浮標 by 卡佛

浮標  林木譯

 

在華盛頓州萬吉特附近的哥倫比亞河上，

我們在冬天的月份裏釣白魚；我爸、瑞典人——

林德格倫先生——還有我。他們使用腹輪，

鉛筆長度的墜子，紅色，黃色，或棕色的

飛蟲鉤以蛆作餌。

他們追求距離，遠遠地拋出線

直到激流的邊緣。

我則用羽毛浮標和竹竿在岸邊垂釣。

 

我爸把蛆放在下嘴唇以確保它們

活著和有溫暖。林德格倫先生不喝酒。

相較於我爸我一度更喜歡他。

他讓我駕駛他的車，拿我的名字‘小’開玩笑，還說

總有一天我會長成一個很棒的男人，記住

這一切，並且和自己的兒子一起釣魚。

但我爸是對的。我的意思是

他保持沉默，凝視著河流，

他在餌料背後動著舌頭，仿佛在思考。

 

Bobber

by Raymond Carver

 

On the Columbia River near Vantage,

Washington, we fished for whitefish

in the winter months; my dad, Swede-

Mr. Lindgren-and me.  They used belly-reels,

pencil-length sinkers, red, yellow, or brown

flies baited with maggots.

They wanted distance and went clear out there

to the edge of the riffle.

I fished near shore with a quill bobber and a cane pole.

 

My dad kept his maggots alive and warm

under his lower lip.  Mr. Lindgren didn't drink.

I liked him better than my dad for a time.

He lets me steer his car, teased me

about my name "Junior," and said

one day I'd grow into a fine man, remember

all this, and fish with my own son.

But my dad was right.  I mean

he kept silent and looked into the river,

worked his tongue, like a thought, behind the bait.