布鲁克林,许多人带着避孕套漫步 维韦克·纳拉亚南
游荡于这放浪的街上,是一场懒散的冒险...
维韦克·纳拉亚南 Vivek Naraynan
维韦克•纳拉亚南(Vivek Naraynan)。生于印度,成长于赞比亚。他曾获得斯坦福大学的文化人类学硕士和波士顿大学的创意写作硕士,随后于2000年返居印度。曾任教于南非德班的夸祖鲁-纳塔尔大学,并任职于德里的“发展中社会研究中心”的“撒莱计划”。出版诗集《S先生的生活与时代》(Life and Times of Mr S, 2012)和《普遍性的海滩》(Universal Beach, 2006)。与人合编文学期刊《几近于岛》(Universal Beach),现居新德里和弗吉尼亚州的费尔法克斯郡。
唐琳,1993年生于上海。复旦大学中文系本科毕业,第二专业为英汉双语翻译。
在布鲁克林
» 第一天
亮红色的靴子如同拂晓,小腿肚结实而慷慨得
怪异,她在他跟前调情
就像扭来扭去的一串霓虹,在他的视线下
礼貌地蠕动。游荡于这放浪的街上
是一场懒散的冒险:
许多人带着避孕套漫步,以防有隐秘的
恩惠 从天而降。地铁咖啡馆旁
凭多风三月的变幻不定,人们相遇
如同设计好的,于是发光的肉体
祈求得到悲悯,周身圆胀。
古老的循环,泄密的动物界。
甚至那些胆怯的、愚昧的,
丑陋的、可怜的或完全被迷惑着的——
我们也远远地得到了快感,此外。
» 第二天
我们远远地得到了快感,此外——
囫囵,蹒跚着步出漫长的冬眠,
耷拉在路沿上,拳头在我们眼中,
头发已变为金色,可悲地停滞着的
朝圣者绕着稀薄的空气原地打转,
不得不被妆扮;以削瘦对肥硕,以绳索
对仅余的神圣皮囊。妓院
或诡秘 的停尸房:这些自我无一——自知——
我们如同用胶合而成的人体模型居于其中——无一清楚
我们是它们的火焰中
快乐的虔诚的碎屑(而那些近似的躯体是如此
完美,在我们的观察者的
朦胧视线中,战栗着,曾经的家,在手持的镜中,
重复着寻觅我们,以求希望)。
» 第三天
y重复着寻觅x,以求希望,
被季节不可预知的脸所蒙蔽,
新近的香气,欢欣,用肥皂擦洗,
艳丽迷人,无需白棉布与紫红染料
在夏日的怠惰前,性感得直率,
这肉体可以是,这肉体确实是,
如同裁剪方正的布料一般纯粹。
令田地肥沃丰饶的粪堆,清晨
明亮的薄雾,力比多的嘶吼与咆哮;
即刻刺痛肌肤的是在这片
身—心大地上的自私自利,这原始、倏忽的
光辉源于穿透、竖直的
颜色,严酷的水平的需求——既非愚昧的
基因学,又非属于永恒的、旋转着的元音。
» 第四天
沉闷的基因学,属于永恒的、旋转着的愁容,
宏大反刍的盗墓者 ,每一个
思绪的种子,你紧张甩动的尾巴
被驱使为莫名的需求——
至于那剩下的,只能归咎于
燃烧的神经元,活跃的神经轴突。
大胸的维纳斯乐于被塑于
石墙或是被圆柱测量;
折皱下垂的阿多尼斯过于庞大
不近真实:自然并未给予我们最为——
常见的神祇,而秘密的起草者
不知疲惫地在人形仓库中做着模型——
然而没有健身房或是有唠叨主人的客厅
可以调制出我的万能之人。
» 第五天
为了调制出我的万能之人
牢记着尔虞我诈,还需要些胡椒粉,
把你可入口的任何东西胡乱地撒上。
用菲克斯类的酒
焚烧那用望远镜方能及的口哨声
劝诱明日的嬗变
成为更坚实的关节——
若明天失败,就重整你的计谋,
重新开始,让未来显现为
属于它未来的未来。请让它继续。
别排斥捷径,坚守它,它属于你,
发出更大的清脆声响,占据它们,尾随
它们的呐喊和渎神而盘旋的涡轮
进入天真的屏障:拟定计划
» 第六天
在你方便时拟定一份天真的计划,
因未来是如此为季节约束,
或是因男人和
女人的对立,如同不忠,藉以往的
代价推动前行,刻板的、涌动着的内心。
交配的律动太快
嘶嘶有声地蒸发了惊叫
于是致电于友人,诠释学
破旧的王冠,家中床的
秘密,已死,我们世界中平凡的死亡。
于是言语在哺乳动物中生了根,
其中盛行着先前被玷污了的寂静,
而后震耳欲聋的喋喋不休环绕,令法庭
秩序井然,预示着秋。
» 第七天
法院开庭,在秋天的暗示下。
十一天忘却
那个做支架的你。
黏黏的皮,这裂口
中间更新的黑暗:
单身即耻辱,
蜷缩在受伤的精神呼
唤身体,音节,刀刃之时——但慢着!
