4 Powerful Poems about Parkinson's and Growing Older | Robin Morgan | TED Talks

翻译人员: lin quan 校对人员: Jing Peng

When I was only three or four,

当我只有三四岁时,

I fell in love with poetry,

便爱上了诗歌，

with the rhythms and the music of language;

爱它充满节奏和 音乐般的语言；

with the power of metaphor and of imagery,

也爱它富含的隐喻和意象，

poetry being the essence of communication --

诗是交流的本质与精华——

the discipline, the distillation.

是锤炼，是升华。

And all these years later, the poems I'll read today

多年后的今天，我将诵读的所有诗篇

are from my just-finished seventh book of poetry.

皆来自我刚完成的第七部诗集。

Well, five years ago, I was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease.

五年前我罹患帕金森氏症。

Though there's no cure yet,

虽然现在还没有治愈的方法，

advances in treatment are really impressive.

但治疗方法的进步令人钦佩。

But you can imagine that I was appalled to learn

你完全可以想象

that women are largely left out of research trials,

当我得知女性通常 被临床试验所忽略时的恐惧，

despite gender-specific medical findings having demonstrated

尽管性别区分的医学研究成果

that we are not actually just small men --

已经论证了我们女性并不是“小男人”——

(Laughter)

（笑声）

who happen to have different reproductive systems.

我们拥有不同的生殖系统。

Gender-specific medicine is good for men, too.

当然医药上的性别区分 同样对男性亦有好处。

But you bring to a crisis the person you already are,

但作为人，早已深陷危机，

including the, yes, momentum that you've learned to invoke

包括那些热情的关注与积极的行动

through passionate caring and through action,

都为你带来力量

both of which require but also create energy.

在你付出的同时，也在创造能量。

So as an activist, I began working with the Parkinson's Disease Foundation --

所以作为一名活跃份子， 我加入了帕金森氏症基金会

that's pdf.org --

他们网站是 pdf.org

to create a major initiative to put women on the Parkinson's disease map.

其发起的主倡是将女性 纳入到帕金森氏症的版图中去。

And as a poet, I began working with this subject matter,

而作为一名诗人， 我开始更加关注这一议题，

finding it tragic, hilarious, sometimes even joyful.

探寻它其中的悲剧，滑稽， 有时甚至是喜悦的情感。

I do not feel diminished by Parkinson's;

我并没有因为帕金森而低糜；

I feel distilled by it,

反而因此得到了升华，

and I actually very much like the woman I'm distilling into.

而且事实上我非常喜欢 这个升华后的自己。

"No Signs of Struggle"

“没有挣扎的痕迹”

Growing small requires enormity of will:

变得渺小需要极大的意志；

just sitting still in the doctor's waiting room

枯坐在医生的候诊室，

watching the future shuffle in and out,

看着未来在眼前不停交替，

watching it stoop; stare at you

当未来俯身，与你凝视

while you try not to look.

你却目光回避。

Rare is an exchange:

罕见如一场交易：

a smile of brief, wry recognition.

如一抹稍纵即逝的微笑， 一个带有褒奖的讽刺。

You are the new kid on the block.

你在这个群体中如新生的稚子。

Everyone here was you once.

但曾经，这里的每一个人都如现在的你。

You are still learning that growing small requires a largeness of spirit

你渐渐懂得 变得渺小需要一个博大的灵魂

you can't fit into yet:

你还无法将它装入身体；

acceptance of irritating help from those who love you;

忍受着那些爱你之人嘘寒问暖 所带来的苦涩；

giving way and over, but not up.

放任它们，但不放弃自己。

You've swallowed hard the contents of the "Drink Me" bottle,

吞咽着“喝下去”瓶子中的苦药，

and felt yourself shrink.

感受着渺小后的自己。

Now, familiar furniture looms,

那一刻，熟悉的家具变得模糊，

floors tilt, and doorknobs yield only when wrestled round with both hands.

地板倾斜, 唯有双手并用才能将门把开启。

It demands colossal patience, all this growing small:

慢慢变小需要异常的耐力。

your diminished sleep at night,

你的一切都在减弱，你夜里的睡眠，

your handwriting, your voice, your height.

你白昼的书写，你的声音，你的身体。

You are more the incredible shrinking woman

你是那萎缩着，但最不可思议的女人

than the Buddhist mystic, serene, making do with less.

安详，无为，胜过佛徒释子。

Less is not always more.

少既是多并非永恒成立。

Yet in this emptying space, space glimmers,

至少在这个虚无中并非如此， 虚无的微光，

becoming visible.

变得可视。

Here is a place behind the eyes of those accustomed

此处隐匿在常人的视线之外

by what some would call diminishment.

或许被称之为虚无之地。

It is a place of merciless poetry,

此处充斥着无情之诗，

a gift of presence previously ignored,

现世的礼物曾被忽视，

drowned in the daily clutter.

淹没在日常的嘈杂里。

Here every gesture needs intention,

此处的一举一动都有其意义，

is alive with consciousness.

生命既是觉知。

Nothing is automatic.

