C.K. Williams: Poetry for all seasons of life

翻译人员: Felix Chen 校对人员: Wang Qian

I thought I would read poems I have that relate to the subject

在这里，我会朗读一些有关

of youth and age.

青春与岁月的诗作。

I was sort of astonished to find out how many I have actually.

这一主题的诗作的收集，我个人都很是惊异

The first one is dedicated to

第一首诗献给

Spencer, and his grandmother, who was shocked by his work.

斯潘塞，他的外祖母曾很惊异于他的职业

My poem is called "Dirt."

这首诗作名字为”尘“

My grandmother is washing my mouth out with soap;

我的祖母用肥皂清洗我的嘴

half a long century gone

半个世纪过去了

and still she comes at me

她的影子依旧存在

with that thick cruel yellow bar.

携着她令人畏惧的黄色细长棒子

All because of a word I said,

这一切都是因为我说的话

not even said really, only repeated.

甚至并非是”说“，这是”重复“

But "Open," she says, "open up!"

但是她依旧不依不饶。“张开”她说，“张嘴”

her hand clawing at my head.

她拉扯着我的脑子

I know now her life was hard;

我知道她有一段刻骨铭心的艰难岁月

she lost three children as babies,

她的三个女儿都在襁褓里夭折

then her husband died too,

她的丈夫也去世了

leaving young sons, and no money.

在他们的孩子还年轻时，一贫如洗

She'd stand me in the sink to pee

她让我站在水槽边小便

because there was never room in the toilet.

因为房间里没有卫生间

But oh, her soap!

但是，她的肥皂

Might its bitter burning have been

永远是那么的苦涩，灼伤着我的嘴唇

what made me a poet?

是什么驱使着我写这首诗？

The street she lived on was unpaved,

她的房前道路是未铺砌的

her flat, two cramped rooms and a fetid kitchen

两个狭小的房间，一个散发着恶臭的厨房，就是她公寓的全部

where she stalked and caught me.

她轻声的走在我身旁，抓住我

Dare I admit that after she did it

经历如些，我依旧感激她会做此

I never really loved her again?

我有没有爱过她？

She lived to a hundred,

她的岁数近百

even then. All along it was the sadness, the squalor,

直至现在，她依旧被悲伤与卑鄙牵绊着

but I never, until now

我曾经从未察觉，直至现在

loved her again.

才发现我曾爱过她

When that was published in a magazine

我的诗作印在杂志上是

I got an irate letter from my uncle.

我的叔叔发来了一封嗔责的信

"You have maligned a great woman."

“你的诗作恶意的诽谤了一位伟大的女人。”

It took some diplomacy.

我为此解释了一番

This is called "The Dress."

那首诗叫做“衣裳”

It's a longer poem.

是一首长诗

In those days,

那段日子

those days which exist for me only

那段我的个人感受高于一切的日子里

as the most elusive memory now,

那是我最想抹去的记忆

when often the first sound you'd hear in the morning

当我每天早上醒来时候，最先听到的

would be a storm of birdsong,

是小鸟的叫声

then the soft clop of the hooves

接连着马蹄踏地的声音

of the horse hauling a milk wagon down your block,

路上行着拉着装有牛奶的车

and the last sound at night as likely as not

而夜晚的声音似乎都是

would be your father pulling up in his car,

父亲开车归家

having worked late again, always late,

他又加班了，而且加班的很晚

and going heavily down to the cellar, to the furnace,

他进入地窖，走向火炉旁

to shake out the ashes and damp the draft

弄出死灰，熄灭火种

before he came upstairs to fall into bed --

然后才上床睡觉

in those long-ago days,

在这段长长的时间里

women, my mother, my friends' mothers,

女人，母亲，朋友的母亲

our neighbors, all the women I knew --

我的邻居，我知道的所有女性

wore, often much of the day,

她们的穿着，与那个时代相符

what were called housedresses,

被我们称作是家居服的

cheap, printed, pulpy,

廉价的印染与质料

seemingly purposefully shapeless

似乎是刻意的貌不惊人

light cotton shifts that you wore over your nightgown

在晚上才会穿轻质棉

and, when you had to go look for a child,

当她们照看孩子时

hang wash on the line,

将洗好的衣服一件件挂起来

or run down to the grocery store on the corner,

或者是去杂货店购物

under a coat,

穿着风衣

the twisted hem of the nightgown

有着睡衣的丝边

always lank and yellowed,

几乎是黄色而稀疏的

dangling beneath.

