扬尼斯里索斯（Yannis Ritsos，1909——1990) 现代希腊诗歌的创始人之一，生于莫涅瓦西亚，早年来到雅典读书，当过文书和演员，三十年代开始作品，1934年出版第一本诗集《拖拉机》。1936年，他为萨洛尼卡烟草工人罢工写成长诗《伊皮达菲奥斯》而一举成名，深得大诗人帕拉马斯的高度评价。二战期间，他投身于抵抗运动，二战结束后，他先后两度被囚禁、著作被禁，直到七十年代初才获释，作品才得以出版。
里索斯一生创作勤奋而多产，迄今已出版了诗歌及其他文学作品近百卷，成为二十世纪希腊最广为阅读的大诗人，不少诗作被谱曲广为传唱，产生了世界性影响。他获得过列宁和平奖(1977)等多种国际文学大奖，并多次成为诺贝尔文学奖候选人。里索斯的诗可以分为两大类：长篇叙事诗和短诗。他的诗作一般多长句，常以严谨、浓郁的白描手法反映现代希腊人的生活，又颇具现代派特征，其最独特之处在于诗中所采用的“戏剧性独白”(他自己曾当过演员），其白描技法蕴藏象征、暗喻、转换和超现实的场景性，折射出希腊以至整个人类的现实生活和精神状态，以及那些超乎于读者想象之外的、然而又确实存在于现实之中的某些人类思维活动和行为，貌似荒诞，实则另有弦外之音。法国超现实主义诗人路易·阿拉贡1971年公开发表《当今最伟大的诗人名叫扬尼斯·里索斯》一文来推崇其作品。
小小的对话 天空在屋后荒凉地燃烧。
你为何哭泣？──他扣紧自己的皮带问。
世界是美丽的──她回道──
如此美丽，如此头痛；这张床
是一头沉默的，正准备偷偷溜走的野兽。
SMALL DIALOGUE
The sky burned desolately behind the house.
Why are you crying?─he asked, buckling his belt.
The world is beautiful─she replied─
so beautiful and such a headache；and the bed
is a silent, savage beast preparing to flee.
着重色 山红。海绿。
天黄。地蓝。
在一只鸟和一片叶之间，死亡坐着。
（冯默谌 译）
1953—1964于
雅典，季米尼，卡尔洛韦茨，
普拉特內启亚，圣君士坦丁
ACCENTED COLORS
The mountain is red. The sea is green.
The sky is yellow. The earth blue.
Between a bird and a leaf sits death.
Athens, Dhiminió, Karlóvasi
Platanákia, St. Constantine,
1953—1964
适度 词语更像石头。你可以建造
安静的房子，并配有白色的家具，白床，
只要有人住在那里，或者至少
有人站着，透过花园的栏杆往里看，此时
玻璃窗被燃成栗色，山上
晚钟响起，过一会儿
松弛的铃绳便开始拍打墙壁。
1967.11—1968.1
MODERATION
Words are much like stones. You can build
peaceful houses with white furniture, with white beds,
provided only that somebody is found to inhabit them or at least
to stand and look through the garden railings at the moment
when the windowpanes are in inflamed maroon, and up on the hills
the evening bells are ringing, and after a while
the slack bell rope beats on the wall by itself.
November, 1967-January, 1968
院子 一座安静的院子，无声无息。病恹恹的树木，悲伤，
在时光中远去。泥土发霉之味，
蜥蜴，枯井，滑轮。傍晚时
瘸小子从那儿走出。在另一扇门，
路对面，那个单手儿童站着，望向远方。
他们都不寒暄。他们咬紧牙关。他们想要忘记
那天晚上，他俩一起埋葬的那只被猎杀的鸟，那时
他们中的一个人还有腿，另一个人手还在。
靠近玫瑰花丛旁的草椅
被太阳照得暖洋洋的，无人坐在那里，
一切都毫无意义，悲伤，静止，
以致不道德行为，在一座很久以前的
城市，天真地嵌入未来。
1971年3—10月
THE YARD
A peaceful yard, silent. The sickly trees, sad,
far away in time. The smell of mould,
the lizard, the dry well, the pulleys. There
the lame boy comes out in the evening. At the other door,
across the way, the one-handed boy stands, looking afar.
They do not greet each other. They clench their teeth. They want to forget
the killed bird they had buried together one evening when
the one still had his leg and the other hand,
and the straw chair near the rosebush
was warm with the sun, with nobody sitting there,
and everything was pointless, sad, immobile,
and therefore immoral, in a city
of long ago, naively nailed to the future.
March-October, 1971
存在 高山，更高之云，相遇
在树林和神话中，陡峭的山坡上，
健康全能的理性在那里
不用担忧强调地回响，再往下，
在庄稼盛开的黄云中，
面对面的两列雕像，陷入静默，
完全地裸于死亡之上，双乳直立。
1971年3—10月
PRESENCE
Tall mountains, taller clouds, meeting
among trees and myths, on precipitous slopes,
there where the healthy omnipotent logos
echoed without fear of emphasis, while further down,
in the yellow clouds of blossoming crops,
in two facing rows, the statues had fallen silent,
stark naked above death, with nipples erect.
