獻給雛雞的十四行詩 ——湯姆·希利

Sonnet for the Chickens
by Tom Healy

The picture of elegance, my grandfather.
I wanted his photograph in the dictionary.
Alone of the men I knew as a kid,
he always wore a shirt with a collar,
always shined his shoes. Equanimity
in a family on the run from itself.
He amazed me once with a cardboard box
of baby chicks, each in a small square as if
he’d waved a wand over a carton of eggs.
A fuzz of feathers, beaks and fragile lives.
No more afraid than all of us, he said.
Just sit with them, tell them apart, listen.
Only if you see someone, can you become
someone. Long gone, he still is and they are.

獻給雛雞的十四行詩
——湯姆·希利

忒綠 譯

優雅的象征，我的祖父。
我希望他的照片能被收進詞典裏。
在我小時候認識的男人中，
隻有他總是穿著帶領子的襯衫，
總是擦得鋥亮的皮鞋。在一個相互逃避的
家庭裏，難得的鎮定自若。
有一次，他的一個紙箱讓我驚訝不已，
裏麵的分格裏是一隻隻的雛雞，仿佛
他對一盒雞蛋施了魔法。
一團團毛絨絨，尖嘴和贏弱的生命。
我們都懷著同樣的恐懼，他說。
隻需與它們坐在一起，分辨它們，靜聽。
隻有看見某個人，你才能成為某個人。
雖已久遠，他仍在，它們也在。