[英文诗歌鉴赏] 父亲（作者：西尔维亚·普拉斯 Sylvia Plath)

父亲

你再也不会做，你再也不会做

像一只黑鞋

我像一只脚一样在里面住了三十年，贫穷而苍白，

几乎不敢呼吸或者打喷嚏。

爸爸，我不得不，

在我还来得及之前——

沉重如大理石，满是上帝，

一只灰色的脚趾头像旧金山的海豹一样大

还有一个在古怪的大西洋中

在那里翻滚着绿色豆子在蓝色之上

在美丽的诺西特海域。

我曾祈祷要找回你。

啊，你。

用德国语，在波兰的城市

被战争、战争、战争的滚轮压平。

但城市的名字很普通。

我的波兰朋友

说那里有十几个。

所以我永远不能告诉你在哪里

放下你的脚，你的根，

我从未能与你交谈。

舌头卡在我的下巴上。

它卡在铁丝网陷阱里。

我，我，我，我，

我几乎不能说话。

我以为每个德国人都是你。

而那污秽的语言

一台引擎，一台引擎

像一名犹太人一样将我驱赶。

一个犹太人到达达豪，奥斯维辛，贝尔森。

我开始说话像一名犹太人。

我想我很可能是一名犹太人。

提罗尔的雪，维也纳的清澈啤酒

并不纯洁或真实。

有我的吉普赛祖母和我的怪异运气

和我的塔罗卡牌和我的塔罗卡牌

我可能是有点犹太人。

Daddy

You do not do, you do not do

Any more, black shoe

In which I have lived like a foot

For thirty years, poor and white,

Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I had to

You died before I had time---

Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,

Ghastly statue with one gray toe

Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic

Where it pours bean green over blue

In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.

I used to pray to recover you.

Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town

Scraped flat by the roller

Of wars, wars, wars.

But the name of the town is common.

My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.

So I never could tell where you

Put your foot, your root,

I never could talk to you.

The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.

Ich, ich, ich, ich,

I could hardly speak.

I thought every German was you.

And the language obscene

An engine, an engine

Chuffing me off like a Jew.

A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.

I began to talk like a Jew.

I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna

Are not very pure or true.

With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck

And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack

I may be a bit of a Jew.