notice. I see,

too, the way the camera can dissect

the body, render it reflecting light

or gathering darkness-surfaces

gray as stone or steel, lifeless, flat.

Still, it can also make flesh glow

as if the soul’s been caught

shimmering just beneath the skin.

I find myself drawn to what shines-

iridescent scales of fish on ice

at the market, gold letters on the window

of the apothecary shop, sunlight held

in old bottles and jars lining the sill.

In them, the glittering hope of alchemy-

Like the camera’s way of capturing

The sparkle of plain dust floating on air.

<1911年九月>

上星期我快意揮霍,花費了少許

積蓄買了架柯達,彈指間

模特兒化身兼職攝影學徒─

前一刻搔首弄姿,轉瞬跟著貝洛可

往下一站狩獵─拍攝

泊船碼頭成千錯落的線條,

層出不窮的視角方才發現。悟知

也從而學會如何操作相機去分解

人體,讓它反映光線

或攏聚暗影─讓表面

呈現陰灰如石如鋼鐵,了無生氣,乏味。

然而,它也可以讓肉體發光

彷彿靈魂被逮個正著

瀅瀅煥發在肌膚之下。

我察覺自己深受光體吸引─

魚獲漾著虹彩的鱗片

在市集,櫥窗上金色的字樣

標示出藥材店,陽光被挽入

窗台成排老舊的瓶瓶罐罐。

挽入了煉金術光彩奪目的希望─

就像攝影機有巧門捕捉住

微塵浮光在空氣中飄盪。

Coda終章:

Mary Oliver, “A Thousand Mornings”

All night my heart makes its way however it can

over the rough ground of uncertainties, but only

until night meets and then is overwhelmed by

morning, the light deepening, the wind easing and

just waiting, as I too wait (and when have I ever

been disappointed?) for redbird to sing.

<一千個黎明>

一整夜我的心摸索向前使盡一切

可行招數踉蹌在命運未卜的地域,直到

黑夜遇見隨而折服於

黎明,曙光漸強,連風也緩和下來

稍候,如同我也正等候(而何曾讓我

失望?)赤色鳥引吭歌唱

Kay Ryan, “Tune”

Imagine a sea

of ultramarine

suspending a

million jellyfish

as soft as moons.

Imagine the

interlocking uninsistent

tunes of drifting things.

This is the deep machine

that powers the lamps

of dreams and accounts

for their bluish tint.

How can something

so grand and serene

vanish again and again

without a hint?

<裊裊>

想像一座海

極致琉璃藍

浮懸

一百萬隻水母

一百萬朵溫柔月娘。

想像凡漂流無根的

都能隨緣牽連

吟哦一首首餘韻裊裊。

正是這部深處的機器

提供了電力點燃

夢的燈蕊,絪緼水天

一抹抹藍藍光彩。

思量此物

如此壯麗、靜好

怎奈它缥緲去來

費疑猜?

Emily Dickinson, “Poem 1647”

Not knowing when the Dawn will come,

I open every Door,

Or has it Feathers, like a Bird,

Or Billows, like a Shore —

不知道黎明什麼時候要來

我打開了每一扇

黎明有翅膀嗎?像

?像涯岸

156_5dd780c5.jpg
保羅克利(Paul Klee,1879-1940),Early Morning in Ro…

詩人簡介

愛彌麗.狄瑾蓀 (Emily Dickinson, 1830~1886),曠世奇才名列世界女性詩人之首。 伊莉莎白.碧許 (Elizabeth Bishop, 1911~1979),1956年普立茲詩獎得主,1970年國家圖書獎詩歌類得主,晚年受聘於哈佛大學教授詩創作。 

席爾維亞.普拉茲 (Sylvia Plath, 1932~1963),遺作Ariel詩集為美國二十世紀詩歌經典。 

瑪麗.奧利佛 (Mary Oliver, b. 1935),當今美國最暢銷詩集作者,1984年普立茲詩獎得主,1992年國家圖書獎詩歌類得主 

露薏絲.葛立克 (Louis Glück, b. 1943),耶魯大學住校作家,1993年普立茲詩獎得主,2003年美國桂冠詩人。 

凱伊.萊恩 (Kay Ryan, b. 1945),2008~2010年美國桂冠詩人,2011年普立茲詩獎得主。 

玖黎.葛蕾 (Jori Graham, b. 1950),接替愛爾蘭詩人諾貝爾文學獎得主黑倪擔任哈佛大學詩創作教授,1996年普立茲詩獎得主。 

喬伊.哈玖 (Joy Harjo, b.1951),愛荷華大學作家工作坊畢業,獲獎無數,為推動美國原住民文學第二波文藝復興巨擘級作家。現受聘於伊利諾州大學香檳分校教授美國印地安研究。 

娜塔夏.崔史微 (Natasha Trethewey, b. 1966),當今美國最受矚目的非裔詩人之一,2007年普立茲詩獎得主。2012~2014美國桂冠詩人。現受聘於Emory University主持文學創作課程。 

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譯者識

<1911年九月>出自崔史微2002年出版的詩集《貝洛可的奧莉薇亞》(Bellocq’s Olivia)。貝洛可為法裔美籍攝影師,二十世紀初曾替新奧爾良紅燈區的黑白混血妓女拍攝寫實肖像與裸體照,1970年紐約現代藝術博物館曾展出其作品。崔史微以奧莉薇亞(莎劇《哈姆雷》沈默無言的女角)為名稱呼一幅肖像中的少女,以詩體為她虛構出一系列的書信和日記,寫成了一本類自傳詩集,替這位無名的混血性工作者發聲。學會攝影、懂得閱讀和書寫,讓奧莉薇亞取得了觀看、言說、再現的主體性,讓陽光如破曉進入了她被歷史遺忘的黯淡人生,使她卑微、受創的生命獲得療癒和轉化,雖然現實環境滄桑依舊。譯詩中三個生動的動詞─「彈指」、「逮個正著」、「挽入」─係挪借自第四屆東華文學翻譯獎英翻中類別第一名得獎者英文系四年級陳芷儀同學的譯版。

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