March-October, 1971
笑 他从公园长椅上看云。
他扯下外套内衬，
拉开帽带，
裹好被拐来的婴儿
扔入井中。他双脚分开站着，
撒尿，微笑，在你之前。
此刻，我是说微笑，说夜景，
月色。婴儿，
不，他没有被拐。无论是井，还是婴儿
都不存在。只有云。
1971.12.19 萨摩斯岛
THE LAUGH
He saw the clouds from the park bench.
He tore out his coat lining,
removed his hat band,
wrapped the kidnapped infant
and pitched it in the well. Standing with his feet apart,
he pissed, smiling before you did.
I’m speaking about this smile, about night’s spectacles
about the moon’s spectacles. The infant,
no, it wasn’t kidnapped. Nor did there exist
a well or an infant. Only the clouds.
Samos, December 19, 1971
中午 他们脱衣跳入海中；下午三点；
冰冷的海水无法阻止他们嬉戏。极目远望，海滩闪现着，
死寂，遗弃，荒凉。远处的房子紧闭。
世界蒸腾着微光。一辆马车
驶向街道尽头，消失不见。邮局的屋顶上
落着半旗。这次是谁远离了人世？
Noon
They undressed and jumped in the sea； three o’clock in the afternoon；
the cool water did not at all prevent their touching. The beach
gleamed as far as one could see,
dead, deserted, barren. The distant houses shut.
The world steamed gleaming.A horse cart
was moving out of sight at the end of the street. On the roof of the post-office
a flag hung at half mast. Who had died?
责任 晨光中，一颗星闪烁，像一个透明的钥匙孔
你把眼贴在上面——你往里看——你看到了一切
被锁之门的门后世界，充满了光明
你需要打开它
Duty
One star gleams in the twilight like a lit
keyhole
you glue your eye on it – you look inside – you see everything
The world is fully illuminated behind the locked door
You need to open it
雕像 他在门口转动钥匙
进入房中，躺下。
突然，他想起遗忘了什么东西。
天色已晚，他无法返回。
所以，独自在夜里，
他把手放在钥匙上，
远离街道，远离他的门，
整个人,面对自己的命运，
像雕像一样，变成了大理石。
是的，雕像冷冷地笑着。
1953-1954
THE STATUES
He turned the key in the door
to enter his house, to lie down.
Suddenly he remembered that he’d forgotten something.
It was late, he couldn’t go back.
So, alone in the night,
with his hand on the key,
away from the street, away from his door,
the whole man, facing his fate,
turned into marble like the statues.
Yes the statues smile indifferently.
1953-1954
中午 一匹白马被柏树的蓝影一分为二。
有人提高嗓门大喊（是谁？）
我不知道──他大喊着──我不知道，生活就像胃里的拳头一样，富有力量。
一个裸男齿间夹着金刀经过。
在公牛的角后，一场火，如蔷薇丛般，燃烧。
1958年，8—9月
NOON
A white horse dissected in two by the blue shadow of a cypress tree.
Someone shouted further up. (Who was it?)
I don’t know—he was shouting—I don’t know, life is powerful like a fist in the stomach.
A naked man with a golden knife between his teeth passed by.
Behind the horns of the bulls, a fire, like a rosebush, smoked.
August—September, 1958
第三个人 他们三个人坐在窗边看海。
一个人谈海。一个人听。第三个
不说也不听；他潜在大海深处；他浮起。
在窗玻璃后，他的动作缓慢，清晰
在薄薄的淡蓝中。他正在搜寻一艘沉舟。
他为这个巡查者敲响了丧钟；细小的泡沫
升起，伴随一阵轻柔之声，
“他淹死了吗？”一个人问；“他淹死了。”另一个回答。
第三个人从海底无助地望着他们，就像看着
淹死之人。
The Third One
The three of them sat before the window looking at the sea.
One talked about the sea. The second listened. The third
neither spoke nor listened； he was deep in the sea； he floated.
Behind the window panes, his movements were slow, clear
in the thin pale blue. He was exploring a sunken ship.
He rang the dead bell for the watch； fine bubbles
rose bursting with a soft sound - suddenly,
'Did he drown?' asked one； the other said: 'He drowned.' The
third one
looked at them helpless from the bottom of the sea, the way one
looks at drowned people.
