露易絲.格呂克
(Louise Gluck)
新當選的美國國會圖書館桂冠詩人露易絲.格呂克1943年生於紐約，在哥倫比亞大學師從絲坦利.庫尼茨，後在威廉姆絲學院獲得了法律學位，畢業後曾在哥達德學院教書。出版有詩集《七個時代》（TheSevenAges2001），《新生》（VitaNova1999,獲得《波士頓圖書評論》主辦的“賓漢詩歌獎”），《草地》（Meadowlands1996），《野鳶尾》（TheWildIris1992,獲普利策詩歌獎和美國詩歌協會“W．C．威廉姆絲詩歌獎”），《阿拉若山》（Ararat1990,獲R．C．羅比特國家詩歌獎），《阿喀琉絲的勝利》（TheTriumphofAchilles1985,獲美國的全國書評獎）。格呂克還出版過一些評論及散文集。1999年當選為美國詩歌學會理事。2003年8月28日，美國國會圖書館在華盛頓宣布，普利策獎得主、著名女詩人露易絲.格呂克當選為新的美國國會圖書館桂冠詩人。

愛情詩

總有些事由痛苦製成。
你的母親編織着。
她織出有每種深淺的紅色圍巾。
它們曾為聖誕節準備，讓你保暖
當她一次又一次結婚，帶着
你。這怎麼能夠行得通，
可所有那些年她都藏貯着她的寡婦之心
仿佛死者會回返。
難怪你還是你那樣，
害怕血，你的女人
就象一堵堵磚牆。

Love Poem

There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of blood, your women
like one brick wall after another.

第一記憶

很久以前，我負了傷。我活着
為自己復仇
反對我的父親，不是
因為過去的他—
而是因為過去的我：從開始起，
在童年，我認為
痛意味着
我未被愛過，
它意味着我愛過。

First Memory
Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was—
for what I was: from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.

猶豫打電話

活着親眼看見你將我
拋棄一旁。那仗打的
象我心中的落網之魚。看到你跳動
在我的漿液里。看到你睡覺。並活着親見
那一切都往下淹沒成
垃圾。完了？
它活在我內。
你活在我內。惡毒的。
愛人，你曾想要我，不是嗎。

Hesitate To Call
Lived to see you throwing
Me aside. That fought
Liked netted fish inside me. Saw you throbbing
In my syrups. Saw you sleep. And lived to see
That all that flushed down
The refuse. Done?
It lives in me.
You live in me. Malignant.
Love, you ever want me, don't.

帕羅莎

我的一生摯愛，你
失去了而我
重又年輕。
幾年度過。
天空滿溢
少女的歌曲；
在前院
蘋果樹
綴飾着花朵。
我試圖讓你回來，
這是我寫此
的目的。
可你一去永不回返，
就象俄羅斯小說中，說
幾句我不記得的話——
這世界是多麼富有
充滿了那麼多東西卻不屬於我——
我注視花朵散落，
不再是粉紅色，
而是衰老，衰老，一片淡黃泛白的
花瓣好似
在明亮的草地上飄浮
輕輕飄拂。
你是何等微不足道，
如此迅速地變作
一副影象，一種香氣—
你無所不在，智慧
和悲痛之源。

Parousia

Love of my life, you
Are lost and I am
Young again.

A few years pass.
The air fills
With girlish music;
In the front yard
The apple tree is
Studded with blossoms.

I try to win you back,
That is the point
Of the writing.
But you are gone forever,
As in Russian novels, saying
A few words I don't remember-

How lush the world is,
How full of things that don't belong to me-

I watch the blossoms shatter,
No longer pink,
But old, old, a yellowish white-
The petals seem
To float on the bright grass,
Fluttering slightly.

What a nothing you were,
To be changed so quickly
Into an image, an odor-
You are everywhere, source
Of wisdom and anguish.

敞開的墳墓

我母親製成了我的必需，
我父親造就了我的良心。
死亡沒什麼不過是種賜福而已。
因此會讓我
大吃苦頭，
去自行躺倒在
一個墳墓的邊際。
我對大地說
從今以後，
要善待我的母親。
以你的寒冷，存貯
我們所有人妒忌的美麗。
我成了一名老婦人。
我歡迎了黑暗
我曾常對此如此恐懼。
死亡沒什麼不過是種賜福而已。

The Open Grave

My mother made my need,
my father my conscience.
De mortius nil nisi bonum.
Therefore it will cost me
bitterly to lie,
to prostrate myself
at the edge of a grave.
I say to the earth
be kind to my mother,
now and later.
Save, with your coldness,
the beauty we all envied.
I became an old woman.
I welcomed the dark
I used so to fear.
De mortius nil nisi bonum.

阿喀硫斯的勝利

在普特洛克勒斯的故事裡
無人存活，甚至阿喀硫斯也未能
他幾乎是個神
普特洛克勒斯與他相似；他們
有同樣的盔甲
佩戴在身。

在這些友誼中總有
人服務於他人，有人比他人低下：
那階層
總是顯而易見，儘管傳奇
不可信—
它們來源於倖存者，
那個一直被拋棄的人。

火燒的希臘船怎可
與這損失相提並論？

在他帳篷里，阿喀硫斯
以他整個同類被哀悼
而眾神看到了
他是個已死的人，一個受害者
屬於那被愛的部分，
那部分曾是凡人。

The Triumph Of Achilles

In the story of Patroclus
no one survives, not even Achilles
who was nearly a god.
Patroclus resembled him; they wore
the same armor.

