By Anthony Hecht
安东尼·赫克特
Anthony Hecht 1923-2004
美国当代诗歌的重要代表,1968年普利策诗歌奖获得者。著有《石头的召唤》(1954)、《七宗死罪》(1958)、《艰难时世》(1967)、《威尼斯晚祷》(1979)、《对四种声音的爱》(1983)、《透明人》(1990)、《墓间的飞行》(1996)、《黑暗与光明》(2001)以及《晚年诗选》(2005)等十余部诗集。
犹如一袭曳地的丝绸,光明
悬挂在橄榄树上
当白昼淡而无味的酒
饮至所剩无几:
大片的灰色出现
上升,夜晚来临。
远处的灯光依然闪亮。
仿佛降落的火花洒在各处
在漆黑的夜晚入睡,他们似乎
置身于最舒适的黑暗
直到晨祷时一缕羞怯的曦光
将他们变得苍白,
犹如年长羸弱之辈
已经熬过了整个夜晚,
冷漠的眉毛和沉默的嘴唇,
对他们而言,上升的阳光
承担了他们的暗淡,
在他们失败的时刻放射光芒。
“The Darkness and the Light Are Both Alike to Thee”— Psalms 139:12
Like trailing silks, the light
Hangs in the olive trees
As the pale wine of day
Drains to its very lees:
Huge presences of gray
Rise up, and then its night.
Distantly lights go on.
Scattered like fallen sparks
Bedded in peat, they seem
Set in the plushest darks
Until a timid gleam
Of matins turns them wan,
Like the elderly and frail
Whove lasted through the night,
Cold brows and silent lips,
For whom the rising light
Entails their own eclipse,
Brightening as they fail.