在睡美人的城堡中，
钟表走了一百年，
塔中的姑娘重新回到世上。
厨房里的仆人们也回来了，
甚至都没有揉一揉自己的眼睛。
厨子在整整一个世纪前
举起的右手，
完成它下落的弧线，
打在厨房男孩的左耳上；
男孩绷紧的声带
终于松开
那被堵住的、一直忍着的哽咽；
草莓派的上空，
曾在飞扑的途中停住的苍蝇，
完成它那忍耐已久的动作，
扑进那甜蜜的红色果浆。

小时候，我有一本书，
里面的一张画上描绘了那个场景。
我当时太小，没注意
恐惧是怎样持续的，也没注意
导致恐惧的愤怒是怎样持续的，
它的轨道无法改变
或者破坏，只能中断。
我的注意力集中在那只苍蝇身上：
这微小的躯体，
长着透明的翅膀，
寿命只有人的一天这么长，
但一个世纪后，它依然渴望
从那甜蜜中得到自己特有的一份。

Immortality

In Sleeping Beauty's castle
the clock strikes one hundred years
and the girl in the tower returns to the world.
So do the servants in the kitchen,
who don't even rub their eyes.
The cook's right hand, lifted
an exact century ago,
completes its downward arc
to the kitchen boy's left ear;
the boy's tensed vocal cords
finally let go
the trapped, enduring whimper,
and the fly, arrested mid-plunge
above the strawberry pie
fulfills its abiding mission
and dives into the sweet, red glaze.

As a child I had a book
with a picture of that scene.
I was too young to notice
how fear persists, and how
the anger that causes fear persists,
that its trajectory can't be changed
or broken, only interrupted.
My attention was on the fly:
that this slight body
with its transparent wings
and life-span of one human day
still craved its particular share
of sweetness, a century later.

Lisel Mueller