《衣架》 by 哈特

《衣架》 凯文·约翰·哈特  林木译

 

“有两个男孩挂在那里，”我姐姐说，

“两人像你一样肮脏。”

“是父亲上周把他们吊起来，”她说，

“现在他们大概已经发青了。”

 

我父母的房间常年拉着窗帘，

阴影贴着耳边滑过，

衣橱立在那个更深的黑暗里，

藏着吼叫、哭声和眼泪。

 

那衣橱整周都在我梦里嘎吱作响，

它知道坏男孩躲在哪里，

它的门会猛地整个在我面前敞开，

扑鼻而来的是一股焦油的味道。

 

直到有一天，家人都出门了，

我——慢慢地——打开了锁：

我看见死去的男孩穿着我的冬衣

赶忙沿着街区狂奔起来。

 

Hangers by Kevin John Hart

 

'Two boys are hanging there,' my sister said,

Ind'Two dirty ones like you.'

'Our father strung 'em up last week,' she said,

'By now they'll be quite blue.'

 

My parents' room had curtains always drawn

And shadows flush with ears,

The wardrobe lived inside that darker world

With shouts and cries and tears.

 

That wardrobe creaked across my dreams all week

It knew where bad boys are,

Its door would spring full open in my face

And fling a smell of tar.

 

And then one day, when everyone was out,

I — slowly — turned the lock:

I saw the dead boys in my winter coats

And ran right round the block.