第一篇 准备
土狼讲述的创世纪
“首先，这一切都是真的。”
土狼，他这样开场，
要谦虚，土狼用动作
强调他说的话。
你从地球这个身体中出来，
你就出生了，
你黑色的头从花岗岩中蹦出来，
灰烬还没有熄灭，
然后才开始下雨。
后来遍地泥泞，
后来有些绿褐色的东西，
没有腿，却走了过来。
他们看上去很奇怪，
THE FIRST: THE PREPARATION
The Creation, According to Coyote
"First of all, it's all true."
Coyote, he says this, this way,
humble yourself, motioning and meaning
what he says.
You were born when you came
from that body, the earth;
your black head burst from granite,
the ashes cooling,
until it began to rain.
It turned muddy then,
and then green and brown things
came without legs.
They looked strange.
每一样东西都很奇怪，
那时候还认不出什么来，
直到后来，土狼这样告诉我，
他很可能在瞎吹，
生出了两个儿子，
乌尤雅叶和马萨维。
他们那时候很小，
后来就长大了。
后来人们对地面上的一切
产生了好奇心，
他们听到各种传言。
但是，知道吗，土狼，
当他说下面的话时
（我觉得）他主要在吹牛:
“兄弟们，那对双胞胎说，
‘让我们来带领这帮穷小子，
让我们来救他们’。”
后来，在经历了许多形形色色惊险又悲壮的冒险后，
他们终于见到了光，
这就是他们的生活，所有这些，所有这些。
Everything was strange.
There was nothing to know then,
until later, Coyote told me this,
and he was b. s.-ing probably,
two sons were born,
Uyuyayeh and Masaweh.
They were young then,
and then later on they were older.
And then the people were wondering
what was above.
They had heard rumors.
But, you know, Coyote,
he was mainly bragging
when he said (I think),
"My brothers, the Twins then said,
'Let's lead these poor creatures
and save them.'"
And later on, they came to light
after many exciting and colorful and tragic things
of adventure;
and this is the life, all these, all these.
我叔叔告诉我这些事，那时候，
土狼也告诉了我，但知道吗，
他是怎么的，经常跟众神
和周围的山丘和岩石唠叨个不停。
知道吗，我相信他。
婴孩的形成
1973年4月
第一
啊，孩子在你母亲体内
撞击四壁的颤动，
那才是真正的运动，
没有浪费，也没有犹豫，
扑打着双翅，
沿着古老的小道，
把我们带回来。
第二
我要指出来
My uncle told me all this, that time.
Coyote told me too, but you know
how he is , always talking to the gods,
the mountains, the stone all around.
And you know, I believe him.
Forming Child
April 1973
1ST ONE
O child's tremble
against your mother's innerwall,
is a true movement
without waste or hesitation,
a beating of wings
following ancient trails
to help us return.
2ND ONE
I will point
你在地球上的位置，
在群山中，在大地上，
在古老的河道旁，在风中，
在你母亲走过的地方，
在你母亲的母亲走过的地方。
于是这样，
就这样，
我要把这些地点指给你看，
好让你去一一介绍自己。
第三
两天前
我在黑山脚下时，
积雨云正聚集
在黑山之尖
与天空中一点之间的空中。
在那天的两天前，
我看见一只山鹰
在清凉的微风中
在我站立处的
南边盘旋。
第四
许多年以前，我和你弟弟
out your place on the earth,
among mountains, on ground,
by old watercourses, in wind,
where your mother walked,
where her mother walked.
This way then,
This way,
I will show you those points
where you will present yourself.
3RD ONE
Two days ago
when I was at the foot of Black Mountain,
there were rain clouds forming
in a space between the tip of the mountain
and a point in the sky.
Two days before that,
I saw a hawk circling
in a slow, cool wind
south of that place
Where I stood watching.
