Something was pouring out. Filling the field
and making it vacant. A wind blowing them
sideways as they moved forward. The crying
as before. Suddenly I understood why they left
the empty bowls on the table, in the empty hut
overlooking the sea. And knew the meaning
of the heron breaking branches, spreading
his wings in order to rise up out of the dark
woods into the night sky. I understood about
the lovers and the river in January.
Heard the crying out as a battlement,
of greatness, and then the dying begin.
The height of passion. Saw the breaking
of the moon and shattering of the sun. Believed
in the miracle because of the half heard
and the other half seen. How they ranged
and how they fed. Let loose their cries.
One could call it the agony in the garden
or the paradise, depending on whether
the joy was at the beginning, or after.
有東西傾瀉而出,充滿田野
又隨之留下空曠。在他們前行的時候
一陣風將其吹開。又是那叫聲
一如既往。忽然我明白,他們為何
在飯桌上留下空碗,留在那空空的,
朝海的小屋中。我也懂得,為何
蒼鷺要沖出枝巢,展開翅膀,
飛離黑暗的樹林,沖入夜空。
我也理解一月的情侶和一月的河流。
聽那叫聲,像雄偉的堡壘,
繼而,死亡來臨。
至高的激情。
看那日月,漸漸支離破碎。
相信奇跡,因為一半是耳聞,一半是目睹。
他們如何排成行,
又怎么養活自己。任其放聲吶喊吧。
你可以說那是花園中的苦痛,也可以說是天堂里的煎熬,
這要看歡樂是出自一開始,還是收場于終了。