[翻譯]Sylvia Plath 詩集《艾瑞兒》(Ariel) 選譯
發表於 : 2004-12-01,2:35 pm[送快信的人]
--Sylvia Plath
葉子上有蝸牛的文字？
這不是我的。可別收下。
酸醋密封在錫罐中？
可別收下。這不是真品。
一隻金戒指裡面有太陽？
騙人的。那是謊言與悲慟。
霜覆在葉上，那毫無過錯的
鼎鑊，議論紛紛且滋滋作響
自問自答於每一個頂點
那九座黑色的阿爾卑斯山。
萬鏡騷然，
大海粉碎了它灰色的部分——
愛情、愛情，我的時令。
[The Couriers]
The word of a snail on the plate of a leaf?
It is not mine. Do not accept it.
Acetic acid in a sealed tin?
Do not accept it. It is not genuine.
A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.
Frost on a leaf, the immaculate
Cauldron, talking and crackling
All to itself on the top of each
Of nine black Alps.
A disturbance in mirrors,
The sea shattering its grey one--
Love, love, my season.
[鬱金香]
--Sylvia Plath
這叢鬱金香太易激動，這裡是冬天。
看看這一切多麼白、多麼安靜、多麼入雪
我正在學習平心靜氣，獨自安靜地躺著
此際有光躺到白牆上、這眠床、這雙手上。
我是平凡人，爆炸與我無關。
我已將姓名與衣物給了護士
我的病史給了麻醉師而身體給了外科醫師。
他們在枕頭與布幕間刺探我的頭腦
就像一粒眼球在兩扇不能閉合的白眼皮之間。
笨瞳孔，要記住這一切。
護士們進進出出，不會感到任何困難，
她們戴著白帽巾如海鷗穿越內陸，
忙著手頭上的事情，每個都做同樣的事情，
所以根本算不清她們的數目。
我的身體是一塊小圓石，她們如水流護理著
護理著必須輾過去的無數石塊，將之輕柔地磨平。
她們用鋥亮的針頭麻痺我，使我入睡。
我迷失了自己我厭棄行李——
我特製的小旅行皮箱如一個黑色的藥盒，
我的丈夫與小孩在家庭照內微笑；
他們的微笑揪住了我的皮肉，這些微笑的小鉤子。
我已將事情放下，如一艘下水三十年的貨船
固執地將我的姓名與地址緊握著。
人們將我關愛的親朋好友刷洗得乾乾淨淨。
驚恐地暴露在綠色塑膠坐墊的電車上
我看著我的茶具組、亞麻布面的寫字檯、書籍
沉到我的視線之下然後大水沒頂。
我現在是修女了，我從未如此純淨。
我不要任何花朵，我只要
枕著自己的手臂躺著極度地空無一切。
這樣太自在了，超乎你想像的自在——
這和平感大到令你目瞪口呆，
不用任何代價就能得到，一張姓名標籤、幾件裝置。
最後，這和平感就是死亡迫近；我想像著人們
閉起嘴巴含著它，像聖餐禮的餅片。
鬱金香太紅了，使我感到痛苦。
就算隔著包裝紙我仍能聽見它們的呼吸聲
輕快地，通過白色的襁褓，如一個可怕的嬰兒。
它們的紅對我的傷口說話，傷口應合著。
鬱金香很微妙：似乎懸浮著，卻重重地壓著我，
用突來的口舌與顏色使我沮喪，
一打紅色的灌鉛的重物纏在我頸上。
以前沒人要看我，現在我被監視。
鬱金香朝向我，窗在我的身後
一天之中，光線逐漸擴大又逐漸稀微，
然後我看見了自己，扁平、荒謬、如紙杯的影子
在太陽之眼與鬱金香之眼的中間，
我沒有臉，我要隱沒我自己。
活躍的鬱金香吃掉了我的氧氣。
在人們來之前空氣已足夠沉靜
進進出出，呼吸挨著呼吸，沒有任何紛擾。
這時鬱金香如巨大的噪音將房間塞滿。
空氣擱了淺，鬱金香被漩渦環繞，就像河流
使鏽紅的引擎擱淺、陷於漩渦之間。
這吸引了我的注意力，真是樂事一件
可以玩完了就休息而不用實際去做。
四周的牆壁似乎也自相取暖。
鬱金香應如惡獸被關在籠中；
它們張著大口如非洲大型貓科動物，
接著我感受到自己的心：它一開一闔
它紅色的缽綻放出我徹底的愛。
我喝的水又溫又鹹，像海，
來自一處像健康一樣遙不可及的地方。
[Tulips]
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage--
