我们都是神奇的魔术师｜【珍的诗】 连载八

森林里的树

森林里的树

静密地伫立，

它们的声音悬浮在

叶子的肺里

只能窃窃私语

蛰伏的梦，

千年的光阴

只吐纳一次。

青苔和石子

睡得真沉呀！

青草和绿地

出神真长呀！

脚步声来，脚步声去，

但没有声音能打破

那绿眼的出神。

The trees in the forest

Stand secret and silent,

Their voices suspended

In lungs of leaves

That only can whisper

Of dreams held dormant,

That breathe only once

In a thousand years.Deep is the sleep

Of the moss and the pebble.

Long is the trance

Of the grass and the meadow.

Footfalls come and footfalls pass,

But no sounds can break

That green-eyed trance.

主啊，让我记起从前的感受

当我以肌肤轻触

每个崭新的清晨

跳跃着跑过

浓密的思维森林

它从黎明延伸到正午，

直到午餐魔术般摆在我面前。

主啊，让我记起从前的感受

当我是如此之新

我以为自己是清晨的一部分。

我不想入睡

因为害怕世界会消失无存

但新的日子一个个来，

旧的日子一个个走，

却永远被补充。

主啊，让我记起从前的感受

当我用鼻尖轻蹭早晨的空气

以为自己能摇动一片远处的叶子

就像移动自己的耳朵和脚趾。

我以为是我让雨落下

正如我眼中的泪水

濡湿了面颊，

而我的思想变成云

环绕在我的头顶。

Lord let me remember how it was

when I nudged my skin

against the touch of each new morning

and bounded through

the thick thought-forests

that stretched between dawn and noon,

when like magic my lunch was put before me.

Lord let me remember how it was

when I was so new

that I thought I was part of the morning.

I didn't want to sleep

for fear the world would disappear

but new days kept coming and coming,

the old ones slipped away one by one,

but were always replenished.

Lord let me remember how it was

when I nuzzled the air in the morning

and thought I could wiggle a distant leaf

just as I moved my own ears and toes,

I thought that I caused rain to fall

just as the tears from my own eyes

wet my cheeks,

and that my thoughts turned into clouds

that circled the top of my head. 

魔术表演

我们都是多么神奇的魔术师啊，

将黑暗变成光明，

将看不见的原子

变成目眩神迷的世界剧场，

从秘密的微观壁橱里

拉出物体，

（有人，也有兔子，）

将冬天变成夏天，

使大把的光阴

消失在时间的暗门里。

我们在很久以前

已学会这方法，

久得变成了无意识，

我们已催眠自己

相信

我们是观众。

所以我好奇

我们曾在哪儿实习。

在哪些魔术大师的手下，

学会如此顺利地形成实相

以至于忘了告诉自己

这个秘密？

What magicians we all are,

turning darkness into light,

transforming invisible atoms

into the dazzling theater

of the world,

pulling objects,

(people as well

as rabbits)

out of secret

microscopic closets,

turning winter into summer,

making a palmful of moments

disappear through time's trap door.

We learned the methods

so long ago

that they're unconscious,

and we've hypnotized ourselves

into believing

that we're the audience,

so I wonder where we served

our apprenticeship.

Under what master magicians did we learn

to form reality

so smoothly that we forgot to tell ourselves

the secret?