1、雪迪诗选（6首）

湖中的湖

斯高维尔角

徒步旅行者

………………………………………………………Hu Qian and Keith Waldrop译

北极光

爱欧·诺亚尔岛的夜空

岛角的房子

………………………………………………………Hu Qian and Chard deNiord  译

雪迪，原名李冰，生于北京。出版诗集《梦呓》、《颤栗》、《徒步旅行者》、《家信：雪迪诗选》；著有诗歌评论集《骰子滚动：中国大陆当代诗歌分析与批评》。1990年1月应美国布朗大学邀请，前往该大学任驻校作家、访问学者；现在布朗大学工作。出版中英双语诗集《音湖》、《地带》、《另一种温情》；出版英文诗集《普通的一天》、《心灵土地》、《宽恕》、《碎镜里的猫眼》、《情景》、《火焰》。作品被译成英文、德文、法文、日文、荷兰文、西班牙文、意大利文等。英文诗集《普通的一天》荣获Jane Kenyon诗歌奖。荣获布朗大学Artemis A. Joukowsky 文学创作奖，纽约Bard学院颁发的国际奖学金和艺术学院奖。荣获美国十多个创作基地的写作艺术奖。在美国东、西海岸举办过上百次的个人诗歌朗诵、讲演，被邀请参加爱尔兰国际诗歌节。1993、1997、2001、2006年夏天，四次被邀请参加在美国罗德岛举办的世界学者、运动员代表大会。

    译者：

Hu Qian is currently working for his Ph.D. degree in Translation Studies at the University of Texas at Dallas. He has translated several books for various publishers and published a number of papers on translation and interpretation.

Keith Waldrop, who was awarded the 2009 National Book Award for poetry for Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy, has been a prominent voice in American poetry for over forty years.  He is the author of over a dozen books of poetry, prose, and translations. With Rosmarie Waldrop he co-edits Burning Deck Press.

Chard deNiord is the author of the poetry collections Asleep in the Fire (1990), Sharp Golden Thorn (2003), Night Mowing (2005), The Double Truth (2011), and Interstate (2015). His book Sad Friends, Drowned Lovers, Stapled Songs (2011) is a collection of interviews with American poets, including Robert Bly, Lucille Clifton, Jack Gilbert, Donald Hall, Galway Kinnell, Maxine Kumin, and Vermont Poet Laureate Ruth Stone.  Chard deNiord is current Poet Laureate of Vermont.