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free--
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
[爹]
--Sylvia Plath
你再也不會，你再也不會
穿上黑鞋了
我活在裡面如一隻腳
三十多年，蒼白而可憐，
幾乎不敢喘氣或打噴嚏。
爹，我早該殺了你。
你卻死在我伺機動手之前──
重若大理石，一具裝滿神靈的皮囊，
慘白的雕像長著一根灰色大腳趾
大如舊金山的海豹
又如沈浮於怪異的亞特蘭提斯洋的
一顆頭顱傾洩豆綠色於湛藍之上
在麻州美麗的瑙塞特的海濱。
我曾祝禱能尋回你。
嗚呼，汝呀。
講德國語文，在波蘭小鎮
戰爭，戰爭，戰爭
地名被壓路機輾平。
但其實這小鎮的名字並不特別。
我的波蘭朋友
說同樣的地名少說也有一兩打。
所以我從來也弄不清楚你在何方
駐足，你根植於何處
我從未能和你交談。
我的舌頭膠著於下顎。
膠著於鐵蒺蔾的陷阱裡。
吾，吾，吾，吾，
我幾乎講不出話來。
我以為每個德國人都是你的化身。
而語言是可憎的
如火車頭，如火車頭
把我像猶太人那樣全部拉走
一個被送往達浩，奧胥維茲，巴森的猶太人。
我開始學習猶太的談吐。
我想我有理由成為猶太人的。
提洛爾的積雪，維也納的清啤酒
並不是非常的純正。
以我吉卜賽的血統和詭異的運道
加上我的塔羅牌，我的塔羅牌
我真有幾分像猶太人呢。
我始終畏懼著「你」，
你的德國空軍，你的官樣文章。
你整齊的短髭，
和你亞利安人的眼睛，湛藍。
裝甲兵，裝甲兵，你呀──
不是上帝，卻是個卍字
黑得連天空也無法僥倖擦身而過。
每個女人都崇拜法西斯主義者，
皮靴踩在臉上，殘暴
殘暴之心如你這頭猛獸。
爹，你站在黑板旁邊，
我有這麼一張你的照片，
一道深紋落在你的下巴而不在腳上
仍是一樣厲害的惡魔，一點也不
遜於那曾把我美好鮮紅的心
敲成兩半的黑衣人。
我十歲那年你被他們安葬。
二十歲時我試圖自殺
想回到，回到，回到你的身邊。
我想屍骨相依我也願意。
但是他們把我從屍袋裡拉了出來
還用膠水將我拼湊回原狀。
從此此後我知道該怎麼做了。
我塑造了你的芻像，
一臉《我的奮鬥》的表情的黑衣人
而且愛好拷問架和螺旋鑽。
我說我願意，我願意。
所以爹呀，我終於完了。
黑色的電話線被連根拔斷，
聲音就是無法蠕動而過。
如果我已殺了一個人，我其實殺了兩個──
那吸血鬼說他就是你
並且啜飲我的血已好幾年了，
七年了，如果你真想知道。
爹，你現在可以重新躺下了。
你肥大的黑心上插著一根木樁
村民們一開始就很討厭你
他們在你身上舞之蹈之。
他們很清楚那就是你。
爹呀，爹呀，你這個畜生，我完了。
[Daddy]
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time --
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You –
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two --
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
[你啊]
--Sylvia Plath
小丑似的，樂極了兩手撐著地，
雙腳頂星星,頭面粉白如月，
身子金燐燐如魚，這是基本常識
對渡渡鳥的傻樣朝下比拇指喝倒彩。
又將自己線軸似地裹起來，
如夜梟展翅拖網著黑暗。
沉默時像大蘿蔔從國慶日
到愚人節不發一語。
噢我的小麵包，膨脹起來了。
模糊如霧又期待如信。
比南瀛洲還遙遠。
折腰的阿特拉斯、我們愛旅行的蝦。
溫潤小巧如蓓蕾在室
如醃菜罐中小鯡魚
一柳籃鰻魚，全是波紋。
躁動如墨西哥跳豆。
準確，如算對的數學答案。
光潔的石板，浮現你自己的容顏。
[You're]
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark, as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools' Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.