在下端摇晃

More than the curlers some of the women

一些女人烫后的卷发

seemed constantly to have in their hair

似乎永远不会变

in preparation for some great event --

那些重要的集会

a ball, one would think --

一场舞会，会有人想

that never came to pass;

不应错过

more than the way most women's faces

那些日子，女人的脸上

not only were never made up during the day,

都化着她们从未化过的妆

but seemed scraped, bleached,

不均匀的，漂白的

and, with their plucked eyebrows, scarily masklike;

还有那些剃的光光的腋下，夸张的面具

more than all that it was those dresses

比那更为不堪的，是那些衣服，

that made women so unknowable and forbidding,

展现着女性的愚昧与禁忌

adepts of enigmas to which men could have no access,

早已熟稔了那些男人们为她们做的规定

and boys no conception.

当他们还是男孩时，并无此概念

Only later would I see the dresses also

后来我看到的那些衣裳

as a proclamation:

像是一份声明

that in your dim kitchen, your laundry,

在你那昏暗的厨房内，你的洗衣间

your bleak concrete yard,

在哪结实的混凝土场地里面

what you revealed of yourself

你身上被读出的信号

was a fabulation;

是一个虚构的故事

your real sensual nature,

你的肉欲

veiled in those sexless vestments,

被呆板的教衣掩盖住

was utterly your dominion.

一丝不漏

In those days, one hid much else as well:

曾经，兽皮是何样

grown men didn't embrace one another,

成熟的男人的身上不会环绕此

unless someone had died,

除非有人逝去

and not always then; you shook hands

并非永久，你颤抖的双手

or, at a ball game, thumped your friend's back

或者，一场球赛，重重的摔在你朋友的背上

and exchanged blows meant to be codes for affection;

交流，打击，都是感情的代码

once out of childhood you'd never again know

当你长大，你永远不会再次感受

the shock of your father's whiskers on your cheek,

你的脸颊被父亲的胡渣亲昵

not until mores at last had evolved,

随着你的成熟而消逝

and you could hug another man, then hold on for a moment,

你会拥抱另一个人，拥抱一会

then even kiss (your fathers bristles

甚至最后亲吻（现在，你父亲已经对你毫无亲热

white and stiff now).

除了严肃的神情）

What release finally, the embrace:

最后留下的，拥抱

though we were wary -- it seemed so audacious --

虽然我们警惕 - 这似乎如此大胆

how much unspoken joy there was

不言而喻的喜悦多少有

in that affirmation of equality and communion,

在这平等和交流的肯定中

no matter how much misunderstanding

不管有多少误会

and pain had passed between you by then.

疼痛已经过去了，届时您之间。

We knew so little in those days,

我们曾经知道的太少

as little as now, I suppose

如同我们的年龄

about healing those hurts:

伤痛如何愈合？

even the women, in their best dresses,

甚至妇女们，穿上他们最好的服装

with beads and sequins sewn on the bodices,

与珠和紧身衣缝亮片，

even in lipstick and mascara,

即使在口红，睫毛膏，

their hair aflow,

与他们飘动的头发

could only stand wringing their hands,

她们的手却泄漏了秘密，忧心忡忡

begging for peace,

祈求和谐

while father and son, like thugs,

他们的丈夫与儿子，如同暴徒

like thieves, like Romans,

盗贼，不切实际的

simmered and hissed and hated,

引来仇恨，妒怨

inflicting sorrows that endured,

造成痛苦的经历，

the worst anyway,

无论生活如何糟糕

through the kiss and embrace,

亲吻和拥抱，

bleeding from brother to brother,

血缘联系

into the generations.

代代相传

In those days there was still countryside

曾经的乡村

close to the city, farms, cornfields, cows;

靠近城市，农场，玉米地，奶牛;

even not far from our building

彼此相连

with its blurred brick and long shadowy hallway

废弃的砖瓦，阴暗的走廊

you could find tracts with hills and trees

你会看到，大片的山丘，还有树林。

you could pretend were mountains and forests.

