泰德·库瑟，我感兴趣的另一位诗人。
翻译他一首代表作。

在夜晚飞
泰德·库瑟

我们的上方，是星星。我们的下面，是星座。
五十亿英里之外，一个星系死去
像一片雪花落在水上。在我们下方，
有个农夫，感到了那遥远之处死亡的寒冷，
“啪”，打开院子的灯，把牛棚、谷仓都拖进
他照看的小小的范围之内。
整个夜晚，座座城市，像闪烁的新星
以明亮街道和像他这里的孤独灯光拔河。

（本人译。这首诗视角独特——飞行于宇宙间，想象力既宏大又细腻。最后的“拔河”一句令我叫绝，一头是灿烂的城市灯火，一头是农村的孤灯）

Evening Hawk
by Robert Penn Warren

From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through
Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds,
Out of the peak's black angularity of shadow, riding
The last tumultuous avalanche of
Light above pines and the guttural gorge,
The hawk comes.
His wing
Scythes down another day, his motion
Is that of the honed steel-edge, we hear
The crashless fall of stalks of Time.

The head of each stalk is heavy with the gold of our error.

Look!Look!he is climbing the last light
Who knows neither Time nor error, and under
Whose eye, unforgiving, the world, unforgiven, swings
Into shadow.

Long now,
The last thrush is still, the last bat
Now cruises in his sharp hieroglyphics.His wisdom
Is ancient, too, and immense.The star
Is steady, like Plato, over the mountain.

If there were no wind we might, we think, hear
The earth grind on its axis, or history
Drip in darkness like a leaking pipe in the cellar.

沃伦另一首，《傍晚的鹰》，写得大气磅礴，得空译出来。

沃伦语录。

"The urge to write poetry is like having an itch. When the itch becomes annoying enough, you scratch it."
写诗的冲动就像瘙痒。痒到你受不了了，你便动手抓挠。

"What is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding? It is the deepest part of autobiography."
诗是什么，不过是对自我理解的一次危险尝试？它是自传里最深邃的那部分。

沃伦语录。

"How do poems grow? They grow out of your life."
诗是怎样生长的？它们长出了你的生活。

"Storytelling and copulation are the two chief forms of amusement in the South. They're inexpensive and easy to procure."
讲故事和性交是（美国）南方的两种主要的娱乐方式。它们不昂贵，且容易获得。

In January
by Ted Kooser

Only one cell in the frozen hive of night
is lit, or so it seems to us:
this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,
its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers.
Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks.
Beyond the glass, the wintry city
creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.
A great wind rushes under all of us.
The bigger the window, the more it trembles.


在一月

在夜晚冰冻的蜂巢，只有一间
被点亮，对我们约莫这样：
这家越南咖啡店，油腻腻的灯，
香料它们漂亮的形状像鲜花。
笑声，谈话声，筷子撞击声。
玻璃的外面，寒冬之城
像一座古老的木桥吱嘎作响。
一阵狂风在我们所有人的脚下掠过。
窗子越大，便颤动得越厉害。

（本人译。库瑟另一首，我好像触摸到了咖啡店的温暖，可惜的是，和我们一样，我处在这一间之外，寒冷，不安……库瑟的诗就像我已说过的那样，既宏观，又微观，他文字的镜头不住地伸拉，让读者体会到他之观察，之体会）

上楼配图copy自库瑟官网，贴出来如此小。
吸引我注意的是门前一盏马灯，在诗人旁侧，或许挂在门前树上？我甚至怀疑是小鸟喂食器。
洛夫移居北美后，曾经在后院的二手货处理中（yard sale）买到一盏马灯，他仔细擦过，挂在他家门旁，说一看到这灯，便会想起风雪夜归人。当我读到，很觉感动。

A Happy Birthday

This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.

by Ted Kooser

一个开心的生日

这个夜晚，我坐在敞着的窗子旁
阅读，直到光线隐去，书
不过成了黑暗的一部分。
我可以轻易打开灯，
但我想驾着这个白天，沉入夜晚，
独坐，用我一只手那灰白的鬼魂
抚平暧昧不清的一页。
（本人译）

A Letter in October
by Ted Kooser

Dawn comes later and later now,
and I, who only a month ago
could sit with coffee every morning
watching the light walk down the hill
to the edge of the pond and place
a doe there, shyly drinking,

then see the light step out upon
the water, sowing reflections
to either side—a garden
of trees that grew as if by magic—
now see no more than my face,
mirrored by darkness, pale and odd,

startled by time. While I slept,
night in its thick winter jacket
bridled the doe with a twist
of wet leaves and led her away,
then brought its black horse with harness
that creaked like a cricket, and turned

the water garden under. I woke,
and at the waiting window found
the curtains open to my open face;
beyond me, darkness. And I,
who only wished to keep looking out,
must now keep looking in.

