囊括天涯
人生是霧，文字是雲
正文
昨日翻譯了首英語情詩，多年不摸英語，已是臉上塗臘，獻醜貼來，是寄望於諸位指點授教，各位高手居住的英語環境，比起來，我真是才疏學淺的門外漢。
戀人之魔
美國著名詩人 Afaa Weaver
－－唐夫翻譯
我守護著自己的臂彎
隨她的魔咒，旋轉甜蜜的鳥語舌頭
指頭敲點，依靠著木門敲打一曲搖籃
靈聲之艙灼灼發光
我們的音樂消亡在追逐的天空
一對象征慾望的圖騰
她旋轉的頭顱正編織細絨的羽毛
濕潤的青草在她的腳趾下輕柔悲鳴
我唱著母親的那首歌
河流的幻想――
奔來、這裏，奔去
像輕輕的月兒哭泣
奔來、那裏，奔去
歌唱時我撫摸你
由窗內，到另一個唱詩班
她那黑色的憤怒
像星星沉醉的石頭
長久幹渴而悲泣出血的肺魚
忌妒為紫色的怒氣
我的手熟悉你
拍擊的掌聲，讓鳥的淚水從灌木叢湧出
汗濕的歌聲——我的手搜索你
就像在品嚐你。
2006-8-9
Afaa Weaver
In the guarded arms of my own sentries,
her spell, her tongue against sweet taste
of bird song, fingers a lullaby against my wooden doors,
light beating accomodations of soul rings, music
of our escape.
We chase the air,
a pair of totems for desire,
her head twirling braids in tiny feathers,
soft squeals of her toes mashing
wet grass. I sing our mothers’ one song,
river reverie—
now, here, now
low in the moon’s cry
now, there, now
I sing, I touch you.
In the window, another choir,
the other in her dark rage,
stones smashed into the stars,
blood from the wailing
of lungfish too long dry,
jealousy in purple rage.
My hand knows you,
clap and clatter, bird rush
from the thicket of tears,
sweat song—my hand knows.
I taste you.
About the writer：
Afaa Weaver was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1951. He studied in University of Maryland (1968-70) and Morgan State University (1975), but left with no degree. In 1983, he entered Excelsior College and in 1986, he was awarded a B.A. in Literature in English. In 1985, he attended Brown University, majoring in creative writing, and got his M.A. in 1987. He worked as an assistant professor and lecturer and taught writing, poetry, black literature, and playwriting in many universities; he is now Professor of English in Simmons College, Boston, Massachusetts. Besides poetry, he is also a playwright. He has published many collections of poetry: Gathering Voices (1985), Water Song (1985), Some days it’s a slow walk to evening (1989), My Father’s Geography (1992), Stations in a Dream, (1993), Timber and Prayer (1995), The Ten Lights of God (2000), Sandy Point (2000), These Hands I Know (2000), and Multitudes / poems selected and new (2000). He has received several awards, grants and fellowships, including Pennsylvania Arts Council fellowship, Outstanding Young Man of America and PDI Playwrights Award.
Weaver thinks, after decades of experimentation and change, the future for poetry will be the union of cyber space and the old traditional reality of poetry. To popularize poetry, Weaver has advocated poetry readings. Besides U.S.A., he has been invited to read poetry in London, Paris, and many other cities. However, he is concerned that we have a quantitative increase rather than a qualitative one. That is sort of parallel with America’s cult of the celebrity, which he thinks is very dangerous.
戀人之魔
美國著名詩人 Afaa Weaver
－－唐夫翻譯
我守護著自己的臂彎
隨她的魔咒，旋轉甜蜜的鳥語舌頭
指頭敲點，依靠著木門敲打一曲搖籃
靈聲之艙灼灼發光
我們的音樂消亡在追逐的天空
一對象征慾望的圖騰
她旋轉的頭顱正編織細絨的羽毛
濕潤的青草在她的腳趾下輕柔悲鳴
我唱著母親的那首歌
河流的幻想――
奔來、這裏，奔去
像輕輕的月兒哭泣
奔來、那裏，奔去
歌唱時我撫摸你
由窗內，到另一個唱詩班
她那黑色的憤怒
像星星沉醉的石頭
長久幹渴而悲泣出血的肺魚
忌妒為紫色的怒氣
我的手熟悉你
拍擊的掌聲，讓鳥的淚水從灌木叢湧出
汗濕的歌聲——我的手搜索你
就像在品嚐你。
2006-8-9
Afaa Weaver
In the guarded arms of my own sentries,
her spell, her tongue against sweet taste
of bird song, fingers a lullaby against my wooden doors,
light beating accomodations of soul rings, music
of our escape.
We chase the air,
a pair of totems for desire,
her head twirling braids in tiny feathers,
soft squeals of her toes mashing
wet grass. I sing our mothers’ one song,
river reverie—
now, here, now
low in the moon’s cry
now, there, now
I sing, I touch you.
In the window, another choir,
the other in her dark rage,
stones smashed into the stars,
blood from the wailing
of lungfish too long dry,
jealousy in purple rage.
My hand knows you,
clap and clatter, bird rush
from the thicket of tears,
sweat song—my hand knows.
I taste you.
About the writer：
Afaa Weaver was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1951. He studied in University of Maryland (1968-70) and Morgan State University (1975), but left with no degree. In 1983, he entered Excelsior College and in 1986, he was awarded a B.A. in Literature in English. In 1985, he attended Brown University, majoring in creative writing, and got his M.A. in 1987. He worked as an assistant professor and lecturer and taught writing, poetry, black literature, and playwriting in many universities; he is now Professor of English in Simmons College, Boston, Massachusetts. Besides poetry, he is also a playwright. He has published many collections of poetry: Gathering Voices (1985), Water Song (1985), Some days it’s a slow walk to evening (1989), My Father’s Geography (1992), Stations in a Dream, (1993), Timber and Prayer (1995), The Ten Lights of God (2000), Sandy Point (2000), These Hands I Know (2000), and Multitudes / poems selected and new (2000). He has received several awards, grants and fellowships, including Pennsylvania Arts Council fellowship, Outstanding Young Man of America and PDI Playwrights Award.
Weaver thinks, after decades of experimentation and change, the future for poetry will be the union of cyber space and the old traditional reality of poetry. To popularize poetry, Weaver has advocated poetry readings. Besides U.S.A., he has been invited to read poetry in London, Paris, and many other cities. However, he is concerned that we have a quantitative increase rather than a qualitative one. That is sort of parallel with America’s cult of the celebrity, which he thinks is very dangerous.
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