二对一
twitter 白丝 「母語的邊界」香港國際詩歌之夜十五週年丨弗蘭克・巴埃茲
twitter 白丝
致吉赛尔的十二节诗
[多米尼加] 弗兰克·巴埃兹
闫梓萌 译
为了碰见你，我必须把野兽关进笼子，
必须搬到一座朔方的城，
必须给楼梯上的积雪撒盐，
必须喂一只猫，必须恐惧暮夜。
我到访纽约，从帝国大厦
向下望，你不在那。
有东说念主在火车站里驱驰，像爱情电影，
她不是你。
有东说念主被市中心的雾气吞没，她不是你。
有东说念主飘在奥萨马河1上，她不是你。
有东说念主在拉斯维加斯的赌场里吹骰子2，
更不是你。
有东说念主留我在公园里空等，她不是你。
有东说念主举着剪刀胁迫要捅死我，她不是你。
玛丽娜·茨维塔耶娃3吊死在绳索上，
她不是你。
我在公寓里等过你，
松鼠进出入出，绑走我的诗句。
雪花从窗外飘落。
月亮在天穹咳嗽。
她在那边？我问途经的女侍者，
她们不睬会我。你在那边？
我这么问着，堵截双手，
扔下芝加哥的一座桥。
她在那边？我这么问着
像一栋着火的楼房里住第二十层的
男东说念主，像破晓本领的巴黎
波德莱尔坐在长椅上。
你不在沙滩上，惟有
浪花对砂砾耳语你的名字。
（珍惜日光，海鸥低能地啄食
一只自尽者的鞋）
我唇间叼着烟卷，打探你的下降，
洗乱一副多米诺骨牌，颤抖着，
像一棵消千里的树
听任叶子落尽，寒意来袭。
在博物馆里，在藏书楼里，我找过你，二对一
我在藏书楼里睡去，忧郁地译下：
我梦见她被爱或故去
因为这城市太过眇小。
我找过你，在梦里，在波莱罗舞曲4中，
在低老本电影的群演里，
我找过你，
睁大或是顽固双眼。
爱东说念主啊，我找过你，
像柏拉图对话录里
阿里斯托芬的话：
一个东说念主的两半，终身互相寻觅。5
注：
1. 多米尼加共和国的一条河流。
2. 吹骰子被认为能带来好运。
3. 玛丽娜·茨维塔耶娃（1892—1941），俄罗斯“白银时期”热切诗东说念主，系投环身一火。
4. 一种西班牙舞曲。
5. 柏拉图《会饮》中阿里斯托芬谈到东说念主的发源的外传，每个东说念主的款式从前王人是通盘圆，四只手，四只脚，总共的器官王人成双。宙斯决定思一个见地，既让东说念主不时辞世又减轻他们的力量：“我把他们再切一次，让他们只可晃晃荡荡地步碾儿。”被切开后的东说念主思复兴我梗直本的当然，让分开的两半合为一体，当他们遭受正本的另一半时，就会体验到令东说念主惊颤的爱与亲密体验，两东说念主的心王人彰着渴慕着某种东西。
Twelve Strophes for Giselle
Frank Báez
To meet you I had to cage the beast，
move to a city in the north，
pour salt on the snow along the stairs，
feed a cat， fear the night.
I visited New York and looked down
from the Empire State and you weren’t there.
You weren’t the woman at the train station
who was running like in romantic movies.
You weren’t the one who’d swallowed the misttwitter 白丝
Downtown. Weren’t the one who floated in the Ozama.
Weren’t even the one who blew on the dice
in a casino in Las Vegas， Nevada.
You weren’t the one who left me waiting
in a park. Weren’t the one who threatened to kill me
with scissors in her fist. Weren’t Marina Tsvetaeva
hanging from a rope.
I waited for you in an apartment where squirrels
climbed in and kidnapped my poetry.
Snow was falling behind the windows.
The moon was coughing in the sky.
Where is she? I asked the waitresses
who went by and ignored me. Where are
you? I asked cutting my hands off and
dropping them from a Chicago bridge
Where is she? I asked like the man
on the twentieth floor of a building
that’s on fire， like Baudelaire sitting
on a bench in Paris at dawn.
You weren’t on the beach while
the waves whispered your name to the sand.
