布考斯基：hello，你好吗？

潘建设

《我在这儿》

       布考斯基 潘建设译

再次醉酒在凌晨3点。我刚结束掉第二瓶
酒。我已经把诗歌从第12页打到了第15页。
一个老男人
为年轻女孩新鲜的肉体在这疯狂
日渐减少的晚年
肝脏完蛋了
肾脏正在衰竭
精疲力尽了
高血压

当岁月荒废，所有恐惧
会在脚趾之间大笑
没有女人会和我一起过
没有佛罗伦斯·南丁格尔陪我去观看
约翰·尼卡森的节目
如果我中风我将躺在这儿
六天六夜，我的三只猫饥饿地撕扯着我
手肘、腕和头上的鲜肉

收音机里播放着经典乐曲……

我答应自己绝不写老头子的诗
但这是个人的兴趣，你看，可以谅解
因为我这么长久地跨过过去在使用着自己，那里
仍然还留有很多
这是凌晨3点。我将从打印机中取出
这张纸
再倒一杯酒
插入
对着又鲜又嫩又白造爱

也许会幸运
一次

首先为
我

其次为
你

来自《这儿一如往常》1985

here I am ...

drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle
of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of
poesy
an old man
maddened for the flesh of young girls in this
dwindling twilight
liver gone
kidneys going
pancrea pooped
top-floor blood pressure

while all the fear of the wasted years
laughs between my toes
no woman will live with me
no Florence Nightingale to watch the
Johnny Carson show with

if I have a stroke I will lay here for six
days, my three cats hungrily ripping the flesh
from my elbows, wrists, head

the radio playing classical music ...

I promised myself never to write old man poems
but this one's funny, you see, excusable, be-
cause I've long gone past using myself and there's
still more left
here at 3 a.m. I am going to take this sheet from
the typer
pour another glass and
insert
make love to the fresh new whiteness

maybe get lucky
again

first for
me

later
for you.

from "All's Normal Here" - 1985


《hello，你好吗？》
   
       布考斯基  潘建设译

这种担心正逐渐成为现实：
死。

至少他们不在街上，他们
小心地呆在屋里，那些人
孤独地坐在他们的电视机前
苍白又疯狂
他们的生活充满罐头，残缺的欢笑

他们理想的邻居
有停放的汽车
几无绿色草坪
几无人烟
几无门打开和关闭
当他们的亲戚拜访
整个假期
大门紧闭
在垂死后面他们死得如此缓慢
在死亡后面他们仍然活着
在你安静领域内的邻居
是蜿蜒的的街道
是痛苦
是混乱
是恐怖
是恐惧
是无知
一只狗站立在栅栏后面
一个男人静静地在窗下

版权2001 琳达*李*布考斯基
经黑雀出版社许可后转载


hello, how are you?

this fear of being what they are:
dead.

at least they are not out on the street, they
are careful to stay indoors, those
pasty mad who sit alone before their tv sets,
their lives full of canned, mutilated laughter.

their ideal neighborhood
of parked cars
of little green lawns
of little homes
the little doors that open and close
as their relatives visit
throughout the holidays
the doors closing
behind the dying who die so slowly
behind the dead who are still alive
in your quiet average neighborhood
of winding streets
of agony
of confusion
of horror
of fear
of ignorance.
a dog standing behind a fence.
a man silent at the window.

2001 Linda Lee Bukowski
reprinted with permission of Black Sparrow Press

忍淹留

好像已经对布考斯基的诗有所感觉。