囊括天涯
人生是雾，文字是云
正文
昨日翻译了首英语情诗，多年不摸英语，已是脸上涂腊，献丑贴来，是寄望于诸位指点授教，各位高手居住的英语环境，比起来，我真是才疏学浅的门外汉。
恋人之魔
美国著名诗人 Afaa Weaver
－－唐夫翻译
我守护着自己的臂弯
随她的魔咒，旋转甜蜜的鸟语舌头
指头敲点，依靠着木门敲打一曲摇篮
灵声之舱灼灼发光
我们的音乐消亡在追逐的天空
一對象征慾望的圖騰
她旋转的头颅正编织细绒的羽毛
湿润的青草在她的脚趾下轻柔悲鸣
我唱着母親的那首歌
河流的幻想――
奔来、这里，奔去
像轻轻的月儿哭泣
奔来、那里，奔去
歌唱时我撫摸你
由窗內，到另一個唱詩班
她那黑色的憤怒
像星星沉醉的石头
长久干渴而悲泣出血的肺魚
忌妒为紫色的怒气
我的手熟悉你
拍击的掌声，让鸟的泪水从灌木叢湧出
汗湿的歌声——我的手搜索你
就像在品嚐你。
2006-8-9
Afaa Weaver
In the guarded arms of my own sentries,
her spell, her tongue against sweet taste
of bird song, fingers a lullaby against my wooden doors,
light beating accomodations of soul rings, music
of our escape.
We chase the air,
a pair of totems for desire,
her head twirling braids in tiny feathers,
soft squeals of her toes mashing
wet grass. I sing our mothers’ one song,
river reverie—
now, here, now
low in the moon’s cry
now, there, now
I sing, I touch you.
In the window, another choir,
the other in her dark rage,
stones smashed into the stars,
blood from the wailing
of lungfish too long dry,
jealousy in purple rage.
My hand knows you,
clap and clatter, bird rush
from the thicket of tears,
sweat song—my hand knows.
I taste you.
About the writer：
Afaa Weaver was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1951. He studied in University of Maryland (1968-70) and Morgan State University (1975), but left with no degree. In 1983, he entered Excelsior College and in 1986, he was awarded a B.A. in Literature in English. In 1985, he attended Brown University, majoring in creative writing, and got his M.A. in 1987. He worked as an assistant professor and lecturer and taught writing, poetry, black literature, and playwriting in many universities; he is now Professor of English in Simmons College, Boston, Massachusetts. Besides poetry, he is also a playwright. He has published many collections of poetry: Gathering Voices (1985), Water Song (1985), Some days it’s a slow walk to evening (1989), My Father’s Geography (1992), Stations in a Dream, (1993), Timber and Prayer (1995), The Ten Lights of God (2000), Sandy Point (2000), These Hands I Know (2000), and Multitudes / poems selected and new (2000). He has received several awards, grants and fellowships, including Pennsylvania Arts Council fellowship, Outstanding Young Man of America and PDI Playwrights Award.
Weaver thinks, after decades of experimentation and change, the future for poetry will be the union of cyber space and the old traditional reality of poetry. To popularize poetry, Weaver has advocated poetry readings. Besides U.S.A., he has been invited to read poetry in London, Paris, and many other cities. However, he is concerned that we have a quantitative increase rather than a qualitative one. That is sort of parallel with America’s cult of the celebrity, which he thinks is very dangerous.
恋人之魔
美国著名诗人 Afaa Weaver
－－唐夫翻译
我守护着自己的臂弯
随她的魔咒，旋转甜蜜的鸟语舌头
指头敲点，依靠着木门敲打一曲摇篮
灵声之舱灼灼发光
我们的音乐消亡在追逐的天空
一對象征慾望的圖騰
她旋转的头颅正编织细绒的羽毛
湿润的青草在她的脚趾下轻柔悲鸣
我唱着母親的那首歌
河流的幻想――
奔来、这里，奔去
像轻轻的月儿哭泣
奔来、那里，奔去
歌唱时我撫摸你
由窗內，到另一個唱詩班
她那黑色的憤怒
像星星沉醉的石头
长久干渴而悲泣出血的肺魚
忌妒为紫色的怒气
我的手熟悉你
拍击的掌声，让鸟的泪水从灌木叢湧出
汗湿的歌声——我的手搜索你
就像在品嚐你。
2006-8-9
Afaa Weaver
In the guarded arms of my own sentries,
her spell, her tongue against sweet taste
of bird song, fingers a lullaby against my wooden doors,
light beating accomodations of soul rings, music
of our escape.
We chase the air,
a pair of totems for desire,
her head twirling braids in tiny feathers,
soft squeals of her toes mashing
wet grass. I sing our mothers’ one song,
river reverie—
now, here, now
low in the moon’s cry
now, there, now
I sing, I touch you.
In the window, another choir,
the other in her dark rage,
stones smashed into the stars,
blood from the wailing
of lungfish too long dry,
jealousy in purple rage.
My hand knows you,
clap and clatter, bird rush
from the thicket of tears,
sweat song—my hand knows.
I taste you.
About the writer：
Afaa Weaver was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1951. He studied in University of Maryland (1968-70) and Morgan State University (1975), but left with no degree. In 1983, he entered Excelsior College and in 1986, he was awarded a B.A. in Literature in English. In 1985, he attended Brown University, majoring in creative writing, and got his M.A. in 1987. He worked as an assistant professor and lecturer and taught writing, poetry, black literature, and playwriting in many universities; he is now Professor of English in Simmons College, Boston, Massachusetts. Besides poetry, he is also a playwright. He has published many collections of poetry: Gathering Voices (1985), Water Song (1985), Some days it’s a slow walk to evening (1989), My Father’s Geography (1992), Stations in a Dream, (1993), Timber and Prayer (1995), The Ten Lights of God (2000), Sandy Point (2000), These Hands I Know (2000), and Multitudes / poems selected and new (2000). He has received several awards, grants and fellowships, including Pennsylvania Arts Council fellowship, Outstanding Young Man of America and PDI Playwrights Award.
Weaver thinks, after decades of experimentation and change, the future for poetry will be the union of cyber space and the old traditional reality of poetry. To popularize poetry, Weaver has advocated poetry readings. Besides U.S.A., he has been invited to read poetry in London, Paris, and many other cities. However, he is concerned that we have a quantitative increase rather than a qualitative one. That is sort of parallel with America’s cult of the celebrity, which he thinks is very dangerous.
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