没有负鼠，没有面包，没有马铃薯(译诗)
华莱士.史蒂文斯
他不在这里，那古老的太阳，
像我们睡着了一样缺席。
田野冰冻，叶子干枯。
在这光中恶是终结者。
这荒凉的空气中，那残破的枝干
有无手之臂。他们的树干
没有腿，或者，因此没有头。
在他们的头里，被迷惑的哭喊
只是一个舌头的转动。
雪像落向地球的眼神一样闪烁，
像“看”一样明亮地落到远处。
树叶跳跃，摩挲着地面。
一月的深处，天空严酷。
枝干严实地扎根在冰里。
在这孤寂里，一个音节，
从这些笨拙的震颤中，
吟咏出它单独的空虚，
冬之声最野蛮的空洞。
在这里，在这恶中我们达到
善的知识最后的纯净。
那乌鸦在他升起时看起来很迟钝。
明亮的是他眼中的恶意…
有人加进来跟他做伴，
但在远处，在另一棵树上。
原诗：
NO POSSUM, NO SOP, NO TATERS
from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens (1954), Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.: TRANSPORT TO SUMMER
1 He is not here, the old sun,
2 As absent as if we were asleep.
3 The field is frozen. The leaves are dry.
4 Bad is final in this light.
5 In this bleak air the broken stalks
6 Have arms without hands. They have trunks
7 Without legs or, for that, without heads.
8 They have heads in which a captive cry
9 Is merely the moving of a tongue.
10 Snow sparkles like eyesight falling to earth,
11 Like seeing fallen brightly away.
12 The leaves hop, scraping on the ground.
13 It is deep January. The sky is hard.
14 The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
15 It is in this solitude, a syllable,
16 Out of these gawky flitterings,
17 Intones its single emptiness,
18 The savagest hollow of winter-sound.
19 It is here, in this bad, that we reach
20 The last purity of the knowledge of good.
21 The crow looks rusty as he rises up.
22 Bright is the malice in his eye ...
23 One joins him there for company,
24 But at a distance, in another tree.
他不在这里，那古老的太阳，
像我们睡着了一样缺席。
田野冰冻，叶子干枯。
在这光中恶是终结者。
这荒凉的空气中，那残破的枝干
有无手之臂。他们的树干
没有腿，或者，因此没有头。
在他们的头里，被迷惑的哭喊
只是一个舌头的转动。
雪像落向地球的眼神一样闪烁，
像“看”一样明亮地落到远处。
树叶跳跃，摩挲着地面。
一月的深处，天空严酷。
枝干严实地扎根在冰里。
在这孤寂里，一个音节，
从这些笨拙的震颤中，
吟咏出它单独的空虚，
冬之声最野蛮的空洞。
在这里，在这恶中我们达到
善的知识最后的纯净。
那乌鸦在他升起时看起来很迟钝。
明亮的是他眼中的恶意…
有人加进来跟他做伴，
但在远处，在另一棵树上。
原诗：
NO POSSUM, NO SOP, NO TATERS
from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens (1954), Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.: TRANSPORT TO SUMMER
1 He is not here, the old sun,
2 As absent as if we were asleep.
3 The field is frozen. The leaves are dry.
4 Bad is final in this light.
5 In this bleak air the broken stalks
6 Have arms without hands. They have trunks
7 Without legs or, for that, without heads.
8 They have heads in which a captive cry
9 Is merely the moving of a tongue.
10 Snow sparkles like eyesight falling to earth,
11 Like seeing fallen brightly away.
12 The leaves hop, scraping on the ground.
13 It is deep January. The sky is hard.
14 The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
15 It is in this solitude, a syllable,
16 Out of these gawky flitterings,
17 Intones its single emptiness,
18 The savagest hollow of winter-sound.
19 It is here, in this bad, that we reach
20 The last purity of the knowledge of good.
21 The crow looks rusty as he rises up.
22 Bright is the malice in his eye ...
23 One joins him there for company,
24 But at a distance, in another tree.
