题图 / Kersti K

鲑鱼

我曾经观察过鲑鱼，黄昏时分，电视上，在播放，
在我们的旅店房间里，去往
内布拉斯加的途中，身形迅疾、光芒闪烁，超越了美，超越了
美的重要性，
样貌复古，
并不饥饿，甚至没有濒临灭绝，扎进更深的地方
遁入虚空。它们跃至瀑布顶端，如登上阶梯，
或攀上岩石，腾挪飞舞，如一条金色的河流
与蓝色的河流背道
而驰。
它们不会停下，凝聚意志
与无助，好比眼睛
无力地凝视
当意象汇集，上下颠倒，面朝后方，
向上挺进、钻入
头脑，世界
为自己松绑
从既定的深海中浮现……正义，白杨树
树叶，尝试自尽的
母亲，白色的夜间飞蛾
蚂蚁一点点地被肢解，被轻松
推入我墙上的
裂缝……多么无助
这个静止的池塘，
在上游的地方，
等待这金色刀锋
飞快地到来。有一次，在室内，我还是一个孩子的时候
曾在午间透过木质百叶窗张望
一个男人和女人，赤裸身体，眼睛闭着，
爬到彼此身上，
倒向露台地板，
飞驰——如两道金色水流
团团围住彼此，拥紧，
松开。我还懵懵
懂懂。世间仅有的阴影
是他们在彼此身上投下的
暗色，
那条黑色的分割线，
他们似乎正在试图
抹去。我屏住呼吸。
在我有限的感知里，他们沾着
汗水与光辉的劳作
是件好事。要我说
他们背道而驰
蹚过
很远。白日尽头的光
是什么，深沉、发红的金色，浸润所有墙面、
走廊，光不复为光，不复清晰，
却仍在照亮，古意盎然，从承载着光的空气团中
脱身而出。这束光
对时间的场域有什么意义，
似乎一无所用，仅剩
美丽？他们终于完成，与彼此
拉开距离
随后入睡，展开身躯，
躺在露台地上
发热的瓷砖上，
面露微笑，两张脸贴着石地。

作者 / [美] 乔丽·格雷厄姆
翻译 / 金雯

SALMON

I watched them once,at dusk, on television, run,
in our motel room half-way through
Nebraska, quick,glittering, past beauty, past
the importance of beauty,
archaic,
not even hungry, not even endangered, driving deeper and deeper
into less. They leapt up falls, ladders,
and rock, tearing and leaping, a gold river
and a blue river traveling
in opposite directions.
They would not stop,resolution of will
and helplessness, as the eye
is helpless
when the image forms itself, upside-down, backward,
driving up into
the mind, and the world
unfastens itself
from the deep ocean of the given. . . . Justice, aspen
leaves, mother attempting
suicide, the white night-flying moth
the ants dismantled bit by bit and carried in
right through the crack
in my wall. . . .How helpless
the still pool is,
upstream,
awaiting the gold blade
of their hurry.Once, indoors, a child,
I watched, at noon,through slatted wooden blinds,
a man and woman,naked, eyes closed,
climb onto each other,
on the terrace floor,
and ride—two gold currents
wrapping round and round each other, fastening,
unfastening. I hardly knew
what I saw. Whatever shadow there was in that world
it was the one each cast
onto the other,
the thin black seam
they seemed to be rying to work away
between them. I held my breath.
As far as I could tell, the work they did
with sweat and light
was good. I’d say
they traveled far in opposite
directions. What is the light
at the end of the day, deep, reddish-gold, bathing the walls,
the corridors, light that is no longer light, no longer clarifies,
illuminates,antique, freed from the body of
the air that carries it. What is it
for the space of time
where it is useless,merely
beautiful? When they were done, they made a distance
one from the other
and slept,outstretched,
on the warm tile
of the terrace floor,
smiling, faces pressed against the stone.

Jorie Graham

第2623夜