你可以认为他们是山丘与树林

Or you could go out by yourself

或者其他

even to a half-block-long empty lot,

甚至半个街区长的空地，

into the bushes: like a creature of leaves you'd lurk,

在丛林中，像暗中窥视的野兽

crouched, crawling, simplified, savage, alone;

蹲，爬，粗暴的，野蛮的，孤独的

already there was wanting to be simpler,

只是想更是简单

wanting, when they called you,

希望，当他们叫你，

never to go back.

从来没有回去。

(Applause)

（掌声）

This is another longish one,

这是另一首长诗

about the old and the young.

关于年轻人与年长者

It actually happened right at the time we met.

切合当下

Part of the poem takes place in

诗的一部分是关于

space we shared and time we shared.

我们共享的时间与空间

It's called "The Neighbor."

这首诗叫做“邻居”

Her five horrid, deformed little dogs

她那五只畸形的小狗

who incessantly yap on the roof under my window.

在不停地狂吠屋顶下我的窗口。

Her cats, God knows how many,

她的猫，上帝知道有多少，

who must piss on her rugs --

谁应该对她的地毯小便过

her landing's a sickening reek.

她身上臭气冲天。

Her shadow once, fumbling the chain on her door,

她的影子配合着她摸索着门链的声音

then the door slamming fearfully shut,

门砰的医生关上了

only the barking and the music -- jazz --

只有叫声和音乐 - 爵士乐 -

filtering as it does, day and night into the hall.

因为它的过滤，日夜进入大厅。

The time it was Chris Connor singing "Lush Life" --

当时，这是克里斯康纳唱“郁郁葱葱的生命” -

how it brought back my college sweetheart,

如何带回了我的大学恋人，

my first real love, who -- till I left her --

我第一次真正的爱，谁 - 直到我离开了她 -

played the same record.

有着相同的记录

And head on my shoulder, hand on my thigh,

在我的肩上，手头枕在我的大腿，

sang sweetly along, of regrets and depletions

甜蜜，遗憾与消逝

she was too young for,

她太年轻了，

as I was too young, later, to believe in her pain.

因为我太年轻，以后，相信她的痛苦。

It startled, then bored, then repelled me.

开始，高潮，再到结束

My starting to fancy she'd ended up in this fire-trap

我猜想她要结束这场热恋

in the Village, that my neighbor was her.

在这个村里，她是我的邻居。

My thinking we'd meet, recognize one another,

我的想法 我们愿意配合，相互承认，

become friends, that I'd accomplish a penance.

成为朋友，我想实现一个苦修。

My seeing her, it wasn't her, at the mailbox.

我看见她的信，实际上并不是她的

Gray-yellow hair, army pants under a nightgown,

灰色黄色的头发，军队裤子，睡衣下

her turning away, hiding her ravaged face

她离开了，转过她那张受到侮辱的脸庞

in her hands, muttering an inappropriate "Hi."

此刻，不应该说“你好。”

Sometimes there are frightening goings-on in the stairwell.

有时有可怕的往来，就在楼梯间。

A man shouting, "Shut up!" The dogs frantically snarling,

一名男子大喊：“闭嘴！”疯狂的狗狂吠，

claws scrabbling, then her -- her voice

爪摸索，然后她 - 她的声音

hoarse, harsh, hollow,

沙哑，苛刻，中空，

almost only a tone,

几乎只有一个音调，

incoherent, a note, a squawk,

不连贯，一说明，发牢骚，

bone on metal, metal gone molten,

甚至金属都能融化

calling them back,

呼喊着归来

"Come back darlings, come back dear ones.

“回来亲爱的，亲人回来。

My sweet angels, come back."

我的，甜天使回来。“

Medea she was, next time I saw her.

美狄亚她，下一次我见到她。

Sorceress, tranced, ecstatic,

魔幻的，出神的，欣喜若狂，

stock-still on the sidewalk

仍旧竖在两旁的秸秆

ragged coat hanging agape,

破烂的衣服，令人厌恶的挂着

passersby flowing around her,

她周围的路人流动，

her mouth torn suddenly open

她的嘴撕裂突然打开

as though in a scream,

仿佛在尖叫，

silently though, as though only in her brain

虽然默默，好像只有在她的脑子

or breast had it erupted.

或者想要喷火的胸部

A cry so pure, practiced, detached,

那么纯洁，与世无关的，经常似的

it had no need of a voice,

它没有一个声音的需要，

or could no longer bear one.

或者不愿承受的

These invisible links that allure,

那些不被注意的信号

these transfigurations, even of anguish, that hold us.

