还没呐!别弯曲
那紧紧缠绕的根
被淌在树杈粗糙的纹理中
的流水慢慢松动
别先是问水如何
为何纤细的根吞噬
干燥的泥土,或许
另有更接近的原因让那些纤维屈膝
在树皮后,你的手会发现
没有西科拉克斯或飞舞的达芙妮
棕色无知的水中,滋生着旋花
不在意编织的是何种旖旎
光在树枝间穿梭
艰难是等待的时刻,它摇曳时
这棵树的树干从溪流中向上弯曲
在那里,演奏是波动的涟漪
看,它悬在空中
树叶正在转变,
我们听不到 生命的死亡与诞生。但这是伪装
现在抬头,轻柔地:用你的眼睛打破它。
The turning of the leaves
Not yet ! Do not touch ,
Break mot this branch of silver-birch,
Nor ask the stealthy river why it laves
Black roots that feed the leaves.
Ask first the flickering wren.
He will move further. Ask the rain.
No drop, though round, through that white miracle
Will sink, to be your oracle
Not yet ! Do not yet bend
Close to that root so tightly bound
Loosened by creeping waters as they run
Along the fork’s rough groin
Ask not the water yet
Why the root’s tapering tendrils eat
Parched earth away that may be
Nearer the source those fibres obey
Behind the bark your hands will find
No Sycorax or flying Daphne faned
And the brown ignorant water bindweed breeds
Not caring there what brows it braids
Light in the branches weaves
Hard is the waiting moment while it waves
This tree whose trunk curves upward from the stream
Where faltering ripples strum
See how it hangs in air
The leaves are turning now, we can not hear
The death and birth of life. But that disguise
Look up now, softly: break it with your eyes.