在写作的艰难时刻  (美) 玛丽·奥丽维  Lili译

  

我整日不乐。怎么能不会呢?

书桌的两侧堆满了书，一大叠纸笺

摊在眼前，词语却在我的舌尖

消失

 

      知更鸟，早已在报春

      窗外，细雨将至

  

我还在指望什么？成功的喜悦

不是地图上举手可达的城市,，更不能捷足先登

也不会来自那些已完成的佳文 ，而是

蕴藏在这篇正待构思完成的作品---它

也绝不可以随便用首区区小诗来

凑数

 

     原野，已是春雨如注

     草地上盛开着花朵，馨气袭人

 

无疑，你也会有这样闷郁的日子。可是

当你最终毅然决定离开书房

啊，那是个多么奇妙的

时刻:

 

      我踹开房门， 朝那没有文字

      只有歌声的世界, 疯狂奔命...

 

 

(Dec.7th, 2007 in Saratoga Springs, NY)

 

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Work, Sometimes  by Mary Oliver

 

  

I was sad all day, and why not. There I was, books piled

on both sides of the table, paper stacked up, words

falling of my tongue.

 

 The robins had been a long time singing, and now it

 was beginning to rain.

 

What are we sure of? Happiness isn't a town on a map,

or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good work

ongoing. Which is not likely to be the trifling around

with a poem.

 

 Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yard

 were full of lively fragrance.

 

You have had days like this, no doubt. And wasn't it

wonderful, finally, to leave the room? Ah what a

moment!

 

 As for myself, I swung the door open. And there was

 the wordless, singing would. And I ran for my life.