缺乏意志力 正准备入睡，他笔直地站在花园里，背倚一株树，
（在他的内心里，他听到了远方阳光的轰鸣声）
此刻，他准备用他的手指去触摸平静，
他们用一根长长的橡皮管把他的全身淋湿。
他觉得他应该微笑，或是生气。但他没有。他再次闭上眼睛。
他们抓住他的腋窝和脚跟把他抬起。他们重重地把他投到井里。他
在水下听到砰的一声，从上面丢下来一块石头。
1972.10.4 雅典
LACK OF WILL POWER
Just as he was falling asleep, standing upright in the garden with his back against a tree,
(within himself he could already hear the distant roar of the sunlight)
at the moment he was about to touch serenity with one of his fingers,
they drenched him through and through with a long rubber hose.
He felt he should smile or become angry. But he couldn’t. He closed his eyes again.
They picked him up by his armpits and his feet. They flung him into the well.And he
heard the thump on the water below, and from above cast down a stone.
Athens, October 4, 1972
相同之夜 当他打开房间的灯，他立马就知道
这是他自己，在他自己的空间里，被隔绝
从夜的无穷和它的长枝中。他站在
镜子前确认自己。但是那些挂在他脖颈上
脏线上的钥匙呢？
The Same Night
When he switched on the light in his room,he knew at once
This was himself,in his own space,cut off from
The infinity of the night and from its long branches.He stood
Before the mirror to confirm himself.But what about these keys
Hung from his neck on a dirty string?
黑舟 夜晚，老人坐在门槛。孤零零地。
他手里拿着一个苹果。一些人
离开了他们的生活，在星星的庇佑下。
你能和他们说什么呢？夜就是夜。
我们也不知道接下来会发生什么。月亮
看起来有点调皮。
在海上不停地闪烁。然而，
在这光辉里，我们可以清楚地看见
黑色双桨船载着黑色船夫，正慢慢驶近。
1988.5.4 雅典
THE BLACK BOAT
The old man sits on the doorsill. Evening. Alone.
He holds an apple in his hand. Others
left their lives under the auspices of stars.
What can you say to them? Night is night.
Nor do we know what is to follow. The moon
seems a little playful,
endlessly shimmering on the sea. Nevertheless,
within this radiance can be clearly seen
the black double-oared boat with its dark boatman drawing near.
Athens, May 4, 1988
诗人 像一只蚂蚁
他带着自己的灵魂
在地下
Poet
Like an ant
He carries his soul
Below ground
死亡测验 你想知道
自己何时会离去吗？
当你知道
然后……
Quiz of Death
Do you want to know
When your Death will come?
When you know
Then
影子 它闻起来
有熏香和玫瑰水之味
他们说
他的影子又在
牢房中度过了
在黎明之前
在那最后
一小时之前
The shadow
It smelled
of incense and rose water
They said
that his shadow passed
in this cell again
Before the dawn
Before that
last hour
困惑 商店关闭。面粉洒在路上。
避难所旁堆满沙袋。双手交叉，
他悲伤地坐在花园的门后。一群
燕子飞过，它们的影子掠过
他的脸。他弯下腰去采花。
他做了一个花环。他会戴上吗?
Perplexity
Closed shops. Flour spilt upon the pavement.
Sandbags heaped by the shelter. Hands folded,
sad, he sits behind the garden's gate.A mob
of swallows flies over, their shadows crossing
his face. He bends over and gathers flowers.
He makes a wreath. Will he put it on?
听 在巨大的喧闹中,
寂静的裂缝。我们清楚地听到
寂静的深度。时光膨胀。
老人拄杖过桥。
两个骑自行车的人在山的地平线上。
大鸟出现。
Hearing
Amidst great clamor,
Fissures of silence.We clearly hear
the silent depth.Time expands.
Old men with canes cross the bridge.
Two cyclists on the hill’s horizon.
Large birds appear.
1985 礼物
未交付的
死亡的
礼物
未交付的
给受难者的
礼物
The Gift
Undelivered
Death’s
Gift
Undelivered
For those
Who suffer
房子 建在海边岩石上的
房子
是我的梦想之地
透过窗户
波浪击碎
我的孤独
House
House built on the rocks
Across the sea
There I dreamed
To look through the window
The waves breaking
My loneliness
地平线 地平线下沉
在碧空的
赭色中
然后紫色
在夜的边缘上
我向那些逝去的日子致敬
我倚在院中
我数着时光
今天
一整日
我都在盯视太阳
Horizon
Horizon depressed
Dipped in ocher
The azure
And then
The purple
On the verges of the night
I salute the loss
Of my day
I lean in my yard
I count the hours
That today
All day
I was staring the sun
梦 我开门
而睡
在大海中
无以言表。
一种更狂野
之美
甚于当时的话语。
穿越
一个跨度
到达盲眼诗人之岛
我看到了
写在我脑海里
关于一座坟墓的
诗歌
经由
一个自杀者之手
Dream
I am sleeping
With the door open
In the sea
The indescribable.
A beauty
Much wilder
Even than the words of then.