[拉札洛夫人](1)
我又犯了。
十年裡總有一年
我操弄著它----
彷彿某種神蹟，我的肌膚
明亮如納粹製造的燈罩(2)，
我的右腳
是一方紙鎮，
我的臉沒有五官，是精緻的
猶太亞麻裹尸布。
扯下餐巾
噢我的敵人。
我很恐怖嗎？----
那鼻子、那眼框、那整齊的一口牙？
那酸酸的氣息
將在一天內消失。
很快地，很快地那肉身
那被墓穴吞噬的肉身將會
到家裡附在我身上
而我是個微笑的女人。
我不過才三十歲。
像一隻九條命的貓。
這是第三個年關
好一堆垃圾
每隔十年就得銷毀一次。
如點了幾百萬燭光的燈泡。
嚼花生米的觀眾
全都擁進來瞧
他們扒開我的手腳----
好一場脫衣舞。
各位先生、女士
這是我的雙手
我的雙膝
或許我會被剝皮拆骨，
然而，我仍是我，同一個女人。
第一次發生時我才十歲。
那是場意外。
第二次我是認真的
要幹就幹到底再也不回來了。
我敲碎了殼
如一海貝。
他們得千呼萬喚
從我裡面掏出蟲如掏出吸附的珍珠
死亡
是藝術，跟其他藝術一樣是藝術。
而我特別擅長死亡。
我死故我富有地獄感
我死故我彷彿存在
我想你可以說這是我的使命。
要幹很容易在斗室裡就可以
要幹很容易幹完若無其事也可以
這是戲劇性的
在大白天從鬼門關回來
回到同樣的地點、面對同樣的面孔、同樣的粗暴
愉悅的叫囂：
「真是奇蹟！」
我真是敗給他們了。
要付錢的
想要看我的傷疤，要付錢的
想要聽我的心跳----
它確實還在跳。
要付錢的，要付一大筆錢
換我一句話或摸一下
或滴一滴血
或一束頭髮或我穿過的衣物。
怎樣，怎樣，醫師先生。
怎樣，敵人先生。
我是你的傑作，
我是你的寶貝，
純金的心肝寶貝。
熔化成一聲尖叫。
我燃燒翻滾。
別認為我低估了你最大的私心。
骨灰，骨灰---
你又翻又攪。
血肉、骨骸，什麼都沒了----
化為一塊肥皂，(3)
一枚結婚戒指，
一顆金牙。
上帝先生，魔鬼先生
給我當心點
當心點。
從灰燼裡
我披散紅髮起身
服食男人如吐納空氣。
註釋：
(1)Lazarus為《新約．約翰福音》中的人物，死後四天耶穌讓他復活。
(2)傳聞納粹統治後期，原料奇缺，曾殘酷地以人皮製造燈罩。
(3)傳聞納粹集中營屠殺猶太人後，將其油脂製成肥皂，並在屍骸焚化後的灰燼中，蒐求金戒指、金牙等貴重物品。
[Lady Lazarus]
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it ----
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify? ----
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot ----
The big strip tease.
Gentleman, ladies
These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart ---
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there ----
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
[打傷]
色彩淹沒了斑痕，鈍紫色。
身體剩下來的部分全被洗掉了，
珍珠的顏色。
一個石洞中
海水孜孜不倦地吸吮，
一個空洞就是整個大海的軸心。
一隻蒼蠅的大小，
毀滅的標記
爬下了牆壁。
心關閉，
大海悄悄滑退，
鏡子被蓋了起來。
[Contusion]
Color floods to the spot, dull purple.
The rest of the body is all washed out,
The color of pearl.
In a pit of rock
The sea sucks obsessively,
One hollow the whole sea's pivot.
The size of a fly,
The doom mark
Crawls down the wall.
The heart shuts,
The sea slides back,
The mirrors are sheeted.
[懸吊之人]
某種神靈扯住了我的髮根那裡。
在祂藍色伏特下我如沙漠中的先知哧哧作響。
無數夜晚從眼前嘎然而止如蜥蜴的眼瞼：
那是蓋不上的眼窩中光禿禿的白日子的世界。
兀鷹般的無聊把我釘在這棵樹上。
倘若祂是我，也會幹我幹過的事情。
[The Hanging Man]
By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.
