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OMG 美国总统奥巴马的诗

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编者按:美国新选总统奥巴马富有人格魅力,他在篮球场上驰骋、带女儿吃刨冰的形象早已家喻户晓,但鲜为人知的,是奥巴马还写过诗。1981年奥巴马在洛杉矶的Occidental College念大学时,在该校名为Feast的文学刊物上发表了两首诗,《老爸》(Pop)和《地下》(Underground)。 



1楼2009-04-11 13:08回复
    《老爸》(译文) 
     坐在他的位子里,宽大而熟旧的座位 
     上,撒了几星烟灰 
     老爸转换频道,又干了一杯 
     施格兰,纯饮,他问 
     该拿我怎么办,未经世事的年轻人 
     完全不懂 
     世界的尔虞我诈,因为 
     我一直很顺我紧盯着他的脸,目光 
     在他眉毛上转向; 
     我肯定他全然不自觉 
     他那黑暗、多水的眼睛, 
     四处游移, 
     还有他那缓慢、不受欢迎的痉挛, 
     总不会消逝。 
     我听着,点头 
     听着,开放,直到我抓住他褪色的, 
     米黄T恤,大喊, 
     冲他耳垂厚重的耳朵 
     大喊,可他还在讲 
     他的笑话,于是我问为什么 
     他这样不高兴,他回答…… 
     但我不想再听了,因为 
     他拖得实在太久了,我从 
     我的座位底下,拉出 
     我一直保存着的镜子;我大笑, 
     放声大笑,血色从他的脸 
     冲上我的脸,而他越来越小, 
     小成我脑中一点,一点 
     可以被挤走的东西,像一粒 
     西瓜籽儿夹在 
     两根手指中间。 
     老爸又干了一杯,纯饮, 
     指出他和我的短裤上 
     有相同的琥珀色污迹, 
     他让我闻他的气味,从我身上 
     传过去的;他转换频道,朗诵一首旧诗 
     他在他母亲死前写的, 
     他站着、喊着,要我和他 
     拥抱,我躲闪着,我的 
     手臂几乎圈不住 
     他厚实、油腻的脖子,和他宽阔的后 
     背;因为 
     我看见自己的脸,框在 
     老爸的黑框眼镜里 
     而我知道他也在笑。


    2楼2009-04-11 13:09
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      地下 
       水下的石室、洞穴里 
       到处是吃无花果的 
       猩猩。 
       踩在无花果上 
       猩猩 
       吃的,一声声脆响 
       猩猩们嚎叫,露出 
       他们的牙根,舞蹈 
       在湍急的水流里 
       打滚, 
       发霉、潮湿的皮毛 
       在蓝色中闪光。


      3楼2009-04-11 13:09
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        附原文: 
         POP 
         Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken  
         In,sprinkled with ashes  
         Pop switches channels, takes another 
         Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks  
         What to do with me, a green young man 
         Who fails to consider the 
         Flim and flam of the world, since 
         Things have been easy for me; 
         I stare hard at his face, a stare  
         That deflects off his brow; 
         I'm sure he's unaware of his  
         Dark, watery eyes, that 
         Glance in different directions, 
         And his slow, unwelcome twitches, 
         Fail to pass. 
         I listen, nod, 
         Listen, open, till I cling to his pale, 
         Beige T-shirt, yelling, 
         Yelling in his ears, tha thang  
         With heavy lobes, but he's still telling  
         His joke, so I ask why  
         He's so unhappy, to which he replies... 
         But I don't care anymore, cause 
         He took too damn long, and from  
         Under my seat, I pull out the  
         Mirror I've been saving; I'm laughing,  
         Laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face  
         To mine, as he grows small, 
         A spot in my brain, something 
         That may be squeezed out, like a  
         Watermelon seed between 
         Two fingers. 
         Pop takes another shot, neat, 
         Points out the same amber  
         Stain on his shorts that I' ve got on mine, and 
         Makes me smell his smell,coming 
         From me; he switches channels, recites an old poem 
         He wrote before his mother died, 
         Stands, shouts, and asks  
         For a hug, as I shink, my 
         Arms barely reaching around 
         His thick, oily neck, and his broad back;' cause 
         I see my face, framed within 
         Pop's black-framed glasses  
         And know he's laughing too. 
         UNDERGROUND 
         Under water grottos, caverns  
         Filled with apes 
         That eat figs. 
         Stepping on the figs 
         That the apes  
         Eat, they crunch. 
         The apes howl,bare 
         Their fangs, dance, 
         Tumble in the 
         Rushing water, 
         Musty, wet pelts


        5楼2009-04-11 15:42
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          附原文: 
           POP 
           Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken  
           In,sprinkled with ashes  
           Pop switches channels, takes another 
           Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks  
           What to do with me, a green young man 
           Who fails to consider the 
           Flim and flam of the world, since 
           Things have been easy for me; 
           I stare hard at his face, a stare  
           That deflects off his brow; 
           I'm sure he's unaware of his  
           Dark, watery eyes, that 
           Glance in different directions, 
           And his slow, unwelcome twitches, 
           Fail to pass. 
           I listen, nod, 
           Listen, open, till I cling to his pale, 
           Beige T-shirt, yelling, 
           Yelling in his ears, tha thang  
           With heavy lobes, but he's still telling  
           His joke, so I ask why  
           He's so unhappy, to which he replies... 
           But I don't care anymore, cause 
           He took too damn long, and from  
           Under my seat, I pull out the  
           Mirror I've been saving; I'm laughing,  
           Laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face  
           To mine, as he grows small, 
           A spot in my brain, something 
           That may be squeezed out, like a  
           Watermelon seed between 
           Two fingers. 
           Pop takes another shot, neat, 
           Points out the same amber  
           Stain on his shorts that I' ve got on mine, and 
           Makes me smell his smell,coming 
           From me; he switches channels, recites an old poem 
           He wrote before his mother died, 
           Stands, shouts, and asks  
           For a hug, as I shink, my 
           Arms barely reaching around 
           His thick, oily neck, and his broad back;' cause 
           I see my face, framed within 
           Pop's black-framed glasses  
           And know he's laughing too. 
           UNDERGROUND 
           Under water grottos, caverns  
           Filled with apes 
           That eat figs. 
           Stepping on the figs 
           That the apes  
           Eat, they crunch. 
           The apes howl,bare 
           Their fangs, dance, 
           Tumble in the 
           Rushing water, 
           Musty, wet pelts


          6楼2009-04-11 15:42
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            还有才.


            7楼2009-04-11 17:38
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              奥巴马好啊……


              8楼2009-04-17 18:11
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                piao___


                9楼2009-05-05 16:19
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