Across
A span
To the island of eyeless poets
And I see
The poems
The ones of a tomb
Written in my mind
By the hands
Of the suicide
恶魔 一个恶魔现在
控制着我的头脑
他用博爱之情
对我
他为什么不让我
活在我的惶恐之中
Daemon
One daemon now
Rules over my mind
He treats me
Philanthropic feelings
Why doesn’t he let me
Live my horror
颂歌 他远远地站在街道尽头
像一棵光秃秃，落满灰尘的树
像一棵被太阳烤焦的树
赞美不会被焚烧的太阳。
1938 - 1941
DOXOLOGY
He was standing at the far end of the street
like a bare and dusty tree
like a tree burned by the sun
glorifying the sun that cannot be burned.
1938—1941
时光之歌 在酒壶边
在果篓旁
我们忘了歌唱。
在我们分别的夜晚
在夜星的许可下
我们欢唱。
1938—1941
HOUR OF SONG
Beside the jug of wine
beside the baskets of fruit
we forgot to sing.
On the evening of our separation
under the approbation of the evening star
we sang by ourselves.
1938—1941
交替 太阳才不管你的犹豫──
赤裸裸地想要你，赤裸裸地占有你，
直到夜幕降临，为你穿衣。
太阳去后，只剩悔恨。
悔恨之后，太阳又再次升起。
1938.9 雅典
SUCCESSION
The sun does not consider any of your hesitations—
naked it wants you and naked it takes you,
until night comes to dress you.
After the sun, there is repentance.
After repentance, the sun again.
Athens, September, 1938
胜利者 他犹豫地打开他黑乎乎的房间
想再次听听他的脚步，在白天铺有白石的人行道上
会发出什么声响。
所有人都在等他从太阳门出来。
他戴有一副光的金色假牙
努力记下几片绿叶
但他觉得自己的嘴看起来更空了
所以他既不说话，也不微笑。
其他人一直在听他们的欢呼声。
他们并未注意到他依然保持沉默。
然后他弯下腰，捡起一块石头，去追赶
陪伴他最后的，一条忠实的狗。
人们在阳光下把他扛在肩上。
并高高地举过他们的头顶，
无人看到他在哭泣。
1941.7 雅典
THE CONQUEROR
He unlocked his dark room with hesitation
to try out once more what sound his footsteps would make
on the pure-white stone pavements of day.
All were waiting for him to exit from the sun’s door.
He put on a golden denture of light
and tried to learn a few green leaves by heart
but felt his mouth looked even more empty
and so he neither spoke nor smiled.
The others kept listening to their cheers.
They never noticed that he remained silent.
Then he stooped down, picked up a stone and chased
the last faithful dog that had followed him.
Men hoisted him on their shoulders in the sun.
And thus, raised high above their heads,
no one saw him weeping.
Athens, July, 1941
致命的胜利 在夜晚，孤零零地，她悄然起身，
害怕自己的脚步。
她下楼到地下室里，查看那些噪声
──来自老鼠，来自一只蜘蛛，来自时光，来自她的头脑──
为了最后她能小憩一会儿。
正当她走着，风熄灭了灯
在她的两颊，她感到了寂静的发丝吹起。
第二天早晨，他们发现她躺在楼梯下的一堆杂物里。她微笑着。
她什么也未证实。她取得了胜利。
1955-1956
DEADLY VICTORY
Alone at night, she rose noiselessly,
fearing her own footsteps.
She descended to the cellar to check on those noises
—from rats, from a spider, from time, from her brain—
so that at last she could get some sleep.
As she descended, the wind blew out the lamp
and on both her cheeks she felt the upraised hairs of silence.
Next morning they found her in a heap under the stairs. She was smiling.
She had not confirmed anything. She had conquered.
1955-1956
火灾后 黎明时，寂静笼罩在冒烟的废墟中。
与火搏斗了一夜的人们
现在睡着了，疲惫又平静，在他们甜蜜的屈服中，
其他人带有一种模糊，漫无目的的，胜利的微笑。
只有他醒着。事实上，他不愿入眠，
不知道自己是胜利者，还是失败者，
或许只能模糊地猜测──或许
唯一的胜利者就是：他想知道这个结果的决定。
1955─1956
AFTER THE FIRE
When it dawned, the silence was heavy amidst the smoking ruins.
Those who had wrestled with the fire all night
were now sleeping, weary and tranquil within their sweet submission,
others with the smile of a vague and aimless triumph.
Only he was awake. He was, in fact, avoiding sleep,
without knowing if he was the victor or the defeated,
guessing only vaguely that perhaps─perhaps
the only victory was this: his decision to learn which.
1955─1956
美 赤条条的──她拿起红手帕
遮住自己的眼，不让人看见，
以免恐惧会迫使他们不去看。寂静，傲慢──或许，甚至害怕。
在她被遮的眼睛的黑暗里
她也许碰到或融入了光；她没有醒来。
在花园的柳条椅下，她的鞋子
落在那里。她的白裙
在树枝上飘荡，解放了她的整个身体。
她希望死后也能这样。花园的光
浮动──我不知道如何描述──像是嘲笑，像是鼓掌。
1955─1956
BEAUTY
Naked─she took her red handkerchief
and covered her eyes so as not to been seen,
in case fear would force them not to look. Silent and overbearing─maybe even afraid.