(The sun shone and a seagull clumsily fished up
some woman’s shoe who’d killed herself.)
I asked for you with a cigarette between my lips.
shuffling the dominoes and trembling，
like a depressive tree that’s shed
all its leaves and feels cold.
I looked for you in museums and libraries
where I slept and translated in my melancholy:
I dream of her either loved or killed
because the town’s too small.
I looked for you in a dream， in a bolero，
among the extras in a low-budget
movie， I looked for you
with closed eyes and open eyes.
I looked for you， my love，
the way Aristophanes says
in one of Plato’s dialogues
two halves look for each other.
Translated from Spanish by Hoyt Rogers
昨夜我梦见我方是DJ
[多米尼加] 弗兰克·巴埃兹
闫梓萌 译
我给米盖尔打电话
问他认为我是作念DJ好还是作念诗东说念主好
米盖尔说我应该不时作念诗东说念主
我女友也说我应该作念诗东说念主
我女友的昆仲也说我应该作念诗东说念主
然而我最近刚意志的
电影院里排在我前边的小女孩儿说我应该作念DJ
小小姐们王人说我更合乎作念DJ
在超市里购物的女东说念主们
C神偷拍则劝我不时写诗
我姆妈说我应该作念诗东说念主
水管维修工说我应该作念诗东说念主
我意志的五位诗东说念主却告诉我
我更合乎作念DJ
我的姐姐则投了弃权票
我去看铁斯托的演唱会
一个番邦女孩儿拉住我的手
告诉我DJ们由神创造，是天神
在她讲着这些的同期
我思象DJ们飞在空中的款式
他们的打碟机围在天主周围
像一群蚊子
被天主挥手驱赶
总之，问题在于诗东说念主和DJ
可不不错共存呢
是否不错形影相随
有莫得可能一只手用来写诗
另一只手用来打碟
能不可一半是诗东说念主一半是DJ
可不不错肚脐以上是诗东说念主
肚脐以下是DJ
或反之
亦八成诗东说念主不错在月圆之夜
变身DJ
再八成我有点夸张了
总共DJ在内心深处王人思成为诗东说念主
而总共诗东说念主王人思成为DJ
有一个寓言故事，讲的是
DJ和诗东说念主掉进并吞口深井
他们叫啊喊啊
直到一个东说念主探露面，扔给他们一根绳索
让他们平缓爬上来
DJ先上去了，他们又把绳索扔给诗东说念主
诗东说念主大叫着告诉他们，就把他留不才面吧
那东说念主和DJ这么作念了，他们静静地等了顷刻间
接着便离开
Last Night I Dreamt I was a DJ
Frank Báez
I call Miguel on the phone and ask him
if he thinks I would be better off as a DJ or as a poet
and Miguel answers as a Poet.
My girlfriend also says Poet.
My girlfriend’s brother says Poet
and the chick I met when she was in line behind me at the movies
says DJ.
Girls tend to see me more as a DJ
while the women shopping at supermarkets
say that I should stick with the poems.
My mother says Poet.
The plumber says Poet.
The five poets I know all say
I’d be better off as a DJ.
My sister abstained from voting.
I went to see DJ Tiësto
and a gringa grabbed my hands
and said that DJs are creatures of God.
They’re angels， she said and while she was talking
I imagined all the DJs with their turntables
flying around God like mosquitoes
and God shooing them away
with his hand.
But the question is whether the poets and the DJs
can be reconciled;
if they can be One，
if it’s possible to write poems with one hand
and with the other scratch records，
if it’s possible to be half-poet， half-DJ，
to be a poet above the waist
and below the waist a DJ
or vice versa
or maybe， during a full moon， a poet
could transform into a DJ
or maybe I’m complicating everything
and the fact is every DJ wants to be a poet
and every poet wants to be a DJ.
There’s a legend in which a DJ and a poet
fall into a well.
They shout and shout until
a man appears and throws down
a rope. The DJ climbs up first but when
they throw the rope back to the poet he screams， Leave me down here，
and the man and the DJ do so. They wait in silence
for a little while， and then they leave.
Translated from Spanish by Scott Cunningham
译者简介：闫梓萌twitter 白丝，就读于北京言语大学西班牙语专科。副业是孤独作家，业余饱读手。