I lean back and watch you grow older without me.
Sunlight falls on your silver hair.
The rugs, the furniture,
seem almost imaginary now.
这是Mark Strand的《The Story Of Our Lives》里面的几句。我今天一边修改系统一边读他的这首诗，读到这里就读不下去了。“I lean back and watch you grow older without me.”象一枚巨型催泪弹。每次回家看父母，就是这个感觉：又老了！
Sunlight falls on your silver hair.
The rugs, the furniture,
seem almost imaginary now.
是啊，每次回家，在爸爸的书房里，看那些从小伴我长大的书，墙上的字，书架上的小玩意，再看看爸爸花白的头发，才知道一生就这样过去了。
I was touched by my own loneliness as I read,
knowing that what I feel is often the crude
and unsuccessful form of a story
that may never be told.
5 comments:
"I was touched by my own loneliness as I read,
knowing that what I feel is often the crude
and unsuccessful form of a story
that may never be told. "
It is so true, untold story of life , so how can we believe everything in writing tells human emotion and experience in all dimention?
Today I also read Mark Strand's poems--I was organizing my books and re-shelving them. I stood by the shelves and read...
Strand的诗里有一种非常温柔，细腻的感情。
沈睿，我记得你翻译过几首他的诗，我都很喜欢。现在你的新博格里好像没有。能不能再贴出来？
七月
上次读了马mm翻的诗， 很喜欢这首Mark Strand的诗， 就斗胆也翻了一下， 但是和Mark Strand 的诗风差了远了， 就给七月看着玩。
Coming of Light by Mark Strand
Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.
姗姗来迟， 但终于来到，
爱的来临， 如晨曦的浮现，
光的摇曳唤醒你， 像烛光点燃自己，
星星簇拥，枕头里浸入你的梦，
暖意如花香弥漫上升。
虽是迟来, 从骨髓里也散发出光
穿过明日的尘埃，灼入深深的胸腔。
草叶，你的字很漂亮。我也抄过好几本诗 ：-）
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