紫丁香
马修·迪克曼
看一眼紫丁香，那气味
把我带回童年——
狗挠着玻璃滑动门，残破的
瓶子浮出草地
就像另一种草，肮脏的毛巾
搭在
树根上，莱苏尔罐子，
兰欧福斯的
火鸡肉包装——
我要面对这些东西，
在春天肥大圆满的雨水中，
那些紫色，或者像有人说的什么
粉紫色的花
还有白色的
丁香。它们的气味
就像我的兄弟姊妹，就像我刚出生的
儿子的耳后根，就像这个
我会为之杀人的婴孩。
在他出生之前
我不会杀任何人。但现在我会。
在我喝过一杯星巴克咖啡，
还有一块
很棒的柠檬糖霜
蛋糕之后
我并没有想杀人的事，
我一边读报一边
把他拥在我的胸前
听着他身体中活着的声音
在他母亲的体外
活着，而那紫丁香
在街道之外，在每个人
之外，沉甸甸地立在雨中。
Lilac
BY MATTHEW DICKMAN
One look at the lilac, one smell
and my childhood is--
dogs scratching at the sliding
glass door, bits
of bottles coming up
like grass in the grass, a dirty towel
down by the feet
of the tree, Lysol cans, small
packets of Land O’Frost
turkey meat--
there in front of me in spring,
in the wonderfully fat rain,
flowering purple and whatever
the pinkish purple is called
and the white
ones too. They smell like
my siblings, like the backs of my infant
son’s ears, like my son
whom I would kill someone for.
Before he was born I wouldn’t kill
anyone. But now I would.
And after I’d get a coffee
from Starbucks, a coffee and a piece
of that amazing lemon-frosted
lemon cake
and think nothing of it,
and read the paper and hold him
against my chest
and listen to his body living,
alive outside
his mother’s body, and the lilac
outside on the street, outside
everyone, and heavy in the rain.