那些痛苦，全部得占有着我

The girl, my old love,

这名女孩，我的旧爱，

the last lost time I saw her

好久不见

when she came to find me at a party,

当她在派对上见到我，

her drunkenly stumbling, falling,

她忘情地舞蹈，坠落

sprawling, skirt hiked, eyes veined red,

裙摆摇荡，眼里布满着血丝

swollen with tears, her shame,

骄傲的眼泪，她的羞耻

her dishonor.

她的耻辱。

My ignorant, arrogant coarseness,

我的无知，傲慢粗糙，

my secret pride, my turning away.

我的底线，我走来了

Still life on a rooftop,

静物的屋顶，

dead trees in barrels, a bench broken,

木质的桶，破碎不堪

dogs, excrement, sky.

一只狗的粪便，空气

What pathways through pain,

什么途径通过痛苦，

what junctures of vulnerability,

什么样的关节是如此的脆弱

what crossings and counterings?

过去，遇见

Too many lives in our lives already,

在我们的生活已经有太多的生命，

too many chances for sorrow,

太多的悲伤

too many unaccounted-for pasts.

太多以往的过往

"Behold me," the god of frenzied,

“看我，”疯狂的神

inexhaustible love says,

不竭的爱说，

rising in bloody splendor, "Behold me."

上升血腥的辉煌，“看我。”

Her making her way

她用她

down the littered vestibule stairs,

降低到处前庭楼梯，

one agonized step at a time.

一步步的向我走来

My holding the door.

我拽住大门。

Her crossing the fragmented tiles,

她穿越分散瓷砖，

faltering at the step to the street,

蹒跚在街头的一步，

droning, not looking at me,

轰鸣，背对着我

"Can you help me?"

“你能帮助我吗？”

Taking my arm, leaning lightly against me.

抓住我的胳膊，在她身旁轻轻扶住

Her wavering step into the world.

她成为世界动摇的一步。

Her whispering, "Thanks love." Lightly, lightly against me.

她耳语，“感谢爱。”轻轻，轻轻对我。

(Applause)

（掌声）

I think I'll lighten up a little.

我想我会减轻了一点。

(Laughter)

（笑声）

Another, different kind of poem of youth and age.

另一首，是关于青春与岁月的诗作

It's called "Gas."

它被称为“屁”

(Laughter)

（笑声）

Wouldn't it be nice, I think,

那岂不是很好，我认为，

when the blue-haired lady in the doctor's waiting room

当蓝头发女士在医生的候诊室

bends over the magazine table

弯下杂志表

and farts, just a little,

身后一声轻响

and violently blushes.

脸涨红

Wouldn't it be nice if intestinal gas

岂不是好的，如果肠道气体

came embodied in visible clouds,

像是天上可见的云

so she could see that her really quite inoffensive pop

这样她可以看出，她真的很无害的弹出

had only barely grazed my face

只有勉强擦过我的脸

before it drifted away.

只是轻轻的点

(Laughter)

（笑声）

Besides, for this to have happened now

此外，这个现在已经发生

is a nice coincidence. Because not an hour ago,

是一个不错的巧合。就在一个小时前，

while we were on our walk,

当我们对我们的步行，

my dog was startled by a backfire

我的狗是由适得其反吃惊

and jumped straight up like a horse bucking.

直上跳下，像马一样屈曲。

And that brought back to me the stable

我却对此很镇定

I worked on weekends when I was 12,

在我12岁是，我会做周末零工

and a splendid piebald stallion,

灿烂的花斑种马，

who whenever he was mounted would buck just like that,

每当他是谁安装将责任推就这样，

though more hugely of course,

尽管更多的巨大当然，

enormous, gleaming, resplendent.

巨大的，闪闪发光，灿烂。

And the woman, her face abashedly buried

女人的脸上写着尴尬

in her "Elle" now, reminded me --

深埋在她的“Elle”里，我依稀记得

I'd forgotten that not the least part of my awe

我忘记了，不是我至少是部分敬畏

consisted of the fact that with every jump he took

包括事实，那就是他每跳

the horse would powerfully fart.

马会有力地放屁。

Phwap! Phwap! Phwap!

砰！砰！砰！

Something never mentioned

一些从未提及

in the dozens of books about horses

在与马有关的书籍几十

and their riders I devoured in those days.

