得一忘二 译
风与它的种种乐器是我的秘密老师。
住波多尔斯卡娅街时，我为妈妈弹奏
——钢琴上一个一个的音，没有乐谱——
漏风的单元房，风一阵又一阵：它肥胖的手
拍打玻璃，在炉膛里低声哼哼，一扇门
被它一再推搡，甩到外面的楼梯口——
那是幽灵，隐在贝多芬《贯穿十二个大调的
两首前奏曲》的构制中，那是说它们都撒谎。
后来我站在一片麦田，听到风触摸
每一件东西生出的音乐。高音来自谷壳：
暴躁但又紧张、晕眩，声音低浅，
而那之下脉动着一股强烈的奇怪旋律，
犹如谷粒试穿衣物，或者一座森林。
在我所有的赞美和素歌中，我写下了
从山后传来的一个男人的靴子声。
Shostakovich
The wind and its instruments were my secret teachers.
In Podolskaya Street I played piano for my mother
– note for note without a music sheet – while the wind
in the draughty flat kept up: tapping its fattened hand
against the glass, moaning though the stove, banging
a door repeatedly out on the landing –
the ghost in the machine of Beethoven's Two Preludes
Through All the Major Keys, that said they lied.
Later I stood in a wheat field and heard the wind make music
from everything it touched. The top notes were the husks:
fractious but nervous, giddy, little-voiced,
while underneath a strong strange melody pulsed
as though the grain was rigging, or a forest.
In all my praise and plainsong I wrote down
the sounds of a man's boots from behind the mountain.
