最初的光 □ 莎拉•科比特 殷晓媛 译
莎拉•科比特（Sarah Corbett）：
著有五部诗集，包括最近一部《完美镜子》(Pavilion Poetry/Liverpool University Press, 2018)，及诗体小说《然后她》 (Pavilion Poetry, 2015)、《其它的兽》(Seren Books, 2008)、《女巫的袋子》 (Seren books, 2002) 、《红衣橱》 (Seren Books 1998)，获得T.S.艾略特奖提名、“前进奖”首部诗集奖。先后就读于利兹大学、东安格利亚大学和曼彻斯特大学，2013年获得批评及创意写作博士学位。长居西约克郡，在兰开斯特大学教授创意写作课程。
最初的光（外五首）
[美] 莎拉•科比特（Sarah Corbett）
殷晓媛译
□ 最初的光
(摘自《卢格与光》)
第一个清晨你的眼眸盛满
高处的天窗小格落下的水蓝
似乎为了这一刻 他们将九个月不眠不休的祝祷贮存在
蛋白石般的子宫里
我们一直没有合眼 将来还会有一些日子不愿入眠
你是我们的一切 你的到来
给夜晚划上休止符
黎明对你深鞠一躬
几个月后 你开口说的第一句话是
光！有光！我们循声望去 欣喜地看到
你的小手伸向亮莹莹的天空
你人生学徒期的小蚕茧
装着镀金声音的包裹被解开
它们被释放出来 晒干闪亮的翅膀
选自《其它的兽》(Seren books, 2008)
附原文:
First Light
(from Lugh and the Light)
On your first morning your eyes held the blue
filtering through the small high window
as if they had kept, just for this moment,
their nine month’s vigil in the opalescent womb.
We had not slept, and would not for days yet.
You were all there was, you who had entered
here to bring the night to a standstill,
the morning quietly bowing to its knees.
And months later, this was your first word:
Light! Light! And we all looked up, amazed
as you reached for the fluorescent sky,
unwrapped the parcel of sounds gilded
in the cocoon of your apprenticeship,
set them loose to dry their brilliant wings.
From Other Beasts (Seren books, 2008)
□ 玫瑰
那是一个夏天——那时猫王还健在
而我们还没意识到
气候会改变一些事情
你 我的表妹 跳过树篱去抓菜白蝶
把它们笼在掌心 指缝微微张开供它们呼吸
我采撷着野蔷薇
攥着它们扑通跳动的胭脂色心脏
我不让夏天钻到我的床下
知道每个夜晚油地毡凉爽的四角
都会挤压那些花束
直到它们的香味溢出到瓮中
这座房子 被令人目眩的阳光施了魔法
晾出的床单像闪亮的舌头
将朦胧的晕影高高悬起
投入敞开的门窗
那里充斥着玫瑰的闷香
几周以来在炙热腐朽的热气中弥漫
选自《女巫的袋子》 (Seren Books, 2002)
附原文:
Roses
It was that summer – before Elvis died,
before we realized
how the climate might change things.
You my cousin, were skimming the hedgerows
for Cabbage Whites,
making a cage of your fingers for their quick breath.
I collected Dog Roses,
their pink hearts fluttering in my fist.
Under my bed I had shut out summer,
each night learning the cool squares of the lino,
crushing the sheaves of the flower
until they bled their scent into the jar.
The house, enchanted under the astonishing sun,
hung out its linen like bright tongues,
heaving its faint osmosis
through open windows and doors,
frowsty with the fug of roses,
effused in their hot black rot for weeks.
From The Witch Bag, (Seren Books, 2002)
□ 红衣橱
妹妹被你关在红衣橱里
你把铁钥匙滑进衣兜
妹妹被你关在红衣橱里
它把陈旧的血与铁锈浑浊的木油
染在她手肘与腕部内侧的柔软的青色淤伤上
就像她反扭我的小臂留下的血印
那时我向她吼叫 厌恶她 然后记起
她如何蜷缩在角落里
直到我抓住她摇晃之前 我以为她就像一只小猫
在我梦里 红衣橱的门开了又关
它尘埃里带有余温的坚果变成老鼠眼睛
它们长尾巴 抓挠着
父亲劈碎并且烧掉了女人们留下的这个日子
我们便有了烟花可看
附原文：
The Red Wardrobe
The red wardrobe where you shut in my sister,
the iron key sliding into your pocket.
