黑莓

大清早，一位老妇人

正在树荫里摘黑莓。
再过会就太热了，
而现在还有露水。

一些莓果坠地了：那些留给松鼠。
一些还没成熟，留给熊。
一些进了金属碗。
那些是给你的，够你品尝
一会儿。
那是开心的事：一小口甜，
接着一小口，随后迅速消散。

我让你脑海中浮现的
这位老妇人，曾经
会是我的祖母。
今天是我。
多年以后可能是你，
如果你非常幸运。

伸进叶子与刺
之间的那双手
曾是我母亲的手。
我已传递下去。
未来数十年，你将端详自己的
临时的手，你将铭记。
不用哭，事情就这样发生。

瞧！钢碗
几乎满了。够我们所有人的。
黑莓闪烁如玻璃，
如十二月我们挂在
树上的玻璃饰品，
提醒我们对雪感恩。

一些莓果长在太阳下，
但它们更小。
就像我一直告诉你的：
最好的生长在阴影里。

作者 / [加拿大] 玛格丽特·阿特伍德
翻译 / 马鸣萧

Blackberries

In the early morning an old woman
is picking blackberries in the shade.
It will be too hot later
but right now there’s dew.

Some berries fall: those are for squirrels.
Some are unripe, reserved for bears.
Some go into the metal bowl.
Those are for you, so you may taste them
just for a moment.
That’s good times: one little sweetness
after another, then quickly gone.

Once, this old woman
I’m conjuring up for you
would have been my grandmother.
Today it’s me.
Years from now it might be you,
if you’re quite lucky.

The hands reaching in
among the leaves and spines
were once my mother’s.
I’ve passed them on.
Decades ahead, you’ll study your own
temporary hands, and you’ll remember.
Don’t cry, this is what happens.

Look! The steel bowl
is almost full. Enough for all of us.
The blackberries gleam like glass,
like the glass ornaments
we hang on trees in December
to remind ourselves to be grateful for snow.

Some berries occur in sun,
but they are smaller.
It’s as I always told you:
the best ones grow in shadow.

Margaret Atwood

微博: @ 夏超_冬至