Impossible Friendships
For example, with someone who no longer is,
who exists only in yellowed letters.
Or long walks beside a stream,
whose depths hold hidden
porcelain cups—and the talks about philosophy
with a timid student or the postman.
A passerby with proud eyes
whom you'll never know.
Friendship with this world, ever more perfect
(if not for the salty smell of blood).
The old man sipping coffee
in St.-Lazare, who reminds you of someone.
Faces flashing by
in local trains—
the happy faces of travelers headed perhaps
for a splendid ball, or a beheading.
And friendship with yourself
—since after all you don't know who you are.
〈不可能的友誼〉
譬如,跟某位已然不在,
只存在於泛黃信紙中的人。
或那小溪旁的漫步,
溪的深處埋著隱秘的
精緻瓷杯—以及跟一個膽怯學生
進行的哲學探討或那郵差。
一個你永不會認識
眼神倨傲的路人。
跟這世界的友誼,那更完美
(如果不是血液那鹹鹹的氣味)。
那個令你想起某人
在聖拉扎爾啜著咖啡的老人。
一張張在普通列車上
閃過的臉容—
趕赴一場華麗舞會,或斬首行刑的旅人
愉快的臉容。
還有跟自己的友誼
—因為畢竟你不知道自己是誰。
At the Cathedral's Foot
In June once, in the evening,
returning from a long trip,
with memories of France’s blooming trees
still fresh in our minds,
its yellow fields, green plane trees
sprinting before the car,
we sat on the curb at the cathedral’s foot
and spoke softly about disasters,
about what lay ahead, the coming fear,
and someone said this was the best
we could do now-
to talk of darkness in that bright shadow.
〈在大教堂腳下〉
六月有一回,黃昏裡,
從一次長途旅行歸來,
帶著在我們心中仍舊鮮活
法國的繁花盛放的樹的回憶,
它那黃的田野,在車前掠過
綠的梧桐,
我們坐在大教堂腳下的行人道
輕聲談到災難,
逼近眉睫的一切,即將來臨的恐懼,
而有人說這是我們現在能夠做的
最好的事情—
在那明亮陰影中談論黑暗。
Friends
My friends wait for me,
ironic, smiling sadly.
Where are the transparent palaces
we meant to build —
their lips say,
their aging lips.
Don’ worry, friends,
those splendid kites
still soar in the autumn air,
still take us
to the place where harvest begin,
to bright days —
the place where scarred eyes
open.
〈朋友〉
我的朋友在等我,
諷刺的,哀傷地微笑。
我們打算建造的
透明的宮殿在哪裡—
他們的唇在說
他們那老掉的唇。
別擔心,朋友,
那些耀眼的風箏
依舊在秋日的空氣中翱翔,
依舊載著我們
到那收割開始的地方
到那燦爛的時光—
那個結疤的眼睛
張開的地方。
(English translation by Clare Cavanagh/中譯:李敬恒)