The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat.
周日烤羔羊在脂肪中爆裂。
The fat
那脂肪
Sacrifices its opacity….
獻祭了模糊一片……。
A window, holy gold.
一扇窗,神圣的金黃。
The fire makes it precious,
火使它變得珍貴,
The same fire
相同的火
Melting the tallow heretics,
燒融了涂了油脂的異教徒,
Ousting the Jews.
驅(qū)逐那些猶太人。
Their thick palls float
他們濃重的煙霧飄浮
Over the cicatrix of Poland, burnt-out
覆蓋在波蘭的瘢痕上,燒毀了的
Germany.
德國。
They do not die.
他們并沒有死。
Gray birds obsess my heart,
灰色的鳥群使我心神不寧,
Mouth-ash, ash of eye.
滿嘴的灰,滿眼的灰。
They settle. On the high
它們降落。在高高的
Precipice
懸崖上
That emptied one man into space
將一位男子清空在空曠中
The ovens glowed like heavens, incandescent.
烤爐像天堂那樣發(fā)光,灼熱。
It is a heart,
這是一顆心,
This holocaust I walk in,
我走進這次大屠殺,
O golden child the world will like and eat.
哦,金色孩子,這世界將殺而食之。
(1962/11/19. p.257. No. 208)
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