逸影萍蹤
曆史人文
瑪麗的詩：我是早起的人嗎？
瑪麗的詩可以大致分為兩類：一種是她對大自然，花草蟲木，飛禽鳥獸細心的觀察和獨特的解讀；另一種就是她對生命，對宇宙的哲學思考。她不是哲學家，她是詩人，她隻會用詩人的語言形象化地告訴你她的哲學思考。比如她說，光著腳，提著鐵桶去采藍莓，這就是生活的意義。比如她說，站在這扇鐵門前，你永遠不知道它從哪開……，比如她說 ，在陋屋和宮殿之上，是一樣的黑暗，在罪惡和公正之上，是一樣的星空……從一個悲劇到另一個悲劇，從一種愚蠢到另一種愚蠢，……，是哪位哲人說？人類曆史的教訓就是人類從來不吸取教訓；老子是哲學家，他很厲害，一語道破天機：天地不仁，以萬物為芻狗。瑪麗·奧利佛笑了。
我不是早起的人嗎
我不算是那些早起，
還要走長路的人嗎？
難道我不是驚喜地站在那
思量這屋頂上，樹冠間的完美晨星
在清晨第一縷晨光中泛出的藍？
我會看不見樹葉顫動，
如掠過水麵的漣漪嗎？
雖然那隻是風，
那世間萬物都可享用的，
普通的風。
很多年了，不是一直在想
什麽才是值得去做的事嗎？
後來，我就出門，光著腳，
提著鐵桶去采藍莓，我想，
這樣就算是得到正確答案了吧？
對我來說野心就是突然看見
一隻狐狸出現在田野的頂頭，
她凝視我的眼睛時，銳利而自信，
可這還沒有發生，哪來的野心？
什麽樣的國家，什麽樣的訪問，
什麽樣的盛況，
能像黑水森林這般讓我滿足？
無論是在充滿陽光的早晨，
還是在雨中。
這是一種神奇。曾經
在我二十歲的時候，
身體的每一個動作
都是一種愜意的放鬆；
這綠色地球的每一次律動
都暗示著天堂的存在。
而如今已經六十歲的我，
感覺依舊。
在陋屋和宮殿之上
是一樣的黑暗，
在罪惡和公正之上
是一樣的星空，
可救和不可救的孩子之上，
有同樣朝前的能量；
從一個悲劇到另一個悲劇，
從一種愚蠢到另一種愚蠢，
對這一切，我隻有臣服。
難道我不曾愛過？就像我愛的人
可能隨時消失，或心不在焉，
或者在情欲高潮的延伸中，
或餐桌旁，悄悄念著別人的名字。
我何曾敢把好運想成當然？
每年春天
我沒有和蜂擁而至的蜂群做朋友嗎？
我沒有召集養蜂人前來嗎？
他不是每次都急急忙忙地趕來，
帶著又白又養人的蜂巢嗎？
等待的同時，
我不是每次都會彎下身仔細觀察嗎？
看著群蜂亂舞，閃閃發光，
我難道沒有被它們狠狠的蟄傷過嗎？
我不是一直站在這扇鐵門前，
不知道它朝哪而開-----
是死亡，還是繼續活？
當我從陽台上走下來，
沿著這通向世界的綠色通道出發
我可曾說過
這白天不是太冷就是太熱，
夜晚漫長，如漆一般油黑，
或者那洗得發藍的早晨
會把所有次等的
不怎麽圓滿的幸福
都一筆勾銷嗎？
Am I Not Among the Early Risers
Am I not among the early risers
and the long-distance walkers?
Have I not stood, amazed, as I consider
the perfection of the morning star
above the peaks of the houses,
and the crowns of the trees
blue in the first light?
Do I not see how the trees tremble, as though
sheets of water flowed over them
though it is only wind, that common thing,
free to everyone, and everything?
Have I not thought, for years, what it would be
worthy to do, and then gone off,
barefoot and with a silver pail,
to gather blueberries,
thus coming, as I think, upon a right answer?
What will ambition do for me that the fox,
appearing suddenly
at the top of the field,
her eyes sharp and confident
as she stared into mine,
has not already done?
What countries, what visitations,
what pomp would satisfy me
as thoroughly as Blackwater Woods
on a sun-filled morning,
or, equally, in the rain?
Here is an amazement–––
once I was twenty years old and in
every motion of my body
there was a delicious ease,
and in every motion of the green earth
there was a hint of paradise,
and now I am sixty years old,
and it is the same.
Above the modest house and the palace
–––the same darkness.
Above the evil man and the just,
the same stars.
Above the child who will recover
and the child who will not recover,
the same energies roll forward,
from one tragedy to the next and
from one foolishness to the next.
I bow down.
Have I not loved as though
the beloved could vanish at any moment ,
or become preoccupied,
or whisper a name other than mine
in the stretched curvatures of lust,
or over the dinner table?
Have I ever taken good fortune for granted?
Have I not, every spring,
befriended the swarm that pours forth?
Have I not summoned the honey-man to come,
to hurry, to bring with him
the white and comfortable hive?
And while I waited,
have I not leaned close, to see everything?
Have I not been stung
as I watched their milling and gleaming,
and stung hard?
Have I not been ready always at the iron door,
not knowing to what country it opens
–––to death or to more life?
Have I ever said that the day was too hot or too cold
or the night too long and as black as oil anyway,
or the morning, washed blue and emptied entirely
of the second-rate, less than happiness
as I stepped down from the porch and set out along
the green paths of the world?
【往期回顧】
小天鵝
在海灘上
儲藏
一隻死狐狸
灰狐——血紅
天鵝
生命的故事
粉色月亮——水溏
死神來的時候
談談某種冥想
