梁小曼译 ｜ 洛尔娜•克罗齐（Lorna Crozier）诗选
洛尔娜•克罗齐（Lorna Crozier）
洛尔娜•克罗齐曾获加拿大最负盛名的总督文学奖（诗歌）。她也是许多其它奖项的获得者，包括三次获得Pat Lowther年度最佳女性诗集奖，最近一次授予2016年的诗集《犯错的猫》。由于对加拿大文学的贡献，她还曾经五次被加拿大的大学授予荣誉博士称号，包括蒙特利尔的麦吉尔大学。她是维多利亚大学名誉退休教授、加拿大皇家学会会员、加拿大官佐级勋章获得者，已经出版了十七种诗集。她的诗歌被翻译成多种语言，有一本书厚度的法语版和西班牙语版，她在各大洲都读过诗，除了南极。
Fear of Snakes
The snake can separate itself
from its shadow, move on ribbons of light,
taste the air, the morning and the evening,
the darkness at the heart of things. I remember
when my fear of snakes left for good.
It fell behind me like an old skin. In Swift Current
the boys found a huge snake and chased me
down the alleys, Larry Moen carrying it like a green torch,
the others yelling, Drop it down her back, my terror
of its sliding in the runnel of my spine (Larry,
the one who touched the inside of my legs on the swing,
an older boy we knew we shouldn?t get close to
with our little dresses, our soft skin), my brother
saying, Let her go, and I crouched behind the caraganas,
watched Larry nail the snake to a telephone pole.
It twisted on twin points of light, unable to crawl
out of its pain, its mouth opening, the red
tongue tasting its own terror, I loved it then,
that snake. The boys standing there with their stupid hands
dangling from their wrists, the beautiful green
mouth opening, a terrible dark O
no one could hear.
惧蛇
蛇能够脱离自己的
影子，明亮的绸带继续爬行
辨别空气、清晨和黄昏的味道
以及事物幽暗的核心。我想起
当我永远不再怕蛇
它像层老皮在我的身后落下。在斯威夫特•卡伦特*
男孩们发现一条大蛇，追了我
几条街，拉里•摩恩提着它像提着一支绿火炬
其他人在喊，扔到她背上，我惊恐它
要滑过我的脊柱沟（拉里，那个
秋千上摸我大腿内侧的家伙，
穿小短裙、皮肤柔软的我们
不可接近的大男孩），我哥哥
说，放过她，我蹲在金雀花后
看着拉里把蛇钉到电线杆上。
它在发光的两点间扭动，无法爬行
痛苦撑开了它的嘴巴，猩红的
舌头感受着自身的恐惧，我因此爱它
这大蛇。男孩们站在那儿，愚蠢的手
垂了下来，那美丽的、绿色的
嘴巴张开，一个幽暗可怕的O
没人听得见
注释：斯威夫特•卡伦特是加拿大的一个地名。
Barren
In the orchard a deer stands on his hind legs.
Out early for a walk, before the village stirs,
she hopes he’s come for her, his chest
white with moon-spill, his antlers tall
hard hands, fingers splayed. They touch
the high things humans don?t sense are there.
His eyes have dimmed; he?s weary
from his travels through the deadfall,
the fallow fields, the raised meadow
of little heartbeats. When he gets close to her,
moving with a shaman?s roll from foot to foot,
will he place his mouth upon her mouth
and blow the found one in?
不育
果林里一只鹿直直地站着。
村庄苏醒前的晨间散步
她希望它为她而来，它的胸脯
月光下皎洁，它的鹿角高昂
坚硬的手，张开的手指。它们触摸
人感觉不到的高处的事物。
它的眼神黯淡，为它的旅途
而疲惫，穿过陷阱
休耕的荒地，高坡的牧场
微小的心跳。它向她走来
像萨满祭司迈着颤动交错的步
它会用嘴对着她的嘴
将遇见的东西吹进去吗？
What Comes After
I am my own big dog.
Walk, and I’m at the door,
eat, and I take what I offer,
lie down, and I curl on the floor,
my heavy head between my paws.
I don?t need anything but this,
I don?t think of what comes after.
I sing the way a dog sings,
I weep the way a dog weeps.
Every night at my feet
I am a big sack of sleep
stinking of me.
