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保羅•策蘭

下雪了，一陣緊似一陣，

純潔的顏色宛如昨日，

下雪了，仿佛此刻你也在安睡。

白色，堆積到遠方，

在它之上，沒有盡頭，

迷途中雪橇的痕跡。

下面，隱藏的，

渴盼

令眼睛刺痛的事物，

山連著山，

看不見。

憑著每一天，

把家念想到今天，

我不覺陷入沉默：

呆滯的，一根木樁。

在那里：一種感情，

被冰冷的風吹過，

拂動它雪白的衣襟，

像一面旗幟。

Snowfall, denser and denser,

Dove-coloured as yesterday,

Snowfall, as if even now you were sleeping.

White, stacked into distance.

Above it, endless,

The sleigh track of the lost.

Below, hidden,

Presses up

What so hurts the eyes,

Hill upon hill,

Invisible.

On each,

Fetched home into its today,

And I slipped away into dumbness:

Wooden, a post.

There: a feeling,

Blown across by the ice wind

Attaching its dove- its snow-

Coloured cloth as a flag.

（劉文娟摘自《豆瓣網(wǎng)》）