[译]马库斯·威客《最危险的游戏》
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发布时间：2023-05-17 12:18
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时间：2023-09-14 07:41
--仿理查德·塞肯
我打开能过动物那么宽的玻璃推拉门，永生之门
在垂死的黑暗中登上
包绒地板。流光与比克公司锈蚀的燧石同步，
鹿猛地与白雪盖顶的松树静静对峙——
在翻拣什么？些许黑莓，小枝桠？埋起来的嫩芽灰烬？
现出鸟粪斑点的丢弃豇豆？一条死胡同确实换不来
什么东西，比如紫丁香芬芳的春天，
还有夏天的山茱萸。但狂暴的猎犬常常放开了束缚。
古怪的
强制迁移，本地人总是扭曲你的败亡。我从旁人的黑嘴唇那儿
悄然拿掉了烟*
在他房子上，在猎鹿埋伏处
观察，竖耳倾听。在这个高度，我正在桌上
挪动大冰块。
陈腐寓言里的斑驳面孔。
【英文原诗】
THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME
after Richard Siken
I crack the sliding glass door wide enough for an animal, immortal
to ascend a fleeced deck
in dying dark. Motion lights keep time with the Bic’s rusted flint,
& suddenly the deer stilled against snowcapped pines–
scavenging what? A few brambles, twigs? Buried buds of ash?
Hand-me-down cowpeas dappling bird scat? A cul-de-sac’s not
exactly trading up. Of course, lilac-scented spring.
Sure, summer dogwoods. But often the rabid hound off its tie-out.
Funny thing about
forced migration, always the natives angling your demise. I slide a roach
from black lips for the neighborhood
watch, bow cocked, above his house
in the deer blind. At this height, I’m retreating
ice pond in a patio table.
Spotted face in an antiquated fable.
MARCUS WICKER
