《诗殿堂》特辑选登006期 - 1 Seven Poems by Sylvia Cavanaugh

Original 《诗殿堂》诗殿堂汉英双语诗刊 2021-11-27

《诗殿堂》特辑选登006期 - 1

Seven Poems by Sylvia Cavanaugh

西尔维亚﹒卡瓦诺诗七首

（选自《诗殿堂》第八期）

Editor’s Notes

编者注

Published here are seven poems written by Sylvia Cavanaugh. Sylvia Cavanaugh is the English Language Editor for Poetry Hall. She is good at picking small themes from day to day life for her poems and making them glitter. This is just like what she said, “Poetry is a way of reconciling our infinitesimally small, egocentric place in the universe with the fact that we can’t know everything. Poetry grapples with reality as it is filtered through the human lens. To me the best poetry has a sense of cognitive dissonance, allowing one to see the world differently. Poetry also represents the human struggle to reconcile the beautiful with the violent. Life on earth encompasses both at the deepest levels, and only humans can notice, and process that tension.”

这里发表的是西尔维亚•卡瓦诺创作的七首诗。西尔维亚•卡瓦诺是华语诗学会《诗殿堂》的英语诗歌主编，她擅长从日常生活中撷取细小主题，让它们熠熠发光。这正如她自己所说的那样，“诗，是极其渺小的自我探索宇宙的途径，因为事实上我们不可尽知一切。诗是通过我们的筛选从现实中提炼而来。我以为，最好的诗也含有认知与现实的差异，但正是这种差异才使各人所见世界不同。诗也体现了人在调和美丽与暴力方面所做的努力。这对冲突潜含在地球生命的最深处，只有人能够发现并调和它。

There Was This Original Me

The original me

on a September morning

pushed my feet

into red rain boots

each with a single red button.

I opened my new umbrella

for the long walk to school

alone and complete in the cold

pelt of raindrops.

Gray rivers gushed along gutters

I navigated.

A thin silver stem

rose from the hooked handle

to unfold into a complicated

metal frame, delicate

and elegant as an Eiffel Tower

I could hold in one hand.

A silken dome

stretched wide as the sky overhead.

Its opulent color

drenched down and around me

backlit by gossamer sun

I had chosen the design

at a store

with my mother.

We opened it once

in sacred ceremony

on a glaring August day.

曾经童真的我

童真的我

在九月的一个清晨

把脚伸进

一双红雨靴

上面各自钉有一颗红色纽扣

我撑开新伞

向远处的学校走去

独自在潇潇的

寒雨中行走。

灰色的流水在排水沟里汹涌

我躲闪着前行。

银色纤细伞干

从钩形伞柄上支起

撑开一个复杂的

金属框架，宛如精致

优雅的埃菲尔铁塔

我可一手尽握。

一个丝质拱顶

犹如一片天空在头顶展开

艳丽的色蕴

沐浴着我的周身

伞背透着迷蒙的阳光

这款样式

是我在一家商店

跟母亲一起挑选的

我们仅打开过一次

在一个神圣的典礼上

那是八月里一个阳光明媚的日子

Shiva and Vishnu Wrestle in My Living Roo

Crack and splinter

a sudden dazzle of destruction

my sliding glass door

from just a small stone

meant to catch my attention

thousands of jagged web lines

glitter

like a Russian oligarch’s wife

this wreckage is held

in place

as a suspended tragedy

by an old wood frame

paint peeling from the ice

and heat

of Wisconsin’s seasons

my heart still beats

beneath my breastbone

I hear it knocking

all through the dark night’s sleep

湿婆与毗湿奴在我客厅里斗殴

啪嗒，咔嚓

一道爆裂惨状突入眼帘

我家玻璃滑门

被一块前来触我心境的

小石子击中

爆出数千条网状裂痕

咄咄生光

象一位苏联权贵的夫人

这块残骸拉叉着

伸展在那里

象一个悲剧悬挂在

旧木门框间

门框剥落的油漆饱经

威州的冰寒

与酷热

我的胸骨下

心跳依然

整个夜晚

我都听到它怦然敲击

Servant Leader

As if some spirited wildness of wind

starlings wing themselves

into a streamlined murmuration.

Just twenty or so

outside my sliding glass door.

They circle as of one mind.

Avian servant-leaders

take turns stepping up

or rather winging up

when the angle of the air alights in their brains

with the imperative to bank hard

now.

Someone in my living room is playing

overlapping chords

on the piano’s black keys only.

This bird-flight is an ancient

and at times almost forlorn

ethereal song of sight.

It has nothing to do with food.