The nights snapped out of sight like a lizard's eyelid :
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.
--Sylvia Plath
葉子上有蝸牛的文字？
這不是我的。可別收下。
酸醋密封在錫罐中？
可別收下。這不是真品。
一隻金戒指裡面有太陽？
騙人的。那是謊言與悲慟。
霜覆在葉上，那毫無過錯的
鼎鑊，議論紛紛且滋滋作響
自問自答於每一個頂點
那九座黑色的阿爾卑斯山。
萬鏡騷然，
大海粉碎了它灰色的部分——
愛情、愛情，我的時令。
[The Couriers]
The word of a snail on the plate of a leaf?
It is not mine. Do not accept it.
Acetic acid in a sealed tin?
Do not accept it. It is not genuine.
A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.
Frost on a leaf, the immaculate
Cauldron, talking and crackling
All to itself on the top of each
Of nine black Alps.
A disturbance in mirrors,
The sea shattering its grey one--
Love, love, my season.
[鬱金香]
--Sylvia Plath
這叢鬱金香太易激動，這裡是冬天。
看看這一切多麼白、多麼安靜、多麼入雪
我正在學習平心靜氣，獨自安靜地躺著
此際有光躺到白牆上、這眠床、這雙手上。
我是平凡人，爆炸與我無關。
我已將姓名與衣物給了護士
我的病史給了麻醉師而身體給了外科醫師。
他們在枕頭與布幕間刺探我的頭腦
就像一粒眼球在兩扇不能閉合的白眼皮之間。
笨瞳孔，要記住這一切。
護士們進進出出，不會感到任何困難，
她們戴著白帽巾如海鷗穿越內陸，
忙著手頭上的事情，每個都做同樣的事情，
所以根本算不清她們的數目。
我的身體是一塊小圓石，她們如水流護理著
護理著必須輾過去的無數石塊，將之輕柔地磨平。
她們用鋥亮的針頭麻痺我，使我入睡。
我迷失了自己我厭棄行李——
我特製的小旅行皮箱如一個黑色的藥盒，
我的丈夫與小孩在家庭照內微笑；
他們的微笑揪住了我的皮肉，這些微笑的小鉤子。
我已將事情放下，如一艘下水三十年的貨船
固執地將我的姓名與地址緊握著。
人們將我關愛的親朋好友刷洗得乾乾淨淨。
驚恐地暴露在綠色塑膠坐墊的電車上
我看著我的茶具組、亞麻布面的寫字檯、書籍
沉到我的視線之下然後大水沒頂。
我現在是修女了，我從未如此純淨。
我不要任何花朵，我只要
枕著自己的手臂躺著極度地空無一切。
這樣太自在了，超乎你想像的自在——
這和平感大到令你目瞪口呆，
不用任何代價就能得到，一張姓名標籤、幾件裝置。
最後，這和平感就是死亡迫近；我想像著人們
閉起嘴巴含著它，像聖餐禮的餅片。
鬱金香太紅了，使我感到痛苦。
就算隔著包裝紙我仍能聽見它們的呼吸聲
輕快地，通過白色的襁褓，如一個可怕的嬰兒。
它們的紅對我的傷口說話，傷口應合著。
鬱金香很微妙：似乎懸浮著，卻重重地壓著我，
用突來的口舌與顏色使我沮喪，
一打紅色的灌鉛的重物纏在我頸上。
以前沒人要看我，現在我被監視。
鬱金香朝向我，窗在我的身後
一天之中，光線逐漸擴大又逐漸稀微，
然後我看見了自己，扁平、荒謬、如紙杯的影子
在太陽之眼與鬱金香之眼的中間，
我沒有臉，我要隱沒我自己。
活躍的鬱金香吃掉了我的氧氣。
在人們來之前空氣已足夠沉靜
進進出出，呼吸挨著呼吸，沒有任何紛擾。
這時鬱金香如巨大的噪音將房間塞滿。
空氣擱了淺，鬱金香被漩渦環繞，就像河流
使鏽紅的引擎擱淺、陷於漩渦之間。
這吸引了我的注意力，真是樂事一件
可以玩完了就休息而不用實際去做。
四周的牆壁似乎也自相取暖。
鬱金香應如惡獸被關在籠中；
它們張著大口如非洲大型貓科動物，
接著我感受到自己的心：它一開一闔
它紅色的缽綻放出我徹底的愛。
我喝的水又溫又鹹，像海，
來自一處像健康一樣遙不可及的地方。
[Tulips]
