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《叶子》 林木译
乌苏拉·K·勒古恩
岁月对身份做奇怪的事。
到底是什么意思
说那张1935年摄于基沙米什的
照片里的孩子是我?
不如说我是那片
七十年前倒下的金合欢树
叶子的影子
在孩子阅读的书页上移动。
不如说我是她读过的字
或是我在别的年代写下的字,
光影闪烁,
当风穿过树叶。
Leaves
By Ursula K. Le Guin
Years do odd things to identity.
What does it mean to say
I am that child in the photograph
at Kishamish in 1935?
Might as well say I am the shadow
of a leaf of the acacia tree
felled seventy years ago
moving on the page the child reads.
Might as well say I am the words she read
or the words I wrote in other years,
flicker of shade and sunlight
as the wind moves through the leaves.