《野鸢尾》 (露易丝·格丽克)(诺贝尔文学奖得主)

At the end of my suffering

there was a door.

在我苦难的尽头

有一扇门。

Hear me out: that which you call death

I remember.

听我说完：那被你称为死亡的

我还记得。

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.

Then nothing. The weak sun

flickered over the dry surface.

头顶上，喧闹，松树的枝杈晃动不定。

然后空无。微弱的阳光

在干燥的地面上摇曳。

It is terrible to survive

as consciousness

buried in the dark earth.

当知觉

埋在黑暗的泥土里，

幸存也令人恐怖。

Then it was over: that which you fear, being

a soul and unable

to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth

bending a little. And what I took to be

birds darting in low shrubs.

那时突然结束了：你所惧怕的，作为

一个灵魂却不能

讲话，突然结束了，僵硬的土地

略微弯曲。那被我认作是鸟儿的，

冲入矮灌木丛。

You who do not remember

passage from the other world

I tell you I could speak again: whatever

returns from oblivion returns

to find a voice:

你，如今不记得

从另一个世界到来的跋涉，

我告诉你我又能讲话了：一切

从遗忘中返回的，返回

去发现一个声音：

from the center of my life came

a great fountain, deep blue

shadows on azure seawater.

从我生命的核心，涌起

巨大的喷泉，湛蓝色

投影在蔚蓝的海水上。

柳向阳 译