4TH ONE
Years ago, your brother and I
徒步从名叫祥气那人
位于卢卡丘凯山中的小木屋
走到一处花岗岩前，
岩石下水流潺潺。
那水喝起来甜甜的
像风，像树根，像新出的香草。
第五
我要你看
查斯卡山上的那块山坳，
那儿长着白杨和橡树，
那儿的海拔
可以使冷杉上的白雪
到六月之后才融化。
我去过那儿两次，
有一次是个冰冷的冬天。
第六
我要求你做的事中，
有一件是你应该
享受你母亲做的美味的面包，
留心去想象
她的双手怎样揉面，
walked from Chee Goodluck's Hogan
in the Lukachukai Mountains
to a place where water
flowed from under huge granite boulders.
The water tasted like the wind,
roots, fresh herbs, sweet smells.
5TH ONE
I want you to see a pass
in the Chuska Mountains
where there are aspen, oak,
elevation high enough
for fir and snow
enough to last till June.
I've been up there twice,
once on a hard winter day.
6TH ONE
Among the things I would require
of you is that you should relish
the good wheat bread your mother makes,
taking care that you should think
how her hands move, kneading the dough,
怎样细心地做成面包，以及
你是怎样在她体内形成和生长的。
第七
接近顶峰处，肯里契东南边，
我看见一汪雪水
我想把它放在一只银手镯上，
或许两边再放上两块绿松石，
那看起来一定很漂亮；
但那时，我也喜欢它本来的样子，
在松树下，白雪不断地滴入，
黄昏的斜阳洒在旁边，
我知道你会明白
为什么我不去动它。
第八
昨天，我点烟的时候，
拉赫提醒我说，
“如果谁要是引起火灾，
斯墨克大熊会来把火扑灭。”
大熊有很多好朋友。
shaping it with her concern,
and how you were formed and grew in her.
7TH ONE
Near the Summit, SE of Kinlichee,
I saw a piece of snowmelt water
that I thought would look good
on a silver bracelet with maybe
two small turquoise stones at its sides,
but then, I liked the way it was, too,
under pine trees, the snow feeding it,
the evening sunlight slanting off it,
and I knew that you would understand
why I decided to leave it like that.
8TH ONE
Yesterday as I was lighting a cigarette,
Raho warned me with,
"If anyone starts a fire,
Smokey the Bear will come put them out."
Bear's got a lot of friends.
给孩子的四首诗
1972年12月
“你的印第安名字叫什么？”
它必须包含完整的
山峰、沙漠、太阳、诸神、
歌谣和完善。
它必须有故事和传说，
讲述英雄和他们的远征。
它必须有再生和成长，
有强壮和好的眼力。
你懂吗？就像这样（用动作演示）:
去小溪边
拾一些直的小柳枝
回来，
细心地做成形状，
系上羽毛，
用泥土上色，
给它们食物，跟它们谈话，
用它们祈祷。
Four Poems for a Child Son
December 18, 1972
"WHAT'S YOUR INDIAN NAME?"
It has to do with full moments
of mountains, deserts, sun, gods,
song, completeness.
It has to do with stories, legends
full of heroes and traveling.
It has to do with rebirth and growing
and being strong and seeing.
You see it's like this (the movement):
go to the water
and gather the straight willow stems
bring them home
work carefully, at forming them
tie on the feathers
paint them with the earth
feed them and talk with them pray.
你懂吗，孩子，从它生活的方式上看，
山鹰是个完整的人。这意思是说
山鹰必须留心它居住的地方，
那不一定是地球的中央，
但却是地球上的一处，是整体中的一部分，
那才刚刚是个开头。
那是第三天，1971年7月12日
在去科罗拉多的路上等便车，
我听到你的声音说，“看，阿爸……”
一只山鹰
展开它的双翅，
利落地
飞过整个天空，
蓝天，
微风，
夏日里苜蓿的清香，
在杰姆斯山脚下。
（你看，众神在夏日降临，
来人界只待四天，
她们带来礼物，带来生命和希望，
我是说，你看得见她们。）
You see, son, the eagle is a whole person
the way it lives; it means it has to do
with paying attention to where it is,
not the center of the earth especially
but part of it, one part among all parts,
and that's only the beginning.
IT WAS THE THIRD DAY, JULY 12, 1971
Hitchhiking on the way to Colorado,
I heard your voice, "Look, Dad..."
A hawk
sweeping its wings
clear
through the whole sky
the blue
the slow wind
fresh with the smell of summer alfalfa
at the foot of the Jemez Mountains.
(You see, the gods come during the summer
for four days amongst the people,
bring gifts, bring hope and life,
you can see them, I mean.)
在等待下一辆便车的时候，
我唱起:
看啊，那些戴铃铛的小树。
看啊，那些唱歌的石头。
昨天
下午将尽的时刻，
突然传来一阵鸟的叫声，
这声音充满了周围的世界。
今天早晨在报上
我读到在空军基地有黄鹂的报道。
我想它们是在那儿，昨天我就知道
是它们占满了树梢，
电线，天空和世界。
那就是我所知道的。
托尼叔叔跟我和妹妹讲的话
孝敬父母，
爱你们的兄弟姐妹，
叔叔阿姨。
Waiting for my next ride,
I sang,
Look, the plants with bells.
Look, the stones with voices.
YESTERDAY
In the late afternoon,
there was suddenly a noise of birds
filling up everything.
This morning in the newspaper,
I read about starlings at the Air Force base.
I guess they were but all I knew yesterday
was that they filled up the trees,
the utility wires, the sky, the world.
That's all I know.
WHAT MY UNCLE TONY TOLD MY SISTER AND ME
Respect your mother and father.
Respect your brothers and sisters.
Respect your uncles and aunts.
爱你们的土地，那是起始之地。
敬重教给你们的知识，
敬重你们的名字，
敬重神祗，
敬重你自己。
你周围的一切
都是你的一部分。
快要当父亲的人
我快要当父亲了。
祈祷吧:
用微笑来迎接一切喜事，
留意风，
留意雨，
小心地抚摸温柔，
做个好人。
我们望着在热风中盘旋的山鹰，直到它消失在山谷对面的山色之中，然后才决定走下平顶山，向这个山泉走来。
Respect your land, the beginning.
Respect what is taught you.
Respect what you are named.
Respect the gods.
Respect yourself.
Everything that is around you
is part of you.
The Expectant Father
I am an expectant father.
Pray then:
smile for all good things,
note the wind,
note the rain,
touch the gentleness with care;
be good.
After we had watched the hawk circling in the hot wind and lost it against the color of the mesa across the valley, we decided to climb down the mesa to this spring. We walked for about half a mile and finally arrived there.
我们步行半里地，终于到了。山泉从山洞中缓缓流出，山洞夹在两块巨大的砂石之间，两块巨石相扶而立。水从轻软风化的层岩滴落，流进小水潭。潭边绿茵茵的石蕨有齐手高，青苔爬满岩石。水中暗动，是我们的倒影和生活在水中的小生物，厄尔用一只生锈的铁罐把水打起来喝，然后吉列也用这只罐打水喝。
现在轮到我打水了。泉水清甜，像来自地下漆黑的山洞，但那水味更像拂过山谷的风，其中还夹杂着别的滋味。我们那时很年轻，只休憩了一小会儿，就恢复了体力，不再流汗了。我们走到平坦的山谷底，在那儿寻找我们的马匹。
那婴儿出生时，将为其父的人，
你要告诉那孩子。
清晨我醒来的时候，
他母亲的肚子贴着我的背，
在背心处我感到小孩的颤动。
那小孩是他母亲手中捧着的一只蝴蝶，
轻一点，拉雅，别着急，今天早晨，
以后我们生活中你的孩子们生活中的每个早晨。
当微风中飘来了雨，
感觉是如此美妙。
The spring is in a cave made by two huge slabs of sandstone cliff leaning into each other. The water dripped from soft crumbly shale and ran into a small pool. Around the water were hand-high green ferny plants and moss grew on stone. There were movements in the water which were our reflections and the tiny water beings that lived there. Earl dipped into the water with a rusty can and drank and then Gilly.
It was my turn then. The spring water tasted sweet and like a dark underground cavern, but something of a taste that was more like a touching wind than anything else. There was something else too, something else. We were quite young then. We weren't so tired and hot after a while anymore, and we climbed on down to the flat valley and looked some more for our horses.
When the child comes, expectant father,
tell the child.
When I have awoken in the early mornings,
I have felt the child's flutter at the small of my back,
the mother's belly pressed against me.
The child is a butterfly cupped in the Mother's hands.
Be gentle, Naya; be kind, this morning
and for all mornings of our-your children's-lives.
When it rains in a soft wind,
it feels so good.
一定要生存下去
给雨晨
1973年7月5日生
你出生时
带着那悬崖石壁
清晨的颜色，
那是变幻的颜色，
从蓝到红，
到地球全部的色彩。
蜘蛛祖母说，
笑声，成长，
纺衣织布，
把它们缝起来，
组成生活，
让你来穿戴。
所有这些，所有这些。
你出生时，小孩子，
赤裸着像晨曦中那块石壁，
光得一点东西都没有，
只带着母亲的点点血迹，
不断地眨眼，
To Insure Survival
For Rainy Dawn
born July 5,1973
You come forth
the color of a stone cliff
at dawn,
changing colors,
blue to red
to all the colors of the earth.
Grandmother Spider speaks
laughter and growing
and weaving things
and threading them
together to make life
to wear;
all these, all these.
You come out, child,
naked as that cliff at sunrise,
shorn of anything
except spots of your mother's blood.
You just kept blinking your eyes
拼命去呼吸。
五天过后，
他们会来的，
唱着歌，跳着舞，
带着礼物，
带来会说话的石头，
和戴着铃铛的植物。
他们会来的。
小孩子，他们会来的。
语言
“对一个小孩来说，语言是神圣的。——N.司各特·莫马德(1)>
我把我的小女儿抱到她床上，
放下，她的头歪向一边，
我轻轻地拍着她的背，哼着一支儿歌。
and trying to catch your breath.
In five more days,
they will come,
singing, dancing,
bringing gifts,
the stones with voices,
the plants with bells.
They will come.
Child, they will come.
Language
"The Word is sacred to a child. "—N. Scott Momaday,House Made of Dawn
I carried my baby daughter to her bed,
laid her down, she turned her head aside,
and I patted her back, murmured a singsong,
她睡着了，发出轻微的呼吸声。
后来她叫了一声——
从隔壁屋子里——
我去把她抱起来——
她是这么温暖，
一只小动物——在动——
把她抱到一面
长镜前——说雨晨，雨晨
小声说——她伸出
小手——去碰她自己的
小手——小手碰到镜中的
小手——她对着我在镜中
的脸微笑——她在
想什么呢？
那是什么？小声说的话，哼的一段歌，
一声长啸，口中深深的爱抚，还是在
寻找山边峭壁的那阵风？
运动的语言——眼前的景物——
可能的事和不可能的事——
纯粹的存在——跳跃进
准确的时刻——一直待在那儿——
and she fell asleep making small universal sounds.
Later she calls out—
from the next room—
go to pick her up—
she is so warm
a young animal—movement—
take her before the long
mirror—say Rainy, Rainy
murmur sound—she reaches
her hand—meets her own
hand—hand meets mirrored
hand—she smiles at my
mirrored face—what
does she think？
What is it, the murmur, the song of a chant,
drawn out holler, deep caress in the throat,
the wind searching hillside ledge？
The language of movements—sights—
possibilities and impossibilities—
pure existence—which leap into exact
moments—keep being there all the time—
静止不需要别的东西——
它是自己唯一的根据——
它自足——坚实——
要认识它，就必须成为它的
一部分——一个字就是一首诗——小孩
听到一个声音时就听到那首
关于听的诗歌——它最初的运动
已经完成——得到了认可——听到诗歌
这一行为把他或她是谁限定——
向内收，深吸一口气——
完整的声音/词
具有它自己的能量和运动。
雨晨的声音听起来像是一声“嗯啊”，
空气的颤动，肌肉的颤动，
胸部柔软的小骨的颤动，
小嘴张开，湿漉漉的口腔，
象征她说的第一个词，
合拢嘴唇变成，
“声音是从哪里来的？”
从深井之下
所有的点在那里相聚
又重新交叉
很多很多次
static quality needing nothing else—
being its only validity—
adequate unto itself—solid—
to know it one has to become a part
of it—a word is the poem—child
upon hearing a sound hears the poem
of hearing—original motion of it
is complete—sanctified—the sphere
of who he or she is who is hearing
the poetry—motion of inwards a drawn
breath—complete entity of sound/word
has its own energy and motion.
Rainy sound is something like, "Uh oh"
motion of air, muscles,
tiny soft bones in upper chest,
mouth opening moist cavern,
symbol of her beginning word,
pucker lips into,
"Where do sounds come from? "
From the deep well
where all points meet
and intercross again
and countless times
再一次。
从喉咙发出的声音
知道那些交叉线。
最初的一声，
漫出来，把我打动。
她小声说出下一个声音，
意思是，
“这是什么？我将做什么
为了你，孩子？”
这声音从我这儿出来，是她自己
的一个延伸。
昨天我听着风声，
是另一种声音。它吹进我。
它在说: 简单些
但要富于思想，随
唯一的脉动起落。
所有的语言都是从中心
走出来，击中
你的本体，融入
——我想起“雕琢”这个词，
可能在某本书中
again.
The throat sound
knows its intercrossings;
the first sound,
it overflows and touches me.
She whispers another sound,
meaning,
"What is it? What shall I do
for you, child?"
comes from me, an extension
of herself.
I listened to the wind yesterday,
another sound. Travels
into me. Purpose: be simple
and thoughtful, flowing
with a singular pulsing.
All language comes forth
outward from the center. Hits
the curve of your being. Fits
—"chiseled" occurs to me
out of an unremembered passage
哪一个段落中见过，跟
需要去回忆或回忆起的
图像有关；“雕琢”在
心灵或记忆之石上——
声音本身的思想，
那声音是气，
是它本身内在的运动。
四首鸟歌
第一首
是一阵微风中
的小鸟
栖息
在山头弯曲的手指上，
是一条小溪
流入一个幽谧之境，
那儿展览着世界的一切，
却没有歌。
in some book, has to do
with image required to remember
or remembered; "chiseled"
into mind or memory stone—
into thoughts of sound itself,
the energy it is
and the motion inherent in it.
Four Bird Songs
FIRST SONG
Is a little wind
fledgling
nestled
in mountain's crooked finger,
is a river
into a secret place
that shows everything,
little song.
屏住呼吸，
拿稳这粒种籽，
就一小会儿，
然后跟随它去寻找。
在这广袤的宇宙中，
我只是个
微小。
第二首
树丛中的
声音，
清晨的空洞
是对面山腰上的山洞。
它带着呻吟
惊动四周，
渴望着，
皮肤的一阵抽动。
在遥远的地方，
一阵风吹起，
来到这边，
一个等待的声音。
In your breath,
hold this seed
only a while
and seek with it.
One single universe,
I am
only a little.
SECOND SONG
The sound
in wood,
a morning hollowness
of a cave on the flank of a small hill
startles
with its moan,
yearning,
a twitch of skin.
In the distant place,
a wind starts
coming here,
a waiting sound.
已经到了。
颤动。
你因为等待了
而得到奖励。
第三首
通过呼吸
他进入了
他前后左右
的空间，
清了清嗓子
说他的这首歌
可能是为了明天
祈雨。
轻轻地
传过来，
一阵嚓嚓声，
接下来变得沉重。
第二天
下雨了，
他为这场雨
It is here now.
Shiver.
You are rewarded
for waiting.
THIRD SONG
By breathing he started
into the space
before him
and around him,
cleared his throat,
said this song
maybe tomorrow
is for rain.
Lightly
hummed
a tight leathersound
and then heavily.
It rained
the next day,
and he sang
又唱起另一首歌。
第四首
一块年代远久的石头
就是一首往日的蓝调，
带着斑点，
那个蛋壳，
就在刚才
在太阳下
衬着古老的沙子
显得那么新鲜。
一滴眼泪掉下来，
滚落进空间，
把它完全充满了，
还开出新的空间。
他碰到它时，
在移动中的它，
还带着那
生命的温热。
another song for that.
FOURTH SONG
An old stone
was an old blue,
spotted,
the egg's shell,
only moments before
under the sun
that had become new
against old sand.
A tear falling,
stirring into space,
filling it completely,
making new space.
When he touched it,
and it moved,
it was still warm
with that life.
时间、运动和空间
我告诉芭芭拉，
“小时候，
我们曾一起在阿科
向悬崖下扔石子。
我们非常喜欢，
因为随着石头的下落，
时间也仿佛
停顿下来。”
我是说你那时觉得
那是真实无疑的事。
时间那么深，深得无底，
所有的时间，
你都无法把它们确定在一点上
或者给它们一个说法。
但是眼见飞落的石头……
时间就摸得着了。
它是一块石头
你放开手，就落下，
掉进、穿过空间，
滚落到悬崖底下的
地上。
你那时就是这样知道的。
Time and Motion and Space
I told Barbara,
"When I was a kid
we used to throw rocks
off the cliffedges at Aacqu.
We were fascinated
because the falling of rock
seems to be something
like stopping time.
I mean it seems real
and clear to you then.
Time is so deep, fathomless,
and all the time
that you can't pin it down
at exact points nor with explanations.
But being witness to falling rock. ...
Time is tangible then.
It is a rock falling
from the release of your hand,
moving into, through, down
space to the ground
at bottom cliffedge.
That's how you know then.
时间、运动和空间:
松树和冷杉，
风，
阳光下暖烘烘的石板上的地衣，
山谷下面的一条路，
朋友的声音，
我们自己。
“松树歌”，她说。
蝴蝶飞过去，
接着是穿着嫩黄和青色
衣服的蜜蜂，
“这才是世界本来的样子。”
“我说的都是真事。”
小狗内兹
朋友送我一只小狗作生日礼物；我把他带回去送给我儿子
十英里远
在纳吉齐山的另一边，
Time and motion and space:
pine and fir,
the wind,
lichen on sunwarm flat rock,
a road below in the valley,
voices of friends,
ourselves.
"Pine song," she said.
Butterfly comes by.
And then Bee all dressed
in bright yellow and black.
"This is the way it is."
"I'm not just making it up. "
Buck Neza
birthday pup present forme from friends; I wastaking him home for my son
Ten miles
the other side of Nageezi,
我们停下来，
在高速公路南边一英里。
我烧起一堆火，
亮得可以让神看见。
你靠在我的脖子上睡着了，
依偎在我灵魂边。有一次，
一阵呜咽声把我弄醒，
我知道
是该喂你食物的时候了，
可是此时我自己也没有东西
填我的肚子。
那晚天下着雨，
天气很冷。
早晨我醒来，
发现一只小狗，
是你，正在汪汪叫唤，
像个刚出来的新生命，
一个全然不可思议的神奇之物，
叫着要吃东西。
we stopped
a mile south of the highway.
I built a fire big enough
to signal the gods.
You slept against my neck,
curled by my soul. Once,
I awoke to a tiny whimper,
and I worried
that I should feed you
when I had nothing to eat
myself.
It rained that night,
and it got cold.
In the morning,
I woke up to find
a puppy, you, yapping
like the original life,
a whole mystery crying
for sustenance.
我们祈祷。
我祈求的是一场完整的生命
为我儿子，
为我自己，
为我的地球
母亲。
诗人
“你真的是诗人？”
“是啊。”
蟋蟀总是那样说话。
几天后的一个夜晚，
我听了很长时间，
一对夫妻在耳语，
大约一千万年前，
在亚洲的一个山洞里。
那是很久很久以前，
他们相互依偎着，
整夜都在唱歌。
We prayed.
What I want is a full life
for my son,
for myself,
for my Mother,
the Earth.
The Poet
"Are you really a poet?"
"Shore."
Crickets always talk like that.
A couple nights after,
I listened for a long time
to a couple reminding themselves
about 10 million years ago
in some cave in Asia.
It was a long, long time ago.
They rattled membranes together
and sang all night long.
“我不知道你是诗人。”
后来，
有了另一个山洞。
一个妇女在呻吟，
后来她又笑起来，
在离冰川的边缘不远处。
南边有风中摇曳的青草，
羽色鲜亮的小鸟，温暖的大海，
炎热的沙漠，以及什么都不要的
陌生的神祗。
她问我是不是喜欢蟋蟀，
我回答说，“喜欢蟋蟀，但不喜欢蟑螂。”
我问她，
蟑螂跟蟋蟀是不是
亲戚，她说，“可能是，
但不会是近亲。”
我想去什么地方查证一下，
但是一千万年
是个很长很长的时间，
要弄清楚不很容易。
“你当蟋蟀有多久了？”
"I didn't know you were a poet."
Later on,
there was another cave,
A woman was moaning,
and later she was laughing,
not very far from a glacier's edge.
To the south were swaying grasses,
brightly colored birds, warm oceans,
hot deserts, and strange gods
who demanded nothing.
She asked me if I liked crickets.
I said, "Yeah, but not cockroaches."
I wondered out loud
if cockroaches are any relation
to crickets, and she said, "Maybe,
but not too close."
I want to look it up somewhere,
but ten million years
is a hell of a long time
to really clear it up.
"How long you been a cricket?"
父亲的歌
想说些什么事，
今夜我想起父亲。
他的嗓音，那微微的哽噎，
那深沉的声音，发自他单薄的胸腔，
那情绪的颤动，
是因为刚对他儿子
说到的事情，他的歌:
一年春天,我们在阿科马种下玉米——
我们播了几次种
但是这一次很特别
我还记得我手中握着的一把
又潮又软的沙土。
父亲在劳动中停下来，
指给我看，一条翻开的土沟，
犁铧掀翻了
湿润的沙土中
一个地鼠窝。
轻轻地，他捧起粉红色的小动物，
放在手掌中，
My Father's Song
Wanting to say things,
I miss my father tonight.
His voice, the slight catch,
the depth, from his thin chest,
the tremble of emotion
in something he has just said
to his Son, his song:
We planted corn one Spring at Aacqu—
we planted several times
but this one particular time
I remember the soft damp sand
in my hand.
My father had stopped at one point
to show me an overturned furrow;
the plowshare had unearthed
the burrow nest of a mouse
in the soft moist sand.
Very gently, he scooped tiny pink animals
into the palm of his hand
叫我用手摸摸它们。
然后我们把小地鼠拿到地边，
放在一块湿润的
沙土块后的背阴处。
至今我还记得
那温凉沙土的柔软，
和那些活生生的小地鼠
和我说着话的父亲。
两个女人
她是个总坐在织布机旁织布的纳瓦霍女人。
太阳才刚出来，
她就给丈夫和孩子们
做好了早餐，
让他们吃完饭出门了。
今天，她丈夫要去红水湾口
他们那一小块地里
给南瓜、西葫芦和玉米除草。
她的两个儿子已经把绵羊和山羊
赶去白岩山了。
and told me to touch them.
