I bought a dollar and a half’s worth of small red potatoes,

我买了一美元半的红皮小土豆，

took them home, boiled them in their jackets

带回家，连皮煮，

and ate them for dinner with a little butter and salt.

蘸一点黄油和盐当晚餐吃了。

Then I walked through the dried fields

然后我穿过小城外

on the edge of town. In middle June the light

干燥的田野。六月中旬，

hung on in the dark furrows at my feet,

阳光垂在我脚下黑暗的沟中，

and in the mountain oaks overhead the birds

山里，鸟儿聚集在头顶上的

were gathering for the night, the jays and mockers

橡树里过夜，松鸦和嘲鸟

squawking back and forth, the finches still darting

叽叽喳喳，跳来跳去，燕雀仍然

into the dusty light. The woman who sold me

向着浮着烟尘的光猛冲。卖土豆给我的女人

the potatoes was from Poland; she was someone

来自波兰；她就是从我童年中走来的某个人，

out of my childhood in a pink spangled sweater and sunglasses

戴着太阳镜，粉红毛衣缀满亮片，

praising the perfection of all her fruits and vegetables

夸口自己在路边摊上卖的水果蔬菜

at the road-side stand and urging me to taste

有多么完美，劝我一定要尝尝那些白兮兮的

even the pale, raw sweet corn trucked all the way,

生玉米棒子，她信誓旦旦地说那是长途车

she swore, from New Jersey. “Eat, eat” she said,

从新泽西一路运来的。“吃呀，吃呀，”

“Even if you don’t I’ll say you did.”

她说，“就算你没吃，我也说你吃了。”

													Some things

                                             有些事

you know all your life. They are so simple and true

明白了就是一辈子。它们朴素而真实，

they must be said without elegance, meter and rhyme,

要讲述它们，必须不求高雅、也不要

they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker,

合辙押韵，就把它们放在桌子上，旁边

the glass of water, the absence of light gathering

有盐瓶、一杯水，无光的阴影聚集

in the shadows of picture frames, they must be

在相框下，而它们原本就必须赤裸

naked and alone, they must stand for themselves.

而孤独，必须仅仅呈现为自身。

My friend Henri and I arrived at this together in 1965

我和朋友亨利 1965 年同时领悟到这一点，

before I went away, before he began to kill himself,

然后我离开，而他开始了自杀行为，

and the two of us to betray our love. Can you taste

我们两个开始背叛自己的所爱。你尝得出

what I’m saying? It is onions or potatoes, a pinch

我的话是什么味吗？那是洋葱或土豆，

of simple salt, the wealth of melting butter, it is obvious,

或者一小撮普通的盐，浓浓的融化的黄油，

it stays in the back of your throat like a truth

那么明显，它就像真理一样粘在你喉咙后壁，

you never uttered because the time was always wrong,

你从未说出，因为时机总是不对，

it stays there for the rest of your life, unspoken,

你的余生中，它会一直粘在那儿，说不出来，

made of that dirt we call earth, the metal we call salt,

它的成分有泥土和金属，我们称为大地和盐，

in a form we have no words for, and you live on it.

它的形状我们无法形容，而你一直靠它活着。