坟墓
人注视大海,
以和你有着同等权利的
人的视角,
站在事物中心是人的天性,
但你无法站在它的中心;
海无法提供什么,只有精致的墓。
冷杉成排耸立,各自顶着翠玉的
火鸡爪,
矜持如它们的外表,一言不发;
但克制不是海最显著的
特征;
海是收藏家,迅速报以贪婪的一瞥。
你身边其他人也有这种神色——
他们的表情不再是抗议;鱼不再
追究他们
因为他们的白骨并未留存:
人们撒网,没有意识到他们是在
亵渎一座坟墓,
他们快速划走——桨叶
像水蜘蛛的脚一齐挥动,仿佛
死亡并不存在。
水波荡漾——在塑料的网下
很美,
悄声消逝,当海在海草中
窸窣穿行;
鸟飞速游过空气,尖呼
一如既往——
龟壳般的浪撞上崖底,在下面
涌动;
而海,在灯塔的脉搏与铃标的
喧嚣中,
一如既往地前进,看上去不像那种海,那里
落水之物注定沉没——
它们在里面翻转扭动,并非自愿,也没有
知觉。
A Grave
Man looking into the sea,
taking the view from those who have as much right to it as
you have to it yourself,
it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing,
but you cannot stand in the middle of this;
the sea has nothing to give but a well excavated grave.
The firs stand in a procession, each with an emerald turkey-
foot at the top,
reserved as their contours, saying nothing;
repression, however, is not the most obvious characteristic of
the sea;
the sea is a collector, quick to return a rapacious look.
There are others besides you who have worn that look --
whose expression is no longer a protest; the fish no longer
investigate them
for their bones have not lasted:
men lower nets, unconscious of the fact that they are
desecrating a grave,
and row quickly away -- the blades of the oars
moving together like the feet of water-spiders as if there were
no such thing as death.
The wrinkles progress among themselves in a phalanx -- beautiful
under networks of foam,
and fade breathlessly while the sea rustles in and out of the
seaweed;
the birds swim through the air at top speed, emitting cat-calls
as heretofore --
the tortoise-shell scourges about the feet of the cliffs, in motion
beneath them;
and the ocean, under the pulsation of lighthouses and noise of
bell-buoys,
advances as usual, looking as if it were not that ocean in which
dropped things are bound to sink –
in which if they turn and twist, it is neither with volition nor
consciousness. |