好诗献给你 （69）为联邦军阵亡将士而作 For the Union Dead
For the Union Dead
为联邦军阵亡将士而作
Relinquunt Ommia Servare Rem Publicam.
为共和国效力，他们奉献了一切
The old South Boston Aquarium stands
此刻，古老的南波士顿水族馆站立在
in a Sahara of snow now. Its broken windows are boarded.
雪的撒哈拉沙漠之中。它破败的窗子被木板封住。
The bronze weathervane cod has lost half its scales.
青铜风标上鳕鱼的鳞片已经剥落一半。
The airy tanks are dry.
空洞的鱼箱那么干燥。
Once my nose crawled like a snail on the glass;
我的鼻子曾经像蜗牛在玻璃上爬行；
my hand tingled to burst the bubbles
手颤抖着刺破泡沫，
drifting from the noses of the crowded, compliant fish.
那些泡沫在拥挤而顺从的鱼鼻子上漂浮。
My hand draws back. I often sign still
我缩回手。我依然常常为鱼和爬行动物的
for the dark downward and vegetating kingdom
漆黑、没落而单调的王国
of the fish and reptile. One morning last March,
叹息。去年三月的一个清晨，
I pressed against the new barbed and galvanized
我靠着波士顿公园带刺、
fence on the Boston Common. Behind their cage,
镀锌的新栅栏。在围栏后面，
yellow dinosaur steamshovels were grunting
黄色恐龙般的蒸汽铲咕噜作响
as they cropped up tons of mush and grass
同时抛出成吨的烂泥和青草
to gouge their underworld garage.
开凿它们的地下车库。
Parking spaces luxuriate like civic
在波士顿市中心，停车场像民用
sandpiles in the heart of Boston.
沙堆一般滋长。
a girdle of orange, Puritan-pumpkin colored girders
一条橙色的、清教徒南瓜色的桁梁
braces the tingling Statehouse,
支撑着颤动的议会大厦，
shaking over the excavations, as it faces Colonel Shaw
议会大厦因开凿而摇摆，它面对着
and his bell-cheeked Negro infantry
圣·戈登斯摇晃的内战浮雕上
on St. Gaudens’ shaking Civil War relief,
肖上校和他的铜钟脸颊的黑人团，
propped by a plank splint against the garage’s earthquake.
浮雕被一块木夹板撑着以顶住来自车库的地震。
Two months after marching through Boston,
通过波士顿后两个月，
half of the regiment was dead;
黑人团员阵亡一半；
at the dedication,
在致词仪式上，
William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe.
威廉·詹姆斯几乎能听见青铜黑人在呼吸。
Their monument sticks like a fishbone
纪念碑如一根鱼刺
in the city’s throat.
扎在城市的喉咙。
Its Colonel is a lean
上校那么瘦削
as a compass-needle.
犹如一枚指南针。
He has an angry wrenlike vigilance,
他具有发怒鹪鹩般的警觉，
a greyhound’s gentle tautness;
以及灰狗般温顺的紧张；
he seems to wince at pleasure,
他似乎要随时退缩，
and suffocate for privacy.
因自私而窒息。
He is out of bounds now. He rejoices in man’s lovely,
如今他已越出边界。他欣喜于人在选择生死时
peculiar power to choose life and die—
美好而奇特的力量——
when he leads his black soldiers to death,
当他把黑人士兵领向死亡，
he cannot bend his back.
他不能弯曲背脊。
On a thousand small town New England greens
在新英格兰一千座小镇的绿地上
the old white churches hold their air
古老的白色教堂保存着
of sparse, sincere rebellion; frayed flags
微薄而真诚的叛乱气氛；破损的旗帜
quilt the graveyards of the Grand Army of the Republic
犹如被子盖住共和国陆海军军人会墓地。
The stone statutes of the abstract Union Soldier
抽象的联邦军战士石雕
grow slimmer and younger each year—
逐年变得瘦削而年轻——
wasp-waisted, they doze over muskets
他们细腰如蜂，倚着步枪瞌睡，
and muse through their sideburns…
透过落腮胡子沉思。
Shaw’s father wanted no monument
肖的父亲需要的不是什么纪念碑
except the ditch,
而是那条战壕，
where his son’s body was thrown
他儿子的尸体被扔在那里
and lost with his “niggers.”
消失在“黑鬼们”中间。
The ditch is nearer.
战壕在靠近。
There are no statutes for the last war here;
此处没有上次大战的纪念碑；
on Boylston Street, a commercial photograph
在波尔斯顿大街上，一副商业照片
shows Hiroshima boiling
展示着广岛的烟云
over a Mosler Safe, the “Rock of Ages”
下面是一只莫斯勒保险柜，“时代之磐石”
that survived the blast. Space is nearer.
于爆炸中幸存。
when I crouch to my television set,
当我俯身打开电视，
the drained faces of Negro school-children rise like balloons.
黑人学生干枯的脸如气球飞升。
Colonel Shaw
肖上校
is riding on his bubble,
正骑着他的泡沫，
he waits
等待着
for the blessed break.
幸福的休息。
The Aquarium is gone. Everywhere,
水族馆已经逝去。无论何处，
giant finned cars nose forward like fish;
巨大的带鳍的车辆像鱼一样鼻子前伸；
a savage servility
一种野蛮的奴性
slides by on grease.
在油脂上滑过。