恰是悲痛的欲望女神,哺育了
那汇成我体内煤黑湖水的曲流,
它是草木与沃土的神,
是球形的天空,是非法诉讼的女主人!
——在她眼里能看见云,
而她锃亮的靴子上,拂晓。
唐琳 译原文参考In Brooklyn
Day 1
Bright red boots like daybreak, calves oddlyfirm
and generous, she dallies in front of him
like a twist of cursive neon, squirms
politely while he looks on. It’s a lazy
adventure on these liberated streets:
many walk with condoms in case
of surreptitious grace. By subway cafés
on the quirk of windy March, people meet
as if by design, then flared flesh
begs to be pitied, roundly amplified.
Ancient recursion, telltale animalia.
Even those who are timid and witless,
ugly, poor or coolly mystified—
we get our distant kicks too, inter alia.
Day 2
Getting our distant kicks, inter alia—
globular, limp from long hibernation,
slouching on curbs with fists in our eyes,
hair turned to gold, miserably stationed
pilgrims circumambulating thin air,
taken to makeup; skinny for fat and rope
for merely sacred skin. Neither brothel
nor Orphic charnel house: theseselves—self-aware—
peopled for us like glued mannequins—know
well we are happy votive morsels
in their flame (for those same bodies so
perfect in our viewers’
haze, shiver, once home, in hand-heldmirrors,
repeating their glances at us for hope).
Day 3
Repeating y’s glace at x for hope,
blinded by the season’s unexpected face,
newly fragrant, sprightly, scrubbed withsoap,
sexy without need for calico or lac,
summarily sexy before true summer’s sloth,
the body that could be, the body that is,
homespun how’s square-cut cloth.
Fecundity of the dung heap, bright mist
of mornings, libidinal yaps and growls;
immediate tingling skin’s what’s selfish
in this psycho-physical land, this stark
sudden effulgence of piercing erect
colour, grim horizontal need—not sheepish
genetics, perpetuity’s spiralling vowel.
Day 4
Dismal genetics, perpetuity’s spirallingscowl,
ghoul of grand regurgitation, seed
of any idea, your taut-beating tail
is driven to non-specific need—
as for the rest, only firing neurons,
activating axons, to blame.
Big-boobed Venus plastered fain
on a wall or measured by a column;
bulging, droopy Adonis too large
to be true: nature doesn’t supply our most-
current gods, instead the inner draftsman
models perversely in form’s garage—
but no gym or jabbering parlour host
could concoct my universal human.
Day 5
To concoct the universal human
keep in mind deception, pepper with need,
muddy want with anything you can eat.
Cauterize the telescopic whistle-moan
with suboptic subtopic fixes
arguing tomorrow’s transformation
into some more tenable connection—
and when tomorrow fails, repackage yourtricks,
renew, let the future be displaced
into its own future’s future. Please let itgo on.
Don’t shut the highway out, keep it, it’s yours,
build bigger tings, populate them, and trace
their whoops and sacrilegiously sinuous whorls
into artless screens: make a plan.
Day 6
And make a plan artless when you can,
for a future so bounded by seasons,
or the antimony of man
and woman, pushes forward like treason
at the cost of the past, robot undertow.
Too quick the beat of copulation
fizzles to vaporous exclamation
and the phone calls to friends begin, dowdydiadem
of hermeneutics, the myth of the bed
at home, dead, homely death in our world.
Thus speech takes root among the mammals,
where previously tainted silence prevailed,
and tempestuous chatter folds in to hold
the court to order, prefiguring fall.
Day 7
The court in session at the hint of fall.
Eleven days to forget yourself
in light of the underpinning grid.
It’s a sticky skin, this gulf
of a newer darkness in between:
to be single is to be ashamed,
to cower when the hurting spirit calls
for body, syllable, blade—but wait!
It’s the goddess of mourning desire, whomothered
that roiling river for a coal-black lake
in me, it’s the goddess of grass and loam,the mistress
of spherical skies, of undue process!
—And in hereyes clouds can be seen,
and on her bright boot, daybreak.
本文选自《飞地》第十一辑《十年的变速器》,转载请提前告知。
更多内容请购买杂志获取。
飞地—第十一辑—《十年的变速器》正式出版发行
点击下方阅读原文前往微店购买
诗 歌朝向未来
我们的领土,我们的飞地
关注 飞地
微信扫一扫关注公众号