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Those Winter Sundays BY ROBERT HAYDEN 翻译一首给父亲的诗
[版面:读书听歌看电影][首篇作者:nola1998] , 2018年06月20日13:51:43 ,13次阅读,0次回复
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nola1998
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发信人: nola1998 (cougar2012), 信区: LeisureTime
标  题: Those Winter Sundays BY ROBERT HAYDEN 翻译一首给父亲的诗
发信站: BBS 未名空间站 (Wed Jun 20 13:51:43 2018, 美东)

Those Winter Sundays

那些冬天的周日

BY ROBERT HAYDEN

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

那些冬天的周日

我的父亲在周日也起得早
在半蓝半黑的寒冷里穿上衣服,
然后用还忍受着周日劳作
带来疼痛的裂开的双手
把炉灰堆下的火苗燃成火焰。 从没人感谢他。

当房间变暖了, 他会喊,
我就醒来听到寒冷裂碎的声音,
再慢慢的起来穿衣,
害怕房子里散不去的愤懑,

漠然地对他说,
谁赶走了寒冷
还擦亮了我的好鞋子。
我哪里懂得, 我哪里懂得
爱的艰难和孤独的职责。
--
※ 修改:·nola1998 於 Jun 20 14:53:49 2018 修改本文·[FROM: 192.]
※ 来源:·WWW 未名空间站 网址:mitbbs.com 移动:在应用商店搜索未名空间·[FROM: 192.]

 
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