推 Bjiao: 04/30 12:12
推 trustless: 04/30 15:08
貝赫克海灘 (4)
--Sylvia Plath
結婚蛋糕似的白臉，襯著紙質摺邊。
現在，他多麼超凡脫俗。
如同聖徒附體。
戴著翼巾的護士們不顯得那麼漂亮了；
她們正在枯黃，像被觸碰過的梔子花。
床舖已自牆邊收折好。
這就是該做完的都做完了。太恐怖了。
他身穿睡衣還是晚禮服？
漿洗過的罩單下他打了粉底的嘴吻
直白無礙地兀自突出
他們用一本書頂住他的下巴，等它僵硬，
他們折起他的雙手，它們擺動著：別了，別了。
現在，洗淨了的床單在陽光下飄揚，
枕套開始有了香味。
這是一種福分，一種福分：
那皂鹼色的橡木長棺、
那陌生的抬棺者們、還有那坦白的生卒年
將自己銘刻成銀字，都平靜得出奇。
Berck-Plage (4)
--Sylvia Plath
A wedding-cake face in a paper frill.
How superior he is now.
It is like possessing a saint.
The nurses in their wing-caps are no longer so beautiful;
They are browning, like touched gardenias.
The bed is rolled from the wall.
This is what it is to be complete. It is horrible.
Is he wearing pyjamas or an evening suit
Under the glued sheet from which his powdery beak
Rises so whitely unbuffeted?
They propped his jaw with a book until it stiffened
And folded his hands, that were shaking: goodbye, goodbye.
Now the washed sheets fly in the sun,
The pillow cases are sweetening.
It is a blessing, it is a blessing:
The long coffin of soap-colored oak,
The curious bearers and the raw date
Engraving itself in silver with marvelous calm.
--
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