湖中的湖

安静的旅行者使这个湖

成为圆型。麋鹿在这儿汲水

落日更长久地，为走的很慢的

幼鹿照耀。湖底的盐

使哺乳动物的性格温驯

宁静的湖水清晰地显映出

那些食草动物的高贵品格

那些我们在陆地上失去的

在火中结束的，被孤独的鹿群

一代一代传下去。沿着干净的水道

他们生长和移动，使残存的

树木聚集成树林；使一片清水

幽雅地扩展成一座湖

隐藏的湖，日出和日落时

含满白银。盐水在出世的阒静中

培养缀饮者的品格。然后是

一小股人，乘坐独木舟

穿过水峡，来到这儿

安静地坐着，盼望看到

饮水的麋鹿，他们

将把这些诗意的崇尚者

带往那座失落了很久的家园

斯高维尔角

在聚集的意志中

旅行得最远的石头

独身的公狼远离

在孤岛中心丛林中的家族

沿着嶙峋的石壁奔跑

大水切断石头，和

石头里黑暗的

食肉兽的通道。这儿

是倔强的徒步人的未路

梦想开始的地方

棕褐色的麋鹿带领幼鹿

在冰冷的兰水里游着

朝向那些更小的岛屿

红狐狸在湿亮的礁石上尖叫

独木舟在弧型的碎石上倒扣

三个方向的浪头

二十四小时不停地拍打

峭壁上那座绿色的木头屋子

隐居的创作者聆听着

生命的感悟，光中的音乐缭绕在内心

梦想展现在道路终止的地方

无限的美引领诗意的远道

旅行者，变窄的石头

潜入水底。Tobin港湾

在左边闪耀着温柔的光

北面过客岛上的汽笛

在浩瀚的大水里日夜啸叫

徒步旅行者

欣赏细节的美

在阳光中，沿着植物

内在的成长的历程

身体就是道路

多少哩，多大的难度

那些生命必须经历的

在低处沿着水道

跟循动物的足印

我们将返回己经远离的源头

在高处随着山势

徐行在光中，我们将抵达

内心憩息在高处的那个地方

带着干粮和水

聆听创造的身体的旅行者

在持续的跋涉中精通自然的语言

北极光

在黑暗的地平线上打开

那扇扁圆的银白色的门

梦在星座上寻找

属于那些时辰的人们

他们是有福的

在深夜里，安静的

满怀感激的向北凝视

白光闪耀，使黑暗具有型状

夜的底在涌动的光里摇动

瞬间，更亮的光闪耀。大片的

银色的火焰，向高处翻卷

琵琶的金弦在光团里

急速震颤；鼓声和圆号

鸣奏在被刹那推远的黑暗里

提琴的兰弓掠过古松的

高音部。狼群突然在亮光里嚎叫

那么多的流星，一颗，一颗

射向更北的夜空。白光渐渐黯淡

睡眠的人在古怪的梦中翻身

朝北的静坐的人

看见黑夜正在缓缓关上

那扇高贵的、银白色的门

高处成群的星座闪耀

祝福着在黑暗中坚守、凝望的人们

爱欧·诺亚尔岛的夜空

跨越淡水的旅行者

使这座孤岛的夜晚飘逸着甜味

狐狸在白桦林的凉意中尖叫

露宿者在低处苔藓的绿光中

睡得更沉。雪松在洁白的梦里

快活地颤抖。那些水湾

在零散的黝黑的木头

屋子环绕中闪烁着白光

在岛角那只古旧的木椅上

我是星辰的王子。天空向睡得

最晚的，撒着银白的宝石

天使拜访他们衷爱的星座

并把那些金色的小门敞开着

高空久久萦绕优雅的乐曲

我是快乐的王子，被那些散发着

香胶气的梦选中的。风仙花

在湿气里安睡；冷杉在夜色里

冥想。鱼群朝向

含满月光的水域游动

天空被那位，在高处

提灯行走的人照亮。银河

是他一路沉思遗留的光芒

圣洁的时刻！在良久的欢乐里

整个夜晚晶莹灿烂地

朝向我们！使未眠者

在全神的凝望中接近天空

使在暗处的心智含蓄了光

长途旅行者，感恩地

朝着要去的方向

作者注：爱欧·诺亚尔岛（Isle Royale Island）, 世界上最大的淡水湖（Lake Superior)中最大的岛屿，全长45哩miles，宽9哩miles，位于美国的密西根洲。全岛99％为野生动物和野生植物。岛上没有车辆，全靠步行。全岛共有170 哩miles的小道供徒步旅行者使用。爱欧·诺亚尔岛每年从四月开放到十月，冬天因严寒和大雪而关闭。该岛被列为美国的国家公园。我曾被邀请到该岛进行为期两周的诗歌创作和讲演、朗颂。我住的地方是在岛角上，木头屋子里没有电，照明用煤气灯。我每天从大湖里提水，烧饭洗衣。木屋在峭壁上，三面环水。浪滔日夜拍击礁石，发出巨响。我每天都在波涛声中入睡和醒来。夜晚会听到狼嚎，看见明亮的北极光。这组诗是我在该岛居住期间，在那间被称做“艺术家的小屋”里创作的。

岛角的房子

在土路和石崖的尽头

创作者隐约看见自己的形象

简朴、暴露，在清澈的冷水里

聚拢的浪涛轮流拍打

四面朝光的窗户。木头和铁

向内的意志，使分散的事物

成为清晰的形象。使低处的

旅行者，在那些转弯的时刻

澄清继续努力的方向

在浩瀚的易怒的大水里忍耐

全神贯注。不是在最高处

但踞守在使自己

最有意义的地点。接近醒悟的

地点。朝着向远景

无限伸展的大水。在白昼

回荡遥远的更孤独的岛上的

汽笛，抵抗前头那些黑暗的

礁石向下的力量。在夜晚

恩惠于上面璀璨的星辰

使那些短暂的居留者

在黑暗中保持心灵的明亮

HIDDEN  LAKE

Quiet travelers make this lake

circular. Moose drink here

The setting sun lingers on

slow moving fawns.  Salt

in the lake has tamed the mammals

A placid surface reflects clearly

the high character of these herbivores

What our land has lost in flames these isolated

deer pass on from generation to

generation. Along the clean water course

they live and roam, enabling remains of trees

to grow into a forest, enabling a pool of clear

water to expand into a lake, a hidden

lake filled with silver when the sun

rises or sets. In this divine tranquillity, salt water

cultivates the character of its drinker. Then come

people in small groups, riding canoes

threading gorges.  Here they are now

sitting calmly, in hope

of seeing the moose drink.  They

will take those carriers of poetic significance

back to that long lost homeland

translated by Hu Qian and Keith Waldrop

SCOVILLE POINT

With its greatest power of concentration,

the stone travels the farthest.

A solitary wolf scavenges the cliff

at the center of the island, far from his pack.

Water slices dark passages in rock

for the carnivores inside.