和我在那些日子里吞噬车手。

All that savage grandeur,

所有这些野蛮宏伟，

the steely glinting hooves,

闪闪发光的钢铁般蹄，

the eruptions driven from the creature's mighty innards,

从动物的内脏强大驱动的爆发，

breath stopped, heart stopped, nostrils madly flared,

呼吸，心跳停止，鼻孔扩张

I didn't know if I wanted to break him, or be him.

我不知道我是想打他，或者是变成他

(Laughter)

（笑声）

(Applause)

（掌声）

This is called "Thirst."

这首诗叫做“渴望。“

Many -- most of my poems actually

其实很多，其实大部分我的诗作

are urban poems. I happen to be reading a bunch that aren't.

都是城市诗，我会在野餐时候阅读，或许不会

"Thirst."

”渴望。“

Here was my relation with the woman who lived all last autumn and winter,

我与一个女人相处，半年

day and night, on a bench

一天晚上，长椅上

in the 103rd Street subway station,

在103街地铁站，

until finally one day she vanished.

有一天她忽然不见

We regarded each other, scrutinized one another.

我们把彼此相互审议。

Me shyly, obliquely, trying not to be furtive.

我羞怯地，间接地，尽量不是偷偷摸摸。

She boldly, unblinkingly, even pugnaciously,

她激烈的，癫疯的

wrathfully even, when her bottle was empty.

整个人防空

I was frightened of her. I felt like a child.

我被吓坏了。我觉得像一个孩子。

I was afraid some repressed part of myself

我怕自己有些压抑的一部分

would go out of control, and I'd be forever entrapped

会失控，而我会永远包埋

in the shocking seethe of her stench.

在她的恶臭令人震惊的翻腾。

Not excrement merely, not merely surface

不只是粪便，而不仅仅是表面

and orifice going unwashed,

还有藏在细节里的污垢

rediffusion of rum,

朗姆酒的香气

there was will in it,

是在那里面散发的

and intention, power and purpose --

有力的，刻意的

a social, ethical rage and rebellion --

一个社会，道德的愤怒和反抗，

despair too, though, grief, loss.

绝望过，但是，悲痛，损失

Sometimes I'd think I should take her home with me,

有些时候，我想把带她回家，

bathe her, comfort her, dress her.

洗澡她，安慰她，她的衣服。

She wouldn't have wanted me to, I would think.

她不会要我，我相信。

Instead, I'd step into my train.

相反，我想踏进我的列车。

How rich I would think, is the lexicon

如何丰富，我觉得，是词汇

of our self-absolving.

我们的自我开脱。

How enduring, our bland fatal assurance

如何持久，我们的乏味致命的保证

that reflection is righteousness being accomplished.

这种思考是义正在完成。

The dance of our glances,

我们的眼神舞蹈，

the clash, pulling each other through

冲突中，通过相互拉动

our perceptual punctures,

我们的知觉穿刺，

then holocaust, holocaust,

然后大屠杀，大屠杀。

host on host of ill, injured presences,

主机对生病，受伤存在主机，

squandered, consumed.

浪费，消耗。

Her vigil somewhere I know continues.

她的晚会，我知道的地方继续。

Her occupancy, her absolute, faithful attendance.

她住，她的绝对忠诚出席会议。

The dance of our glances, challenge, abdication,

我们的眼神，挑战，放弃舞蹈，

effacement, the perfume of our consternation.

抹杀，我们惊愕的香水味

(Applause)

（掌声）

This is a newer poem, a brand new poem.

这是一首新诗，一种新的

The title is "This Happened."

名字叫做“这发生了”

A student, a young woman

一个学生，少妇

in a fourth-floor hallway of her lycee,

在第四层走廊她的公立中学，

perched on the ledge of an open window

蹲在一个开放窗台

chatting with friends between classes;

聊天类之间的朋友;

a teacher passes and chides her,

老师的推诿和责怪她，

"Be careful, you might fall,"

小心，你可能会堕落

almost banteringly chides her,

几乎是嘲弄似的责怪她

"You might fall,"

你会堕落

and the young woman, 18, a girl really,

但是作为18岁的少妇，一个女孩

though she wouldn't think that,

并不认为此

as brilliant as she is, first in her class,

她是全班最聪明的，

and "Beautiful, too," she's often told,

还有这美貌，她如此说

smiles back, and leans into the open window,

微笑回来，把打开的窗口倾斜，

which wouldn't even be open if it were winter --

这将甚至无法打开如果是冬天，

if it were winter someone would have closed it ("Close it!") --

如果是冬天有人已经关闭了（“关闭它！”）

leans into the window, farther, still smiling,

倾斜到窗口，更远，仍然微笑着，

farther and farther, though it takes less time

越走越远，尽管它会比这花费更少的时间

than this, really an instant, and lets herself fall.

