雅各与以扫 

这一天我怨恨自己曾经的怨恨，因我意识到我已经
把它抛在脑后。有一阵子——不，很长时间里——它像祈祷，
日复一日升上天空，也像警笛日夜长鸣。

然后我想起其他事：那时我是如何步履轻盈；
我是如何觉得离婚永远不会发生；我是如何厌倦被迫和新人周旋；
我是如何怀念可以有人说话而无需解释；我们如何共享一个名字。

所以我决定了。

我搭乘航班，徘徊在我们经常相会的地方。
我故意逗留。我因希望而饥渴，却食不下咽。
我怀念你身躯构成的家，即使我们都已长大，

我怀念你的气味，你的羁绊，你打鼾时的呼吸。
当我看见你时，我也看到你变了。
我们身后有太多无需言说的往事。

作者 / [爱尔兰] 帕德瑞格·奥图马
翻译 / 光诸

Jacob and Esau

One day I repented my resentment because I realised I’d forgotten
to repeat it. For a while—no, for a long while—it was like a prayer,
rising to the skies, morning after morning, like a siren that wouldn’t quiet.

And then I remembered other things: the way I walk lighter these days;
the way you never knew my story of divorce; the way I am tired of being
forced among the new; and the way I miss having someone to speak to about
things I don’t need to explain; the way we shared a name.

So I decided.

I took a flight and hung around the areas where we used to meet.
I loitered with intent. I was hungry with hope but couldn’t eat alone.
I missed the home your body was, even though we’re grown now,

I missed your smell, your wrestle, your snoring breath.
And when I saw you, I saw you’d changed too.
So much behind us we didn’t need to name.

Pádraig Ó Tuama