This is the dead end where dreams begin

for inveterate hikers.

Brown elk lead their calves

in the icy blue water toward even smaller islands.

Red foxes shriek on bright wet rocks.

Canoes rest upside down on cobble stones.

Waves beat the green wooden house on the cliff

from three directions. The hermit artist tunes

himself for life. Music in the light spirals

in his heart. Dreams appear where the road ends.

In this long distance filled with poetry

infinite beauty guides the traveler.

Skinny rocks sink into the water.

Tobin Harbor shines a gentle light.

A foghorn howls all day and night

on the northern island.

translated by Hu Qian and Keith Waldrop

TRAVELERS ON FOOT

To cherish the beauty of details

To follow from within how flowers

grow in the sun’s light

The body is a path merely, how

many miles, what hardships

a life must go through

On the lower level, following the rim of

the water and feral prints we

return to a long deserted source

On the level above, trudging slowly

the sunny hillcrest, we will reach that higher

place where our hearts can rest

Travelers carrying food and water, listening

to the created body, learn nature’s

language in their journey on

translated by Hu Qian and Chard deNiord

NORTHERN LIGHTS

On the dark horizon, dream gazes

at constellations through a pushed open door

for the lucky people who are wed to the hours

of deepest night. Who stare quietly northward

with gratitude. Lights glitter, molding the darkness.

Night trembles beneath. Suddenly, instantly,

brighter lights shimmer as silver flames ripple

toward the golden strings of Pipa inside

the shuddering light. Drums and horns

strike up a tune in the darkness

that’s been displaced by the light.

The blue bow of the violin skims

over the treble part of an ancient pine.

Wolves howl their long high song.

Look! So many meteors shooting  further north,

one after another. The light gradually dims.

Sleepers cry out in their nightmares.

The one who sits quietly facing north

regards the darkness slowly closing

the silver door. Clusters of stars burn up there.

blessing those who stand fast, awake to the night.

translated by Hu Qian and Chard deNiord

 NIGHT SKY OF ISLE ROYALE

The traveler who crosses the water

fills the night with sweetness on this solitary island.

A fox shrieks in the coolness of cypress woods,

while campers sleep soundly in the green light

of lowland moss. Cedars sough in a gentle breeze

and ponds with cabins on their shores glimmer in starlight.

I, the Prince of Stars, sit on an old wooden bench

near the corner of the island, gazing at the sky

that’s filled with constellations of silver angels

who stay up all night opening  the little golden doors

in which beautiful melodies linger.

I am the Prince of Happiness chosen by dreams

that smell of balsam. Jewelweed sleeps peacefully

in the humidity. Firs swoon in the night air.

Fish migrate toward waters full of moonlight.

The sky is lit by him who walks in the firmament

with a lantern, thinking as he walks, leaving

the Milky Way behind. It is a sacred moment!

The whole night shines magnificently in lasting happiness,

bringing those who stay awake in amazement

so close to it, filling their minds in the dark with light.

The long distance traveler rises from his bench

and turns in that directions he’s headed next.

translated by Hu Qian and Chard deNiord

THE COTTAGE AT THE END OF THE ISLAND

Where a dirt road ends at the rock cliff

the poet sees a faint image of himself

in the clear cold water, simple and exposed

Unrolling waves lap against windows

on the four sides, one by one. The will of

wood and iron to turn inward gives distinct

images to random things, enables

the lowland traveler orientation

further adventure at every promontory

Attentive, enduring this vast

irritation of water.  Not at the pinnacle

but entrenched at a vantage point he

finds enriching.  Verge of

enlightenment.  Facing a distant view of

boundless water. The siren piercing

the daylight of this lonely island is a foil

to those dark reefs in their downward bent.  At night

thanks to the brightness of stars

the souls of sojourners in darkness

shine still

translated by Hu Qian and Chard deNiord

Isle Royale National Park, the biggest island inside the world's largest freshwater lake (Lake Superior), is 45 miles long and nine miles wide and located in Michigan.  The island is 99% plants and wildlife with travel by foot only on 170 miles of footpaths.  Isle Royale is open each year from April to October and closes during the winter due to harsh weather conditions. The island is part of the American national park system.I was selected as a writer-in-residence for two weeks in July 2000.  I lived in a wooden cabin which was located at the tip of the island (Scoville Point).  The cabin had no electricity, only a gas lamp.  Every day, I took water from the big lake, made my food and washed my clothes.  The wooden cabin was at the top of the cliff surrounded by water; the waves crashed into the reefs with a constant roar.  Every day, I woke up and fell asleep to the sound of waves.  I could hear the wolves' howls, I could see the Northern Lights.

This group of poems was written in that wooden cabin named “Artist's Hut” by the national park.