推 nojain: 10/27 14:02
七月罌粟
--Sylvia Plath
點點罌粟，小小地獄火焰，
你們不傷人嗎？
你們搖曳不定。我無法捉摸。
我把手伸進火焰。毫無燒灼感。
盯著你們看弄得我疲憊不堪
你們兀自搖曳不定，鮮紅褶皺，如口腔的皮膜。
剛出過血的口腔。
血淋淋的小短裙！
可有些煙薰我碰不得。
你們的鴉片酊和令人暈眩的囊苞藏在何處？
但願我能出血，或入睡！--
但願我的嘴能與那樣的傷結褵！
不然就讓你們的酊液注入我，從這玻璃吊瓶，
使我遲鈍、鎮定。
但毫無血色。無色。
Poppies in July
Little poppies, little hell flames,
Do you do no harm?
You flicker. I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.
And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!
There are fumes that I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?
If I could bleed, or sleep! -------------
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!
Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.
But colorless. Colorless.
--
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