David Mason and Cally Conan-Davies’s Poems, translated by Anna

David Mason, American poet, former Poet Laureate of Colorado. He teaches at Colorado College. His poetry, prose and translations have appeared in such periodicals as The New Yorker, Harper’s, The Nation, The New Republic, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Times Literary Supplement, Poetry, Agenda, Modern Poetry in Translation, The New Criterion, The Yale Review, The Hudson Review, The American Scholar, The Irish Times, and The Southern Review.

Turn

The sun’s gone to Australia.
The moon’s half-hidden face
is facing her from here

and so they see each other
from separate hemispheres.
The earth in love with both

turns in sleep and waking
forsaking nothing ever,
and longing like a river

blindly finds the sea.
And now the leaves are blowing
the grass turns brittle brown,

yet somewhere in Australia
earth is waking now.
The moon’s half-hidden face

grows open in the dawn,
the bare trees loose the doves,
the blossoms sway with song.

Everything is dying
even as it lives
and surely as it loves.

by David Mason

轮换
 

太阳去了澳大利亚。
月亮半隐藏的脸
从这里对着她

所以在隔离着的半球
他们互相看到对方。
爱着双方的地球

轮换着睡眠和清醒
不曾想要抛弃什么,
思念像一条河

盲然地找到大海。
而现在落叶纷飞
草变得脆弱棕黄,

但在澳大利亚某处
地球正在苏醒。
月亮半隐藏的脸

在黎明中敞开,
光秃的枝桠鸽子放飞,
花丛伴着歌儿舞动。

一切将要死去
即使它还活着,
诚然它还爱着.

 Cally Conan-Davies

Cally Conan-Davies’s poems have appeared in the Hudson Review, Subtropics, Poetry, Quadrant, the New Criterion, the Sewanee Review, Southwest Review, the Dark Horse, Harvard Review, and the Hopkins Review.

Strife

All contrary noises in the world,
the bang of unlatched things,
the scratching in the wall,
the scrape of nails, the startling of birds
in the long grass—
I shake loose with them.

I am a child, I blaze along the error—
the wrong note struck
when playing a duet,
the china tea set smashed
at Grandpa’s house in Sydney,
exciting the scolding chorus,
the stinging smacks—and oh,
it makes bright sound
to get beyond the prudence of forgive me,

to rattle stolen marbles in the tin,
stay outside and shriek when summer thunders,
the glory of all noise against the will
of cautious voices warning calm, keep calm …

I am unsound, the language you were made in,
the silence of a catastrophic breaking.

争吵

世上所有对立的噪声,
未栓事物的轰声,
墙上的划痕,
指甲的刮削,鸟的骚动,
在长长的青草里 –
我摇动松散它们。

我是一个孩子,在过失中燃烧 –
双簧表演中
陷入错误的音符,
悉尼外婆家
骨瓷茶具碎裂,
激动的谩骂合唱,
刺痛的掌击 – 哦
多么响亮
远远超出原谅我的那份谨慎,

锡盒里偷来的弹子嘎嘎作响,
夏天打雷时留在外面并且尖叫,
所有噪声的荣耀抵抗着
理智的声音警告冷静,保持冷静……

我不可理喻地无声,在你塑造的语言裡,
一次灾难性决裂的沉默。

Translated by Anna Yin (星子安娜譯)

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