百合
一夜又一夜
黑暗
笼罩了百合的
脸,
轻轻地
关闭了
它的五面墙,
它的
花蜜袋,
以及它的芬芳,
它心满意足地
站在
花园里,
并不安静地睡去,
而是
用百合的语言,
说着一些
我们无法听见的私语,
尤其是
一丝风也没有时,
它的唇
守口如瓶,
它的语调
那么隐秘——
或者,它
什么也没说
只是站在那儿,
带着植物
和圣人似的
耐心,
直到整个地球转了一圈,
银色的月亮
变成金色的太阳——
百合仿佛对此了然于心,
它自己,难道不正是
最完美的祈祷?
The Lily
by Mary Oliver
Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer?