假狮子

(T. Roethke, translated by Viv)

 

 

爸爸的华尔兹  

 

你的气息里夹杂威士忌，

可熏得小男孩儿晕了头；

但我仍拼命抓着你，

这华尔兹的步子不好走。

 

父子俩舞步轻快不休，

直到厨房那锅也滚下来；

母亲这可发了愁，

嗔怒的眉头紧锁不开。

 

你的指关节伤了一处，

手中还握着我的腕；

每当你跳错了一步，

我的右耳便擦过你的裤扣。

 

你在我头上打着节奏，

掌心结满了厚厚尘土。

你跳着舞送我上床睡熟，

我还把你的衬衫紧紧抓住。

-----

My Papa’s Waltz     

The whiskey on your breath

Could make a smal boy dizzy; 

But I hung on like death: 

Such waltzing was not easy. 

 

We romped until the pans

Slid from the kitchen shelf; 

My mother's countenance

Could not unfrown itself. 

 

The hand that held my wrist

Was battered on one knuckle; 

At every step you missed

My right ear scraped a buckle. 

 

You beat time on my head

With a palm caked hard by dirt, 

Then waltzed me off to bed

Still clinging to your shirt.