My Grandmother''s Love Letters

阿邱

There are no stars to-night
But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is
In the loose girdle of soft rain.

There is even room enough
For the letters of my mother''s mother,
Elizabeth,
That have been pressed so long
Into a corner of the roof
That they are brown and soft,
And liable to melt as snow.

Over the greatness of such space
Steps must be gentle.
It is all hung by an invisible white hair.
It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air.

And I ask myself:

"Are your fingers long enough to play
Old keys that are but echoes:
Is the silence strong enough
To carry back the music to its source
And back to you again
As though to her?"

阿邱

　我外婆的情书
　　　　　哈特·克莱恩（1899-1932）
今夜，没有一颗星星，
除了记忆中的。
然而软雨那松弛的束腰里
又有那么多空间可留给记忆。

甚至有充裕的空
存放我母亲的母亲伊丽莎白的
信件，
长久叠放
在屋顶的一角，
黄得泛黑、柔软，
极可能像雪一样溶掉。

行于如此空间的宏大之上，
步履必须轻缓。
它全部维系于一根肉眼看不见的白发。
它颤动如白桦的柔枝结网于空气。

我自问：

“你的手指是否修长得
足以弹奏那些回声的旧键：
那静寂是否强烈得
足以将音乐回传到它的来源，
进而再次回传给你，
犹如传给了她？”

我会搀着外婆的手
领她穿过这大部分是她无法理解的一切；
而我也跌跌绊绊。而雨，在屋顶继续，
那声音是轻柔的悲悯的笑。