本帖最后由 候鸟 于 2013-3-29 23:47 编辑
一些英格丽的诗作,从电影中抄来的。
My days seek after the carriage of your body My days seek for the lineaments of your name Always before me in the paths of my eyes And my only fear is an awareness That will change your into water That will change your name into a number And deny your eyes like a memory
Screams the smell of freedom and heather The march of the generations who scream Africa Streets of his armed pride Without a pass Without a pass
Police station in Phllippi Present at all meetings and legislations Nor at Nyanga nor at Orlando I thought i would stumble upon my heart Where i keep the two butterflies of your eyes Sewer oh sewer Lie trembling singing How else but trembling With my blood-child under your water
My darling jack,you said Amsterdam would be filled with flowers But everything here is grey My feeling. The people. Even Eugene Europe is nothing but a false promise Half of me is missing. Jack Write and tell me you love me The illusion that life once was! Once was beautiful Every elect lie of life Please forget About love
You must run towards the light jack don’t run away from it. I repeat you Without beginning or end Repeat your body The day has a thin shadow The night yellow crosses The landscape has no distinction And the people of a row of candles I read you repeated With my breasts Which imitate the hollows of your hands Wounds of roses man god Kiss on my breasts My lonely fingers My body My heart God in pair All the water upon forests Body was washed
Grain little grain of sand Pebbles rolled in my hand Pebbles thrust in my pocket A keepsake for a locket Baby that screams from the womb Nothing is big in this tomb Quietly laugh now and speak Silent in a quiet lane Little world round and earth blue A granule I make out of you House with door and tow slits A garden where everything fits Small arrow feathered into space Love fades away from it’s place Carpenter seals a coffin that’s bought I ready myself for the nought Small grain of sand is my word My breath Small grain of nought is my death
这篇是著名的《尼昂加死去的孩子》有空了翻译一下,网上很难找到她的中文资料。
The child who was shot dead by soldiers at Nyanga
The child is not dead
The child lifts his fists against his mother
Who shouts Africa ! shouts the breath
Of freedom and the veld
In the locations of the cordoned heart
The child lifts his fists against his father
in the march of the generations
who shouts Africa ! shout the breath
of righteousness and blood
in the streets of his embattled pride
The child is not dead
not at Langa nor at Nyanga
not at Orlando nor at Sharpeville
nor at the police station at Philippi
where he lies with a bullet through his brain
The child is the dark shadow of the soldiers
on guard with rifles Saracens and batons
the child is present at all assemblies and law-givings
the child peers through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers
this child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere
the child grown to a man treks through all Africa
the child grown into a giant journeys through the whole world
Without a pass
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