蔗尾蜂房

描述
--Tony Hoagland，羅浩原 譯

一隻叫聲像手機的鳥
對一隻像打字機的鳥說了番話

林間所望不及之處，小溪潺潺著
綿延的句子，由童聲男高音變為男中音

從附屬子句轉為疑問句。

樹在房屋上方沙沙作響：它們興奮起來
因為即將入詩

近黃昏的午後，雲朵稠如奶油、既巨且厚，
簡直在示範什麼叫心滿意足。

或許一陣風將拔去最後一批死葉；
一場冷雨將潑打

海棠樹優雅潔白的花瓣
將之摧落地面，

粉紅與土黃攪在一起，
像一段留言潦草覆寫在另一段留言上。

這一切當中必有一席之地
專門留給人類的苦難：

患病的、無人愛護的、內分泌失調的；
迫切相信洞察力的；
醉心於改變成真的。

啊，我們的思想曾使盡全力指摳、拳打著高牆。
我們曾竭力思索卻想不到出路。

當我們盡力之後，又如此靜默休息。
而描述現實竟是我們接受現實的表徵。

Tony Hoagland, Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Daynasty, Minneapolis: Graywolf Press, 2010, p.3.

Description
--Tony Hoagland

A bird with a cry like a cell phone says something
to a bird which sounds like a manual typewriter.

Out of sight in the woods, the creek trickles
its ongoing sentence, from treble to baritone,

from dependent clause to interrogative.

The trees rustle over the house: they are excited
to be entering the poem

in late afternoon, when the clouds are creamy and massive,
as if to illustrate contentment.

And maybe a wind will pluck off the last dead leaves;
and a cold rain will splash

dainty white petals from the crab apple tree
down to the ground,

the pink and the brown mingled there,
like two different messages scribbled over each other.

In all of this a place must be
reserved for human suffering:

the sick and unloved, the chemically confused;
the ones who believed desperately in insight;
the ones addicted to change.

How our thoughts clawed and pummeled at the walls.
How we tried but could not think our way out.

In the wake of our effort, how we rested.
How description was the sign of our acceptance.

Tony Hoagland, Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty, Minneapolis: Graywolf Press, 2010, p.3.