万物皆有识。

You can spot it in the provocation of a button,

你会察觉， 按钮可能就是挑衅，

an arm poking at a sleeve,

或是长臂穿过衣袖，

a balancing act at a night-time curb while negotiating the dark.

又或是艰难的夜行 穿梭于无际的黑暗。

Feats of such modest valor,

坐拥丰功伟绩的勇士，

who would suspect them to be exercises in an intimate, fierce discipline,

会扪心自问自己是否 勇猛刚烈，训练有素，

a metaphysics of being relentlessly aware?

是否过于执着古板？

Such understated power here,

这里的一切是如此节制，

in these tottering dancers who exert stupendous effort

那些蹒跚的舞者极力舞动 的惊世之作

on tasks most view as insignificant.

在此处不过是微尘一粒。

Such quiet beauty here, in these,

此处，如此宁静，美丽，

my soft-voiced, stiff-limbed people;

那些，人微言轻者， 那些，身体僵硬者；

such resolve masked by each placid face.

波澜不惊的面孔 隐藏着坚毅不屈，彼此昭示

There is immensity required in growing small,

变得渺小需要万千努力，

so bent on such unbending grace.

所以，请屈服在不屈的恩泽里。

(Applause)

（掌声）

Thank you.

谢谢你们。

This one is called "On Donating My Brain to Science."

接下来， 这首诗叫“将我的大脑献给科学”

(Laughter)

（笑声）

Not a problem.

无妨。

Skip over all the pages reassuring religious people.

略过一切安抚信教者的页面。

Already a universal donor: kidneys, corneas, liver, lungs,

我已是一名普通的捐赠者； 肾脏，角膜，肝脏，双肺，

tissue, heart, veins, whatever.

组织，心脏，及脉络，一切悉听尊便。

Odd that the modest brain never imagined its unique value in research,

奇怪的是，哪怕最优秀的大脑 也未曾设想过自己的研究价值，

maybe saving someone else from what it is they're not quite sure I have.

或许发现的不治之症 能拯救与我相似的病患。

Flattering, that.

这些，不过是奉承之言。

So fill in the forms,

填好表单，

drill through the answers,

写下答案，

trill out a blithe spirit.

进入快乐与豁然。

And slice me, dice me, spread me on your slides.

解剖我，肢解我， 把我涂抹在你的玻片上

Find what I'm trying to tell you.

找到我想告诉你的万语千言。

Earn me, learn me, scan me, squint through your lens.

悉知我，研究我，检视我， 透过你斜视着的显微镜头。

Uncover what I'd hint at if I could.

解开一切我所能遗留的迹象。

Be my guest, do your best, harvest me, track the clues.

做我的客人，尽你的所能， 沿着蛛丝马迹，获悉我留下的线索。

This was a good brain while alive.

这颗大脑曾优秀而强健

This was a brain that paid its dues.

也曾倾其所有尽其所能。

So slice me, dice me, smear me on your slides,

所以解剖我，肢解我， 将我变作标本样片,

stain me, explain me, drain me like a cup.

浸染我，解读我， 如一杯清茶将我一饮而尽。

Share me, hear me:

听我诉说，将我分享。

I want to be used I want to be used

我希望被使用 我希望被使用

I want to be used up.

我希望被彻底用尽！

(Applause)

（掌声）

(Applause ends)

（掌声结束）

And this one's called "The Ghost Light."

接下来的这首， 叫做“幽光”。

Lit from within is the sole secure way

驱散黑暗唯一可靠的方法

to traverse dark matter.

便是从内部燃起微光。

Some life forms -- certain mushrooms, snails, jellyfish, worms --

如某些生物—— 蘑菇、蜗牛、水母、蠕虫——

glow bioluminescent,

进化出生物荧光，

and people as well;

人类亦可转寰；

we emit infra-red light from our most lucent selves.

我们最耀眼的本我 散发着红外之光。

Our tragedy is we can't see it.

可悲的是这光芒我们无法看见。

We see by reflecting.

我们只看见它反射的光亮。

We need biofluorescence to show our true colors.

我们需要生物荧光 去展示本来的绚烂。

External illumination can distort, though.

只怕外在的光亮会被改变。

When gravity bends light,

当引力束缚光线，

huge galaxy clusters can act as telescopes,

浩瀚星群化身为望远镜，

elongating background images of star systems to faint arcs --

将背景星系光芒延展成微弱地弧光--

a lensing effect

引力透镜效应

like viewing distant street lamps through a glass of wine.

犹如透过一杯酒遥望 远处街上的灯火阑珊。

A glass of wine or two now makes me weave

一两杯酒现在就可让我晕眩

as if acting the drunkard's part;

好像十足的醉汉一样；

as if, besotted with unrequited love

又好像自作多情地用哈勃（望远镜）

for the dynamic Turner canvasses spied out by the Hubble,

偷窥特纳笔下动态油画，

I could lurch down a city street set

我可以摇晃着走在城市街巷

without provoking every pedestrian walk-on stare.

不招惹往来行人的目光。

Stare as long as you need to.

注视直到你心满意足。

If you think about it, walking, even standing, is illogical --

你不妨思考一下，行走， 甚至站立，都是如此不合逻辑--

such tiny things, feet! --

只凭如此瘦小的东西，双足！

(Laughter)

（笑声）

especially when one's body is not al dente anymore.