十月里的一封信
库瑟

黎明现在来得越来越晚，
仅在一个月前，我
每天早晨，喝着咖啡，坐
看光从山上下来
走到湖边，把一只鹿
放在那里，她羞怯地饮水，

然后看光迈出
湖水，把倒影散播
到每一边——好像一座花园，
有着魔力般生长的树木——
现在，无他，只看见我的脸，
被黑暗所映，苍白，古怪，

被时间震慑。当我睡去，
夜晚在它厚厚的冬装里
用湿漉漉树叶搓成扭曲的一段
给鹿套上笼头，带她离开，
然后用马具带回它的黑马
吱嘎声像一只蟋蟀，让

那座水边花园下去。我醒来，
在等待的窗边发现
窗帘拉开，朝向我赤裸的脸；
在我之外，是黑暗。我，
只希望继续外观的，
现在必须继续内视。

（本人译。诗人在十月的白天与黑夜，诗人故事多啊……
最喜欢首节的“鹿”一句。清晨，湖边喝水的鹿，既然是光把她放置——诗人用了“place”，异常喜欢这个表达，我相信，万物都是被放置的，小到一棵草，大到地球、星系；而且是安放。你不安，“怪我咯，”造物主冷冷地说——在那里，你可以想见鹿在晨光中的那种晶莹剔透）

清霜，云兄，花神好啊，感谢来串门，还留下佳作。
花神翻译得有点引申了。但通过这首，花神才华尽显，尽管是建立在原作基础上。我读起来觉得很舒服，怎么觉得比原作和我的翻译要好很多呢：)

After Years

Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.

by Ted Kooser

多年以后
库瑟

今天，我从远处看你
正走开，一片冰川
它闪亮的脸悄然
滑入那片海。一棵古老的橡树
倒在了坎伯兰，树上仅存
一小把叶子，一个撒谷粒喂鸡的
老妇人抬头看了
看。在那个星系的
另一侧，一颗比我们自己的太阳
大三十五倍的星星爆炸，
消失，留下一个绿色的小点
在那位天文学家的视网膜上
当他站在我心中
一个巨大、空旷的穹顶上，无人可诉。

（本人译。诗人喜欢open这个词，出现频率高。open同时意味着close；他对光与光线敏感，这首也出现了glittering, sun, star这样的词汇）

评点一下，以我的角度：
花神的翻译中规中矩，但有不准确之处。
清霜这次翻译得有些机械，我读了，第一感觉像是用百度翻译译出来的。
欢迎段老师！段老师翻译得流光溢彩，诗意盎然，最后一句“此意无人会”，真是令人叫绝！但整首诗与原文对照起来，有引伸太过之嫌。
多谢诸位参与！不同的处理，不同的风格，我的思路也被开阔了。

是的，诗人通篇在写离去。诗人从现在遥望多年以后，“看到你正走开”中的“你”，我宁愿理解成是诗人看暮年的自己；冰川滑入大海，尽管有一张闪亮的脸；老橡树倒下，仅剩一把树叶——树叶，我想到了头发；老妇人；尤其，巨星的消失……
未来，一切终将离去，名声，荣耀。这种心情，难以倾诉与人。
——我对这首诗的一点理解。

我对自己翻译的也不满意，太多的注意力给了“信”，在“雅”上做的不足。
这首诗是遥望未来还是回望过去，有什么要紧呢，doesn't matter at all; 诗歌（现代诗）本身往往呈现出很多面，更何况库瑟在选取角度上是个出人意料的诗人，比如这首：

Abandened Farmhouse

He was a big man, says the size of his shoes
on a pile of broken dishes by the house;
a tall man too, says the length of the bed
in an upstairs room; and a good, God-fearing man,
says the Bible with a broken back
on the floor below the window, dusty with sun;
but not a man for farming, say the fields
cluttered with boulders and the leaky barn.

A woman lived with him, says the bedroom wall
papered with lilacs and the kitchen shelves
covered with oilcloth, and they had a child,
says the sandbox made from a tractor tire.
Money was scarce, say the jars of plum preserves
and canned tomatoes sealed in the cellar hole.
And the winters cold, say the rags in the window frames.
It was lonely here, says the narrow country road.

Something went wrong, says the empty house
in the weed-choked yard. Stones in the fields
say he was not a farmer; the still-sealed jars
in the cellar say she left in a nervous haste.
And the child? Its toys are strewn in the yard
like branches after a storm—a rubber cow,
a rusty tractor with a broken plow,
a doll in overalls. Something went wrong, they say.

by Ted Kooser

读到青鸟兄的译文，一阵惊喜，仿佛读到“古诗十九首”，新时代的古诗十九首。
我看到优秀之作，总有分享推介的愿望。
希望青鸟兄这首译诗能推广开来，让更多的读者读到。

Good job，花神，青鸟兄！
击一下掌：)
都有一两处的瑕疵，但瑕不掩瑜。

问青鸟兄，安安，xiaoyunche，还有书话其他兄友好！
我就很惭愧了，忙于琐事，没能像诸兄友那般手不释卷，收获多多。尽量多读点儿吧。

The Red Poppy

Louise Glück - 1943-

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.

From The Wild Iris, published by The Ecco Press, 1992. Copyright © 1992 by Louise Glück. All Rights reserved. Used with permission.

红罂粟

这件很棒的事情
是不要有
思想。感觉：
哦，我拥有那些；它们
统治了我。我有
一位主人，在天上，
唤作太阳，我为他
开放，向他展示
我内心的火焰，火焰
如同他的存在。
如果不是一颗心，如此荣耀
会是什么？哦，我的兄弟姐妹，
很久以前你们还未成为人，
有一次像我吗？你们
允许自己
开放一次，便永远
不再开放？因为事实上，
现在，我在说话
和你们同样的方式。我说话
因为我碾作了尘土。

（在西方一些国家，胸前戴一朵罂粟花的时节又到了，人们以此纪念历次战争中死去的将士。——我在读到这首诗时想到的一个背景。赶一次时髦，读诺奖诗人的作品，译出来。英语原诗来自若啬的帖子）