逸影萍踪
历史人文
玛丽的诗：我是早起的人吗？
玛丽的诗可以大致分为两类：一种是她对大自然，花草虫木，飞禽鸟兽细心的观察和独特的解读；另一种就是她对生命，对宇宙的哲学思考。她不是哲学家，她是诗人，她只会用诗人的语言形象化地告诉你她的哲学思考。比如她说，光着脚，提着铁桶去采蓝莓，这就是生活的意义。比如她说，站在这扇铁门前，你永远不知道它从哪开……，比如她说 ，在陋屋和宫殿之上，是一样的黑暗，在罪恶和公正之上，是一样的星空……从一个悲剧到另一个悲剧，从一种愚蠢到另一种愚蠢，……，是哪位哲人说？人类历史的教训就是人类从来不吸取教训；老子是哲学家，他很厉害，一语道破天机：天地不仁，以万物为刍狗。玛丽·奥利佛笑了。
我不是早起的人吗
我不算是那些早起，
还要走长路的人吗？
难道我不是惊喜地站在那
思量这屋顶上，树冠间的完美晨星
在清晨第一缕晨光中泛出的蓝？
我会看不见树叶颤动，
如掠过水面的涟漪吗？
虽然那只是风，
那世间万物都可享用的，
普通的风。
很多年了，不是一直在想
什么才是值得去做的事吗？
后来，我就出门，光着脚，
提着铁桶去采蓝莓，我想，
这样就算是得到正确答案了吧？
对我来说野心就是突然看见
一只狐狸出现在田野的顶头，
她凝视我的眼睛时，锐利而自信，
可这还没有发生，哪来的野心？
什么样的国家，什么样的访问，
什么样的盛况，
能像黑水森林这般让我满足？
无论是在充满阳光的早晨，
还是在雨中。
这是一种神奇。曾经
在我二十岁的时候，
身体的每一个动作
都是一种惬意的放松；
这绿色地球的每一次律动
都暗示着天堂的存在。
而如今已经六十岁的我，
感觉依旧。
在陋屋和宫殿之上
是一样的黑暗，
在罪恶和公正之上
是一样的星空，
可救和不可救的孩子之上，
有同样朝前的能量；
从一个悲剧到另一个悲剧，
从一种愚蠢到另一种愚蠢，
对这一切，我只有臣服。
难道我不曾爱过？就像我爱的人
可能随时消失，或心不在焉，
或者在情欲高潮的延伸中，
或餐桌旁，悄悄念着别人的名字。
我何曾敢把好运想成当然？
每年春天
我没有和蜂拥而至的蜂群做朋友吗？
我没有召集养蜂人前来吗？
他不是每次都急急忙忙地赶来，
带着又白又养人的蜂巢吗？
等待的同时，
我不是每次都会弯下身仔细观察吗？
看着群蜂乱舞，闪闪发光，
我难道没有被它们狠狠的蛰伤过吗？
我不是一直站在这扇铁门前，
不知道它朝哪而开-----
是死亡，还是继续活？
当我从阳台上走下来，
沿着这通向世界的绿色通道出发
我可曾说过
这白天不是太冷就是太热，
夜晚漫长，如漆一般油黑，
或者那洗得发蓝的早晨
会把所有次等的
不怎么圆满的幸福
都一笔勾销吗？
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?
【往期回顾】
小天鹅
在海滩上
储藏
一只死狐狸
灰狐——血红
天鹅
生命的故事
粉色月亮——水溏
死神来的时候
谈谈某种冥想
