冤家
--Sylvia Plath
如果月亮會笑，她會神似你。
你與月亮給人同樣的印象
很美但具毀滅性。
都最擅長偷榮借光。
她哦的嘴形為這世界惋惜；你無動於衷，
你最初的天賦就是化萬物為石頭。
我醒時發現置身壯麗的陵墓；你也在這裏，
手指敲著石桌咯咯作響，想找菸抽，
心胸狹隘似婦人，只是沒那麼神經質，
拼死也要說出些令人不知該如何應對的話。
月亮也一樣，總在貶抑她的追隨者，
但在光天化日下她顯得愚黯不堪
另一方面，你的忿忿不平，
總隨著成綑的郵件如期欣然而至，
白茫空疏，迂闊渙漫如一氧化碳。
無一日無不受你的消息攪擾，
或許遠在非洲行腳，卻惦念著我。
The Rival
--Sylvia Plath
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected,
And your first gift is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.
The moon, too, abases her subjects,
But in the daytime she is ridiculous.
Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,
Arrive through the mails lot with loving regularity,
White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.
No day is safe from news of you,
Walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.
--
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