Youngsters are born into this timeless flock

and others die

yet still the dance goes on

half a century ago the murmuration circled

over women hanging out laundry

and children playing games at backyard birthday parties

half a millennia ago it glimpsed Potawatomi

treading woodland trails

I once joined a congregation

where leadership was determined by lot

random and everchanging

I put forth every effort

and lost myself

in pursuit of purpose

and joy

I sky-danced a whimsical we

公仆式领导人

象一摞带着魔力的风

欧椋鸟群把自己飞成

流线型

仅二十来只

在我的玻璃滑门外

它们象受控于一只脑瓜似地盘旋

每当它们的脑神经感应到气流变换了角度

必须要作急剧斜飞

时

这些奉有公仆式领导精神的鸟儿就

一个个叠加起来

或者说叠飞起来

有人在客厅里弹奏

和弦

用的都是黑键

这种飞行法象古老的

有时甚至悲怆的

优雅飘渺的视觉之歌

跟觅食无关

这群历史悠远的鸟群里有幼鸟诞生

也有老者死去

但它们的翩跹舞姿不会停止

半个世纪前，它们曾在

晾晒衣服的妇女们

以及在后院生日聚会上

玩耍的孩子们的头顶上盘旋过

五百年前，它们俯瞰过印第安人

行走在林间小径上

我曾加入的教会

领导职位是由抽签决定的

随机且变化不定

追求目标

与喜悦中

我全力以赴

热衷其中

与心血来潮的我们天马行空地翩跹起舞

Stone Boy of Appalachia

An oblong stone

that was once a boy

who angered a woman

stares out

from the end of the yard

where auto frames

on cinder blocks

ease themselves to dust

their rusted coils

offer up

a nested last

resistance

lockjaw boy

stands mute

City cousins

run right past

to picnic as their mothers sweep

high on wooden swings

giggling into treetops

girlishly

and later on

to gawk

slack-jawed

at the strip-mined

vein

scraped right down

to the tendons

of the town

阿巴拉契亚的石童

院子尽头

那块矩形石头

曾经是一位男孩

他惹恼了一个巫婆

他站在那里直愣愣朝外张望

那里，煤渣块铺设的地面上

停放的汽车残骸

积满了灰尘

锈迹斑斑的座椅弹簧

还呈现着

残壳里最后一个

韧性物

这个下巴动弹不得的男童

默默地站着

城里来的表亲

径直穿过他的身旁

去野餐，而母亲们正

高高地荡着木制秋千

女性十足的笑声

飘上了树枝头

后来

她们耷拉着下巴

愣愣地看着

条条矿采

挖痕

径直切入

镇里的

肌肉般的山丘

Borderline

I picture you a bright blue moth

a phosphorescent blaze

flickering small at the edge of my light

vibration barely seen

for if I gaze too close

I fear

your heart may angle off

and vanish into night

界线

我想象你是一只透亮的蓝色飞蛾

磷光瑩瑩

在我的灯光外微微闪烁

我很难察觉你在颤动

因我一旦贴近你

我怕

你会心猿意马掉头飞走

消失在夜空里

No Title

Surprise sting on chest

hands steady on handlebars

bee snuck down my shirt

snuck down

the road bends through clover fields

my moving wheels stay upright

无题

胸口突然一阵刺痛

双手仍然稳握车把

任由蜜蜂在衬衣上悄悄往下爬

悄悄往下爬

路弯弯地穿过三叶草地

我的车轮仍然平稳向前

Duplex

Duped by a rectangle of glass above the door

in the way its light came in

but we could not see out

like the eyeless yellow marigolds between our walks

all fringe with no insight

tough alchemy of the nearly defeated

sometimes a warmed patch of light drifted in

to land on dust mote winter days

we played with paper dolls

our fathers once re-shingled the dilapidated roof

outside our back doors were sets of stairs

they had agreed upon

edgy summers drummed time

the staccato whap whap of screen doors

our lives latched to the people next door

in the jumpy bang bang of summer

I used to dream of a house

I could run all the way around

timed myself over and over

we shared a chimney, devilish bats

would echo their way down its dusty tunnel

and then have to decide

sometimes we heard the neighbors’ shrieks at night

and sometimes they heard ours.

复式住宅

门楣上方用一块长方形玻璃掩饰

阳光可以照进来

我们却看不到外面

就像散步时脚旁的黄色无蕊金盏花

全是花瓣而没有内涵

这种化疵为金的巧饰着实难能可贵

有时会有一块温暖的光斑飘忽进来

光顾灰尘弥漫的冬日

我们玩着纸娃娃

我们的父亲们曾在破旧不堪的屋顶上盖板瓦

后门外是重重楼梯

他们是坐在那上面商而定的

烦心的夏日鼓躁的时光

充斥着晃荡作响的纱门声

在这心惊肉跳的夏日砰砰声中

我们的生活就这样拴搭在邻居手里

我曾梦想有座独栋住宅

我可以绕着它跑

一遍遍计算我的跑速

我们共用一个烟囱，令人悚然的蝙蝠

借助回声飞下布满灰尘的通道

然后决定拜访哪家

夜间我们有时听到邻居尖叫

他们有时也听到我们的尖叫。

徐英才，薛凯译/Tr. by Xu Yingcai & Kai Mills

作者简介

Sylvia Cavanaugh grew up in a red brick row house in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, with neighbors always close at hand. Irish coal mining relatives lived about an hour north, and the family frequently left the city to visit these immigrants in the mountains. There, Sylvia encountered enormous trees turning red and gold in fall, cavorting packs of beagles, bee hives, introversion, tin cans strung up in trees, long abandoned Fords, a boy turned to stone, shotguns, and strip mining.

