Spring Beauties
Ruth Stone
The abandoned campus,
empty brick buildings and early June
when you came to visit me;
crossing the states midway,
the straggled belts of little roads;
hitchhiking with your portable typewriter.
The campus, an academy of trees,
under which some hand, the wind's I guess,
had scattered the pale light
of thousands of spring beauties,
petals stained with pink veins;
secret, blooming for themselves.
We sat among them.
Your long fingers, thin body,
and long bones of improbable genius;
some scattered gene as Kafka must have had.
Your deep voice, this passing dust of miracles.
That simple that was myself, half conscious,
as though each moment was a page
where words appeared; the bent hammer of the type
struck against the moving ribbon.
The light air, the restless leaves;
the ripple of time warped by our longing.
There, as if we were painted
by some unknown impressionist.
春之美神
露絲斯通
被擯棄的校園,
空空的磚瓦房當(dāng)六月初
你來看望我;
穿行于州際途中,
束帶般的小路伸延,
提著你的便攜打字機(jī)搭車。
校園,一個(gè)樹林的學(xué)院,
在樹下有些,我想是風(fēng)的手,
已經(jīng)消散了千百
春之美神的蒼白光線,
花瓣染上桃紅色的血管;
秘密的,為它們自己開放。
我們坐在它們中間。
你那修長(zhǎng)的手指,清瘦的身材,
和未必會(huì)是天才的長(zhǎng)骨;
一些象卡夫卡肯定有的分散的基因。
你深沉的嗓音,通行奇妙塵間。
單純?nèi)缥?,神志半醒?br />
似乎每一瞬間都是詞語出現(xiàn)之頁(yè);
彎型字錘撞擊移動(dòng)的色帶。
清淡的空氣,煩躁的樹葉;
我們的渴望翹曲起時(shí)間的微瀾。
在那里,好象我們被
幾個(gè)無名印象派畫家繪入了畫面。