特别是当某人的身体不再 生硬如初。

(Laughter)

（笑声）

Besides, creature of extremes and excess,

身体，生物极端而又过量，

I've always thought Apollo beautiful but boring,

我一直认为阿波罗完美，

and a bit of a dumb blonde.

却如漂亮的“花瓶”一样无趣。

Dionysians don't do balance.

酒神从不保证平衡。

Balance, in other words, has never been my strong point.

平衡，换句话说， 从来不在我的优点中。

But I digress.

但我却渐渐偏离。

More and more these days,

在这些日子里越偏越远，

digression seems the most direct route through

偏离的轨道却仿佛是一条

from where I've lost or found myself

迷失自我，发现自我和无所适从

out of place, mind, turn, time.

最直接的一条路途。

Place your foot just so, mind how you turn:

将你的双脚这样摆放， 注意你的转向，

too swift a swivel can bring you down.

太过迅捷地转身会让你跌跌撞撞。

Take your time ushering the audience out,

耐心地引导观众散场，

saying goodbye to the actors.

与演员们道别。

The ghost light

幽光

is what they call the single bulb

既是那盏，

hanging above the bare stage in an empty theater.

悬在空寂戏院上的孤灯。

In the empty theater of such a night,

在这个夜里的空寂戏院中，

waking to meet no external radiance,

这里没有任何外在光芒，

this is the final struggle left to win,

这是最后一场需要赢取的较量，

this the sole beacon to beckon the darkness in

这是最后一座孤独的灯塔， 引领黑暗侵袭，

and let the rest begin,

放任凝静开启，

this the lens through which at last to see both Self and Other

这是终于能看清自我与他人的透镜，

arrayed with the bright stain of original sin:

林立着明亮而污秽的 原罪之光；

lit from within.

从内部点燃。

(Applause)

（掌声）

And this is the last one.

好了这是最后一首。

"This Dark Hour"

“黑暗时刻”

Late summer, 4 A.M.

夏末，拂晓4时。

The rain slows to a stop,

夜雨渐缓等待停歇，

dripping still from the broad leaves

雨滴依旧沿着宽厚湛蓝的玉簪叶

of blue hostas unseen in the garden's dark.

点滴落在，看不见的花园中，深夜里。

Barefoot, careful on the slick slate slabs,

光脚走在湿滑的石板路，小心翼翼，

I need no light, I know the way,

无需灯火，路已悉知，

stoop by the mint bed,

屈身在薄荷花圃里，

scoop a fistful of moist earth,

握一捧潮湿的泥土，

then grope for a chair,

摸索出一把椅子，

spread a shawl, and sit,

解开披肩，坐下，

breathing in the wet green August air.

呼吸着八月湿润而绿意浓重的气息。

This is the small, still hour

此刻既是渺小，静默的时间，

before the newspaper lands in the vestibule like a grenade,

在如手雷般的报纸 抛向前厅之前，

the phone shrills, the computer screen blinks and glares awake.

在电话刺耳地响起前， 在电脑嗡然地启动前，

There is this hour:

此刻此时

poem in my head, soil in my hand:

我心存诗意，手握淤泥

unnamable fullness.

无法言说的满足在洋溢。

This hour, when blood of my blood

此刻，与我骨肉相连的孩子

bone of bone, child grown to manhood now --

历经岁月变成现在的成年男子--

stranger, intimate, not distant but apart --

陌生，又熟悉， 虽不遥远却若即若离--

lies safe, off dreaming melodies

他安详地躺着，沉睡在梦的旋律中

while love sleeps, safe, in his arms.

爱恬静地卧在他的臂弯里。

To have come to this place,

来过此处，

lived to this moment:

活在此时；

immeasurable lightness.

无语的轻逸。

The density of black starts to blur umber.

浓重黑夜开始转为迷蒙的棕色晨曦。

Tentative, a cardinal's coloratura,

红雀的花腔游弋飘忽，

then the mourning dove's elegy.

引得泣鸽悲声响起。

Sable glimmers toward grey;

昏暗的微光变成灰白；

objects emerge, trailing shadows;

万物浮现，拖着迷蒙的影子；

night ages toward day.

黑夜转向白日。

The city stirs.

微动的城市。

There will be other dawns, nights, gaudy noons.

将迎来另一个，晨曦， 夜晚，及花哨的午时。

Likely, I'll lose my way.

或许，我会迷失。

There will be stumbling, falling,

甚至是蹒跚倒地，

cursing the dark.

咒骂黑夜。

Whatever comes,

无论如何，

there was this hour when nothing mattered,

总有这样的时刻一切变得无关紧要，

all was unbearably dear.

一切都可亲可爱。

And when I'm done with daylights,

当我与白昼惜别时，

should those who loved me grieve too long a while,

那些爱我之人沉湎悲伤时，

let them remember that I had this hour --

让他们记住我曾拥有此时--

this dark, perfect hour --

这个黑暗，却完美之时--

面带微笑。

and smile.

Thank you.

谢谢大家。

(Applause)

（掌声）