的确是在一瞬间，让自己下降。

Herself fall.

她在下降

A casual impulse, a fancy,

一个偶然的冲动，一个幻想，

never thought of until now, hardly thought of even now ...

从来没有想过到现在，即使是现在很难想到的...

No, more than impulse or fancy,

不超过冲动或幻想，

the girl knows what she's doing,

女孩知道她做的事，

the girl means something,

女孩意味着什么，

the girl means to mean,

该女童手段的意思是，

because it occurs to her in that instant,

因为它发生她在那一刹那，

that beautiful or not, bright yes or no,

那美丽与否，光明是或否，

she's not who she is,

她不是她是谁，

she's not the person she is,

她不再是曾经的她

and the reason, she suddenly knows,

她突然知道为何

is that there's been so much premeditation

就是有这么多有预谋

where she is, so much plotting and planning,

她是这么多的策划和规划，

there's hardly a person where she is,

几乎没有一个人是她，

or if there is, it's not her, or not wholly her,

或者如果有，这不是她的，她的或不完全，

it's a self inhabited, lived in by her,

它是一个自我居住的她，

and seemingly even as she thinks it

甚至她像是已经获晓

she knows what's been missing:

她知道什么东西被丢失：

grace,

尊严

not premeditation but grace,

并非智谋，是尊严

a kind of being in the world spontaneously,

那种浑然天成的气质

with grace.

带着尊严

Weightfully upon me was the world.

对我来说那就是世界

Weightfully this self which graced the world

对个体来说那就是世界

yet never wholly itself.

但从来没有完全本身。

Weightfully this self which weighed upon me,

这样的本意，就已经对我如此重要

the release from which is what I desire

我咎由自取

and what I achieve.

该是这样

And the girl remembers, in this infinite instant

而女孩记得，在这无限的瞬间

already now so many times divided,

对少次的分离

the sadness she felt once,

她感到的悲伤一次，

hardly knowing she felt it,

根本不知道她觉得，

to merely inhabit herself.

仅仅自己居住。

Yes, the girl falls, absurd to fall,

是的，女孩跌倒，荒谬的下降，

even the earth with its compulsion

甚至地球与强制

to take unto itself all that falls

她在下降

must know that falling is absurd,

要知道，是荒谬的下降，

yet the girl falling isn't myself,

那个女孩不属于我自己

or she is myself,

或她就是我自己，

but a self I took of my own volition unto myself.

但自我注意到我自己的意志祂自己。

Forever. With grace.

带着永恒的尊严

This happened.

这已经发生了

(Applause)

（掌声）

I'll read just one more. I don't usually say that.

我还要读一首，着并非我的习惯

I like to just end.

我喜欢只是这样的结果

But I'm afraid that Ricky will come out here

但是我害怕瑞奇会到这来

and shake his fist at me.

然后挥着她的拳头

This is called "Old Man," appropriately enough.

“hi，老头，行了“

"Special: big tits,"

特别的

Says the advertisement for a soft-core magazine

说的软核杂志广告

on our neighborhood newsstand.

在我们的邻里报摊。

But forget her breasts.

忘记了她的胸脯

A lush, fresh-lipped blond,

光润，清新明亮的金发，

skin glowing gold, sprawls there,

皮肤发光的金子

resplendent.

辉煌。

60 nearly, yet these hardly tangible,

60已过，却依旧闪耀

hardly better than harlots, can still stir me.

几乎比妓女好，让我荡漾

Maybe a coming of age in the

也许是在时代的到来

American sensual darkness,

性感黑暗的美国

never seeing an unsmudged nipple,

从来没有看到一个乳头

an uncensored vagina,

与处女膜

has left me forever infected

给我留下永远感染

with an unquenchable lust of the eye.

用眼睛难以抑制的欲望。

Always that erotic murmur,

总是这样色情杂音，

I'm hardly myself

总是这样色情杂音，

if I'm not in a state of incipient desire.

