▍未上漆的门
终于,人到中年,
我被诱惑重返童年。
房屋是老样子,但
门不一样了。
不再是红色——未上漆的木门。
树是老样子:橡树,紫色榉树。
但是人——以前的所有住户——
不见了:不知所踪的、死去的、搬走的。
街道对面的孩子
都成了老人。
太阳是老样子,草坪
夏天时被烤成褐色。
但如今到处都是陌生人。
而在某个方面它恰恰是对的,
完全像我记得的:屋子,街道,
兴盛的村庄——
不是被再次认领或进入
而是认可
寂静和距离,
地方的、时间的距离,
梦与想象力令人困惑的精确——
我记得童年时想去别处的悠长愿望。
这是那房屋;这必定是
我头脑里曾经的童年。
UNPAINTED DOOR
Finally, in middle age,
I was tempted to return to
childhood.
The house was the same, but
the door was different.
Not red anymore—unpainted
wood.
The trees were the same: the
oak, the copper beech.
But the people—all the
inhabitants of the past—
were gone: lost, dead, moved
away.
The children from across the
street
old men and women.
The sun was the same, the lawns
parched brown in summer.
But the present was full of
strangers.
And in some way it was all
exactly right,
exactly as I remembered: the
house, the street,
the prosperous village—
Not to be reclaimed or reentered
but to legitimize
silence and distance,
distance of place, of time,
bewildering accuracy of
imagination and dream—
I remember my childhood as a
long wish to be elsewhere.
This is the house; this must be
the childhood I had in mind.
Louise Glück
作者 / 露易丝·格丽克朗读 / Jeffery制作 / 小米 出品 / 读首诗再睡觉(dushoushizaishuijiao)