女相命者

在我們的時代到來之前 她就被稱作老人了

但是她還是每天走在同一條道路上

她的年齡太過古老 像森林一樣 

已經讓人無法用年輪計算 

而是隻能用世紀了

她站在黃昏之下

每一次矗立的位置都相同 未來亦可見

她是一個空洞的 布滿皺紋的軀殼

顏色漆黑如烈火焚燒後的碉堡

她必須要把蜂擁而至的話語放緩

否則 它們將會太過擁擠 無法釋放

拍打著翅膀尖叫著 在她的四周飛揚

然後 倦鳥歸巢

它們在她的眉毛底下找到了棲息之地

於陰影之中 等待夜晚的降臨

～～～～～～～～～～～

A Sybil

Long before our time they called her old,

But she'd walk down the same road every day.

Her age became too much to say

In years — and, like a forest's, would be told 

In centuries. She comes to stand at dusk — 

Her spot each time the same — and to foretell.

She is a hollow, wrinkled husk,

Dark as a fire-gutted citadel. 

She has to turn her flock of talking loose

Or it will grow too crowded to relieve.

Flapping and screaming, words are flying all 

Around her. Then, returning home to roost,

They find a perch beneath her eyebrows' eaves,

And in that shadow wait for night to fall. 

（Translated by Leonard Cottrell https://allpoetry.com/A-Sybil）