（詹姆斯·赖特/作，张文武/译）
在春天的深处，冬天还赖着不走。绝望之中，痛苦的它
在一个个阴凉处巧妙地活了下来。它沿着地中海，一路忍受饥饿：
它恼怒地看着闪烁的海面，巨大的卵石上爬着绿蜥蜴，
它们像犹大树叶一样碧绿。冬天赖着不走。它依然相信。
它企图抓住肩膀上的一只蜥蜴。格洛塔列的一棵橄榄树
欢迎它来到正午的树阴下，像毕达格拉斯一样
温柔地对它说话。安静点，耐心点，我听到它说。
它把这颗受伤的头颅揽进怀中，让阳光抚摸这张
野蛮的脸。
May
Morning
by James Wright
by James Wright
Deep into spring, winter is
hanging on. Bitter and skillful in his
hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, starving along the
Mediterranean: angry to see the glittering sea-pale boulder alive
with lizards green as Judas leaves. Winter is hanging on. He still
believes. He tries to catch a lizard by the shoulder. One olive tree
below Grottaglie welcomes the winter into noontime shade, and
talks as softly as Pythagoras. Be still, be patient, I can hear him say,
cradling in his arms the wounded head, letting the sunlight touch
the savage face.
hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, starving along the
Mediterranean: angry to see the glittering sea-pale boulder alive
with lizards green as Judas leaves. Winter is hanging on. He still
believes. He tries to catch a lizard by the shoulder. One olive tree
below Grottaglie welcomes the winter into noontime shade, and
talks as softly as Pythagoras. Be still, be patient, I can hear him say,
cradling in his arms the wounded head, letting the sunlight touch
the savage face.
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