給失聯(lián)朋友的信

【美】芭芭拉·漢比? ? 陳子弘 譯

必定有個(gè)俄語(yǔ)詞來形容我們之間發(fā)生的
? ? ? 事情。比如奧斯迪契，用于描述
一杯太熱的茶，等你走到隔壁房間之后，
　　又回來，但又太涼了；或者說是比列哈杰契。
就是數(shù)月甚至多年以來一直想要的
　　東西，而你得到的時(shí)候，你就已經(jīng)了無
興趣。普希金看了基普連斯基畫的他的肖像就說：
　　“這就像在照鏡子一樣，而且是照討好賣乖的鏡子?！?br>盯著朋友的臉看的人是個(gè)什么意思
　　而且看到一度光生的皮膚像火車駛離
彼得堡車站以及寬闊的大街和夜晚
　　在流浪狗咖啡館，與不般配的男人們做愛，
燭光下他們看起來是如此登對(duì)，那時(shí)大家都還年輕
　　一起抽手制卷煙，整夜畫畫或者寫詩(shī)
但都是狗屁，喝了太多太多的伏特加，然后
　　在痛苦的日光下醒來，肌膚鮮如乳霜，書籍
遍地都是，洛爾迦騎著果戈里，托爾斯泰在塞維涅夫人身下，
　　如此這般，現(xiàn)在火車奔馳在西伯利亞沼澤林中，
我看見她正在瞅著—— 我所有的書都按字母順序排放在書架上，
　　她雙腳畸形，手上青筋凸起，
脖子像上周的報(bào)紙一樣皺皺巴巴，而她的朋友們
　　卻很年輕，皮膚滿是粉刺，眼睛像小狗一樣明亮。
這能怪她么，而我們有多幸運(yùn)還能被愛著
　　哪怕只是一瞬，雖然我也忍不住感覺像普希金，
一排鉛彈射入他的腸子，看他的書
　　也說，"再見，我親愛的朋友們"，而那幾本書
合上并放回長(zhǎng)方形格子，塵云漫布
　　曾經(jīng)在它們書脊上閃閃發(fā)光金色的葉子。

譯注：
１、奧斯迪契，原文為俄語(yǔ)單詞остыть的拉丁化轉(zhuǎn)寫ostyt；
２、比列哈杰契，原文為俄語(yǔ)單詞перехотеть的拉丁化轉(zhuǎn)寫perekhotet；
３、奧列斯特·阿達(dá)莫維奇·基普連斯基（Orest Adamovich Kiprensky 1782-1836)俄羅斯肖像畫家；
４、寫洛爾迦這一行均指洛爾迦、果戈里、托爾斯泰和塞維涅夫人的書。塞維涅夫人（1626─1696，法國(guó)書信作家，其尺牘生動(dòng)、風(fēng)趣，反映了路易十四時(shí)代法國(guó)的社會(huì)風(fēng)貌，被奉為法國(guó)文學(xué)的瑰寶。）

詩(shī)人簡(jiǎn)介：芭芭拉·漢比（生于1952年）美國(guó)詩(shī)人、小說家、編輯和評(píng)論家。她出生在新奧爾良，在夏威夷長(zhǎng)大。她的詩(shī)發(fā)表于許多種書刊，她的第一本詩(shī)集《譫妄》（1995年）獲得文學(xué)界的認(rèn)可。她和丈夫兼詩(shī)人大衛(wèi)·柯比現(xiàn)居佛羅里達(dá)州塔拉哈西，在那里她是創(chuàng)意寫作項(xiàng)目的常駐作家，他也是佛羅里達(dá)州立大學(xué)英語(yǔ)系的教授。

Letter to a Lost Friend

BY BARBARA HAMBY

There must be a Russian word to describe what has happened
? ? ? ? ? ? ? between us, like ostyt, which can be used
for a cup of ?tea that is too hot, but after you walk to the next room,
? ? ? ? ? ? ? and return, it is too cool; or perekhotet,
which is to want something so much over months
? ? ? ? ? ? ? and even years that when you get it, you have lost
the desire. Pushkin said, when he saw his portrait by Kiprensky,
? ? ? ? ? ? ? “It is like looking into a mirror, but one that flatters me.”
What is the word for someone who looks into her friend’s face
? ? ? ? ? ? ? and sees once smooth skin gone like a train that has left
the station in Petersburg with its wide avenues and nights
? ? ? ? ? ? ? at the Stray Dog Cafe, sex with the wrong men,
who looked so right by candlelight, when everyone was young
? ? ? ? ? ? ? and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes, painted or wrote
all night but nothing good, drank too much vodka, and woke
? ? ? ? ? ? ? in the painful daylight with skin like fresh cream, books
everywhere, Lorca on Gogol, Tolstoy under Madame de Sévigné,
? ? ? ? ? ? ? so that now, on a train in the taiga of ?Siberia,
I see what she sees?—?all my books alphabetized and on shelves,
? ? ? ? ? ? ? feet misshapen, hands ribbed with raised veins,
neck crumpled like last week’s newspaper, while her friends
? ? ? ? ? ? ? are young, their skin pimply and eyes bright as puppies’,
and who can blame her, for how lucky we are to be loved
? ? ? ? ? ? ? for even a moment, though I can’t help but feel like Pushkin,
a rough ball of ?lead lodged in his gut, looking at his books
? ? ? ? ? ? ? and saying, “Goodbye, my dear friends,” as those volumes
close and turn back into oblong blocks, dust clouding
? ? ? ? ? ? ? the gold leaf that once shimmered on their spines.

Source: Poetry (January 2013)