奧利弗作品

董繼平 譯

瑪麗·奧利弗（Mary Oliver，1935-2019），美國著名女詩人。生于俄亥俄州的楓樹高地。少女時代進(jìn)入俄亥俄州立大學(xué)和瓦薩爾學(xué)院學(xué)習(xí)。自20世紀(jì)60年代初以來，出版了30余部詩集，主要有《不是航程及其他詩作》《夜間旅人》《十二個月亮》《夢工廠》《光的房子》《白松：詩與散文詩》《西風(fēng)：詩與散文詩》《葉與云》《藍(lán)色鳶尾：詩與評論》《渴意：詩》《紅鳥》《證據(jù)》《天鵝：詩與散文詩》《一千個早晨》《狗之歌》《藍(lán)馬》等。她先后獲得過“雪萊紀(jì)念獎”“全國圖書獎”“普利策詩歌獎”等多種獎項。其作品主題多涉自然。

散文詩三章

1 ▲ “哦，昨天，那一個，”我們都叫了起來。“哦，那一個！”萬物多么豐富而合理！多么成熟，準(zhǔn)備就緒，慷慨，滿懷興奮——在那些夏日，在干凈、疾馳的白云下面，我們多么充滿希望。“哦，昨天！”

2 ▲ 我置身于一個不再使用的老舊垃圾焚燒場。整個夏天，忍冬都在這里濕潤地怒放，就但愿它好像會足以裝飾全世界吧。每年夏天，一對蜂鳥都生活在這里，仿佛是同類中唯一的一對，生活在大路邊上那個自己的樂園里。灼熱的下午，黑莓莖從那個頹敗之地密集地生長出來，我在那旁邊溜達(dá)，幾乎總是肯定會看見那只雄蜂鳥棲息在它最喜歡的地方，靠近一棵野櫻桃樹的頂端，用明亮的眼睛和甚至更明亮的喉嚨，眺望它的王國那邊。然后，在我談到的那個下午，正當(dāng)它搖擺腦袋，天空中傳來了一陣金屬與能量的巨大咆哮聲，猛然推進(jìn)，尖銳刺耳，鉆穿空氣。一架飛機，一個黑色的三角形物體，從地平線尖叫著飛來，緊攥著沉重的利爪，側(cè)邊滿是疙瘩。緊接著：穿過那耳道狹窄的耳朵，腦袋中產(chǎn)生一種痛苦。我看見那只小鳥，在它棲居的那棵樹閃耀的活力中，把綠色的腦袋猛然伸向一邊，去看見這只大鷹，這個在頭上逼近的噩夢。瞧瞧吧，那只蜂鳥畏縮了，它緊緊抱著那根粗枝，它蹲坐，它顫抖。這是上帝光彩奪目、閃閃發(fā)光的珠寶：害怕。

所有的敘述都是隱喻。

3 ▲ 暴風(fēng)雨過后，海洋沒有大張旗鼓就歸來了，回歸自己古老的職責(zé);潮汐爬到積雪覆蓋的海岸上，然后又退卻;因此世界就在那里：天空，水，淺色的沙，而且在潮汐抵達(dá)那一天的目的地之處，還有積雪。

這個細(xì)節(jié)：一只野鴨——鵲鴨的尸體，旁邊有一只黑背鷗。在野鴨尸體上，在它胸脯的羽毛當(dāng)中，是一個也許有一英寸見方的洞孔;洞孔里面的顏色是一種準(zhǔn)確無誤的紅色。你可以彎折它，沒什么可指責(zé)的：暴風(fēng)雨必須翻來覆去地顛簸、搖蕩，那只伸長脖子呆看的大黑背鷗必須吃東西，如此等等。這不過是片刻。太陽，從簇?fù)淼脑茖又谐鰜泶贯灒岩粋€人可以輕而易舉想象到的光——它那非凡的光投擲在風(fēng)景上。