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage--
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free--
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
[爹]
--Sylvia Plath
你再也不會，你再也不會
穿上黑鞋了
我活在裡面如一隻腳
三十多年，蒼白而可憐，
幾乎不敢喘氣或打噴嚏。
爹，我早該殺了你。
你卻死在我伺機動手之前──
重若大理石，一具裝滿神靈的皮囊，
慘白的雕像長著一根灰色大腳趾
大如舊金山的海豹
又如沈浮於怪異的亞特蘭提斯洋的
一顆頭顱傾洩豆綠色於湛藍之上
在麻州美麗的瑙塞特的海濱。
我曾祝禱能尋回你。
嗚呼，汝呀。
講德國語文，在波蘭小鎮
戰爭，戰爭，戰爭
地名被壓路機輾平。
但其實這小鎮的名字並不特別。
我的波蘭朋友
說同樣的地名少說也有一兩打。
所以我從來也弄不清楚你在何方
駐足，你根植於何處
我從未能和你交談。
我的舌頭膠著於下顎。
膠著於鐵蒺蔾的陷阱裡。
吾，吾，吾，吾，
我幾乎講不出話來。
我以為每個德國人都是你的化身。
而語言是可憎的
如火車頭，如火車頭
把我像猶太人那樣全部拉走
一個被送往達浩，奧胥維茲，巴森的猶太人。
我開始學習猶太的談吐。
我想我有理由成為猶太人的。
提洛爾的積雪，維也納的清啤酒
並不是非常的純正。
以我吉卜賽的血統和詭異的運道
加上我的塔羅牌，我的塔羅牌
我真有幾分像猶太人呢。
我始終畏懼著「你」，
你的德國空軍，你的官樣文章。
你整齊的短髭，
和你亞利安人的眼睛，湛藍。
裝甲兵，裝甲兵，你呀──
不是上帝，卻是個卍字
黑得連天空也無法僥倖擦身而過。
每個女人都崇拜法西斯主義者，
皮靴踩在臉上，殘暴
殘暴之心如你這頭猛獸。
爹，你站在黑板旁邊，
我有這麼一張你的照片，
一道深紋落在你的下巴而不在腳上
仍是一樣厲害的惡魔，一點也不
遜於那曾把我美好鮮紅的心
敲成兩半的黑衣人。
我十歲那年你被他們安葬。
二十歲時我試圖自殺
想回到，回到，回到你的身邊。
我想屍骨相依我也願意。
但是他們把我從屍袋裡拉了出來
還用膠水將我拼湊回原狀。
從此此後我知道該怎麼做了。
我塑造了你的芻像，
一臉《我的奮鬥》的表情的黑衣人
而且愛好拷問架和螺旋鑽。
我說我願意，我願意。
所以爹呀，我終於完了。
黑色的電話線被連根拔斷，
聲音就是無法蠕動而過。
如果我已殺了一個人，我其實殺了兩個──
那吸血鬼說他就是你
並且啜飲我的血已好幾年了，
七年了，如果你真想知道。
爹，你現在可以重新躺下了。
你肥大的黑心上插著一根木樁
村民們一開始就很討厭你
他們在你身上舞之蹈之。
他們很清楚那就是你。
爹呀，爹呀，你這個畜生，我完了。
[Daddy]
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time --
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You –
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two --
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
[你啊]
--Sylvia Plath
小丑似的，樂極了兩手撐著地，
雙腳頂星星,頭面粉白如月，
身子金燐燐如魚，這是基本常識
對渡渡鳥的傻樣朝下比拇指喝倒彩。
又將自己線軸似地裹起來，
如夜梟展翅拖網著黑暗。
沉默時像大蘿蔔從國慶日
到愚人節不發一語。
噢我的小麵包，膨脹起來了。
模糊如霧又期待如信。
比南瀛洲還遙遠。
折腰的阿特拉斯、我們愛旅行的蝦。
溫潤小巧如蓓蕾在室
如醃菜罐中小鯡魚
一柳籃鰻魚，全是波紋。
躁動如墨西哥跳豆。
準確，如算對的數學答案。
光潔的石板，浮現你自己的容顏。
[You're]
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark, as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools' Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.