Within the darkness of her bound eyes
she may have even touched or even mixed the light； then she did not wake.
Under the garden wicker chair, her shoes remained
with the bare form of her feet. On the tree branch,
her white dress streamed, unfastening all her nudity.
She had hoped for this after death. The light of the garden
fluttered─I don’t know how─like mockery, like applause.
1955─1956
一种生活 死板，不妥协贯穿着他的整个生命。
最后他越来越担忧他的这番固执，
明白它是一种姿态，而非一种美德，
是对他人，也是对自己的一种惩罚。
然后他在静默中躺下，慵懒而且僵硬，
像一行忏悔的句子。像一副长棺材
躺在两把普通的椅子上，
成为在他恐惧和怀疑之上的一道狭窄的桥梁。
1956─1957
A LIFE
Rigid, uncompromising throughout his entire life.
Towards the end he grew to fear this rigidity,
seeing it not as a virtue but a pose,
a punishing of others and, of course, himself.
Then he lay down in silence, slack and rigid
like a repentant line. A long coffin
lying across two common chairs
became a narrow bridge over his fears and suspicions.
1956─1957
惊奇 睡觉前，他把手表放到枕下。
然后入睡。外面吹着风。你
知道这最细微动作的奇妙顺序，
你会明白。一个人，他的表，风。仅此而已。
1958年，8—9月 萨摩斯岛
WONDER
Before going to bed, he placed his watch under his pillow.
Then he went to sleep. The wind outside was blowing. You
who know the wondrous succession of the slightest movements,
you will understand. A man, his watch, the wind. Nothing more.
Samos, August—September, 1958
手 手通常像脸
或者如完整的身体。这些手
依然无精打采，在早春，
它们打喷嚏，咳嗽，抱怨，变得沉默，
在阳光下，用它们疲软的生殖器。
对面，一个女子在哺乳自己的婴儿。
她的手，虽然一动不动，却似
两个裸奔者，在巨大的大理石竞技场里。
HANDS
Often hands are like faces
or like whole bodies. These hands
remain listless in the premature spring,
they sneeze, cough, complain, grow silent,
with their genitals withered in the sun.
Opposite, a woman suckles her infant.
Her hands, though motionless, are
two naked runners in a large marble arena.
夜间的 夜脱去你的衣物。她的手在颤抖。
全身赤裸，你的肢体在阴影中闪烁。
那个挤压我们脖颈的聪明的零
突然被切成两片
如一枚被刀切开的熟鸡蛋。
NOCTURNAL
Night undresses you. Her hands tremble.
All naked, your body shines in the shadows.
That wise zero that squeezed our necks
is suddenly cut in two
like a boiled egg sliced by a knife.
展品 女人还躺在床上。他
取下他的玻璃眼睛，放在桌上，
走了一步，停下。“现在，你该相信我了吧？”──他问她。
她拾起玻璃眼，把它举到自己的眼前，看着他。
EXHIBITS
The woman was still lying in bed. He
took out his glass eye, set it on the table,
took one step, stopped. Do you believe me now? ─he asked her.
She picked up the glass eye, raised it to her eye and looked at him.
不公正地 疲倦的面孔，疲倦的手。
一段厌烦的记忆。这
空虚的静默。夜晚。
孩子都已长大。他们都已离开。
你不再等待回答。此外
你没有要求。不公平地，
这么多年来，你一直努力
对这张纸面具
露出一个满意的微笑。闭上你的眼。
1988.1.16 雅典
UNJUSTLY
Weary faces, weary hands.
A weary memory. And this
vacuous silence. Evening.
The children have grown. They’ve left.
You no longer wait for an answer. And besides
you have no requests. Unjustly,
for so many years you strove to place
an approving smile
on this paper mask. Close your eyes.
Athens, January 16, 1988
惯性 卧室里，女人和黑狗待在一起。
老男仆提灯经过走廊。
没有一丝风，窗帘轻移。
我们不再等待他们的归来。他们挂在
衣柜里的衣服慢慢变得陈旧。夜里
我们听见邮差在门前逗留。
他没按门铃。也未说话。第二天
在花园里，我们发现了他刻有印章的金色烟蒂。
1988.1.6 卡拉玛
INERTIA
In the bedroom, the woman with the black dog.
The old manservant passed by the corridor with a lantern.
Without a stir of air, the curtain moved.
We no longer waited for their return. Their clothes
hanging in the wardrobes grew old. During the night
we heard the messenger stop before the door.
He didn’t ring the doorbell. He didn’t speak. The next day
we found his gold stamped cigarette butts in the garden.