Sylvia attended undergraduate school at Indiana University of Pennsylvania, then moved to the Midwest and earned her M.S. in Urban and Regional Planning from the University of Wisconsin. After working in health care planning and marketing for a few years, she returned to school to become a social studies teacher.

She teaches history and cultural studies in Wisconsin, and has been the advisor for the breakdancing and poetry clubs. She and her students have been actively involved in 100,000 Poets for Change. Sylvia is fascinated with cultures, and they ways in which they move through populations and change over time.

A Pushcart Prize nominee, Sylvia has published three chapbooks and her poems have appeared in various periodicals and anthologies, such as Gyroscope Review, Switched-On Gutenberg, and Stoneboat Literary Journal. She has been a Frequent Contributor for Songs of Eretz Poetry Review and is a Contributing Editor for Verse-Virtual: An Online Community Journal of Poetry Her work has received awards from The Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, Wisconsin People and Ideas, The Poetry Society of Michigan, Milwaukee Irish Fest, and others.

Sylvia is the proud mother of three children, and although she read to them and shared her own tales as they were growing up, has always loved the ways in which they create their own stories.

西尔维亚·卡瓦诺在宾夕法尼亚州兰开斯特的红砖联排式住宅中长大，邻居都近在咫尺。爱尔兰亲戚住在约一个小时车路的北部煤矿。全家经常离开城市去山区探望这些移民亲戚。在那里，西尔维亚能看到秋天里变成红色和金色巨型大树，欢蹦乱跳的小猎犬，蜂箱，性格内向的亲戚们，吊在在树上的锡罐子，被遗弃的福特汽车，一个又男孩变成石头的石雕，长枪和露天矿场。

西尔维亚本科就读于宾夕法尼亚州印第安纳大学，然后移居中西部，在威斯康星大学获得了城市与区域规划专业的硕士学位。在医疗保健计划和市场营销领域工作了几年之后，她返回学校学习成为一名高中社会科学老师。

她在威斯康星州教授历史和文化研究，并是学校霹雳舞和诗歌俱乐部的指导老师。她和她的学生一直积极参与100,000诗人的变革活动。西尔维亚对各种文化非常感兴趣，这些文化随着人口和时间变化变化着。

西尔维娅是手推车奖的被提名候选者，出版了三本小册子，她的诗也出现在各种期刊和选集中，例如《陀螺仪评论》，《接通古腾堡》和《石船文学杂志》。她是《 Eretz诗歌评论之歌》的经常撰稿人，也是《虚拟诗歌：在线诗歌社区杂志》的编辑。她的作品获得了威斯康星州诗人奖学金，威斯康星州人与思想协会，密歇根州诗歌协会，密尔沃基爱尔兰节等奖项。

西尔维亚是为她三个孩子骄傲的母亲，尽管在孩子们成长过程中她为他们念书，讲述自己的故事，但她更爱听孩子们创造自己故事。

译者简介

徐英才，原复旦英语教师，现美国德宝大学汉学老师，华语诗学会会长，汉英双语纸质诗刊《诗殿堂》总编，有多部译著出版，其中汉英译著《英译唐宋八大家散文精选》和《英译中国经典散文选》曾由中国赠送美国林肯中学。

Xu Yingcai, a former Fudan English teacher, now a teacher of Chinese Studies in DePaul University, President of Chinese Poetry Association, and Editor-in-Chief for Poetry Hall – A Chinese and English bilingual journal, has multiple translation books published. His translations Selected Translation of Eight Tang & Song Prose Masters and Selected Translation of Chinese Prose Classics were once the gifts Chinese government gave to Lincoln High School USA.

薛凯，任教于美国公立高中。《诗殿堂》双语纸质诗刊英诗部主任和天阙福音微刊主编，当地交响乐团合唱团员。爱好诗歌和国际象棋。

Kai Mills is a high school teacher. She is managing editor of the English department for Poetry Hall, and chief editor for Tianque Gospel Poetry online journal. Her hobbies include writing poetry, singing for her local symphony chorus and chess.

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华人诗学会理事会组织机构

会长：徐英才

副会长：冰花、张庭、颜海峰

秘书长：李莉

成员: (按拼音排列) 冰花、焦海丽、李莉、

　　　虔谦、徐英才、薛凯、颜海峰、张庭

华语诗学会专刊《诗殿堂》编委成员

总编：徐英才

副总编：张庭

内容总监：冰花

主编：虔　谦（新诗部）