[拉札洛夫人](1)
我又犯了。
十年裡總有一年
我操弄著它----
彷彿某種神蹟，我的肌膚
明亮如納粹製造的燈罩(2)，
我的右腳
是一方紙鎮，
我的臉沒有五官，是精緻的
猶太亞麻裹尸布。
扯下餐巾
噢我的敵人。
我很恐怖嗎？----
那鼻子、那眼框、那整齊的一口牙？
那酸酸的氣息
將在一天內消失。
很快地，很快地那肉身
那被墓穴吞噬的肉身將會
到家裡附在我身上
而我是個微笑的女人。
我不過才三十歲。
像一隻九條命的貓。
這是第三個年關
好一堆垃圾
每隔十年就得銷毀一次。
如點了幾百萬燭光的燈泡。
嚼花生米的觀眾
全都擁進來瞧
他們扒開我的手腳----
好一場脫衣舞。
各位先生、女士
這是我的雙手
我的雙膝
或許我會被剝皮拆骨，
然而，我仍是我，同一個女人。
第一次發生時我才十歲。
那是場意外。
第二次我是認真的
要幹就幹到底再也不回來了。
我敲碎了殼
如一海貝。
他們得千呼萬喚
從我裡面掏出蟲如掏出吸附的珍珠
死亡
是藝術，跟其他藝術一樣是藝術。
而我特別擅長死亡。
我死故我富有地獄感
我死故我彷彿存在
我想你可以說這是我的使命。
要幹很容易在斗室裡就可以
要幹很容易幹完若無其事也可以
這是戲劇性的
在大白天從鬼門關回來
回到同樣的地點、面對同樣的面孔、同樣的粗暴
愉悅的叫囂：
「真是奇蹟！」
我真是敗給他們了。
要付錢的
想要看我的傷疤，要付錢的
想要聽我的心跳----
它確實還在跳。
要付錢的，要付一大筆錢
換我一句話或摸一下
或滴一滴血
或一束頭髮或我穿過的衣物。
怎樣，怎樣，醫師先生。
怎樣，敵人先生。
我是你的傑作，
我是你的寶貝，
純金的心肝寶貝。
熔化成一聲尖叫。
我燃燒翻滾。
別認為我低估了你最大的私心。
骨灰，骨灰---
你又翻又攪。
血肉、骨骸，什麼都沒了----
化為一塊肥皂，(3)
一枚結婚戒指，
一顆金牙。
上帝先生，魔鬼先生
給我當心點
當心點。
從灰燼裡
我披散紅髮起身
服食男人如吐納空氣。
註釋：
(1)Lazarus為《新約．約翰福音》中的人物，死後四天耶穌讓他復活。
(2)傳聞納粹統治後期，原料奇缺，曾殘酷地以人皮製造燈罩。
(3)傳聞納粹集中營屠殺猶太人後，將其油脂製成肥皂，並在屍骸焚化後的灰燼中，蒐求金戒指、金牙等貴重物品。
[Lady Lazarus]
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it ----
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify? ----
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot ----
The big strip tease.
Gentleman, ladies
These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart ---
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there ----
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
[打傷]
色彩淹沒了斑痕，鈍紫色。
身體剩下來的部分全被洗掉了，
珍珠的顏色。
一個石洞中
海水孜孜不倦地吸吮，
一個空洞就是整個大海的軸心。
一隻蒼蠅的大小，
毀滅的標記
爬下了牆壁。
心關閉，
大海悄悄滑退，
鏡子被蓋了起來。
[Contusion]
Color floods to the spot, dull purple.
The rest of the body is all washed out,
The color of pearl.
In a pit of rock
The sea sucks obsessively,
One hollow the whole sea's pivot.
The size of a fly,
The doom mark
Crawls down the wall.
The heart shuts,
The sea slides back,
The mirrors are sheeted.
[懸吊之人]
某種神靈扯住了我的髮根那裡。
在祂藍色伏特下我如沙漠中的先知哧哧作響。
無數夜晚從眼前嘎然而止如蜥蜴的眼瞼：
那是蓋不上的眼窩中光禿禿的白日子的世界。
兀鷹般的無聊把我釘在這棵樹上。
倘若祂是我，也會幹我幹過的事情。
[The Hanging Man]
By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.
The nights snapped out of sight like a lizard's eyelid :
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.
