女神像
我不該把你們全放在一起，
碎裂，黏稠，適於銜接。
驢叫，豬鳴和髒話亂飛
巡邏，自你偉大的唇邊。
這比一座穀倉邊的空地還糟。
也許你認為自己是一則神諭，
死亡的代言人，或隸屬於某個神祇還是其他。
三十年了 我受此勞役
從你的喉間。撒下淤泥，
畢竟。我知道的沒有比以前多
帶著一個溶膠鍋和一桶消毒水 爬上窄小的雲梯
在早晨，我像隻螞蟻般匍匐移動
於你雜草叢生的眉間之上
修繕浸濕的頭臚，以及清掃
蒼白，徜徉於你眼中的白色墓地
歐伊斯特來的藍色天空
距我們千里之遙。喔！父親，這全是你
你簡潔有力而富於歷史 像座羅馬競技場
我打開餐盒 在黑絲柏樹的山頭
你飄揚的骸骨和爵床葉髮 枯落。散飛
在 他們古老的無政府狀態下。瀕臨地平線，
我會舉起不只一個的輕柔的撫摸
營造出這樣的一場雨。
夜晚，我蹲在希神像的圓筒
旁及你的左耳，閃避風的跟蹤
數著鮮紅的星子和那些近深藍的紫。
太陽升起。躺臥 在你舌間的枕下
我的時間許配給了影子
不再收割我的耳朵，甲板上的船隻驟然翻傾
在一個石頭砌成的牆上
卸貨。
1/14/06 早晨。
The colossus
I shall never get you put together entirely,
Pieced,glued, and properly jointed.
Mule-bray,pig-grunt and bawdy cackles
Proceed from your great lips.
It’s worse than a barnyard.
Perhaps you consider yourself an oracle,
Mouthpiece of the dead, or some god or other.
To dredge the silt from your throat.
I am none the wiser.
Scaling little ladders with gluepots and pails of Lysol
I crawl like an ant in mourning
Over the weedy acres of your brow
To mend the immense skull-plates and clear
The bald, white tumuli of your eyes.
A blue sky out of the Oresteia
Arches above us. O father, all by yourself
You are pithy and historical as the Roman Forum.
I open my lunch on a hill of black cypress.
You fluted bones and acanthine hair are littered
In their old anarchy to the horizon-line.
It would take more than a lightning-stroke
To create such a ruin.
Nights, I squat in the cornucopia
Of your left ear, out of the wind,
Counting the red stars and those of plum-color.
The sun rises under the pillar of your tongue.
My hours are married to shadow.
No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel
On the blank stones of the landing.
(photo from
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060909005/qid=1142253608/sr=1-4/ref=sr_1_4/104-4139145-1151146?s=books&v=glance&n=283155)