Always in these friendships
one serves the other, one is less than the other:
the hierarchy
is always apparant, though the legends
cannot be trusted--
their source is the survivor,
the one who has been abandoned.

What were the Greek ships on fire
compared to this loss?

In his tent, Achilles
grieved with his whole being
and the gods saw
he was a man already dead, a victim
of the part that loved,
the part that was mortal.

金百合

如我察覺
我現正死去並知道
我不再會講話，不會
比大地久活，再次被
傳喚出它以外，還
不是一朵花，只是一根針葉，原始的泥土
抓着我的肋骨，我呼喚你，
父親和主人：四周
我的夥伴們正在凋落，心想
你沒看見。如何
它們能知道你看見如果
你不拯救我們？
在這夏日黃昏，你是否
足夠靠近去聽見
你孩子的驚恐？或者
你不是我的父親，
你使我復活？

The Gold Lily

As I perceive
I am dying now and know
I will not speak again, will not
survive the earth, be summoned
out of it again, not
a flower yet, a spine only, raw dirt
catching my ribs, I call you,
father and master: all around,
my companions are failing, thinking
you do not see. How
can they know you see
unless you save us?
In the summer twilight, are you
close enough to hear
your child's terror? Or
are you not my father,
you who raised me?

銀百合

夜晚再度變涼，象早春
的夜，再次安靜。講話
會打擾你嗎？我們現在
很孤寂；我們沒有理由沉默不語。

你可看見，花園之上圓月升起。
我不想見下一次圓月。

春天，當月亮升起，意味着
時間沒有盡頭。雪蓮
花開又合起，成群的
槭樹種子落成蒼白的一堆。
白上覆白，月亮升起在樺樹之上。
而在彎鈎處，那樹分離開，
那最初的黃水仙的葉子，月光里
顯柔軟略綠的銀色。

我們共赴盡頭現已走的太遠不至
對盡頭恐懼。這些夜晚，我甚至不再肯定
我知道這盡頭的含意。而你，一直
伴隨一個人—

在第一聲啼哭後，
不喜悅，象恐懼，無聲息?

The Silver Lily

The nights have grown cool again, like the nights
Of early spring, and quiet again. Will
Speech disturb you? We're
Alone now; we have no reason for silence.

Can you see, over the garden-the full moon rises.
I won't see the next full moon.

In spring, when the moon rose, it meant
Time was endless. Snowdrops
Opened and closed, the clustered
Seeds of the maples fell in pale drifts.
White over white, the moon rose over the birch tree.
And in the crook, where the tree divides,
Leaves of the first daffodils, in moonlight
Soft greenish-silver.

We have come too far together toward the end now
To fear the end. These nights, I am no longer even certain
I know what the end means. And you, who've been
With a man--

After the first cries,
Doesn't joy, like fear, make no sound?

蝴蝶

看，一隻蝴蝶。你許個願沒有？

你不向蝴蝶許願。

你向。那你許了一個？

是的。

它不算數的。

The Butterfly

Look, a butterfly. Did you make a wish?

You don't wish on butterflies.

You do so. Did you make one?

Yes.

It doesn't count.

幸福

一男和一女躺在一張白色的床上。
這是早晨。我想
他們很快就會醒。
在床頭柜上有一花瓶
百合；陽光
匯集於它們的脖頸。
我看他轉向她
好象說她的名字
但沉默深藏在她嘴裡—
在那窗櫺，
一次，兩次，
一隻鳥叫着。
於是她翻翻身；她的身體
充滿了他的氣息。

我睜開眼睛；你正注視我。
幾乎整個房間
太陽正在滑行。
看你的臉，你說着，
保持你自己靠近我
照作一面鏡子
你多麼平靜。而那燃燒之輪
輕柔地將我們通行。

Happiness

A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside table is a vase
of lilies; sunlight
pools in their throats.
I watch him turn to her
as though to speak her name
but silently, deep in her mouth--
At the window ledge,
once, twice,
a bird calls.
And then she stirs; her body
fills with his breath.

I open my eyes; you are watching me.
Almost over this room
the sun is gliding.
Look at your face, you say,
holding your own close to me
to make a mirror.
How calm you are. And the burning wheel
passes gently over us.

雪

十二月下旬；我爸爸和我
前往紐約，去馬戲團。
他舉着我
在他肩膀上在刺骨的風中：
白紙碎片
吹上鐵路線

我爸爸喜歡
象這樣站着，舉起我
所以他看不見我。
我記得
直視前方
進入我爸爸看見的世界；
我學會
承受它的空虛，
大雪
不落，
在我們周圍旋轉。

Snow

Late December: my father and I
are going to New York, to the circus.
He holds me
on his shoulders in the bitter wind:
scraps of white paper
blow over the railroad ties.

My father liked
to stand like this, to hold me
so he couldn't see me.
I remember
staring straight ahead
into the world my father saw;
I was learning
to absorb its emptiness,
the heavy snow
not falling, whirling around us.

雪蓮

你知道我是什麼，我如何活着？你知道
什麼是絕望；那麼
冬天會對你有意義。

我不期望存生，
大地抑制我。我不期望
再甦醒，去感知
在潮濕的大地里我的身軀
能再次反應，記住
在這麼長時間後怎麼再開放
在最初的春天
的冷光之中—

害怕，是，但在你們當中再
喊是冒着喜悅的風險

在這新世界的原始風中。

Snowdrops

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring--

afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.