如果我不是在一个初始状态的愿望。

God knows though,

上帝知道，虽然，

there are worse twists your obsessions can take.

有严重曲折的迷恋可以。

Last year in Israel, a young ultra-orthodox Rabbi

去年在以色列，一个年轻的极端正统犹太教

guiding some teenage girls through the Shrine of the Shoah

指导通过浩劫靖国神社有些少女

forbade them to look in one room.

禁止他们寻找一个房间。

Because there were images in it he said were licentious.

因为那里有淫秽的图

The display was a photo. Men and women stripped naked,

在展出的照片。男子和妇女被剥光衣服，

some trying to cover their genitals,

一些试图掩盖他们的生殖器，

others too frightened to bother,

别人不敢打扰，

lined up in snow

白色的背景，一字排开

waiting to be shot and thrown into a ditch.

等待拍摄成一条水渠里扔。

The girls, to my horror,

姑娘们，我的恐惧，

averted their gaze.

避免了他们的目光。

What carnal mistrust had their teacher taught them.

什么肉体的不信任有自己的老师教给他们。

Even that though. Another confession:

即使是另一个的自白。

Once in a book on pre-war Poland,

一旦在学前教育方面的书战前波兰，

a studio portrait, an absolute angel,

一室画像，一个天使，

an absolute angel with tormented, tormenting eyes.

与折磨，折磨眼睛绝对的天使。

I kept finding myself at her page.

我不停地发现自己在她的页面。

That she died in the camps made her --

她死于劳改营使她 -

I didn't dare wonder why --

我不敢想知道为什么 -

more present, more precious.

更多目前，越来越珍贵。

Died in the camps, that too people --

在难民营中死亡，过多的人 -

or Jews anyway --

或犹太人

kept from their children back then.

保留子女当时的情况。

But it was like sex, you didn't have to be told.

但它像性行为，你没有被告知。

Sex and death, how close they can seem.

性别和死亡，如何接近他们看来。

So constantly conscious now of death moving towards me,

所以，现在不断意识到死亡的走向我，

sometimes I think I confound them.

有时候我想我混淆他们。

My wife's loveliness almost consumes me.

我妻子的可爱太销魂了

My passion for her goes beyond reasonable bounds.

我对她的热情超出了合理的范围。

When we make love, her holding me

当我们做爱时，她抱着我

everywhere all around me,

覆盖我身上的没一次

I'm there and not there.

我那里不存在。

My mind teems, jumbles of faces, voices, impressions,

我的头脑恍惚，脸部抽搐，声音也不清楚

I live my life over, as though I were drowning.

我住在我的生活，仿佛我是溺水。

Then I am drowning, in despair

然后，我淹死，在绝望中

at having to leave her,

在不得不离开她，

this, everything, all,

这一点，一切，所有，

unbearable, awful.

无法忍受的，可怕的。

Still, to be able to die

不过，能够死

with no special contrition,

没有特别忏悔，

not having been slaughtered, or enslaved.

没有被宰杀，或奴役。

And not having to know history's next

并没有认识历史的未来

mad rage or regression,

疯狂的愤怒或倒退，

it might be a relief.

它可能是一种解脱。

No. Again, no.

没有，就是没有

I don't mean that for a moment.

我并非刻意渲染那一刻

What I mean is the world holds me so tightly --

我指的是，这个世界把我勒住

the good and the bad --

无论是好事，还是坏事

my own follies and weakness

我的愚昧与软弱

that even this counterfeit Venus

甚至假的Venus女神都不起作用

with her sham heat, and her bosom probably plumped

她的假热，她的胸脯

with gel, so moves me

是如此的诱人。

my breath catches.

我的喘息都清晰可见

Vamp. Siren. Seductress.

鞋面。警报器。勾引。

How much more she reveals

这些信号都是她的

in her glare of ink than she knows.

在她的油墨眩光比她知道。

How she incarnates

她如何做到的

our desperate human need for regard,

人类在绝望时候寻求的帮助

our passion to live in beauty,

我们的激情是活在美好中

to be beauty, to be cherished by glances,

被夸赞美好，被瞩目

if by no more, of something like love,

如果没有，那就用爱的衍生品来代替

or love.

或者就是爱

Thank you.

谢谢

(Applause)

（掌声）