Kálamos, January 6, 1988
早晨 她打开百叶窗。她把床单悬在窗台上。她看到了白昼。
一只鸟用眼直视着她。“我是孤单单的。”她低诉道。
“我活着。”她走进房间。镜子也是一扇窗户。
如果我从中跳出，我就会落入我的双臂。
Morning
She opened the shutters. She hung the sheets over the sill. She saw the day.
A bird looked at her straight in the eyes. ‘I am alone,’ she whispered.
‘I am alive.’ She entered the room. The mirror too is a window.
If I jump from it I will fall in my arms.
突然地 寂静之夜。寂静。你已停止
等待。它近乎安宁。
然后在你的脸上，他热情的触摸
突然消失。他会来。那时
你听到了百叶窗它在叮当作响。
一阵微风吹过。再远一点，大海
淹没在它自己的涛声里。
SUDDENLY
Silent night. Silent. And you had stopped
waiting. It was almost quiet.
Then suddenly on your face the so intense
touch of him who is absent. He will come. It was then
you heard window shutters clanging by themselves.
A breeze had sprung up. And a little further down, the sea
was drowning in its own voice.
或许，有一天 我想带你去看，那些在夜里的玫瑰云。
可你没有去。你说，夜里——又能看到什么呢？
现在，我毫无办法，除了用你的眼去看，他说，
因此我不再孤单，你也不再。真的，
在我所指之地，一片空无。
只有星星在夜里挤作一团，疲惫不堪，
如那些野餐后乘一辆卡车归来的人们，
失望，饥饿，无人歌唱，
他们湿漉漉的手掌里握有枯萎的野花。
可我仍会继续去看，并继续展示给你，他说，
因为如果你没有看到，好像我也未曾看见——
至少我会坚持不再用你的眼睛去看——
也许有一天，我们会从另一个方向相遇。
Maybe, Someday
I want to show you these rose clouds in the night.
But you can't see.It's night—what can one see?
Now, I have no choice but to see with your eyes,he said,
so I'm not alone, so you're not alone.And really,
there's nothing over there where I pointed.
Only the stars crowded together in the night,tired,
like those people coming back in a truck from a picnic,
disappointed, hungry, nobody singing,
with wilted wildflowers in their sweaty palms.
But I'm going to insist on seeing and showing you，he said,
because if you too don't see, it will be as if I hadn't
I'll insist at least on not seeing with your eyes.
and maybe someday, from a different direction,we'll meet.
简单的含义 我把自己藏在简单事物之后，为了你能找到我，
如果你找不到，你就能找到那些东西，
你会触摸到它们，我的手曾触摸过，
我们的手迹将会混合在一起。
八月的月亮如厨房里的铁壶
（因为我同你的讲述变得如此）
它点亮了空桌子和寂静正跪在屋里——
寂静总是跪着。
每个字都是离去
为了一个会面，被取消了多次
它是一个真实之词，当它坚信相逢时。
The meaning of simplicity
I hide myself behind simple objects so you may find me,
if you do not find me ,you will find the objects,
you will touch those objects my hand has touched
the traces of our hands will mingle.
The August moon gleams like a tin kitchen kettle
(what I am telling you becomes like that),
it lights the empty table and silence kneeling in the house
silence is always kneeling.
Every single word is an exodus
for a meeting,canceled many times,
it is a true word when it insists on the meeting.
中心 海，太阳，树木。再一次：
树木，太阳，海。
请注意
在这种倒置的重复中
反向的重复中
太阳再次出现在中间
如身体中心的感官愉悦。
1953—1964，雅典，季米尼，卡尔洛韦茨，
普拉特內启亚，圣君士坦丁
THE CENTER
The sea, the sun, the tree. And again:
the tree, the sun, the sea.
Notice
that in this inverted repetition
the sun is once again found in the middle
like sensual delight in the center of the body.
Athens, Dhiminió, Karlóvasi
Platanákia, St. Constantine, 1953—1964
裸脸 切开柠檬让两股清汁落入杯中；
看那儿，在桌子上，刀在鱼的旁边──
鱼是红色，刀是黑色。
他们的牙齿间或袖子上都插有一把刀，靴子和马裤上也插有。
这俩女人疯了，她们想要吃掉男人，
她们留着黑黑的大指甲，把未洗的头发
高高地梳起。像塔那般高，五个男孩从那里
一个接一个地跳下。然后她们下楼，
从井里打水，洗身，伸开大腿，
插入松果，插入石头。而我们
点头说“是”又一声“是”──我们低头
看一只蚂蚁，一只蝗虫，或看
松树毛毛虫在胜利女神像的翅膀上漫步。
缺乏神圣──有人说──是最后的，最糟糕的认知；
可就是这样的认知，现在依然被称为神圣。
1972.9.30 雅典
NAKED FACE
Cut the lemon and let two drops fall into glass；
look there, the knives beside the fish on the table─
the fish are red, the knives are black.
All with a knife between their teeth or up their sleeves, thrust in their boots or their breeches.
