(Ruth Stone)
露斯.斯通為美國當代著名女詩人。1915年6月8日出生於弗吉尼亞州。1999年，露斯.斯通的《普通詞語》獲得美國全國圖書評論界獎。2002年，她的第九卷詩集《鄰近的星系》榮獲第53屆被譽為文學奧斯卡獎的美國國家圖書獎。同年，露斯.斯通又榮獲美國詩人學會2002年年度的華萊士.史蒂文斯獎。華萊士.史蒂文斯獎是美國詩人學會於1994年設立的，獎金15萬美金，以紀念詩人史蒂文斯並表彰傑出詩人。前幾屆獲獎者包括默文、里奇、阿西貝利等。
[鄰近的星系]
在鄰近的星系
情況不會一樣。
沒有人會喪失
視覺，聽力，膽囊。
所有的凱茨科爾斯山峰
都用嶄新的遊廊環繞裝璜。
希特勒的主意不會產生振盪。
當返回到這裡時，
他們還在清理着
匿藏於阿根廷的那些
滿身皺摺老納粹的衣袋錢囊。
而在鄰近的星系，
某些行星會有真正的
藍天和飲用水。
In the Next Galaxy
In the Next Galaxy
Things will be different.
No one will lose their sight,
their hearing, their gallbladder.
It will be all Catskills with brand
new wrap-around verandas.
The idea of Hitler will not have vibrated yet.
While back here,
they are still cleaning out
pockets of wrinkled
Nazis hiding in Argentina.
But in the next galaxy,
certain planets will have true
blue skies and drinking water.
[那又怎樣]
對我而言偉大的真理是被點綴了歇斯底里。
有多少愛因斯坦我們能夠忍受？
我躍入不確定原理。
在眾多玷污誹謗後，你僅僅用一笑清洗。
你說：哈哈。如果是一次熔毀又怎樣 ？
我將立刻寫下最後一段詩句 。
So What
For me the great truths are laced with hysteria.
How many Einsteins can we tolerate?
I leap into the uncertainty principle.
After so many smears, you want to wash it off with a laugh.
Ha ha, you say. So what if it's a meltdown?
Last lines to poems I will write immediately
[交易]
言詞構成思想。
嚴厲的暴君,象你監房的
清洗和監護。
他們放牧你的想象
走下敘述關係的彎道
等待用大鍛錘
敲打沒有認知的
認知要素進入知識。
是,緊固文法,句法的袋子,
聰明從胡言亂語橫跨一步,
就是一所舒適的
監獄。鏡子的鏡子。
而所有在囚禁中說出的
都被鎖在了秘密之外。
THE TRADE-OFF
Words make the thoughts.
Severe tyrants, like the scrubbers
and guardians of your cells.
They herd your visions
down the ramp to nexus
waiting with sledge hammer
to knock what is the knowing
without knowing into knowledge.
Yes, the tight bag of grammar,
syntax, the clever sidestep
from babble, is a comfortable
prison. A mirror of the mirror.
And all that is uttered in its chains
is locked out from the secret.
[言詞]
威廉斯.斯蒂文斯說，
“一個詩人看世界
如同一個男人看一個女人。”
我從不知道當一個男人
看一個女人時看見什麼。
那是個密封的宇宙。
在這泡泡的外表
所有東西都給延展至無限。
沿着覆黑的操場，樹似老漢般長着鬍子，
象一排瞌睡的灰白鬍子的清朝高官。
他們的舊鬍子被舞毒蛾作了繭。
所有清朝高官都被捕獲於他們的形象中。
一個詩人看世界
如同一個女人看一個男人。
Words
Wallace Stevens says,
"A poet looks at the world
as a man looks at a woman."
I can never know what a man sees
when he looks at a woman.
That is a sealed universe.
On the outside of the bubble
everything is stretched to infinity.
Along the blacktop, trees are bearded as old men,
like rows of nodding gray-bearded mandarins.
Their secondhand beards were spun by female gypsy moths.
All mandarins are trapped in their images.
A poet looks at the world
as a woman looks at a man.