以后的事
我是我自己的大狗
走，我就到了门口
吃，给什么我吃什么
躺下，我蜷伏在地上
沉重的脑袋趴在爪间
除此我没别的需要
我不去想以后的事
像狗一样唱歌
像狗一样呜咽
每晚趴在我脚边
我是一个熟睡的口袋
散发着秽气
My Mother Lies Dying
Sunshine after
days of rain. A wren
hangs its shadow
on the fence to dry.
What a risk it’s taking!
I need a swatch of darkness
to sew a pocket
to hold her final breath.
我的母亲临终
连日雨水后
阳光照耀。一只鹪鹩
将它的影子挂在
篱笆上晾干。
这是多么冒险！
我需要一块深色样布
去缝一个袋子
裹住她最后的呼吸
POTATOES
No one knows
what potatoes do.
Quiet and secretive
they stick together.
So many under one roof
there is talk of incest.
The pale, dumb faces,
the blank expressions.
Potato dumplings.
Potato pancakes.
Potato head.
In dark cellars
they reach across the potato bin
to hold one another
in their thin white arms.
马铃薯
没有人知道
马铃薯是做什么的
安静和低调
它们紧紧地挨着
一个屋檐下如此之多
已有乱伦的流言
苍白，沉默的面孔
茫然的神情
马铃薯饺子
马铃薯薄饼
马铃薯头
阴暗的地窖里
穿过马铃薯箱子
它们瘦小苍白的胳膊
相互拥抱
PEAS
Peas never liked any of it.
They make you suffer for the sweet
burst of green in the mouth. Remember
the hours of shelling on the front steps,
the ping into the basin? Your mother
bribing you with lemonade to keep you there,
popping them open with your thumbs.
Your tongue finds them clitoral
as it slides up the pod.
Peas are not amused.
They have spent all of their lives
keeping their knees together.
豌豆
豌豆从没喜欢过这事
它们在嘴里破裂的
甜汁使人受不了，回想起
前门的台阶上剥几小时壳
那落入盆里的咚咚声？你的母亲
拿柠檬汽水贿赂你，让你待着
弹开它们，用你的拇指
你的舌头滑过豆荚时
觉得它们就像阴蒂
豌豆并不愉悦
终其一生它们的
膝盖都紧紧并拢
That Kind of Heaviness
This morning, a heaviness to everything.
Even the crow is having trouble
lifting the air above its wings. The light
is heavy, the wind in the branches, the
silence between one thought and the next.
It is the feeling that follows
a long afternoon sleep in a strange house,
remember as a child, every object
solid and unfamiliar, holding you there,
alone and not quite human. Watching
the wings of the crow lift and fall,
I think of you, wonder if you sleep
long into the afternoon in another?s bed.
I remember your story about the gopher
you shot and shot with a BB gun,
you cold and young, with no regrets.
The gopher pumped so full of pellets
it couldn’t run, but dragged its belly
across the grass. That kind of heaviness.
The one the heart knows, its small gut
full of lead.
那种沉重
这个清晨，一切都沉重
连乌鸦要举起它翅膀上的
空气也有困难。光线
很沉，枝条中的风，一个
念头和另一个念头间的沉默。
这是在一个陌生的屋子里
漫长午睡之后的感觉
像孩时的记忆，每个物体
都坚实、陌生，将你固定在那里
孤独，不太人性。看着
乌鸦的翅膀飞起飞落
我想着你，想你是否睡了
漫长的午觉，在另一张床。
我想起你囊鼠的故事，
你射击，用一把彩弹枪射
你冷酷，年轻，没有悔意
那囊鼠被射得满是彩弹
它跑不动，只能拖着肚子
穿过草地。那种沉重。
良心知道的沉重，它的小心肝
尽是子弹
Angel of Tigers
The wheat ripples in the wind
like muscles under the skin
of a great cat.
Never have the fields
been so beautiful, so dangerous.
The beards of wheat flick back and forth,
even when the air is still.
In the long dry heat everything awaits
the gazelle-footed touch of the rain.
老虎的天使
麦浪在风里
就像一只大猫的肌肉
毛皮之下起伏。
田野从未
如此美丽，如此危险。
麦穗轻拂摇曳
纵然风是静止的
漫长的旱热里一切在等待
那瞪羚脚步般的雨点
翻译：梁小曼
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