The two women have gone crazy, they want to eat the men,
they have large black fingernails, they comb their unwashed hair
high up. High up like towers, from which the five boys
plunge down one by one. Afterward they come down the stairs,
draw water from the well, wash themselves, spread out their thighs,
thrust in pine cones, thrust in stones. And we
nod our heads with a “yes” and a “yes” ─we look down
at an ant, a locust, or on the statue of Victory─
Pine tree caterpillars saunter on her wings.
The lack of holiness─someone said─is the final, the worst kind of knowledge；
it’s exactly such knowledge that now remains to be called holy.
Athens, September 30, 1972
又一个假日 一切都好。云在天上。
婴儿在摇篮里。窗户
在洗净的玻璃杯里。树在屋中。
女人的围裙在椅子上。
词在诗中。只有一片
亮晶晶的叶子露了出来，
钥匙穿过一串羽毛链。
Another Holiday
Everything was fine. The clouds in the sky.
The baby in the cradle. The window
in the washed water glass. The tree in the room.
The woman's apron on the chair.
The words in the poem. And only
a very shiny leaf stood out,
and the key through a feather chain.
抽象的画家 一天下午，一名画家画了一列火车。
最后一节车厢从纸上脱落下来
并独自地返回车库。
而艺术家恰好坐在那节车厢里。
1959.6
ABSTRACTED PAINTER
A painter one afternoon drew a train.
The last carriage cut away from the paper
and returned to the carbarn all by itself.
Precisely in that carriage sat the artist.
June, 1959
季风 一艘小舟接着一艘……
手推车小贩紧盯着下坡，
松树把自己扑向大海。
海攀上山，
现在他骑着
日光，白沫泼溅。
1939.7 波罗斯
ETESIAN WINDS
Ship after ship after ship . . .
The pushcart peddler gazes down the slope,
The pine trees fling themselves into the sea.
The sea ascends the mountain
and the pushcart peddler mounts
the sun, splattered with white foam.
Poros, July, 1939
石头 日子来了，又去，不费力气，毫无惊喜。
石头浸润在阳光和记忆中。
一个人把石头当作枕头。
另一个在游泳前把石头放在自己的衣上，
以免它们被风吹走。还有一个人把石头当作凳子
或者做记号，在他的田野间，在墓地中，在墙壁上，在森林里。
然后，太阳落山，当你回到家，
你把从沙滩上任意捡拾的鹅卵石放在桌上
它是一尊小雕像——一条奈基或阿耳忒弥斯的小狗，
这个是名年轻人，在中午时，脚湿漉漉的站在沙滩上，
那个是位合着浓睫毛的普特洛克勒斯。
Stones
Days come, go, without effort, no surprises.
The stones soak in the light and memory.
One makes a stone a pillow.
Another puts a stone on his clothes before swimming
to keep them from being blown away by the wind. Another uses a stone as his stool
or to mark something in his field, in the cemetery, in the wall, in the woods.
Later, after sunset, when you return home,
any pebble from the beach you place on your table
is a statuette — a small Nike or Artemis’s dog,
and this one, on which a young man stood with wet feet at noon,
is a Patroklus with shady shut eyelashes.
在军营里 月亮进了军营。
她洗劫了步兵的毛毯。
她抓起一只赤裸之手。
有人在梦中呓语。有人打鼾。
一个影子在长墙上做着手势。
最后一辆电车已经通过。一切安然如许。
这些东西明天可能就会消失了吗?
她们可能早已离去了吗?
一名步兵醒来。
他目光呆滞地环顾四周。
月亮的嘴唇上挂有一缕血丝。
In the Barracks
The moon entered the barracks.
She ransacked the blankets of the infantry.
She seized a naked hand.Sleep.
Someone is talking in his sleep.Someone is snoring.
A shadow gesticulates on the long wall.
The last trolley car has passed.All is quiet.
Is it possible that all these may be dead tomorrow ?
Is it possible that they may already be dead?
An infantryman wakes up.
He looks around him with glassy eyes.
A thread of blood hangs from the lips of the moon.
城中之夏 在此地，光让我们绝望。无情的月份
不允许你成为两个。你还不够。
单调的叮当声，街道上的汽车拐弯，
在炎热的中午，大理石切割师切着石头。
在墙的上方，可以看见同样古老的纪念馆廊柱，
大理石花，大理石丝带，
一尊银行家的半身像，
一张被天使翅膀遮挡的孩子的脸。
在这些专业的雕塑上，雅典的太阳盖有它的印章，
它们的阴影难以置信地伸展──
因此，昨天下午一点也不奇怪
当你从办公室回家时
拎着一个装有面包和西红柿的购物袋
这没什么奇怪：昨天太阳落山时
在树林里，你遇见了那个大理石青年
他微笑着，慢悠悠地走着。
你坐在公园池塘边的长椅上，把面包投给金鱼，
整个晚上，你一点也不饿，
尽管你没有吃饭。
1939年8月，雅典
SUMMER IN THE CITY
In this place the light makes us despair. This pitiless month
will not allow you not to become two. You are not enough.
