Sonnet to My Mother
Most near, most dear, most loved and most far,
Under the window where I often found her
Sitting as Huge as Asia, seismic with laughter,
Gin and chicken helpless in her Irish hand,
Irresistable as Rabelais but most tender for
The lame dogs and hurt birds that surround her,--
She is a procession no one can follow after
But be like a little dog following a brass band.
She will not glane up at the bomber or condescend
To drop her gin and scuttle to a cellar,
But lean on the mahogany table like a mountain
Whom only faith can move, and so I send
O all my faith and all my love to tell her
That she will move from mourning into morning.
George Barker (1913--)
Sonnets from China
XIII
Far from a cultural centre he was used:
Abandoned by his general and his lice,
Under a padded quilt he turned to ice
And vanished. He will never be persued
When this campaign is tidied into books:
No vital knowledge perished in that skull;
His jokes were stale; like wartime, he was dull;
His name is lost forever like his books.
Though runeless, to instructions from headquarters
He added meaining like a comma when
He jointed the dust of China, that our daughters
Might keep their upright carriage, not again
Be shamed before the dogs, that, where are waters,
Mountains and houses, may be also men.
W.H. Auden
有興趣的人可以試著先翻譯一下!
--
錢幣已經拋了起來，正在翻轉當中，有時轉到頭像那一面，有時轉到字那一面。我將要透
過我的嘴巴，用我自己的語言，重複我雙眼的所見。有可能錢幣轉了十次頭像那一面，而
我只看到一次字那一面，也有可能是相反。對這一點我沒有什麼好辯白的，畢竟我的嘴巴
只能說出我眼睛所看見的東西。而且就算我說的不是真實，也沒有誰可以被怪罪。
Che Guevara, "Un Diario Per Un Viaggio in Motociceletta"