奥利弗作品

董继平 译

玛丽·奥利弗（Mary Oliver，1935-2019），美国著名女诗人。生于俄亥俄州的枫树高地。少女时代进入俄亥俄州立大学和瓦萨尔学院学习。自20世纪60年代初以来，出版了30余部诗集，主要有《不是航程及其他诗作》《夜间旅人》《十二个月亮》《梦工厂》《光的房子》《白松：诗与散文诗》《西风：诗与散文诗》《叶与云》《蓝色鸢尾：诗与评论》《渴意：诗》《红鸟》《证据》《天鹅：诗与散文诗》《一千个早晨》《狗之歌》《蓝马》等。她先后获得过“雪莱纪念奖”“全国图书奖”“普利策诗歌奖”等多种奖项。其作品主题多涉自然。

散文诗三章

1 ▲ “哦，昨天，那一个，”我们都叫了起来。“哦，那一个！”万物多么丰富而合理！多么成熟，準备就绪，慷慨，满怀兴奋——在那些夏日，在干净、疾驰的白云下面，我们多么充满希望。“哦，昨天！”

2 ▲ 我置身于一个不再使用的老旧垃圾焚烧场。整个夏天，忍冬都在这里湿润地怒放，就但愿它好像会足以装饰全世界吧。每年夏天，一对蜂鸟都生活在这里，仿佛是同类中唯一的一对，生活在大路边上那个自己的乐园里。灼热的下午，黑莓茎从那个颓败之地密集地生长出来，我在那旁边溜达，几乎总是肯定会看见那只雄蜂鸟栖息在它最喜欢的地方，靠近一棵野樱桃树的顶端，用明亮的眼睛和甚至更明亮的喉咙，眺望它的王国那边。然后，在我谈到的那个下午，正当它摇摆脑袋，天空中传来了一阵金属与能量的巨大咆哮声，猛然推进，尖锐刺耳，钻穿空气。一架飞机，一个黑色的三角形物体，从地平线尖叫着飞来，紧攥着沉重的利爪，侧边满是疙瘩。紧接着：穿过那耳道狭窄的耳朵，脑袋中产生一种痛苦。我看见那只小鸟，在它栖居的那棵树闪耀的活力中，把绿色的脑袋猛然伸向一边，去看见这只大鹰，这个在头上逼近的噩梦。瞧瞧吧，那只蜂鸟畏缩了，它紧紧抱着那根粗枝，它蹲坐，它颤抖。这是上帝光彩夺目、闪闪发光的珠宝：害怕。

所有的叙述都是隐喻。

3 ▲ 暴风雨过后，海洋没有大张旗鼓就归来了，回归自己古老的职责;潮汐爬到积雪覆盖的海岸上，然后又退却;因此世界就在那里：天空，水，浅色的沙，而且在潮汐抵达那一天的目的地之处，还有积雪。

这个细节：一只野鸭——鹊鸭的尸体，旁边有一只黑背鸥。在野鸭尸体上，在它胸脯的羽毛当中，是一个也许有一英寸见方的洞孔;洞孔里面的颜色是一种准确无误的红色。你可以弯折它，没什么可指责的：暴风雨必须翻来覆去地颠簸、摇荡，那只伸长脖子呆看的大黑背鸥必须吃东西，如此等等。这不过是片刻。太阳，从簇拥的云层中出来垂钓，把一个人可以轻而易举想象到的光——它那非凡的光投掷在风景上。

THREE PROSE POEMS

1 ▲ Oh， yesterday， that one， we all cry out. Oh， that one！ How rich and possible everything was！ How ripe， ready， lavish， and filled with excitement —— how hopeful we were on those summer days， under the clean， white racing clouds. Oh， yesterday！

2 ▲ I was in the old burn-dump —— no longer used —— where the honeysuckle all summer is in a moist rage， willing it would seem to be enough to decorate the whole world. Here a pair of hummingbirds lived every summer， as if the only ones of their kind， in their own paradise at the side of the high road. On hot afternoons， beside the blackberry canes that rose thickly from that wrecked place， I strolled， and was almost always sure to see the male hummingbird on his favorite high perch， near the top of a wild cherry tree， looking out across his kingdom with bright eye and even brighter throat. And then， on the afternoon I am telling about， as he swung his head， there came out of the heavens an immense growl， of metal and energy， shoving and shrilling， boring through the air. And a plane， a black triangle， flew screaming from the horizon， heavy talons clenched and lumpy on its underside. Immediately： a suffering in the head， through the narrow channeled ears. And I saw the small bird， in the sparkle of its tree， fling its green head sideways for the eye to see this hawk-bird， this nightmare pressing overhead. And，lo， the hummingbird cringed， it hugged itself to the limb，it hunkered，it quivered. It was God’s gorgeous，flashing jewel： afraid.

All narrative is metaphor.

3 ▲ After the storm the ocean returned without fanfare to its old offices; the tide climbed onto the snow-covered shore and then receded; so there was the world： sky， water， the pale sand and， where the tide had reached that day’s destination， the snow.

And this detail： the body of a duck， a golden-eye; and beside it one black-backed gull. In the body of the duck， among the breast feathers， a hole perhaps an inch across; the color within the hole a shouting red. And bend it as you might， nothing was to blame： storms must toss， and the great black-backed gawker must eat， and so on. It was merely a moment. The sun， angling out from the bunched clouds， cast one could easily imagine tenderly over the landscape its extraordinary light.

藍 莓

如今我生活在一个温暖的地方，你一年四季都买得到新鲜蓝莓。不用去劳神费力。来自南美不同的国度。它们的香甜度不亚于任何蓝莓，而且跟我过去常常在普罗温斯敦①外面的田野上采摘的浆果相比，它们算很大的了。然而浆果就是浆果。它们不会说我不懂的语言。我也不会发现蜱虫或小蜘蛛在它们中间爬行。因此总的来说，我很满意。尽管如此，也有界限。它们所没有的就是田野。那它们所属和我这些年来开始感到自己所属的田野。喔，有生活，然后有以后。也许我想念的就是自己。这田野，还有那在林边歌唱的雀鹀。那在一天早晨不知不觉就偶然与我相遇的雌鹿。它浑身紧张，美丽动人。它就像你会对任何入侵者所做的那样跺脚。然后注视我良久，仿佛在说，好吧，你就停留在你那一块土地上，而我将停留在我的土地上。那就是我们要做的事情。尝试把它收拾好，南美。

①位于美国马萨诸塞州的避暑胜地。

BLUEBERRIES

I’m living in a warm place now， where you can purchase fresh blueberries all year long. Labor free. From various countries in South America. They’re as sweet as any， and compared with the berries I used to pick in the fields outside of Provincetown，they’re enormous. But berries are berries. They don’t speak any language I can’t understand. Neither do I find ticks or small spiders crawling among them. So， generally speaking，I’m very satisfied. There are limits， however. What they don’t have is the field. The field they belonged to and through the years I began to feel I belonged to. Well， there’s life， and then there’s later. Maybe it’s myself that I miss. The field， and the sparrow singing at the edge of the woods. And the doe that one morning came upon me unaware， all tense and gorgeous. She stamped her hoof as you would to any intruder. Then gave me a long look， as if to say， Okay， you stay in your patch， I’ll stay in mine. Which is what we did. Try packing that up， South America.