雙語·《西爾維婭·普拉斯詩集》 萊斯博斯島

Lesbos
萊斯博斯島

Viciousness in the kitchen!
廚房里的邪惡！

The potatoes hiss.
土豆嘶嘶作響。

It is all Hollywood, windowless,
典型的好萊塢式，沒有窗戶，

The fluorescent light wincing on and off like a terrible migraine,
日光燈或明或暗像可怕的偏頭痛，

Coy paper strips for doors—
害羞的紙條遮著門——

Stage curtains, a widow’s frizz.
舞臺幕布，寡婦的亂發(fā)。

And I, love, am a pathological liar,
而我，親愛的，是個病態(tài)的撒謊者，

And my child—look at her, face down on the floor,
我的孩子——瞧她，臉朝下趴在地板上，

Little unstrung puppet, kicking to disappear—
斷了線的小木偶，踢著腿就會消失似的——

Why she is schizophrenic,
為何她神情緊張，

Her face is red and white, a panic,
她的臉又紅又白，驚慌失措，

You have stuck her kittens outside your window
你將她的貓仔困于你家窗外

In a sort of cement well
像是困在水泥井里

Where they crap and puke and cry and she can’t hear.
它們在那里拉屎、嘔吐、叫喊，她聽不見。

You say you can’t stand her,
你說不能容忍她，

The bastard’s a girl.
那個混蛋的女兒。

You who have blown your tubes like a bad radio
你開著電視機卻像只壞收音機

Clear of voices and history, the staticky
沒有各種觀點、歷史，不變的

Noise of the new.
新的噪音。

You say I should drown the kittens. Their smell!
你說我該溺死那些貓仔。它們有氣味！

You say I should drown my girl.
你說我該溺死我的女兒。

She’ll cut her throat at ten if she’s mad at two.
若她兩歲時瘋癲，十歲她將割自己的喉嚨。

The baby smiles, fat snail,
那嬰兒微笑著，肥蝸牛，

From the polished lozenges of orange linoleum.
橘黃色油氈布上拋光的菱形。

You could eat him. He’s a boy.
你可以吃了他。他是個男孩。

You say your husband is just no good to you.
你說你的丈夫?qū)δ阋粺o用處。

His Jew-Mama guards his sweet sex like a pearl.
他那猶太媽媽珍視他的性別貴如珍珠。

You have one baby, I have two.
你有一個嬰兒，我有兩個。

I should sit on a rock off Cornwall and comb my hair.
我該坐在康沃爾的巖石上，梳理我的頭發(fā)。

I should wear tiger pants, I should have an affair.
我該穿虎褲，我該有風流韻事。

We should meet in another life, we should meet in air,
我們該相遇于另一生命中，我們真不該相遇，

Me and you.
我和你。

Meanwhile there’s a stink of fat and baby crap.
那期間散發(fā)出肥胖嬰兒糞便的氣味。

I’m doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.
我吞下的最后一片安眠藥讓我昏昏沉沉。

The smog of cooking, the smog of hell
烹飪的煙霧，地獄的煙霧

Floats our heads, two venomous opposites,
我們的頭腦飄浮，兩個心懷惡意對立的人，

Our bones, our hair.
我們的骨頭，我們的頭發(fā)。

I call you Orphan, orphan. You are ill.
我稱你孤兒，孤兒。你病了。

The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T.B.
太陽讓你得潰瘍，風兒讓你得肺結(jié)核。

Once you were beautiful.
你曾經(jīng)多么美麗。

In New York, in Hollywood, the men said:‘Through?
在紐約，在好萊塢，男人們說：“完了？

Gee baby, you are rare.’
哇，甜心，你很特別。”

You acted, acted, acted for the thrill.
你為驚險表演，表演，表演。

The impotent husband slumps out for a coffee.
無能的丈夫消沉露臉，為一杯咖啡。

I try to keep him in,
我試圖讓他待著，

An old pole for the lightning,
產(chǎn)生閃電的古老電線桿，

The acid baths, the skyfuls off of you.
滿天空的酸性雨水傾瀉而下，刻薄的你。

He lumps it down the plastic cobbled hill,
他將它摔在塑料鵝卵石鋪成的山丘，

Flogged trolley. The sparks are blue.
被抽打的手推車。冒出藍色的火星。

The blue sparks spill,
藍色的火星濺散，

Splitting like quartz into a million bits.
仿佛石英分裂成百萬碎片。

O jewel! O valuable!
啊，寶石！啊，珍寶！

That night the moon
那晚，月亮

Dragged its blood bag, sick
拖著它血紅的袋子，病態(tài)

Animal
似動物

Up over the harbor lights.
懸掛于港口眾燈之上。

And then grew normal,
然后變得正常，

Hard and apart and white.
硬朗，蒼白，與眾不同。

The scale-sheen on the sand scared me to death.
沙地上魚鱗的光澤將我嚇死。

We kept picking up handfuls, loving it,
我們不停地撿，滿手都是，

Working it like dough, a mulatto body,
像面團般地揉弄它，一個黑白混血兒，

The silk grits.
絲綢般沙沙響。

A dog picked up your doggy husband. He went on.
狗帶著你那像狗的丈夫。他向前走。

Now I am silent, hate
現(xiàn)在我沉默了，憎恨

Up to my neck,
強烈的憎恨，

Thick, thick.
沉重，沉重。

I do not speak.
我不說話。

I am packing the hard potatoes like good clothes,
我將堅硬的土豆打包，仿佛優(yōu)質(zhì)衣服，

I am packing the babies,
我將孩子們打包，

I am packing the sick cats.
我將病貓們打包。

O vase of acid,
啊，刻薄的花瓶，

It is love you are full of. You know who you hate.
你滿懷的是愛。你清楚你恨誰。

He is hugging his ball and chain down by the gate
他抱著球，走到大門邊

That opens to the sea
大門朝大海敞開

Where it drives in, white and black,
海水涌入，黑白一片，

Then spews it back.
然后海水涌出。

Every day you fill him with soul-stuff, like a pitcher.
每天你用靈魂之物填滿他，如同大水壺。

You are so exhausted.
你如此筋疲力盡。

Your voice my ear-ring,
你的聲音，我的耳環(huán)，

Flapping and sucking, blood-loving bat.
拍動著，吮吸著，嗜血的蝙蝠。

That is that. That is that.
那就是，那就是。

You peer from the door,
你從門縫中窺視，

Sad hag.‘Every woman’s a whore.
悲哀的丑婦?！懊總€女人都是娼婦。

I can’t communicate.’
我不能交流?！?/p>

I see your cute décor
我看見你漂亮的飾品

Close on you like the fist of a baby
緊貼你身上像嬰兒的小拳

Or an anemone, that sea
或像銀蓮花，那大海

Sweetheart, that kleptomaniac.
寶貝，那愛情神偷。

I am still raw.
我依然毫無經(jīng)驗。

I say I may be back.
我說我可能回來。

You know what lies are for.
你明白謊言為何而生。

Even in your Zen heaven we shan’t meet.
即使在你禪宗天堂我們也不會相遇。

(1962/10/18. pp.227—230. No.186)
* * *