1
我看见夏天的男孩在毁灭
使金色的地区荒芜,
没有粮仓安置丰收,土地冰冻
在酷热里,冬天冲走了
僵直的爱情,拿来的少女
在他们的热潮中淹死了满载的苹果。
这些光之男孩,其愚蠢是些凝结者,
弄酸沸腾的蜂蜜;
严霜的面包树,手指伸进蜂群;
阳光下他们把寒冷、疑惑、黑暗的丝线
织入了神经,
而月亮的信号是空间的零点。
我看见夏天的男孩在母亲身子里
用劲撕裂子宫的气候,
以小巧的拇指分开昼与夜;
在深处,在四分之一的月亮
和太阳的阴影中,他们漆着母亲,
就像阳光漆着他们的脑壳。
我看见通过种子的变化
这些男孩将塑成无用的男人,
或者从热里以跳跃弄瘸空气;
从他们心里爱与光的三伏的脉搏
砰然冲破他们的喉咙。
哦,看那冰里的夏天的脉搏。
2
季节受到挑战或踉跄于
协调的时刻,
那儿如死般准确,我们敲响星星,
那儿冬之沉睡的男人吐出
黑舌头的时钟,
没有吹回月夜正当她在吹。
我们是黑暗的否认者,让我们
从一个夏天的女人身上召集死亡,
强悍的生命来自情人的痉挛,
来自美丽的死者,他涨红了大海
明亮的眼虫闪耀于海妖的灯盏,
也来自于稻草人种植的子宫。
我们夏天的男孩旋转于四面来风,
似铁的海草的绿
高举喧闹的大海并抖落鸟群,
拾起波浪与泡沫之球,
以它的潮水闷死荒漠,
为一个花环梳理乡村的庭园。
在春天,冬青穿过我们的前额,
血与浆果如此之高,
把欢乐的花花公子钉在树上;
这里爱之潮湿的肌肉干了、死了,
这里无爱的追求打破一吻。
3
我看见夏天的男孩在毁灭。
男人在他狂想的荒芜里。
男孩充满口袋并属外来。
而我是你父亲那样的一个人。
我们是燧石和沥青的儿子。
哦,当他们穿过,看那两端亲吻。
(柏桦 译)
I see the boys of summer
Dylan Thomas
I
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
There in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen lovers they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.
These boys of light are curdlers in their folly,
Sour the boiling honey;
The jacks of frost they finger in the hives;
There in the sun the frigid threads
Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves;
The signal moon is zero in their voids.
I see the summer children in their mothers
Split up the brawned womb’s weathers,
Divide the night and day with fairy thumbs;
There in the deep with quartered shades
Of sun and moon they paint their dams
As sunlight paints the shelling of their heads.
I see that from these boys shall men of nothing
Stature by seedy shifting,
Or lame the air with leaping from its heats;
There from their hearts the dogdayed pulse
Of love and light bursts in their throats.
O see the pulse of summer in the ice.
II
But seasons must be challenged or they totter
Into a chiming quarter
Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars;
There, in his night, the black-tongued bells
The sleepy man of winter pulls,
Nor blows back moon-and-midnight as she blows.
We are the dark deniers, let us summon
Death from a summer woman,
A muscling life from lovers in their cramp,
From the fair dead who flush the sea
The bright-eyed worm on Davy’s lamp,
And from the planted womb the man of straw.
We summer boys in this four-winded spinning,
Green of the seaweeds’ iron,
Hold up the noisy sea and drop her birds,
Pick the world’s ball of wave and froth
To choke the deserts with her tides,
And comb the country gardens for a wreath.
In spring we cross our foreheads with the holly,
Heigh ho the blood and berry,
And nail the merry squires to the trees;
Here love’s damp muscle dries and dies,
Here break a kiss in no love’s quarry.
O see the poles of promise in the boys.
III
I see you boys of summer in your ruin.
Man in his maggot’s barren.
And boys are full and foreign in the pouch.
I am the man your father was.
We are the sons of flint and pitch.
O see the poles are kissing as they cross.