The red wardrobe where you shut in my sister,
its colour old blood and rusty oil
on the soft blue insides of her elbows, her wrists,
like the Chinese burns she gave me
as I cried and hated her, until I remembered
how she made herself small in corners,
how I thought she was a kitten crying until I shook her.
The red wardrobe, its doors opening and closing in my dream,
the warm nuts in its dust becoming mice eyes,
their long nails, scratching,
that my father splintered and burnt
the day all the women left and we had fireworks.
□ 生日
——于第14个十一月写给我的父亲
我走进落幕的一天
棕榈色光芒最后的蒙片
被从沼泽上方撤去
雾从山谷间抽去雨水
山峦的双螺旋袒裸在天空下
每一步都是被内心的推动
我远走他乡 天边
我可以奔入夜幕
躯体吸干一条路的河水
怒放成夜晚的花朵
它在这里等待采撷：
张开的双臂等待被抱起
几乎已经被举到空中
这并不只是某种位移
或者一个梦的残迹
但我已发育成熟的厚实骨架
只承受得起短暂的奇迹
这就足够 我在这里等你回来
差一点 只差一点 奇迹就出现了
在暗巷的笼裹之中
一个身影等候着 一朵白色光晕出现
一位老人牵着一条狗
一只哈士奇吸引了我的视线
拉扯着链子 自从气味的影踪在我的船尾纹中
锚下痕迹
我吠叫着 吠叫着 其它的兽
在黑夜碾压之下咆哮着回应
附原文：
Birthday
For my father on the 14th November
I go into the closing day.
A last slice of palm-tinted light
peels back off the moor.
Exposed is the hill’s double-helix
as mist wells rain from the valley.
Each step is a push from the chest
and away, as far as I can get.
I can do this: run towards night,
body drawing the road’s river,
body a nocturnal bloom.
It’s here for the taking:
my arms open for the lift
and I’m almost into the air,
not some kind of shifting
or even the memory of a dream,
but my full, bone-heavy form
briefly allowed a miracle.
This will do. I am here for you
and nearly, nearly, it is loosed.
In the black envelope of lane
a figure waits, then a white halo:
an old man walks a dog,
a Husky that locks my gaze,
strains after the scent-shadow
anchoring a trail in my wake.
I bark, bark. Other beasts
complain back under the weight of dark.
□ 夜狐
这是我们彻夜不归最长的夜晚
从家出发穿过田野
我们的影子像猫头鹰从树上投下
一只狐狸倏地从林间掠过
它为水井边躺着的死去多日的绵羊尸体而来
我们停下脚步它身体羸弱 肋边已浸染成
血红色 一只雌狐
流线轻盈
有幼崽需要哺育在大地上仓促奔跑
它飞奔向前翩跹着
将一扇羊肉
花冠般扛在后背上
它带着最后的勇气利落地脚尖立地旋转
摘自诗集《红衣橱》(Serenbooks, 1998)
附原文：
Fox at Midnight
It is the longest night and we are out,
crossing the field from the house.
Our shadows fall through the trees likeowls.
A fox slips from the wood. It has come
for the sheep lain dead for days by thewell.
We stop. It is thin, its red dips
to blood red at its ribs, a vixen
in its fluid line and lightness
with cubs to feed, scurried under theearth.
She comes swiftly on and begins to dance,
throwing the sheep’s mantle
like a crown of blossom over her back,
pirouetting neatly in the last of the guts.
译者简介
殷晓媛：“百科诗派”创始人、智库型长诗作者、“泛性别主义”写作首倡者、中、日、英、法、德多语言写作者。中国作家协会、中国诗歌学会、中国翻译协会会员。代表作有11000行长诗“前沿三部曲”、六万行结构主义长诗“风能玫瑰”、主持“2018人工智能纸魔方”（六国语版）视觉设计+行为艺术项目。出版有四部个人诗集及八部著作，被美国、英国、德国、法国、俄罗斯、爱尔兰、新西兰等国一百余家国家图书馆、世界顶级名校图书馆和大使馆大规模收藏。俄罗斯国家图书馆采编部部长T.V.彼得鲁先科将百科诗派著作誉为“横贯当代中国诗坛的百科诗学主义之强流”，多米尼加国家图书馆馆藏发展部部长Glennys Reyes Tapia则称之为“博大文化代表、书志编纂研究瑰宝”。
本作品由作者独家授权、殷晓媛首译，未经本公众号书面同意，原文/译文不得转载或以任何形式使用。作者及译者保留追究法律责任的权利。