The monotonous clang, the street cars turning round corners,
the marble cutters hewing stones in the blazing noon.
Above the wall can be seen the same old memorial columns,
marble flowers, marble ribbons,
the bust of a banker,
the face of a child shadowed by an angel’s wing.
On these professional sculptures the Attic sun stamps its seal,
the shadows add their unbelievable extensions—
and so it was not strange at all that yesterday afternoon
as you were returning home from the office
holding a shopping net of bread and tomatoes—
it was not strange at all that yesterday as the sun was setting
in the copse you met the marble youth
strolling languidly as he smiled.
You sat on a park bench, by the pond, casting your bread to the goldfish,
and all that night, even though you had not eaten,
you were not at all hungry.
Athens, August, 1939
形式上的 花盆排在粉刷过的楼梯上。
两个黄色的大葫芦在露天平台上。
我同你说的就这些，他说。自行车靠着
在洒满阳光的路边休息。它的骑手
在里面进餐。从他碗里的野青菜冒出的热气
弥漫在墙壁的小剃须镜上。
桌布上覆有印花玫瑰。
真实的玫瑰和其他玫瑰不可区分。
这是玫瑰有意为之。
Pro Forma
Flowerpots lining the whitewashed stairs.
Two large yellow gourds on the open landing.
That’s all I’m going to tell you,he said.the bicycle
resting up against the sunlit curb.Its rider
was inside eating.The steam from his bowl of wild greens
clouded over the small shaving—mirror on the wall.
The tablecloth was covered with printed roses.
The real rose was indistinguishable from the rest.
This was done on purpose by the rose.
Tr. by Martin McKinsey
未被占用的 他们走来。他们看看废墟，和四周的土地，
他们的眼睛像是在打量什么，他们尝了尝
在舌头上的光和空气。他们喜欢它。
他们肯定想要从我们这里拿走什么。我们
扣上了衬衣的扣子，虽然天气很热，
并看了看我们的鞋子。然后，我们中的一人
用手指指着远处的什么东西。其他人转过身来。
当他们转身时，他小心地弯腰，
抓起一把土，藏入口袋里，
然后冷淡地离去。当那些陌生人转过身来
他们看到脚前有个深坑，
他们移开，看了看手表后，他们离去。
在这个深坑里有：一把剑，一个花瓶，一具白骨。
Unexpropriated
They came. They were looking at the ruins, the surrounding plots of land,
they seemed to measure something with their eyes, they tasted
the air and the light on their tongues. They liked it.
Surely they wanted to take something away from us. We
buttoned up our shirts, although it was hot,
and looked at our shoes. Then one of us
pointed with his finger to something in the distance. The others turned.
As they were turned, he bent discreetly,
took a handful of soil, hid it in his pocket
and moved away indifferently. When the strangers turned about
they saw a deep hole before their feet,
they moved, they looked at their watches and they left.
In the pit: a sword, a vase, a white bone.
在一座古庙的废墟中 博物馆的门卫正在羊圈前抽烟。
羊群在大理石废墟中吃草。
再往下，妇女们在河里浣洗衣物。
你能听到铁匠铺里锤子的敲打声。
牧羊人吹着口哨。羊群跑向他，那大理石废墟仿佛也在奔跑。
在夹竹桃后，水稠密的后颈闪着清凉之光。一个女人
把她洗过的衣服摊搭在树木和雕塑上——
把她丈夫的内衣裤也搭在赫拉的双肩上。
年复一年，重复这陌生的、平静的，沉默的亲密。
在海滨，渔夫们头顶着装满鱼的鱼篓经过，
好像他们携带着又长又窄的闪光：
金色的、玫瑰色的、和紫色的——就像那支队伍，披着长长的
华丽的女神绣花面纱，在别的日子里
在我们空空的房间中，我们可以切下来当作窗帘和桌布。
In the Ruins of an Ancient Temple
The museum guard was smoking in front of the sheepfold.
The sheep were grazing among the marble ruins.
Farther down the women were washing in the river.
You could hear the beat of the hammer in the blacksmith’s shop.
The shepherd whistled.The sheep ran to him as though the marble ruins were running.
The water’s thick nape shone with coolness behind the oleanders.
A woman spread her washed clothing on the shrubs and the statues——
she spread her husband’s underpants on Hera’s shoulders.
Foreign, peaceful, silent intimacy ——years on years.
Down on the shore the fishermen passed by with broadbaskets full of fish on their heads,
as though they were carrying long and narrow flashes of light:
gold, rose, and violet - the same as that procession bearing the long,
richly embroidered veil of the goddess that we cut up the other day
to arrange as curtains and table-cloths in our emptied houses.
翻译：冯默谌 来源：一朵花儿红了
（编辑：张坚）