We took them to the edge
of the field and put them in the shade
of a sand moist clod.
I remember the very softness
of cool and warm sand and tiny alive
mice and my father saying things.
Two Women
She is a Navajo woman sitting at her loom.
The sun is not far up,
but she has already prepared
her husband's and sons' breakfasts,
and they have eaten and left.
Today, her husband will pull the weeds
from among the pumpkin, squash, and cornplants
in their small field at the mouth of Redwater Wash.
The two sons have driven their sheep and goats
to the Hill With White Stones.
她留在家
在织布机旁静静地工作。
轻快地，祖母，
“蜘蛛”旋转着，
翻转不停，
各种颜色。
哦，这些五颜六色，祖母，
两天前我在彩虹中见过。
哦，蜘蛛祖母，闪光的太阳
把你的织布机照得透明。
她静静地工作着，她的裙子展开
在今晨夏日的阳光中。
德丝芭在磨玉米来做饭。
玉米芯是蓝色的，
带着一圈微微散开的白色。
玉米很硬，她听得见
玉米在手磨石下碎裂的响声，
她从一只麻袋中
把玉米舀出来，放到石磨上。
她父亲是个银匠，有天傍晚
And she is left
in the calm of her work at the loom.
Quickly, Grandmother,
the Spider spins,
quick flips and turns,
the colors.
O the colors, Grandmother,
I saw in the twodaysago rainbow.
O Grandmother Spider, the sun is shining
through your loom.
She works gently, her skirt flared out,
in the sun of this morning's Summer.
Desbah is grinding corn into meal.
The kernels of the corn are blue
with a small scattering of whites;
they are hard and she can hear them
crack sharply under the handstone
she is using. She reaches into a sack
for the corn and puts them on the stone.
Her father, Silversmith, brought it
给她送来这个石磨，他是用
绳子把石磨捆在马背上驮来的，
外面还包了几层麻布。
当她偶尔停下来休息的时候，
又听见了父亲说的话，“这块
磨玉米的石磨是送给我孩子的，
得到她的男人会很喜欢，
但他是不愿意扛着这块重石头
四处走的，”那时他欢喜的心
充满了爱和希望。很多年以前，
银匠已经踏上了他的前程，
而她也一直没有别的男人。
她听得见蓝白相间的玉米芯
在沉重的磨石下发出的噼啪声。
离别诗
赠朱蒂
我一直在对你说
卢卡丘凯山脉的
红色峭壁——
one evening to her. He had it tied
on his horse with some rope,
and it was wrapped in some canvas cloth.
As she stop momentarily grinding,
she can hear him again say, "This Stone
for the grinding of corn is for my child.
The man who gets her will be pleased,
but he will not like to carry this heavy thing
around," and he had laughed with his love
and hopes for her. Silversmith had gone
on ahead many years ago, and she never did
have a man get her.
She can hear the blue and white kernels
crack sharply on the heavy stone.
Poem for Jody About Leaving
I was telling you
about the red cliff face
of the Lukachukai Mountains─
它是怎样在渐渐
离我们而去——
在策吉附近，
那红褐色的土地，
像个健壮的
正要临盆的女人，
即将产下
许多孩子，
你是不想离开的，
可是最终还是走了。
how it is
going away—
and near Tsegi,
the red and brown land
that is like a strong
and healthy woman
ready to give birth
to many children,
and you don’t ever want to go
but do anyway.
--------------------
(1)N. Scott Momaday，美国当代诗人、小说家，20世纪60年代美国印第安文艺复兴运动的领袖之一。
