董继平 译

门

我无论去哪里，都会带着一道门同行，根据发生的不同情况，那道门会打开或者关闭。如果参加我自从孩提时代就认识的朋友的聚会，那道门就保持半开。如果我参加对最近的政治混乱的讨论会，那道门则完全关闭，但我把一只耳朵贴在上面，以防万一听到什么意想不到的事情。

　　如果我参加一场带有商业目的的午餐会，诸如要获得拨款什么的，那道门就保持打开。尽管如此，那个坐在书桌那边面对着我的人，根本不会发现我在那道打开的门前。我会沿着走廊，躲在一个角落，但他听不到我的声音。

　　因此，尽管带着门同行可能会不方便而且还累人，如果不是有些奇怪，我也愿意为此辩护说这完全是一种正常程序，你们会看见我竭尽全力带着它，如果你们愿意，你们可以帮一下忙，放下你们的同情，让那道门发挥作用。谢谢你们。

THE DOOR

Wherever I go I carry the door with me，opened or closed，depending on what’s happening.In the event I am attending a party of friends I’ve known since childhood，the door remains half open.In the event I attend a meeting to discuss the latest political upset，the door is totally closed，but I have an ear pressed to it，in case I hear something extraordinary.

　　In the event I attend a luncheon for business purposes，such as to obtain a grant，the door remains open.However，the person who is seated opposite me across the desk will not find me at the open door at all.I’ll be down the corridor，hidden in a corner，but he’ll hear me.

　　And so，though carrying the door may be an inconvenience and tiring，if not somewhat bizarre，I’m prepared to defend it as a perfectly normal procedure，and should you see me straining to carry it，you could，if you would，lend a hand，putting your pity at rest by putting it to work.Thank you.

他在他的身体里面

他在他的身体里面寻找他抑郁的原因。这仿佛就像他用手在胸膛中从一个器官搜寻到另一个器官。他能感觉到抑郁在他的心脏附近，然而，当他如此小心翼翼伸入那个区域及其周围，抓住那种疼痛并将其拔出来的时候，手上却一无所有。

　　他把那种抑郁想象成非法居住在他体内的东西，而且，由于他无法将其从身体中移除，还不止一次请求过它，要它从他的体内移除出去，他就认为现在自己有权对它实施暴力，淹死它，于是他开始喝水。

　　他自己变成了一种雾，那种从他饮下的水与体内的温暖的冲突中升起的浓雾，因此他就再也无法探测抑郁了。它现在成了一种普遍的雾，当然，就像本性在不稳定的状态下可能发生的那样。他认为自己是本性的一种实际情况，他就像雾那样不稳定地前行，就像雾那样从街道走到街道，从房子走到房子，发现自己要么被锁在这些房子外面，要么被匆匆掠过。

　　这是夜晚。雾，那所有东西都必须进入并穿过去的雾，可能很危险。车辆在高速行驶，雾被灯光、人们和卡车穿透。他被撞倒、压碎。正如群山被震撼、拆毁，大地张开，他的死在本质上也是一种现象。他被他的存在所证实，扑面翻滚着死去。

HE IS SEARCHING INSIDE HIS BODY

He is searching inside his body for the cause of his depression.It’s as if he were searching with his hand from organ to organ in his chest.He can feel depression near his heart but，as he moves ever so cautiously in and around that area to grasp that ache and extract it，nothing comes to hand.

　　He conceives of it as something living within him illegitimately，and，since he cannot remove it bodily and has addressed his plea to it more than once to remove itself from him，he believes that now he has the right to do it violence，to drown it，and he begins to drink.

　　He becomes a fog to himself，the heavy mist that rises from his drink in conflict with the inner warmth，and he no longer can detect specific depression.It is now a general fog and that，of course，is as nature can be in unstable conditions.He thinks himself a fact of nature，and he travels unsteadily，as fogs do，from street to street，from house to house and，like fog，finds himself locked out from these houses or hurried past.

　　It is night.Fog，through which all things must enter and pass，can be dangerous.Vehicles are traveling at high speed，and fog is pierced by lights，by people and by trucks.He is knocked down and crushed.As mountains are shaken and torn down and earth opens，his death too is a phenomenon in nature.Affirmed in his being，he rolls over on his face to die.

士兵包围诗人的房子

给聂鲁达

　　士兵包围诗人的房子，蹲伏下来，用枪指向诗人那边，但没有移动，他的出现让他们心生敬畏和恐惧。他伤心地来到窗前，俯视下面他自己的人民——那些身穿制服、拿枪指着他的人。他伤心地站在那里，而他们蹲伏着，陷入更深的沉寂，绷紧的脸上和眼里充满了痛苦。他是他们的诗人，在他的诗里为他们说话，他们也一次又一次读到和听到他的诗，还应和着他的诗句节奏而摇摆起舞。

　　他在他站立之处猛然推开窗户，大喊：开枪吧，朝我开枪吧！他们全体都退却了，除了一个士兵，在长久训练的速度和反应力之下，受命举起步枪扣动扳机。他的战友都捂住了脸。

SOLDIERS SURROUND THE HOUSE OF THE POET

For Neruda

　　Soldiers surround the house of the poet and crouch，their guns poised in his direction，but do not move，held by their awe and fear in his presence.He comes to the window bitterly to look out upon his own people in uniform，with guns pointed at him.Bitterly he stands there and they，crouching，are more deeply silent in the anguish of their taut faces and eyes.He is their poet who speaks for them in his poems，that they have read and heard over and over，swaying to the rhythm of his lines.

　　He flings open the window where he is standing and shouts，Shoot，shoot me! They recoil in a body，except for one who with speed and reflex of long training at command raises his rifle and pulls the trigger.His comrades bury their faces in their hands.