Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm
通过绿色茎管催动花朵的力
通过绿色茎管催动花朵的力
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催动我的绿色年华，毁灭树根的力
也是害我的刽子手。
我缄默不语，无法告诉佝偻的玫瑰
正是这同样的冬天之热病毁损了我的青春。
催动泉水挤过岩缝的力催动
我鲜红的血液；那使絮叨的小溪干涸的力
使我的血液凝固。
我缄默不语，无法对我的脉管张口，
同一双嘴唇怎样吸干了山泉。
搅动着一泓池水的那一只手
搅动起流沙；牵引狂风的手
扯动我的尸布船帆。
我缄默不语，无法告诉走上绞架的人
我的肉体制成了绞刑吏的滑石粉。
时间的嘴唇像水蛭吮吸着泉源，
爱情滴落又凝聚，但流下血液
将抚慰她的创痫。
我缄默不语，无法告诉变幻不定的风儿
时间怎样环绕着繁星凿出一个天穹。
我缄默不语，无法告诉情人的墓穴
我的床单上也蠕动着一样的蛆虫。
（七）The Hand That Signed the Paper
那只签署文件的手
The hand that signed the paper felled a city;
Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath，
Doubled the globe of dead and halved a country;
These five kings did a king to death.
The mighty hand leads to a sloping shoulder，
The finger joints are cramped with chalk;
A goose’s quill has put an end to murder
That put an end to talk.
The hand that signed the treaty bred a fever，
And famine grew， and locusts came;
Great is the hand that holds dominion over
Man by a scribbled name.
The five kings count the dead but do not soften
The crusted wound nor pat the brow;
A hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven;
Hands have no tears to flow.
那只签署文件的手
那只签署文件的手毁了一座城市；
五个大权在握的手指扼杀生机，
把死者的世界扩大一倍又把一个国家分两半，
这五个王置一个王于死地。
那只有权势的手通向倾斜的肩膀，
手指关节由于石灰质而僵硬；
一支鹅毛笔结束了一场
结束过谈判的屠杀。
那只签署条约的手制造瘟疫，
又发生机谨，飞来蝗灾，
那只用一个潦草的签名
统治人类的手多了不起。
五个王数死人但不安慰
结疤的伤口也不抚摸额头；
一只手统治怜悯一只手统治天；
手没有眼泪可流。
（八）Light breaks where no sun shines
没有太阳，光就降临
Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs， the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And， broken ghosts with glowworms in their heads，
The things of light
File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.
A candle in the thighs
Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
Where no seed stirs，
The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars，
Bright as a fig;
Where no wax is， the candle shows its hairs.
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Dawn breaks behind the eyes;
From poles of skull and toe the windy blood
Slides like a sea;
Nor fenced， nor staked， the gushers of the sky
Spout to the rod
Divining in a smile the oil of tears.
Night in the sockets rounds，
Like some pitch moon， the limit of the globes;
Day lights the bone;
Where no cold is， the skinning gales unpin
The winter’s robes;
The film of spring is hanging from the lids.
Light breaks on secret lots，
On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
When logics die，
The secret of the soil grows through the eye，
And blood jumps in the sun;
Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.
没有太阳，光就降临
没有太阳，光就降临
没有大海
心潮就掀起波涛
破碎的鬼影头顶着萤火虫
没有血肉装饰的枯骨
光的手却抚爱它的肌肤
大腿上的烛火
温暖着青春，却烧焦了岁月的蓓蕾
没有种子
人的果实在星光下平滑圆润
像无花果一样辉煌
没有蜡，烛光展示它的柔发
黎明升起在瞳孔之后
呼啸的热血贯透全身
海流般地滑动
天空毫无顾忌地倾斜着
将呕物喷满魔杖——
正微笑着探寻泪水的矿藏
夜在眼圈四周积聚
像漆黑的月亮，限制着眼球的扩张
白昼照亮尸骨
没有寒冷，侵肌的风
解开冬天的衣裳
春的柔发在眼睑飘荡
思想在雨中发霉腐烂
光降临在神秘之骰和闪念的指尖
当逻辑死亡
土地的秘密通过眼睛透露
那时，血就会在阳光下飞扬
黎明止息在荒废的机缘之上
（十）Sometimes the Sky’s Too Bright
有时天空太明亮
Sometimes the sky’s too bright，
Or has too many clouds or birds，
And far away’s too sharp a sun
To nourish thinking of him.
Why is my hand too blunt
To cut in front of me
My horrid images for me，
Of over-fruitful smiles，
The weightless touching of the lip
I wish to know
I cannot lift， but can，
The creature with the angel’s face
Who tells me hurt，
And sees my body go
Down into misery?
No stopping. Put the smile
Where tears have e to dry.
The angel’s hurt is left;
His telling burns.
Sometimes a woman’s heart has salt，
Or too much blood;
I tear her breast，
And see the blood is mine，
Flowing from her， but mine，
And then I think
Perhaps the sky’s too bright;
And watch my hand，
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But do not follow it，
And feel the pain it gives，
But do not ache.
有时天空太明亮
有时天空太明亮，
或者有太多的云或者鸟，
而远空中，太阳太尖利
以致很难让人记起。
我的手为何太迟钝
不能在我的前面
为我砍断可怕的想法。
多汁的微笑，
嘴唇的无力触碰
我想知道
我不能抬起，那个
有着天使面孔的家伙
告诉我苦痛
并看见我的肉体掉进
灾难，他能吗？
不要停。把微笑
放在眼泪干涸了的地方。
天使的苦痛还在；
他的言辞在燃烧。
有时，一个女人的心里积着盐，
或者流着太多的血液；
我撕开她的胸部，
看见的是我的血液，
在她的（而不是我的）体内流出，
这时，我想
或许天空太明亮；
看着我的手，
并不流血，
又感觉到流血的疼痛，
却并不痛。
（十一）Poem In October
十月的诗
It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.
My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.
A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill’s shoulder，
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.
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