[閱讀]
這是當鸛返回的春天。
它們自樓頂騰起。
在性急的冬日下午
你躺在床上
一本圖書館的書貼近你的臉，
你的身體在單人床上，
而鸛騰起
伴一陣床扉抬起的聲響。
不看你也知道
一個僱工女孩
正傾身探出在柔柔的戶外空氣里。
從綠色的木柴
慢慢盤旋起一縷煙，
反射在她的雙眼。
她移步走下門外台階
驅趕家禽心不在焉。
鸛正站着樓頂上。
女孩把手裹在圍裙裡面。
小小的黃花
已叢生於雜亂的
草叢之間。
她張嘴傾聽什麼
你聽不見。
你的身體熟睡。
她微笑着。
她不知正有一對騎兵在一條
泥濘有車轍的路上行進而來，
而有頭腦的人就象搜索者
正沿着書頁跺着他們的
長筒皮靴。
READING
It is spring when the storks return.
They rise from storied roofs.
In the quick winter afternoon
you lie on your bed
with a library book close to your face,
your body on a single bed,
and the storks rise
with the sound of a lifted sash.
You know without looking
that a servant girl
is leaning out in the soft foreign air.
A slow spiral of smoke
from green firewood
is reflected in her eyes.
She moves down an outside stair
absently driving the poultry.
The storks are standing on the roof.
The girl wraps her hands in her apron.
Small yellow flowers
have clumped among the tussocks
of coarse grass.
She listens with her mouth open
to something you cannot hear.
Your body is asleep.
She smiles.
She does not know a cavalry is coming
on a mud-rutted road,
and men with minds like ferrets
are stamping their heavy boots
along the pages.
[不期望答案]
給你這封冗長的信，
一個生命對另一個生命意味什麼？
我們在我們的袋子裡環繞行走，
將它吸進，把它嘔出。
然後昆蟲們，蜂擁雲集
重過世界上所有的動物。
然後在曬衣繩上的食蟲鳥，
象撒網者自佛蘭芒人的船上傾斜，
當大海被鯡魚惹怒。
這封長信在我的腦海里，
書法，羽毛似的蘆筍。
NOT EXPECTING AN ANSWER
This tedious letter to you,
what is one Life to another?
We walk around inside our bags,
sucking it in, spewing it out.
Then the insects, swarms heavier
than all the animals of the world.
Then the flycatchers on the clothesline,
like seiners leaning from Flemish boats
when the seas were roiled with herring.
This long letter in my mind,
calligraphy, feathery asparagus.
[好意忠告]
這裡不是確切的這裡
因為兩秒鐘之前
它被那裡經過；
此處它不會再來。
儘管你對此調整適應—
這沒有什麼，你說，
只是習慣。
我們多麼可憐，
因一切都流經過
我們的指間。
“這裡”，惡魔之王說，
“吃。這是天堂。”
Good Advice
Here is not exactly here
because it passed by there
two seconds ago;
where it will not come back.
Although you adjust to this—
it's nothing, you say,
just the way it is.
How poor we are,
with all this running
through our fingers.
"Here," says the Devil,
"Eat. It's Paradise."
[總在火車上]
寫關於寫詩的詩
就象在德克薩斯碾壓大包乾草。
沒什麼能停止你除了地平線。
但考慮金屬垃圾的鐵路邊緣；
鳥兒棲息處，幾英里的電話線。
什麼無辜 象吃草的牛一般？
如你想着它，它就變成片語只言。
垃圾多麼快樂；飛起
象蝗蟲在收割機前。
塵土魔鬼將它向上旋轉；古銅色的糖果封皮，
清潔的塑料方形窗子在一個空氣房子上面。
在雜草叢生的去年的蓆子邊緣下
紅色和銀色的啤酒罐。
一片片被吹過每個地方，
飄飛的紙狂歡
而群鳥構成黑色高拋的圖案。
Always on the Train
Writing poems about writing poems
is like rolling bales of hay in Texas.
Nothing but the horizon to stop you.
But consider the railroad's edge of metal trash;
bird perches, miles of telephone wires.
What is so innocent as grazing cattle?
If you think about it, it turns into words.
Trash is so cheerful; flying up
like grasshoppers in front of the reaper.
The dust devil whirls it aloft; bronze candy wrappers,
squares of clear plastic--windows on a house of air.
Below the weedy edge in last year's mat,
red and silver beer cans.
In bits blown equally everywhere,
the gaiety of flying paper
and the black high flung patterns of flocking birds.
---by Ruth Stone
