恒存之物

这片城市最初是我的。我走过每个街区两次：
一次酒醉，一次清醒。我每天都靠双腿和耳机活着。
那天晚上下雪了，我沿着洛里默街跑，发誓什么都不能让我停下。
我的爱人，他已经死去。我该怎么办？
没有什么让我后悔。有时我感到像纸一样被冲刷干净。你
和我已经隔开三年。但当我沿着格雷厄姆街跳舞时，
树木呈现香槟的颜色，我记起来了——
心碎也有一些让我喜欢的地方，比如它需要
一首好的配乐。我在地铁“L”线上与一个男人的目光相遇，
并没有先移开视线。失去一些东西只是在修改它。
在这段爱情之后，还会有更多的爱情。我的身体从
一堆床单中起身，捡起一个陌生人的地铁卡。没有什么让我后悔。
不是我公寓对面的酒吧；我反正会迟到。
不是巴塞罗那的公用浴室，不是红眼航班，不是
关于黑色外套和奥马哈的歌曲。我撒了很多谎，但这件事千真万确。
你就是那个冬天所有的路灯。你捧着我的头顶，
这一刻我决定不向你展示我所做的一切。没有什么让我后悔。
包括你的母亲和你所在的缅因州。
第一次淋浴后，你湿漉漉的头发在我的膝上。诊所，
以及我之后如何哭了一周。我们如何从未选择
我们所使用的语言。你写了一首诗给我，
你在里面是狗，我是火。还记得法院吗？
周年纪念歌曲。那些该死的凯马特牌毛巾。我爱它们，
我们什么时候扔掉了它们？明天我会写下
我们对彼此做过的一切，然后在浴缸里
装满水。我会把每一张纸都烧成淤泥。
如果它不起作用，我会再做一次。一次又一次，又一次，又一次——

作者 / 哈拉·阿利扬
翻译 / 光诸

Object Permanence

This neighborhood was mine first. I walked each block twice:
drunk, then sober. I lived every day with legs and headphones.
It had snowed the night I ran down Lorimer and swore I’d stop
at nothing. My love, he had died. What was I supposed to do?
I regret nothing. Sometimes I feel washed up as paper. You’re
three years away. But then I dance down Graham and
the trees are the color of champagne and I remember—
There are things I like about heartbreak, too, how it needs
a good soundtrack. The way I catch a man’s gaze on the L
and don’t look away first. Losing something is just revising it.
After this love there will be more love. My body rising from a nest
of sheets to pick up a stranger’s MetroCard. I regret nothing.
Not the bar across the street from my apartment; I was still late.
Not the shared bathroom in Barcelona, not the red-eyes, not
the songs about black coats and Omaha. I lie about everything
but not this. You were every streetlamp that winter. You held
the crown of my head and for once I won’t show you what
I’ve made. I regret nothing. Your mother and your Maine.
Your wet hair in my lap after that first shower. The clinic
and how I cried for a week afterwards. How we never chose
the language we spoke. You wrote me a single poem and in it
you were the dog and I the fire. Remember the courthouse?
The anniversary song. Those goddamn Kmart towels. I loved them,
when did we throw them away? Tomorrow I’ll write down
everything we’ve done to each other and fill the bathtub
with water. I’ll burn each piece of paper down to silt.
And if it doesn’t work, I’ll do it again. And again and again and—

Hala Alyan