翻译：玛丽·奥利弗·《十一月》

November

Mary Oliver

The snow

began slowly,

a soft and easy

sprinkling

of flakes, then clouds of flakes

in the baskets of the wind

and the branches

of the trees –

oh, so pretty.

We walked

through the growing stillness,

as the flakes

prickled the path,

then covered it,

then deepened

as in curds and drifts,

as the wind grew stronger,

shaping its work

less delicately,

taking greater steps

over the hills

and through the trees

until, finally,

we were cold,

and far from home.

We turned

and followed our long shadows back

to the house,

stamped our feet,

went inside, and shut the door.

Through the window

we could see

how far away it was to the gates of April.

Let the fire now

put on its red hat

and sing to us.

十一月

十一月

玛丽·奥利弗

雪

缓缓飘下，

最初是温柔的，

从容的，

稀疏的雪花，然后是大团大团的，

在风的篮子中，

在树的

枝条中——

哦，多么可爱。

我们走过

不断增长的寂静，

当雪花

刺痛道路，

然后覆盖它，

堆积，凝结，

变深，

当风变大，

更粗糙地

塑造它的作品，

迈着更大的步伐，

走过山岗，

穿过树林，

最后，

我们离家很远，

感到了冷，

我们转身，

跟随我们长长的影子

走回房子，

跺跺脚，

进去，关上门。

透过窗子，

我们能看见

四月的大门多么遥远。

让火在此时

戴上它的红帽，

对着我们歌唱。

（倪志娟 译）