THREE PROSE POEMS

1 ▲ Oh， yesterday， that one， we all cry out. Oh， that one！ How rich and possible everything was！ How ripe， ready， lavish， and filled with excitement —— how hopeful we were on those summer days， under the clean， white racing clouds. Oh， yesterday！

2 ▲ I was in the old burn-dump —— no longer used —— where the honeysuckle all summer is in a moist rage， willing it would seem to be enough to decorate the whole world. Here a pair of hummingbirds lived every summer， as if the only ones of their kind， in their own paradise at the side of the high road. On hot afternoons， beside the blackberry canes that rose thickly from that wrecked place， I strolled， and was almost always sure to see the male hummingbird on his favorite high perch， near the top of a wild cherry tree， looking out across his kingdom with bright eye and even brighter throat. And then， on the afternoon I am telling about， as he swung his head， there came out of the heavens an immense growl， of metal and energy， shoving and shrilling， boring through the air. And a plane， a black triangle， flew screaming from the horizon， heavy talons clenched and lumpy on its underside. Immediately： a suffering in the head， through the narrow channeled ears. And I saw the small bird， in the sparkle of its tree， fling its green head sideways for the eye to see this hawk-bird， this nightmare pressing overhead. And，lo， the hummingbird cringed， it hugged itself to the limb，it hunkered，it quivered. It was God’s gorgeous，flashing jewel： afraid.

All narrative is metaphor.

3 ▲ After the storm the ocean returned without fanfare to its old offices; the tide climbed onto the snow-covered shore and then receded; so there was the world： sky， water， the pale sand and， where the tide had reached that day’s destination， the snow.

And this detail： the body of a duck， a golden-eye; and beside it one black-backed gull. In the body of the duck， among the breast feathers， a hole perhaps an inch across; the color within the hole a shouting red. And bend it as you might， nothing was to blame： storms must toss， and the great black-backed gawker must eat， and so on. It was merely a moment. The sun， angling out from the bunched clouds， cast one could easily imagine tenderly over the landscape its extraordinary light.

藍(lán) 莓

如今我生活在一個溫暖的地方，你一年四季都買得到新鮮藍(lán)莓。不用去勞神費力。來自南美不同的國度。它們的香甜度不亞于任何藍(lán)莓，而且跟我過去常常在普羅溫斯敦①外面的田野上采摘的漿果相比，它們算很大的了。然而漿果就是漿果。它們不會說我不懂的語言。我也不會發(fā)現(xiàn)蜱蟲或小蜘蛛在它們中間爬行。因此總的來說，我很滿意。盡管如此，也有界限。它們所沒有的就是田野。那它們所屬和我這些年來開始感到自己所屬的田野。喔，有生活，然后有以后。也許我想念的就是自己。這田野，還有那在林邊歌唱的雀鹀。那在一天早晨不知不覺就偶然與我相遇的雌鹿。它渾身緊張，美麗動人。它就像你會對任何入侵者所做的那樣跺腳。然后注視我良久，仿佛在說，好吧，你就停留在你那一塊土地上，而我將停留在我的土地上。那就是我們要做的事情。嘗試把它收拾好，南美。

①位于美國馬薩諸塞州的避暑勝地。

BLUEBERRIES

I’m living in a warm place now， where you can purchase fresh blueberries all year long. Labor free. From various countries in South America. They’re as sweet as any， and compared with the berries I used to pick in the fields outside of Provincetown，they’re enormous. But berries are berries. They don’t speak any language I can’t understand. Neither do I find ticks or small spiders crawling among them. So， generally speaking，I’m very satisfied. There are limits， however. What they don’t have is the field. The field they belonged to and through the years I began to feel I belonged to. Well， there’s life， and then there’s later. Maybe it’s myself that I miss. The field， and the sparrow singing at the edge of the woods. And the doe that one morning came upon me unaware， all tense and gorgeous. She stamped her hoof as you would to any intruder. Then gave me a long look， as if to say， Okay， you stay in your patch， I’ll stay in mine. Which is what we did. Try packing that up， South America.