雪厚厚地涂在岌岌可危的雪松树篱丶
Snow slabs in the dicey cedar hedge,
知更鸟和冬天鹪鹩上，或尽可能如此，
robins and winter wrens thickly, or this as much as possible,
里面，受寒冷责备。
inside, taking stick from the cold.
一只鹪鹩看来是想在小屋顶筑巢，
One wren looks to plant a nest in the shed’s roof
在飞檐下绕着这个完整的结构移动，
moves around the complete structure below the overhang,
双脚蹬在防浣熊的电线上。
feet pinging on the anti-raccoon wire.
天气的呻吟。这究意是什么意思？
Moan of the weather. What does it really mean?
小屋退入半英亩枫树和枞树，
The shed backs into a half acre of maples and fir,
那半亩枫树和枞树又加入一座圆角形山西面一道悬崖
which joins an oak sprawl beside a cliff at the west side --
──我的身体──旁边一大片杂乱的橡树。
my body -- of a rounded horn mountain.
夏天，悬崖石上有地衣那星系似的金色覆盖物，
In summer there’s a galactic gold spread of lichen on the cliff stone
在一簇竹尖钉似的黑草莓背后。
behind a bungy cluster of blackberries.
窗前的株犁树面向那座山──某个五月，一只红喉的
The pear tree at the window facing the mountain – one May a rubythroated
蜂鸟连续几星期蹲在两个豆粒大的蛋上，
hummingbird sat weeks on two bean-sized eggs
在一个苔藓和肉质的巢里，巢位于齐眉高的地方；
in a moss and succulent nest, which stood at eyeheight;
她猛烈而果断，
she was fierce and resolute,
不亚于或者也许超过在米兰甚至后来
在希波的奥古斯汀，他421年在希波给君士坦丁堡牧首
equal to or perhaps exceeding Augustine in Milan
阿蒂库斯写信，三次明确谈到性爱，“那是他沉思了二十多年的问题，”
and even later in Hippo from which he writes to Atticus, patriarch of Constantinople,
但没有收到回音。如今他六十多岁，满是尘土，埋在这块农村石头里。
thrice in 421, definitively on sexuality, “on which he had meditated for over two decades”
阿蒂库斯听到各种有关他已死去的故事
and hears nothing. Dusty, now in his sixties, buried in the rural stone.
并推测这是真的。
Atticus holds stories he is dead
风在山上的岩石下游泳，
he reasons true.
顺流而下，每阵风都有自己的面孔。
一种呼吸的雄壮，羽毛般飘动。
Winds swim under rock on the mountain,
我七个骷髅的名字
flowing down, each with its own face.
分辨出这些，这些面孔的
A muscularity of breath, feathering.
味道，它们每个都既是一种芬芳
My seven-skeletoned name
又是一个名字。所以我走向一阵阵风，
makes out the smell of these,
空荡荡，没错，但没给它们带来什么来自坟墓的对接机制。
these faces which are each a scent
and also a name. So I come toward the winds,
但他没死，反而是在希波坐着，
empty, yes, but with no disinterable docking mechanism for them.
希波后来叫做安纳巴，漂亮又土气，在“我们的海”受冷落的一边，
离开他吧。这里大概不会有什么东西。
马克思后来将想出那个小周转轮系，
But he is not dead. Rather he sits in Hippo,
在整件事情上运作。历史
later called Annaba, which is pretty and hick on the wrong side of mare nostrum
向前滚动
and which will wait six hundred years for thonged Italian and French tourists
在履带上，履带是河流，也许是马利亚的河流系统，
to come and breathe,
这些无颜色的河流，世界的硷性淋巴，理念的
just as Mousterians waited in this same cove for homo sapiens to claim
身体。
their beach space with geometrical thought. He waits for his letter, barely caught in the imperial swell,
his foot nevertheless on the Donatist neck,
Rome north and above him glittering like a universal Turing machine
题解：此诗有两个兴趣点──作者在另一首诗《鹿地小屋》中提到的他房子背后的小屋和某一年栖息在小屋附 近丶就在小屋窗外的蜂鸟；以及希波的奥古斯汀，也即那位写《忏悔录》的早期基督教哲学家，他曾在米兰丶后来在北非短暂居住过。最后一节诗省思一种历史哲 学，既不是黑格尔式的，也不是马克思主义的，也不是奥古斯汀式的，而是多少有点儿像是三者的零零碎碎的拼凑。也许算是一种喜剧式的解读吧。据作者解释，马 利亚是指圣母马利亚；“七副骨骼的名字”是一个非常复杂和神秘的名字，它深藏于一个人的深处，位于多层较不重要的名字丶性命丶身份之下，因而是一个非常强 大而纯粹的直觉源头；“我们的海”原文为拉丁文，指地中海。
in which anything could happen.
Leave him. Roughly nothing will come of this.
Marx, later will work out the small epicyclic gear system
operating the whole affair. History
rolls forward
on treads which are rivers, the river-system perhaps of Mary,
these rivers which are the colourless, alkaline lymph of the world, idea’s
body.